Page 49 of Bedding the Marquess
“We will be all right,” Emily said as she sat down beside her and adopted a similar position. The tremor in her voice made her words slightly less convincing than they might have been.
Caroline turned her head to face Emily. “Do you have any suspicions about who might be behind this? Why would they have infiltrated Lady Night’s and taken us?”
Emily shook her head. “I’d never seen the man before—the one who came to the apartment under the guise of bringing our tea—and I know everyone who works beneath that roof.”
“So what might his motive be?” Caroline lifted her head, her eyes going unfocused as she was lost in thought. “Money?” she said suddenly. “Ransom? Perhaps someone knew me to be the Marchioness of Swanleigh and thinks to demand Gideon pay a sum for my safe return?”
Emily bit her lip. “Perhaps…”
“Do you have other suspicions?” She didn’t care for the hesitation before Emily shook her head. Neither of them openlyaddressed how, if Caroline was the target of the kidnapping, they would have known she would be at Lady Night’s. She had never been there before and had made no advanced plans to do so. It was both baffling and terrifying.
Emily only shook her head in silent helplessness.
Caroline closed her eyes and breathed through another squeezing pain, exhaling in relief once it was finished. “How are you feeling?” she croaked out.
“Well enough,” Emily said tremulously.
Caroline reached over and took her hand. “We must remain calm; hysterics will achieve nothing.” The words were as much for Emily as they were for herself.
Emily nodded in agreement and squeezed her fingers back. “I am trying…only…” Her voice trailed off. She had to brace herself before she could begin again. “I haven’t yet had an opportunity to tell Oliver about the baby. I kept postponing it. The time just never seemed right—I wanted it to be special.”
Sensing Emily beginning to crumble, Caroline immediately wrapped her in her arms and held her. Hot tears dampened the front of her bodice, but she held herself together. “I know, darling. I know,” Caroline murmured. “But you will.” She closed her eyes, choked back her own tears, and comforted Emily, her mind racing with the desperate need to find a way to escape.
She’d had a nightmare once where she’d been on a small boat adrift in a black ocean of stars with no oar, no sail, no rudder. She’d screamed for help, but there was no one except the constellations to hear her. Just as she’d begun to lose all hope, Gideon had appeared beside her. She’d asked him where he’d come from and he’d replied that he’d always been there, even if she could not see him. He’d then handed her two oars made of clouds and pointed to the distance. “Land is that way,” he’d said. “You are strong enough to find your way.”
Caroline clung to that image as her mind grasped at any possibility of hope.
Gideon adjusted thecollar of his black woolen greatcoat. It was a tad too long in the sleeves, but its hem was the perfect length, dusting the toes of his borrowed boots. It was lucky that he and Oliver were of such a similar build; it made Gideon’s disguise much easier to pull off.
While explaining his plan, Oliver had rummaged through trunks stored in an unused bedchamber and pulled out several items of clothing. “These should work,” he’d said, eyeing Gideon up and down. The garments were worn and stained, but smelled clean enough after they’d been stored away.
Eager to begin, Gideon had immediately begun untying and unwinding his cravat, stripping all the way down to his smallclothes and donning Oliver’s old clothing. The fabric was rougher than what he was accustomed to, but it fit well enough. Standing side-by-side in the mirror, Gideon had to give credit to his half brother. “We do appear quite similar,” Gideon remarked. Oliver had also changed his clothing so they were near-perfect copies. Following his lead, Gideon proceeded to muss his own hair, so it was more similar to Oliver’s. The length was slightly different, but it would not be noticeable in the gloaming light. Besides, he doubted anyone would be examining them that closely.
“Take this necktie,” Oliver said without looking up. “As well as these boots.”
“I cannot wear my own boots?”
“Too fine and too polished,” Oliver grunted, still searching in the bottom of the trunk.
The boots felt heavy as Gideon held them up. He fingered a notch in one of the heels, only to have it separate with a metallic snick to reveal a small, removable blade. “And yet, they are muchfancier than my own footwear,” Gideon remarked with dark amusement, to which Oliver grunted in agreement. He fiddled the blade back into place and began to work the boots onto his feet. They were slightly large, but they would do.
Oliver then handed him a series of small blades and instructed him where to place them on his person in various pockets and pouches sewn into the borrowed clothing.
“Won’t these be discovered?”
“It would appear odd if youdid notarrive at least slightly armed.”
Gideon could not argue with that logic, largely because he was so out of his depth with this underworld he hadn’t realized operated right beneath their noses. It turned out that Oliver was quite the accomplished committer of espionage and had made many enemies because of his talents.
“I often operated under an alias with a complex backstory and some alteration to my appearance—whether it be my clothing, a beard, shorn hair—but that does not mean I was never going to be recognized…not when my wife’s mother’s business happens to reside next door to a location where I was nearly killed during an investigation.”
Gideon had seen his scars as Oliver had changed; a particularly nasty one was revealed when Oliver lifted his arms to slip his shirt over his head. The wound was positioned between his ribs and Gideon thought it was a wonder that Oliver had survived it.
Gideon loosed huff of incredulity.
“What was that?” Oliver asked distractedly as he continued his preparations.
“I’ve only just now realized that I never stood a chance in our wrestling match at Bray Castle, did I?”
