Page 81 of The Confessions of a Lady
Liam felt a strange flutter in his chest, followed by the tang of metal on the back of his tongue. ‘Why do you ask?’
The commissioner glanced at Philippa and shifted in his seat, straightening his already flawless jacket. ‘Because there is no reward money. There never was. Whoever told her that was lying to her for reasons we can only assume are nefarious.’
The flutter in his chest became a pounding. He jolted from his seat, striding to the bell pull. Before he could tug on the rope, Mrs Harding burst through the door.
Never in his life had he seen the dour woman look the least flummoxed. But she was frantic now as she lurched toward him, a note in hand. He didn’t need to hear her say the name to know. ‘It’s Penny, my lord. She’s missing. We’ve looked everywhere for her. Molly told us she never came to bed last night. It’s not like Penny. She’s my most reliable maid. And then this note arrived for you.’ Mrs Harding’s hand shook as she passed him the sealed letter. A single lock of hair was tied in a ribbon pinned to the parchment.
Penny’s hair.
Mrs Harding’s pale face grew whiter as Liam broke the seal. Head of a crow. Body of a wolf. Tail of a snake. ‘It’s Penny, isn’t it? That’s her hair.’ The woman pressed a bony hand against her mouth and blinked furiously. ‘Should we call for Scotland Yard?I should have known. She received messages periodically. I never inquired. It was none of my business. But Mrs O’Brian told me Penny met with someone. A man. He came last night. Oh, God. If only I’d known. She was under my protection. I should have known.’ The overwrought housekeeper looked around and stumbled to the nearest chair, sitting in a heap.
Commissioner Worthington stood from his chair. ‘I am Commissioner Worthington of the Metropolitan Police. Do not fear, madame. We will find Miss Smith. But it’s important you tell me exactly what you know.’
Liam ignored Worthington as he questioned the housekeeper. He scanned the few lines of script on the note as Philippa came to his side and read over his shoulder.
The Devil’s Sons were sending him an invitation.
Meet tonight, 9 o’clock sharp at the address below. We already have the product. Come unarmed and alone.
The Snake
The address listed was an abandoned warehouse on the docks. The perfect place to hold an innocent woman before nailing her in a coffin and shipping her across the channel to France.
‘Fucking hell. They have Penny.’ Liam’s world went black, and the beast took control. He knew not what he did, but when he came back to his senses, a side table lay in splinters, the wingback chair his father favoured was tipped over, one arm dangling like an injured soldier, and the contents of the tea tray lay scattered over the rug in a million broken pieces. His hands were bleeding, his left foot ached, and air rushed in and out of his lungs in harsh gasps.
Mrs Harding’s eyes were wide, her mouth hanging open. Worthington stood in front of the housekeeper like a humanshield, his lips forming a stern line. Philippa raised an eyebrow and wiped tea from the corner of her cheek. Her beautiful dress was stained, and a splinter was caught in her hair next to one of the sapphires.
‘If you are quite finished with your tantrum, there is much we must do and precious little time to get it done.’ She thwacked her fan against her leg like an angry cat flicking its tail.
‘They have Penny,’ he roared, more animal than human in his fear. Liam couldn’t think. He couldn’t focus. Penny’s face hovered before him like a ghost. Her name pounded in his head along with his heartbeat. Rage seethed within him, feeding the wild beast that was hungry for blood.
Philippa strode up to him, raised her arm, and slapped him hard with her fan. The decorative thing must be made of metal because it cracked against his cheekbone with the force of a hammer. Stars flashed in his eyes, but the pain of her blow sharpened his thoughts and brought him back to the moment. ‘Control yourself, Liam. You are no good to her like this. No good to any of us. And if we want to save Penny, we need you to keep your head.’
He glared at Philippa, focusing on the dark blue of her eyes, like the endless depths of the sky before a wild storm. Forcing his breathing to calm, he gripped the chains holding his beast and willed the animal back into submission. For now. ‘You’re right,’ he spoke through clenched teeth. Her calm infused him. She was angry too, but her rage was the focused power of sunlight harnessed through a magnifying glass. Far more effective than his feral fury. ‘Tell me what to do. I have to save her, Philippa.’
‘You will.’ The duchess spoke without hesitation. ‘Mrs Harding, more tea please. We have work to do.’
21
Penny came back to consciousness in degrees. Her head pounded like a spike was being driven through her temple every time her heart beat. Her mouth felt full of cotton and her tongue was too large. Her shoulders screamed in protest, but when she tried to move her arms, ties cut into her wrists, holding her in place. She was lying on a cold, wet surface. Flagstones, maybe. It was freezing. Violent shivers wracked her body. When she tried to open her eyes, she was certain sand had been ground beneath her lashes.
‘I think she’s waking up. Perfect timing. He should be here soon.’ The whispered voice came from her left. She couldn’t place it, but she knew it wasn’t Constable Sweet.
Constable Sweet!
An aching sense of loss was quickly drowned out by the rage of betrayal. He drugged her. Kidnapped her. Hauled her here tied up like so much baggage. One of the few men she ever trusted.
‘Can we at least get her a blanket?’ The gruff rasp of Constable Sweet’s voice was unmistakable.
Penny opened her eyes and slowly, the room came into focus. It was a massive space hidden in murky shadows. A lone candle sputtered on a wooden table to her right, creating a wavering circle of light. She struggled to sit up with her hands bound behind her back. Strong fingers gripped her arm and helped to pull her into a sitting position, but the world around her spun, turning black at the edges.
Peppermint and tobacco. Her stomach pitched and she gagged.
‘There now, dove. Here. Drink this.’
The metal rim of a flask pressed against her lips and cold, clear water dribbled into her mouth. Realising it wasn’t more poison, Penny gulped greedily as her eyes became accustomed to the flickering light. Constable Sweet’s familiar face came into focus.
‘Why?’ she croaked the question, not able to elaborate further.
