Chapter 36

36

A crash of some sort registered at the edge of Philip’s awareness, jostling him away from a peaceful oblivion and slowly tugging him back toward a world of pain. His head throbbed, his shoulders felt as if they were being torn from their sockets, and nerves pinched in his neck. Oblivion beckoned him to return. Why not escape the pain a little longer? Dream of Letty. Holding her. Kissing her.

Something wet touched his lips, halting his slide into the black waters of unconsciousness.

Letty?

Philip struggled to break free of oblivion’s hold and kick to the surface. The kiss came again, but it had distorted somehow. It was too wet, too wide, too ... smelly.

“Wake up, already, Sleeping Beauty.” The low voice was far too masculine and exasperated to belong to Letty.

The kissing intensified, covering his entire chin with slobber. What on earth was happening to him?

Pushing through the pain, Philip concentrated on opening his eyes. Suddenly the pressure on his shoulders released as his arms fell free of their confines. Ropes. He’d been bound. Someone was cutting him free.

“Come on, Carmichael.” A hand clasped his aching shoulder and gave him a shake. “Radcliffe has the women. We gotta go.”

Letty!

Philip forced his eyes open just in time to see a giant wolf tongue come in for another swipe. Rusty crouched in front of where Philip lay on his side, licking his face as if someone had drizzled him with honey.

He groaned and rolled away from the wolfish kiss, lifting his newly freed arm to scrub his sleeve over his face. “I’m up,” he grunted, finally prying his lashes apart to identify his rescuer. “Carter? How did you find me?”

The stable master finished slicing through the ropes at Philip’s ankles, then gave him a hand up. The world spun, and Philip staggered back a step, nearly tripping over the prone guard sprawled on the shed floor, an overturned shovel discarded beside him.

“Easy there.” Carter grabbed his elbow and steadied him. “Take a minute to find your bearings. You’ve got a pretty big goose egg on the back of your skull.”

Philip’s stomach churned, but he fought down the nausea as Carter’s earlier words solidified through the haze slowly clearing from his mind. “Letty. Where is she?”

“Radcliffe’s got her. Her mother, too. Sent his henchman and a pair of muscled thugs to collect them. Took out Harper and forced their way inside.” Carter spat his disgust onto the floor. “According to Fellows, the cretin in charge produced something that belonged to Mrs. Anderson, proving they held her captive. Basically threatened to kill her if Miss Scarlett didn’t go with him. And of course, the missus wasn’t about to let her daughter go alone. They threatened to kill both ladies if anyone interfered, but we figured Radcliffe would likely kill them anyway to keep them from testifying against him, so I set out with the wolf while Fellows went to inform Stefan and the law.” He patted Rusty’s side. “I didn’t want to alert anyone up at the house, so we approached from the rear. This fella picked up your scent right away and led me right to the garden shed. Guess they planned to dispose of you later.”

A cheerful thought. But he’d rather be alive with a throbbing lump on his head than dead and unable to help Letty.

Philip thought back to his visit that morning. “He’s got half a dozen men standing guard at the front of the house, four at ground level, and at least two roaming the balconies on the upper floors.”

“I spied a couple roaming the rear grounds as well. The carriage house and garden shed will keep us hidden initially, but if we try to approach the house, chances are good that we’ll be spotted.”

Philip frowned. “Any ideas?”

Carter scratched at his beard. “When Lowell Radcliffe first hired me, he had me drive him and the missus out here a couple of times before he cut ties with his brother. There’s a tower of sorts on the west side of the house. No doors or balconies. Briars left to grow wild around it. No way to patrol that side. And no need, really. The lair is impenetrable.”

“The lair?”

Carter nodded. “That’s what he calls it. On account of his dragon nickname. From what I hear, the tower has become legendary among the elite. If rumor is to be believed, the room is filled with all sorts of antique weaponry. A suit of armor, swords, even a working guillotine. I’ve heard he chops watermelons in half with it at parties.”

Philip’s jaw tightened. “Sounds like the perfect place to try to intimidate a pair of women.”

Tamping down his anger, he scanned the small shed looking for anything he could use as a weapon. His gun had been confiscated at some point. Not surprising. What was surprising was his guard’s lack of weapon. The fellow looked more like a household servant than a hired gun. Which made sense, he supposed. Why waste a mercenary on babysitting duty when the captive had been incapacitated? A gardener or groom would suffice. With Philip trussed up, they probably hadn’t expected a weapon to be necessary. And if Carter and Rusty hadn’t come along, they would have been right.

A selection of garden implements hung on the back wall. Philip grabbed a hatchet and a wicked-looking billhook used for trimming hedges. Ought to work on thornbushes, too.

“Grab that ladder.” Philip tipped his head in the direction of the item in question. “If the best way in is through the thorns, then let’s get chopping.”

Carter lifted the ladder down and angled it so it would fit through the doorway. “I spotted a footpath leading around to the back of the house. Probably one the gardener uses. If we’re lucky, it might get us to that tower unseen.”

“It’s as good a plan as any,” Philip said. “Lead the way.”

****

Letty and her mother climbed the narrow staircase to a room the man in black had called the lair. He followed behind them, his gun finally stowed. Apparently, he didn’t consider women much of a threat. The heaviness of the blade in her pocket tempted her to prove him wrong, but now was not the time to make a move. She had to ensure Grandmother’s safety first.

A door stood open at the top of the stairs. Mama swept inside as if she knew exactly where she was going. Letty did her best to imitate her mother’s confident stride as she crossed the threshold, but the strangeness of the large chamber caused her to stumble slightly.

What kind of place was this? Heavy iron sconces sported open flames that cast eerie shadows upon the stone walls. A suit of armor stood sentry in one corner, a set of stocks on display in another. Good heavens! Was that a guillotine? A shiver coursed down her spine. Swords, shields, and a pair of battle-axes decorated the wall across from the entrance. A large tapestry depicting a fire-breathing dragon hung above the hearth. Next to the hearth sat an ornately carved wooden chair set high on a dais. And in that chair sat a man with features that reminded her of her father, yet the maleficence radiating from him made it clear that his soul was as dark as her father’s had been light.

Drake Radcliffe rose from his throne like some kind of self-declared king and descended the dais steps to greet them.

“Scarlett. At last. How lovely to have you returned to us.” His smile faded as he regarded her mother. “Leah.”

“Drake.” Mama stared at him, her gaze penetrating and unwavering.

Apparently unable to withstand the righteousness of the accusation in her eyes for more than a moment, he turned his attention to his hired man. “Excellent work, Davis. I see your powers of persuasion are as strong as ever.”

Davis closed the door behind him and slid the bolt closed. “The ladies were quite cooperative once I explained the situation to them.”

Enough of this farce. She might be the mouse in this scenario, but that didn’t mean she had to sit back and let the cat toy with her until he grew bored. There were more important matters to attend to.

Letty stepped forward, fists clenched at her sides. “Where’s my grandmother?”

Uncle Drake lifted a brow. “Impatient little baggage, aren’t you?”

Letty raised her chin, calling to mind the words from Psalm 56 that Grandmother had trained her to memorize in her youth—for such a time as this. “In God I have put my trust; I will not fear what flesh can do unto me.”

She eyed her uncle with disdain. “I’m here for one reason only—to fetch my grandmother. Where is she?”

“I’m here, Letty.” The wobbly voice echoed from behind a large curtain.

Uncle Drake cursed under his breath, stomped to the far side of the room like a petulant child, and dragged the curtain back with a flourish. Behind it stood a raised bedstead so large that it nearly swallowed its pale occupant.

“What did I tell you about ruining my surprise, Flora?” He drew back his palm and slapped Grandmother across the face. She tumbled backward onto the pillows, a chain jangling at her movement. He had her in manacles ? The man was barbaric!

“Stop!” Letty launched herself toward the bed, but a pair of strong arms grabbed her from behind.

“Not so fast, girlie.” Davis’s smug tone lit a fire in her belly, but his grip proved effective and bruisingly painful.

He dragged her over to a roughhewn table and forced her into a hard wooden chair. This section of the room had been set up to resemble a more domestic medieval setting. A side table stood against the back wall bedecked with crockery and candlesticks. A washstand was positioned next to the bed, and a spinning wheel sat near the only window in the entire chamber.

The moment Davis released his hold on her, Letty leaned forward, desperate to get a better view of the bed. “Grandmother? Are you all right?”

“‘Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me.’”

“Shut up, woman.” Uncle Drake drew his hand back again, but Mama had anticipated his bullying and had already rushed forward to plant herself between him and her mother.

“Does it make you feel strong to beat defenseless women, Drake? Was it not enough to chain her like an animal?” Her eyes ran over him, disgust twisting her features. “You shame the Radcliffe name.”

His face turned a mottled red. “My brother shamed the Radcliffe name the moment he shared it with you!” He raised his hand as if to strike her, but a wolf howled somewhere outside, halting his arm midswing.

Drake jerked his gaze toward the window, his eyes wide as his arm fell to his side. His startlement proved fleeting, however, for in the next breath, he grunted and regained his scowl.

He marched toward the table, picked up a leather portfolio at the far edge, then slammed it down in front of her. “It’s time to right the wrong your father did to me. Radcliffe Shipping belongs to me, as do all the proceeds from its subsidiaries and investments. Now that you are fully in control of Lowell’s fortune, it is up to you to restore what is rightfully mine.” He opened the portfolio and took out a thin stack of papers. “These documents designate me as the sole custodian of the company shares and financial trust left to you by your father. If you sign them, you, your mother, and your grandmother will be free to go and will never be bothered by me again. Refuse, and Davis will dose your granny with enough ether to ensure she never wakes.”

He fetched a pen-and-ink stand from the back table and thumped them down by her right hand.

Letty looked to the bed, to the woman who had raised her. The woman who was more mother than grandmother to her. Tears misted her eyes. She couldn’t just watch her grandmother die. The money meant nothing to her. Grandmother meant everything.

Grandmother struggled to lift herself up on one elbow. Mama leaned in to prop her up.

“Don’t you sign that paper, Letty girl.” Grandmother’s body might be frail, but her voice carried the strength of iron. “I’m ready to meet my Maker.”

Drake forced the pen into Letty’s hand and pinched her fingers around the casing.

Tears fell from her eyes as she shook her head. “I can’t let you go.”

“Yes, you can. You must. The minute you sign that paper, you sign the death warrant for both you and your mama. His promise is nothing but sand in the wind.”

“Davis!” Uncle Drake yelled. “Get the ether.”

The man in black scurried over to the washstand, took up a glass bottle, and unstoppered it. He poured a liberal amount into a folded rag, filling the room with a sickly sweet smell. He crept toward Grandmother, rag in hand.

Uncle Drake pounded the table next to Letty, making her jump. “Sign!”

A wolf bayed again, but this time the sound had no effect on her uncle. It did, however, have an effect on Letty. For she recognized the timbre of that call.

“All right! I’ll do it.” She dipped the nib in the ink, moving as slowly as she possibly could.

Please, Lord, let that be a sign from you.

Closing her ears to her mother’s urging that she put the pen down, and turning her face so she could no longer see the carrion bird swooping down on Grandmother with his deadly elixir, Letty set pen to paper, praying the dragon in his greed would be too consumed with her to notice the small scratching noises coming from the other side of the stone wall.

As her pen began shaping the curve of the S , her left hand clasped the hilt of the knife in her skirt pocket. As she worked the leather sheath away from the blade, the window crashed inward, followed by the boots and body of her favorite Pinkerton.