Page 78 of A Secret Correspondence
Oliver blinked. “Yes, I have been thinking. Perhaps, if we are wise, we could approach this in much the same manner that we did the churchyard.”
“With a bundle of fake jewels in a cloth?” Ruth asked.
“No. Coming at the man from all angles. Ridley, do you think you could fit through Marguerite’s parlor window?”
“I can certainly try.”
Oliver nodded. “Good. Before we left, I instructed my coachman to stop near the church so we would not alert them to our arrival. We can approach the shop, peek through the windows to take stock of the situation, and proceed from there.”
Everyone agreed.
“What shall we do if they are not in the shop?” Ruth asked quietly.
Silence permeated the air as each of them seemed to consider this horrible potential.
“The man wants those diamonds,” Samuel said with confidence. “He is convinced Marguerite is hiding them. It stands to reason he would force her to her shop and demand she give them up.”
He refused to consider an alternative that did not remove Marguerite from the clutches of a madman forthwith.
The carriage fell quiet until it rolled to a stop. Samuel’s heart nearly broke through his chest with how rigorously it pounded. He hopped down from the carriage. Oliver asked Ruth to wait behind because they did not know how dangerous the man was or what kind of weapon he carried. Ridley walked at Samuel’s side down the road, his steps oddly silent for so large a man.
When they neared the modiste’s shop, Ridley put a hand to Samuel’s arm lightly to slow him, and they flattened against the buildings. It was just past four o’clock in the morning, and the rest of Harewood was still asleep, including the inn across the street. No carriage waited in the road, which was concerning, but Samuel needed to believe she was close. He could feel that she was here, that he would see her shortly.
A heavy thud inside the shop caused them to freeze, and his blood went cold.
“Likely a piece of furniture,” Ridley said.
“Sounded as though it came from the back,” Samuel whispered.
“Perhaps I will not try to climb through the window. If we can sneak through the front, we can all charge him.”
Oliver caught up to them. “I like that plan.”
They tried to peek through the windows, but the curtains had been drawn, blocking all sight. The men approached the door together.
Samuel put his hand on the handle and paused. “I will take the middle. You both flank me. My priority is Marguerite.”
Ridley nodded. “Mine is to disarm the man.”
“I will aim to restrain him,” Oliver said.
The men each shared a look, seeming to draw in a simultaneous breath.
“Ready?” Ridley asked.
They all nodded.
Samuel drew in strength. “Now.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Marguerite’s head throbbed as she sat on a hard chair in the center of her parlor. The stiff burlap bag over her head smelled of stale sweat. Her hands were tied behind her back, and her ankles fastened to the chair legs. She did not understand what this person expected from her.
“I do not have the diamonds,” she said to him again, her voice muffled through the bag. It did not matter what she told the man, he would not believe her.
“You lie,” he hissed. Strong hands gripped her shoulder, pushing it back into the chair. Wooden slats dug into her arms, bent at the wrong angle behind her back. “I have proof.”
“How?” She suppressed her cries of pain, not wanting to give him further satisfaction.
