“I know it is not your way to retreat and allow someone else the reins. But in this…you will step back,” he said, steel underlying his tone. “Return home, and I’ll bring you your son, and if he is lost to you…”
She jerked, a cry of terror spilling from her.
“If he is lost to you, I promise I will deliver you the heads of every man and woman responsible,” he said with ruthless promise.
She was entrapped by the power of his gaze, and she trusted in the icy implacability she saw.
If he’s lost to you.
Dear Lord, please, she couldn’t lose her son. Not now. Her precious boy deserved to grow into a fine young man, to find a wife and to have children of his own. Then die when he was old, in his bed surrounded by his family. No one deserved to have their life snatched cruelly away from them for money. “Thank you,” she whispered.
An undefinable expression crossed his face. “Will you trust me, Georgiana?”
She gave a quick, decisive nod. “I am trusting you with my entire heart…my son. I’ll leave right away.” She was trusting him at the moment, with more than she had ever trusted anyone in her life.
Chapter Eight
Grief and pain were laid bare in the duchess’s eyes, and the sight affected Rhys more than he’d thought possible. He’d centered his life around his family. For his mother and sisters, he would do anything, be anything. He’d not allowed anyone in, simply because he only had so much to give. Yet the duchess’s tearstained face pierced a shield he’d not even realized existed in his heart. When had he ever felt such turmoil for another who was not family?
Her eyes were huge and shadowed, and he would have no mercy for the bastard who made this woman so vulnerable and frightened.
“Take an hour,” he murmured. “Refresh yourself and then return to Meadowbrook Park. I’ll not fail you.”
A thrill of satisfaction burst through him when he noted the moment she decided to place more trust in him. Her pain mattered to him, but for now, he couldn’t ponder how she had become so important to him in so little time.
Her son had been missing for hours, and if Rhys did not move now, the boy could be lost to them forever. Rhys launched from her and with clipped strides, collected his greatcoat, hat, and a walking stick that held a hidden foil. He would need to traverse to the darkest corners of the underworld tonight, and barter with shrewd skill.
While it would be faster to take his horse, he ordered his carriage to be brought around immediately. When he found the boy, he wanted him to be in a warm, comfortable space, for he would undoubtedly be petrified. If I find him… Pushing aside the sliver of doubt, he peered at the miniature. The young duke was a handsome boy, sharing almost all his features with his mother.
After leaving instructions for the duchess to be followed home at a discreet distance, and to utilize all means necessary for her protection, he climbed into the carriage and closed the door. Rhys allowed his thoughts to sift through everything he knew about the duchess, taking even the smallest details and turning them over. The missing nursemaid might be important. With a frown, he considered that thread, mulling over the possibilities.
He stopped at the docks, gin houses, and taverns, dropping the hints, subtle threats, and promises into the ears and eyes of his underworld connections. His reputation was such that everyone would believe his promises of repayment of an unmatched favor if the desired result was produced. He also promised a slow and painful death to anyone who had taken the job of kidnapping the child. Then he sent word that one Jane Walker, former ducal nursemaid, was wanted by The Broker.
Information was traded, promises were made, and the words started to echo in the secret walls of the stews. Confident he would have results soon, he slipped back into the carriage and tapped the roof. The carriage rumbled into motion, and less than fifteen minutes later he arrived at The Asylum.
He entered, and a ripple went through the crowd. As impossible as it seemed, word had already reached The Asylum that he needed their eyes and ears. The tension was visible from those who watched him. They whispered amongst themselves, and as he sauntered through, he caught snatches of the conversation.
“Eee promises a favor to any man who finds the boy.”
“Deuced strange if ye ask me.”
“Who is the boy?”
Rhys reached the balcony overlooking the majority of the crowd, watching and waiting. There wasn’t much more he could do out there in the night, combing the streets. A favor from him was golden in his world, the promise of receiving a desire that could be procured from no other would have everyone hunting for the information he needed, scouring the stews, the lowest thieves’ dens in London and the West End.
The only cause for concern was that he had shown that the boy was important to him. There might be those foolish enough who would think to withhold whatever information they found to drive him to a higher bargain. Then he would have to be merciless, for it could not be said The Broker was held ransom for information. Going to any length to protect those he cared about was a necessity that had been bred into his bones. It belatedly shocked him he was willing to do the same for the duchess.
Several moments of waiting passed before a shadow moved to stand beside him.
“When the word came down, at first, I didn’t believe it,” the rough voice murmured. “Who is this boy?”
“Important,” was all Rhys replied, shifting his regard from the crowd to meet his friend’s regard.
“That is all you have to say? This is not the time to become cryptic and inscrutable,” Riordan O’Malley said, his piercing eyes assessing the gaming hell, assessing his patrons and noting the tension.
“I never thought we needed a reason to help a child. The innocent must be protected at all costs.”
Riordan’s green gaze gleamed with curiosity and cunning. “Whoever he is, my friend, you’ve shown your belly to those of our world. You’ve never promised such a deal in return for information.”
Rhys couldn’t find the words to explain why finding the young duke was so important. Even now, the pain in Georgiana’s eyes haunted him, and there was an inexplicable need driving him to soothe her torment. “Any who believe they can use the boy as a further bargaining tool will learn the error of their ways.”
Riordan grunted. “The word came down that a toff is seeking someone to do away with a child. Seems this nob doesn’t have the guts to do it himself.”
Rhys stiffened. “How long?”
“He sent out the word over an hour ago. Then your call went out, and many reasoned that this could be the boy you are looking for.”
“Perhaps. Who is the nob?”
“No name came with the request. Only a promise of two hundred guineas. Such a fortune would have many men respond, even if the job is a child.”
Rhys did not believe in coincidences. It was rare for a child to be kidnapped and murdered. Many wealthy children, if left unattended, would find their shoes, coats and even all their clothes stripped from their bodies. Those less fortunate would see themselves forced into life as a pickpocket, a chimney sweep, and even to the brothel. No one casually took the life of a child, since alive they were worth more in profits.
“What time did this nob require a meeting?”
“At ten, at Vauxhall. I suppose he thinks he will be safe there.”
> Rhys glanced at his pocket watch. That was almost an hour from now, enough leeway for the man to panic and do the deed himself.
“I want you to go there for me, Riordan. Broker the deal and rescue the child. If the man does not show, it may be that I have him already.”
“You know who it is.”
“Perhaps.”
A hush suddenly descended on the boisterous throng. Two rough-looking men pushed through the crowd and subtly inclined their heads toward the back of the building. They had something for him. With clipped strides, Rhys made his way to the upper floor where the men waited in the corridor.
“She’s in the room,” one of the men said softly. They didn’t need to identify her name. Satisfaction slithered through him. About two hours after he had sent out the word, Jane Walker had been delivered.
“See Mr. O’Malley. He will settle with you.”
They nodded and slinked away toward the stairs leading to the lower floors. Rhys entered the room and closed the door with a snick. A sack covered her head, her hands and feet were bound, and he could feel the terror rolling from her. She writhed and twisted, but there was no give her in her bonds.
“Miss Walker,” he said, moving into the room. Rhys tugged the sack from her head.
Wild eyes swung around the office before they settled on him. She reared up and froze. “Who are you and where am I?” she screeched.
“Jane Walker?”
She twitched and then froze. Rhys smiled. She blanched, her throat working, and a greater fear filled her eyes.
He stooped and removed a knife from his boot. She whimpered and tried to scoot back into the sofa. He cut away the rope, freeing her wrists and ankles. Rhys stood and lowered himself into the chair facing her.
“Something has been taken…something precious, and you are a part of it. Reveal what you know, and you will return home this night. If not…” He let the threat hang in the air.
As expected her imagination did the rest, and she started to tremble. “What do you want to know?” she asked from bloodless lips.