Chapter Thirteen

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

N ATHAN LET OUT a groan. His head was pounding, and he was half covered in debris. He looked around him. "Sloane?"

There was no sign of the other man. Coughing from the powdered dust and crushed stone that hung in the air around him, Nathan called Sloane's name again. A string of curses from a few feet away reassured him that Sloane was alive.

"Are you all right?" Nathan began to dig out from the pile of dirt and broken planks that hemmed in his legs, visions of Sloane lying bleeding filling his head. The idea would have pleased Nathan in the past, but now he thought of the pain it would cause Annabeth; it was no longer an idea Nathan relished in any capacity.

"Of course I'm not all right," Sloane growled as he struggled to his feet on the other side of a pile of rubble. "I just fell ten feet." He brushed ineffectually at the white layer that coated his clothes. He looked up at the hole in the tunnel above him, and said, "Make that fifteen feet."

Nathan coughed and crawled out. There were various points of pain all over him that said there would soon be bruises, and something had sliced through one leg of his breeches, leaving a shallow groove of blood. The feel of wetness on his face made him suspect there was another cut on his head. But at least nothing seemed to be broken.

He walked over to stand beside Sloane, looking all around. "Where the devil are we?"

There was enough light from the collapsed tunnel above that they could see that they stood beside a shallow rectangular pit. It was floored in stone, and the remains of a stone wall marked its boundaries. Even with the rubble that had tumbled down on either side, it was clearly laid out in a pattern, with two smaller squares extending from it and a tiered sort of arrangement of blocks at one end, like a small pyramid. The opposite end of the rectangle was shrouded in darkness.

"I believe we have fallen into Londinium," Sloane replied.

"What?" Nathan's voice rose in disbelief, but as he looked around, he could see that the ruin before them looked very much like the remains of a Roman bath. "Good God. I think you're right. These are Roman ruins." He peered into the darkness, an urge to explore sparking in him. What else lay down here? "Blast. I wish we had a paraffin lamp."

"I wish we had that ladder."

Nathan turned to see Sloane staring up at the hole far above their heads, and for the first time, he considered the predicament they were in. There was nothing handy to climb, for one could see only more ruins around them—a walkway paved in stone, a collapsed wall, a taller stone wall rising at the edge of the darkness, adorned with some sort of mosaic.

"I'll be sure to bring a ladder for next time we fall through a floor." Nathan climbed up the pile of rubble. At its highest, the unstable mound left many feet of space above his head. Not to mention the fact that the jumble of beams, dirt, and pieces of stone shifted precariously beneath his feet.

"Watch out," Sloane told him sharply, and Nathan jumped back to the ground. Sloane gazed up at the hole in the tunnel again, then sighed. "If we get out of here, Annabeth is going to kill me."

"Entertaining as that would be, it doesn't seem there's much chance of her getting to do so," Nathan replied.

"No." The two looked around, contemplating their situation.

"No one knows we're down here, do they?" Nathan mused.

"Not a soul," Sloane agreed. "I daresay there's little hope of anyone happening to pass by and see us."

"Since the only person we know who uses it is a criminal, I doubt they'd be much help, anyway."

"We've no food or water," Sloane continued the litany of their woes.

"No ladder or a rope."

"Not to mention the rats and snakes that are probably lurking down here."

"There must be some way out. We could try to move some of these blocks together here, build some sort of platform we could climb onto," Nathan suggested. It was an unlikely hope, he knew—the stones were either too large and heavy to carry or broken into pieces that did not stack easily. But he had no other solution. He wasn't about to admit that he and Sloane might very well be trapped here, unknown to the city above, for the rest of their suddenly abbreviated lives.

Sloane slanted a skeptical look Nathan's way, but shrugged. "Then let's get started."

The two men shrugged out of their coats, rolled up their sleeves, and began to build.

V ERITY ' S WORK WENT off the next morning without a bobble. The artifact was taken safely to the museum, and her client was grateful. It had taken no more than an hour, which left her the rest of the day to spend with Nathan—rather, working on his case, of course.

When she arrived home, Verity found a note from Lady Lockwood inviting Verity to call on her in the afternoon. No doubt Lady Lockwood was hoping to find out more about Nathan's purported half brother. Verity would have preferred not to go. She and Nathan had not made specific plans, but she had assumed they would work together. But with Annabeth's grandmother, an invitation was, in actuality, a command.

Verity hoped Nathan would arrive at her house before she had to leave, but he did not. As her carriage took her to Lady Lockwood's, worry began to nibble at Verity. It wasn't like Nathan to do anything rash, but last night when that attacker had drawn her blood, there had been a certain look in Nathan's eyes that in her experience with men usually preceded trouble.

Verity was shown into her ladyship's drawing room. Lady Lockwood's feisty pug jumped up and began to bark, though she didn't make any move to attack. Verity and Petunia had come to a truce many months ago.

Lady Lockwood banged her cane on the floor, and Petunia subsided. Verity made a proper curtsey to Annabeth's grandmother. "Lady Lockwood, I'm so pleased to see you again."

"One would think you might have called on me before nigh onto a year had passed," Lady Lockwood grumbled.

"I'm sorry." Verity was taken aback. "I, um, didn't realize that you would want—I mean, I was pretending to be Annabeth's maid in your house."

Lady Lockwood raised her eyebrows. "You aren't now, are you? I understand you're currently Mrs. Billingham, who has caught the eye of every bachelor in town."

Only Verity's years of spying kept her jaw from dropping. How did Annabeth's grandmother manage to know everything? "I apologize. I did not see you at any of the parties I attended, or I would have—well, honestly, I probably would have fled for fear you would unmask me."

Lady Lockwood let out a crack of laughter. "Nonsense. I always enjoy a good jest on the ton . Come in, sit down, girl, and chat with us." She nodded toward the window seat across the room, where a very pregnant woman sat.

Verity's eyes widened. "Annabeth! I'm sorry, I didn't see you over there."

"Ha! She's hard to miss," Lady Lockwood said.

"I know I am wide as a house, Grandmother," Annabeth said mildly as she shoved up to her feet and walked toward Verity. "You needn't point it out." She smiled and reached to take Verity's hand. "You can see why you haven't seen me at any parties."

"But how—I mean, when—" Verity's customary aplomb had deserted her. "I'm sorry. That was rude of me."

Annabeth laughed. "Don't worry. I'm accustomed to the reaction. I'm truly not as far along as I appear. Sloane's afraid I'm going to have twins."

"It's Sloane's fault, he's entirely too large," Lady Lockwood decreed. "I have always maintained one should marry a small man."

Annabeth rolled her eyes at Verity, and Verity smothered a laugh. "I agree. We should definitely blame Sloane."

Verity and Annabeth sat down together on the sofa, and the next few minutes were spent discussing babies, a subject about which Verity admitted she knew very little. Lady Lockwood soon shunted such chatter aside.

"Mrs. Dunbridge and Miss Dunbridge are visiting," Lady Lockwood told Verity.

"Nathan's mother and aunt," Annabeth explained in an aside.

"Marcus was so kind as to escort them on a shopping expedition," Lady Lockwood went on. "But they're bound to return soon. Even Rose Dunbridge can only take so long dithering over ribbons and such. She can't know, of course, that you are looking into this Douglas—or supposed Dunbridge—for Nathan. So we must hurry to discuss the investigation before they come back. What have you found out?"

Verity took a deep breath. "My lady, I cannot discuss my clients and cases. I'm sure you understand."

"Quite right. It would never do for other people to know," Lady Lockwood said approvingly. Apparently Lady Lockwood did not consider herself to be "other people," for she went on, "Have you talked to the man yourself? I'm sure he's after money to keep his lips sealed."

Verity wondered if it should concern her that her thoughts ran so close to Lady Lockwood's.

"It's good that you're with Dunbridge," Lady Lockwood went on without waiting for a response. "Nathan probably won't think the man's a swindler—he has a disturbing belief in his fellow man's goodness."

"Mmm," Verity said noncommittally, but she couldn't help but smile.

" I could tell the scoundrel was lying—he had a weaselly look about him. What I wonder is whether he's after larger game. He'll claim to be legitimate, I warrant." She looked at Verity shrewdly, then nodded. "I thought so."

Verity sighed. She would have sworn her face had given nothing away. "My lady, please..."

Beside her, Annabeth laughed and said, "You might as well tell her, Verity. You know very well she'll have it all out of Nathan in an instant."

That was certainly true. And, actually, Lady Lockwood might be of more help than anyone. She knew everything about everyone and had probably been privy to such information for many years. So Verity told them about their meeting with Malcolm Douglas and what they had found out since then, ending with the revelation that the church where George Dunbridge and Margaret Douglas had supposedly been married had burned down.

"Well, that's certainly suspicious," Annabeth remarked.

"Yes, isn't it," Verity replied drily. "Do you know about any of his story, my lady? The girl, Margaret? Mr. Dunbridge going to Scotland?"

"No, I do not," Lady Lockwood said somewhat resentfully. "I never heard even a whisper about the boy getting entangled with some girl in Scotland. And I am always informed on the latest gossip."

"Yes, you are," Verity agreed. The woman should have been a spy herself .

"Nor can I think that George Dunbridge could have kept such a secret for so many years." Lady Lockwood paused, then added judiciously, "He probably did go to Scotland to fish or hunt grouse when he was young as a great many gentlemen do."

"Which makes it a handy thing to claim as part of Malcolm Douglas's story," Verity said.

"Have you checked the diocesan records yet?" Annabeth's grandmother asked.

Verity stared at her blankly.

Lady Lockwood smiled triumphantly. "Really, Miss Cole...and you call yourself a detective."

"But I've never—" Verity swallowed her excuses and said with all the humility she could muster, "I fear my knowledge in that regard is lacking, my lady. Perhaps you could tell me?"

"Churches are supposed to send a copy of the records to the headquarters of their diocese. That church would, of course, be in the London diocese." She added somewhat dishearteningly, "Though I understand they are not always diligent in reporting to the diocese. I'm sure there are a number of the records missing."

"But if St. Agatha did send in their records and if that marriage isn't among the records, it would be good evidence against Douglas's story," Verity said. She felt buoyed by the knowledge, and she would have liked to leave right then to find Nathan. But before she could say good-bye, voices sounded in the entry, and a moment later, two women swept into the room, along with Marcus Rutherford, and it was too late to escape politely.

"My lady." Marcus went to Lady Lockwood and made an elegant bow over her hand, and Verity noticed that he held it a fraction longer than courtesy decreed.

Verity expected a sharp set-down from Lady Lockwood, but the woman just smiled and patted Mr. Rutherford's hand. "I'm sure you must be quite worn out after squiring the ladies around. Do sit down and have some tea. Annabeth, ring for the butler." She cast a glance at her granddaughter then said, "Never mind. Rose, you do it."

"Indeed, yes. Annabeth, you mustn't tire yourself." One of the women smiled brightly and went over to pull the cord.

"I'm fine, Mrs. Dunbridge," Annabeth said with the air of one not expecting to be believed.

Lady Lockwood introduced Verity to the new arrivals as Mrs. Billingham, a friend of Annabeth's. It was imperative, of course, to keep the investigation a secret from Mrs. Dunbridge, and it scarcely mattered that Nathan's mother would know Verity under a false name, for once this case was over Verity would doubtless never see the woman again. Still, she couldn't help but feel a small pang of regret at the subterfuge.

Nathan's mother was the pretty middle-aged woman who had done Lady Lockwood's bidding, and the sharper-faced woman, his aunt. Mrs. Dunbridge launched into a long and rather silly account of their shopping, but her manner was so sweet and lively that even Lady Lockwood laughed instead of making a sarcastic comment.

As the conversation progressed, Verity began to wonder if Nathan's mother was as muzzy-headed as she appeared. There was a little twinkle in Rose's eye that reminded Verity of Nathan when he teased. Once, after Rose asked a foolish question that made everyone laugh, Verity carefully observed the woman's pleased expression, and Rose flashed Verity a small conspiratorial smile.

Though Verity was curious about Nathan's mother and would have liked to get to know her better, she was even more eager to spend time with her son. She wanted to tell Nathan what she had learned from Lady Lockwood, and the whole time she'd been here, she had been wondering if he had called on her, only to find her gone. Besides, there was that strange little tug in her chest, the faint nameless anxiety.

When Annabeth concealed a yawn with her hand and suggested that it was time for her to go home, Verity immediately rose. "Yes, of course you must be tired. Let me drive you home—I brought my carriage."

"Thank you." Annabeth smiled. "That will save me having to drag Grandmother's poor coachman out again."

"I'm surprised Mr. Rutherford didn't accompany you," Nathan's aunt said. There was a faint bite to her words. Verity suspected that the Dunbridge women nursed some degree of resentment at Annabeth's choice of Sloane Rutherford over Nathan.

"Sloane had some business to attend to this morning," Annabeth said, her own voice as smooth and placid as a calm lake.

"Yes, he and Nathan were doing something," Marcus added.

"Sloane and Nathan?" Annabeth and Verity chorused in surprise.

"Why, yes." Marcus looked slightly taken aback at their response. "Nathan came to call as I was leaving this morning. I think it's good that the lads are becoming friends again."

Verity wasn't sure that Nathan and Sloane had ever been friends, let alone had grown closer after Sloane married the woman Nathan loved. She and Annabeth exchanged a look, and Verity asked Marcus, "Why did Nathan visit Sloane?"

Marcus tilted his head to one side, thinking. "I don't believe he said. We just chatted a bit and then I left."

The little tug in Verity's chest grew stronger, and she hurriedly made her good-byes, as did Annabeth. She expected Annabeth's grandmother to make an acerbic remark about their rushing through the courtesies of departure, but Lady Lockwood simply looked at them shrewdly and waved them away.

"What could Nathan want from Sloane?" Annabeth asked in a low voice, hurrying along with Verity to the front door.

"I don't know. But he's up to something. I'm sure of it." Verity swept through the door that the footman had hurried to open. She looked up and down the street and saw her carriage ambling along. Yanking off her gloves, she stuck her thumb and finger between her teeth and let out a piercing whistle.

Annabeth started at the sound, but the look she sent Verity was admiring. "I'd like to do that. Can you teach me?"

"I can try. It comes in handy." Verity tossed her a grin.

The driver turned the horses and started back to them at a much quicker pace. Still, Verity continued to survey the area as they waited.

"Why do you think Nathan is up to something?" Annabeth asked. "What do you suppose it is?"

"I'm not sure. He just had this look in his eyes—like he was planning some sort of mayhem and didn't want me to know."

"Mayhem? Nathan?" Annabeth said in surprise.

The carriage rattled to a stop beside them, and Annabeth climbed in, aided by the little boost from behind that Verity gave her. Verity gave a last encompassing look around and started to get in.

"Miss! Miss!" a high-pitched breathless voice called in the distance. "Wait!"

Verity stepped back and looked up the street to where a young girl ran toward her, waving her arms frantically.

"Sally!" Verity's heart sped up. Something's happened to Nathan.

Sally was the most reliable of the band of street urchins Verity routinely hired—the girl had a tenacity you couldn't teach—and Verity had given her the task of keeping an eye on Nathan today. Clearly her uneasy feeling had been justified.

Verity hurried forward. "What is it? Is Nathan all right?"

The girl reached her and doubled over, hands on knees, gasping for breath. Sally was small and dressed in worn clothing, her face and hands a sort of grayish color that spoke of little washing. Verity stifled her impatience, and after a moment, the girl began to gasp out her message, "Sorry. Late. Couldn't get a hack to take me, and then you wasn't home."

"That's fine. Just tell me—is he in trouble?"

The girl nodded. "They was chasin' a man—"

"They? Was a dark-haired man with him?"

Sally nodded. "That's him. I seen him on the docks afore. They chased this tall skinny fella into a place in Cheapside, and I waited, but they never come out. It's a bad place, miss, and gents like that... I don't know. I went in and couldn't see 'em. I think... I think they went down in the tunnels."

"That bloody—" Verity broke off. "I'm going to kill him."

"Which one, miss?"

"Both of them," Verity replied grimly.

"I left Ned there, 'case they come back out."

"Good girl. Climb up there and tell the driver where to go." Verity helped Sally clamber up to the coachman's seat, then jumped into the carriage herself. It took off with a lurch.

Annabeth, who had been watching the scene with her head out the window, said, "What's going on? I couldn't hear all of what she was saying."

"In short, Nathan and Sloane are fools, and they've wound up in a tunnel in Cheapside, and who knows what's happened to them. Of all the stupid things—" Verity broke off, then began to relate in a calmer voice everything Sally had told her.

"But why were they following this man? Is it Douglas?"

Verity shook her head. "I think it's perhaps one of the men who attacked us." At Annabeth's alarmed exclamation at that statement, Verity went on to explain what had happened the evening before. As she talked, Verity pulled a pistol case out from a side pocket of the carriage and began to load it.

Annabeth settled back against the cushions of the carriage, looking somewhat stunned. "Well...Nathan's life has certainly taken a new turn."

"Yes. It's my fault. I shouldn't have let him help me with the case." Verity sighed. "Well, at least he has Sloane with him, thank heavens."

Annabeth sent her a wry look. "Yes. Because we all know how cautious and peace-loving Sloane is."

Verity looked at her for a moment, then leaned out the window and called, "Drive faster, Russell."