Chapter Nineteen

Mercy's first indication that something wasn't quite right, was a slight tug on her reticule. Thinking she become tangled up with someone, she looked down, only to see a hand clamp itself tightly across her wrist. Heart constricting in sudden fear, she lifted her eyes to see who was on the other end of the almost skeletal fingers holding her in a death grip.

It was a man. She had time to notice he was well dressed before the crush of people around them hid him from her. Nevertheless, he didn't let go of her wrist, despite Mercy's frantic tugging. She shouted her father, but the noise surrounding them was such that he continued on without realising she was no longer with him. She looked behind for her stepmother, but Chastity had been driven to one side in the crush.

Mercy realised she was being inexorably pulled to one side. Instinctively, her eyes sought Nate, and seconds later she found him. Although her abductor was blocked from his sight, he immediately picked up on the desperation in her face. With a barked comment to Max, he began to force his way towards her.

For a moment, Mercy thought she was safe, then she felt a prod in her side and with a sick feeling, realised whoever it was had a pistol. Any opportunity she'd had to scream for help was gone.

‘There is another pistol trained on the Earl. If you value your father's life, you'll come with me without any fuss.'

Mercy tried to look behind her, wanting to see her abductor's face again, but the weapon dug painfully into her side as she did so. Not knowing what else to do, she allowed the man to pull her through the crush. He'd clearly chosen his moment well. There were so many people crammed into the room, that no one would notice as she was dragged outside. Tears formed in the corner of her eyes as she watched Nate trying to reach her. He wasn't going to get to her in time. She knew it and he knew it.

To her surprise, as her captor got closer to the outside doors, he suddenly changed his path. Linking his arm in hers, he marched her towards a previously unnoticed alcove.

Looking back, her frantic gaze locked on Nate's. Just before he disappeared from sight, she mouthed, ‘I love you.' Whatever happened now, she couldn't bear it if he never knew how she felt.

***

As Nate frantically pushed his way through the throng, he had a clear view of Mercy being forcibly taken into an alcove close to the theatre entrance. He wanted to shout but had realised almost immediately that she had a gun pressed into her side. He dared not risk the bastard pressing the trigger. He guessed that the Earl wasn't yet aware his daughter had been abducted, but that was the least of his concerns.

Nate needed to get to her before she was bundled into a carriage and taken God knew where. By now, there was an undercurrent of disapproval following him. The unforgiveable rudeness of Viscount Carlingford would doubtless be discussed in every drawing room on the morrow.

Rudeness he could live with – anything, as long as they weren't gossiping about Mercy's abduction…

Ruthlessly he forged a path through bewildered bystanders, watching helplessly as she disappeared into the alcove. Clearly there was a door inside not generally used by the public. His heart slammed against his ribs at the thought that even now she might be lost to him.

A moment later, he finally broke free of the throng and hastened into the shadowy aperture. Predictably, the door was shut. With a quick look behind him to ensure Max and Christian had noted his direction, he pulled the door open and rushed inside.

The corridor was dark, winding to the right, but moments later, he was pushing open a second door to a narrow alley – just in time to see Mercy being forced into a waiting carriage. Adrenaline spiking, Nate raced towards the carriage, managing to jump onto the footplate just as the door was slammed and the coach driver snapped the reins to get the horses moving.

Hanging on for dear life, as the carriage careered round the corner, the Viscount grabbed hold of the handle, trying to force open the door. For a brief moment, he thought he might be successful, until the window was suddenly forced down and a pistol pointed directly at him.

Seconds later, there was a bang, followed by a sharp pain, and then nothing…

***

Augustus Shackleford couldn't remember the last time he was so distraught. Well, that wasn't quite true, it was when Freddy breathed his last. He hadn't been ready then, and he certainly wasn't deuced well ready now.

The three of them had spent the last hour and a half scouring the jetty, but the little dog appeared to have simply vanished. There was no sign of her in the water, though on more than one occasion they'd had to forcibly stop Finn from throwing himself in after a piece of flotsam he'd mistaken for Flossy.

If the Reverend was distressed, the boy was almost hysterical. Even as the sun began to lower, Finn refused to leave the jetty, and in the end, the only way they managed to persuade him to go was to promise they'd resume looking at first light.

There were only three ships moored alongside the jetty, and the one nearest to where Flossy had disappeared was ironically flying an American flag. For a while Reverend Shackleford had even considered that she might be hiding on board, having somehow led them to Reinhardt. But when the sailor on watch had insisted no bloody animal had come aboard, the clergyman realised he was clutching at straws - attributing a human intelligence to an animal. Flossy was a clever madam, but she was still a deuced dog. And she'd only met the American once.

As much as it made him sick to the stomach to admit it, the most likely scenario was that she'd somehow fallen into the water and drowned.

As the three of them began the long trudge back towards the wharf. Percy had his arm around a weeping Finn. The boy was almost incoherent as they walked. Sobbing that it had been all been his fault, and he'd never eat another pickled egg as long as he lived. The curate had never felt so helpless in his life and found himself praying under his breath that they'd somehow find Flossy alive and well in the morning. He didn't think the boy would get any sleep this night.

Eventually they reached the place where Flossy had first run off, and the Reverend wondered for the first time whether the carriage driver would still be waiting for them by the time they got back to the Dock entrance. He knew that Christian and Chastity had been intending to take Mercy to the opera, so unless the coach driver had returned to the house and reported them missing, his daughter and son-in-law would be entirely unaware of any problem. They were both well accustomed to his foibles, and the fact that he and Percy hadn't joined them for dinner would be of no concern. He glanced down at his pocket watch. Most likely they'd have left the house by now.

Sighing, Reverend Shackleford looked back the way they'd come, then forward in the direction they'd been headed. The building they'd been about to investigate was indeed a lodging house and the clergyman was wondering if they should even consider getting a room, just as a carriage came racing down the wharf.

‘Tare an' hounds,' the Reverend breathed, hurriedly jumping out the way. ‘What the devil is the world coming to when even a deuced coach driver's foxed.' He stepped in front of a shed - housing some kind of spice he guessed from the pungent smell - intending to walk round the back of it and cut behind the carriage, when all of a sudden, the carriage door crashed open revealing a young woman in evening dress. All three of them watched in surprise as the woman jumped down and took off in the direction they just come from. A second later, two men jumped down and chased after her. Predictably they caught up with her after a few minutes, and each grabbing an arm, marched her back towards the carriage.

The Reverend frowned. There were still plenty of people around, and none of the owners of the makeshift stalls had taken the slightest notice of the woman's plight, even though she was clearly being restrained against her will - even screaming to them for help. The clergyman stepped away from the shed, intending to ask what the devil they thought they were doing, when he saw a third man step down from the carriage.

It was Reinhardt.

Heart thumping, Augustus Shackleford instinctively stepped back out of sight, holding up his hand to Percy who looked as though he too was about to intervene.

As the woman came back into the clergyman's line of vision, he stifled a horrified gasp. Unbelievably, it was Mercy.

For once in his life, the Reverend had no idea what to do next. He could tell that the thug dragging her was carrying a pistol. If he and Percy tried to intervene, they could very well end up going for an impromptu swim, and that wouldn't help anyone, least of all his granddaughter. He glanced over at his curate's shocked face. Clearly Percy had recognised her too.

Helplessly, they watched as she was taken towards the lodging house. They didn't enter through the front door, instead dragging Mercy into an alley at the side. The Reverend felt panic welling up. Did they intend to murder her?

Then common sense kicked in. Of course, the varmint wouldn't risk such a thing in broad daylight. It was one thing to hold a woman against her will – sadly such things were commonplace – but murder? Murder he could hang for. And Reinhardt needed Mercy alive.

As if to clarify his intention, the Reverend faintly heard Reinhardt ask his cohort if the priest was on his way, just before they disappeared round the back of the building.

So, he didn't have a priest ready and waiting upstairs to conduct the ceremony… Reverend Shackleford thought back to the ship they'd just seen with the American flag. That was likely the vessel Reinhardt intended to escape on once he'd made Mercy his legal property, but the villain hadn't done it yet.

The clergyman took a deep breath then gritted his teeth. There was no time to fetch anyone else. It was up to him, Percy and the Almighty now. He turned towards his white-faced curate and suddenly spotted Finn, sitting with his back against the shed. For a few minutes, he'd forgotten the boy was with them. Staring at the lad's tear-stained face, the Reverend suddenly had an idea…

***

As Nate lay on the ground, he briefly wondered if he was dying. His right arm hurt like the devil and, for a second, he couldn't remember what the hell he was doing there.

Seconds later it all came flooding back. Lifting his head, he saw that the carriage was nowhere to be seen. The bastard had Mercy. Groaning he rolled to his left side and pushed himself up to a sitting position before beginning the laborious task of shrugging off his jacket. Once down to his shirt, he inspected his right arm.

His shirt was soaked in blood, but though the wound was clearly bleeding profusely, the bullet looked to have gone right through the fleshy part of his arm. He picked up his discarded jacket and was staunching the wound with it when shouts heralded the arrival of Christian and Max.

Nate pointed in the direction the carriage had taken. ‘I'm fine, it's only a flesh wound. Go.'

The two men ran to the mouth of the alley and disappeared leaving Nate to struggle to his feet. The Viscount hoped to God the carriage was trapped in the queue surrounding the Haymarket. Leaning against the wall, he closed his eyes, waiting for the sudden faintness to pass. Then tugging at the cravat around his neck, he used the cloth as a makeshift tourniquet, wrapping it tightly around his arm and tying it off with his teeth.

Pushing away from the wall, he staggered back to the alleyway entrance, looking in the direction the carriage had taken. His heart sank as he realised the lane didn't come out at the front of the theatre, but the back. His bearings had got completely skewed in the twisting corridor. Here, all was quiet with only the distant buzz of conversation coming from inside the theatre. Holding onto a lamp post, he watched and waited for Christian and Max's return, knowing in his heart of hearts they would not have been in time to stop Reinhardt.

Moments later the door opened behind him, and he turned to see Chastity and Patience hurrying towards him.

‘How badly are you hurt?' Patience asked without preamble.

‘A flesh wound,' the Viscount answered shortly. ‘Reinhardt has Mercy. Christian and Max have gone after the carriage.'

Chastity gave a low moan, covering her mouth with her hand.

Patience was more pragmatic. ‘It needs cleaning,' she announced, ‘and for that we need to get you inside. It might only be a flesh wound, but if putrefaction sets in, it'll be curtains for you all the same, my lord.'

At that moment, Christian and Max appeared round the corner. The despondent looks on their faces clearly revealed their failure to stop the carriage.

‘There was no sign of it,' Max grimaced.

‘Did you see which way it went once it reached the end of the street?' Christian growled.

Nate shook his head. ‘The shot propelled me off the foot plate and I think I blacked out for a second.'

Christian ran his fingers through his hair in weary anxiety. ‘Forgive my abruptness. How bad is your injury?'

‘Bad enough,' interjected Patience. ‘He certainly can't go rushing off anywhere before it's properly cleaned and dressed.'

‘Did you catch sight of the carriage at all?' Nate asked, gritting his teeth at the thought that in a few hours Mercy might be beyond any help they could give.

Max shrugged. ‘We saw plenty of carriages, but there was no way of knowing whether any of them had Mercy inside.' He grimaced. ‘Clearly the driver knew his way around the warren of backstreets. They could be anywhere now.'

Nate frowned and shook his head, suddenly recalling the strange smell emanating from the opened window. ‘Not anywhere,' he mused, trying to place the pungent smell he remembered. ‘Spices,' he said at length. ‘Specifically, cloves .' He paused, thinking back to the hand holding the gun. ‘I don't think the man who shot me was Reinhardt. The hand was none too clean, and the arm of his jacket was stained and torn. But underneath the reek of stale sweat, was the smell of cloves.' He looked over at Christian, suddenly animated. ‘Why would a varmint like that smell of cloves? It was all over his fingers.'

‘The docks,' Max and Christian said at the same time. Nate nodded slowly.

‘It makes sense. Reinhardt will want to be close to whatever ship he's booked passage on. There are lots of inns and taverns around the docks he could hole up in while waiting to set sail….' He paused and Christian continued.

‘So, wherever he's staying might be close to a warehouse storing cloves. Is it possible that the man who shot you is a dock worker?'

‘More likely a gallows bird who saw an opportunity to make a quick profit,' Max countered. ‘Reinhardt probably had the lodging ready and waiting for a quick getaway.

‘Doesn't he need to wed Mercy first?' Patience asked.

‘He could quite easily do that in a tavern bedchamber,' Max returned. ‘He's probably had some soused priest on standby for a while. There are many less than scrupulous so-called servants of God who'll do anything for their next bottle of communion wine.'

‘It's a bit tenuous,' Patience muttered, shaking her head.

‘You're right love, it is - but it's all we've got,' Max retorted with a grimace.

Chastity gripped her husband's arm. ‘You can't go into the Docklands alone,' she declared firmly. ‘We have to contact Jamie. He'll be able to provide the men you need to assist you.'

Christian nodded. ‘But we dare not wait for him to muster his Runners. In the meantime, we need Adam and Gabriel.' He looked down at his wife. ‘You and Patience take our carriage to Jamie and Prudence.' He looked at the Viscount, who even in the dim light was beginning to resemble a corpse. ‘You too, Nate. Prudence will have the necessary materials to clean and dress the wound.'

Patience snorted. ‘As long as she doesn't do the actual dressing. I doubt the Viscount will last the night after being ministered to by Pru.'

When Nate frowned and opened his mouth to protest, the Earl held up his hand. ‘You're no use to me in this state, Harding,' he ground out. ‘You know it and I know it. Get the wound dressed. You can fill Jamie in and join us once you've stopped damn well leaking.' He looked over at Max.

‘We'll take your carriage. Adam's house is the closest, I think. While we wait for him to dress, we can send a messenger to Gabe. Hopefully he'll be ready for us by the time we get to him. With luck, we'll be in the Docks before dark.