Chapter Thirty-One

A nnie Foster moved through the crowded streets with a spring in her step and a smile playing about her lips. It always made her happy to see her mother and sister. They lived in a modest set of rooms that her pay helped to provide for them.

Getting a position as a lady's maid had been a stroke of luck for all of them. But her smile faded. Because there was James. He was a terrible footman, but he was a very good man, and he took his responsibilities very seriously. Even though she knew he was attracted to her, that he wanted to be much more than simply a friend to her, his job was to keep her ladyship safe, and he wouldn't let anything else get in the way of that. At first, she'd only thought him handsome. But then she'd begun to see him as kind and caring. That had changed things.

She hadn't said anything to him yet, and she wasn't even certain she should. Just because she caught him watching her, that didn't mean anything. Lots of men looked even when they already had wives at home or when they had no intention of having a wife at all. And she wasn't the sort of girl to accept anything less than that.

Turning onto a bustling street that ran between St. James Park and Hyde Park, she saw a man up ahead of her. Clearly, he was watching her. At first, she thought he was one of Mr. Carrow's fellows, but something about him seemed a bit off. He was dressed rough, rougher than most of the men that worked for Mr. Carrow. And there was something about the way he stood there, his shoulders back all straight and tall. Most men from her class, from the working class, didn't move that way, didn't stand that way. They slouched or leaned. He stood like a gentleman would.

A frisson of fear snaked down Annie's spine. There was something about it all that didn't sit right. But it was too late. She'd kept walking, and now she was close enough to see that it was no mere laborer there. It was the nephew of her late employer, Lord Simon Dagliesh. Before she could turn away, he was on her. One of his arms was around her, that hand gripping her upper arm bruisingly. His other hand pressed something cold and metal against her ribs.

"This blade is a good six inches in length. Make a sound, and I'll bury it to the hilt in your lung and leave you here to die," he warned.

"What do you want?"

"Your cooperation," he said. "You're the bait in the trap, Annie. All you must do is be quiet and let the plan unfold. And if you don't... I know where your mother and sister are. I know everything... their names, their direction. I know that your sister is a pretty young thing and this world can be very unkind to pretty young girls. Don't make me be more of a villain than I have to be."

Annie knew that she didn't have a choice. No one would turn their hand to help a girl like her. Serving class were invisible to their betters and those in service were too reluctant to make a scene and lose their positions. Even if she called out for help, it was unlikely that anyone would bother to help or risk their own livelihood for her.

A glance around made her realize how true that was. No one was looking in her direction. A few, she realized, were clearly avoiding it. They'd not stick their necks out to help some unknown girl. He could tell them anything—that she was a pickpocket, that she was his wife. They'd believe him because he was a man. And it was very much a man's world.

"I'll cooperate. I'll do as you ask. But I can't imagine what you think to accomplish with this."

"Your mistress is very loyal," he answered. "And she'll do what she must to save you because that is what you did for her. Be a good girl, Annie, and you'll get out of this just fine."

With a sick feeling in her stomach and no trust for him at all, Annie allowed him to lead her down the street, far from the safety of the Hound's residence. How strange it was that the man the world called a criminal was the one a woman could count on.

*

Hettie had lost track of time. It wasn't until late afternoon that she looked up from the book she'd been using primarily as a distraction from all the things weighing on her mind. Realizing she would need to dress for dinner, she rang for her maid. But moments later, when the door opened, it wasn't Foster who greeted her but one of the parlor maids.

"Has Foster not returned?"

"Annie—pardon, m'lady, Foster has not returned from her half day," the maid said.

It wasn't like her. Foster had never been late returning from her half days. The girl was prompt to the point of compulsion. "Did she say anything before she left that she might be late returning?"

"No, m'lady. She said she was taking her half day and would go to visit her mother and sister in Lambeth. She ought to have been back by now. I hated to say anything. I didn't want her to be in trouble, but I'm so very worried."

"As am I," Hettie replied. "Is Mr. Carrow here?"

"He's in his study, m'lady, with Mr. Ettinger."

Hettie nodded. "Go back to the kitchens. And don't say anything to anyone else. I don't want to raise a fuss if there's truly nothing to worry about. I'll let Mr. Carrow and Mr. Ettinger know that Foster hasn't returned. They'll take care of it and get her back here safe and sound."

The maid nodded and then bustled from the room. Hettie was not far behind. But their paths diverged when the maid disappeared into the servants' stairwell and Hettie made her way down the grand staircase to Vincent's study on the second floor. She could hear the soft murmur of voices within. Knocking softly, she waited for permission to enter.

A moment later, she heard her new brother-in-law's voice calling out. Opening the door, she stepped into that very masculine enclave.

"Is something wrong?" Joss asked immediately.

"I'm not entirely sure. Foster, my maid, has not returned. I gave her a half day to visit her mother and sister who reside in Lambeth. And she's never tardy. It's simply not in her nature. I'm afraid something may have happened to her."

"Something . . . or someone?" Vincent demanded.

"Again, I'm not entirely sure," Hettie answered honestly. "But I cannot imagine that Simon would have any reason to harm her. She's a lady's maid and hardly a threat to him."

"No, but she does have your loyalty. She risked life and limb to bring Honoria word of your abduction," Vincent stated. "And Simon may well be counting on your selfless nature. He's certainly not above using her to force your hand in some way."

Hettie swayed on her feet. "Oh, no. No. I should not have sent her away this morning. I thought—well, she's been working so hard that she had earned a bit of respite. It never occurred to me that I might well be sending her right into the face of danger!"

"It shouldn't have had to occur to you," Joss protested. "It should have occurred to us. We've been chasing our tails trying to tackle this on both fronts—Bates and Simon. We should have focused on Simon and let the Bates business work itself out. Do you know her mother's direction?"

"Yes... I have it in my ledger. Foster has me send half her pay there every month," Hettie exclaimed. "I'll get it for you."

"No," Joss protested. "Tell me where it is, and I'll get it. You're near to falling over. You do not need to be going up and down the stairs given the state you are in now."

She wanted to protest, but honestly she could not. The possibilities of what might have happened to Foster had left her quite shaken. "It's in my writing box, next to my dressing table."

Joss nodded and then marched from the room to retrieve the item.

"Sit down, Hettie. You look as though you might topple at any moment."

The directive from Vincent had her shaking her head. He wasn't wrong. But she was also far too nervous to sit. So she paced. "I can't. If something happens to her because of me—"

"It isn't because of you. It's because of Simon. Do not take his sins upon yourself."

"No... but I should have considered that he might be desperate and do something horrid."

Vincent shook his head. "Or maybe she's just late? Possibly her mother or sister were ill and she is tending to them? Let us not assume the worst until we have no other option."

Hettie knew he was right, but she couldn't shake the feeling that something horrible had happened. Because in her life something horrible had always happened. Before she could say anything, Joss returned, her ledger in hand.

Hettie opened it to the correct page and then passed the book to him. "That's where they live. Do not go alone. I cannot help but feel that is precisely what he wants. It could well be a trap."

"I've no intention of going alone," he replied. "I'll take some of Vincent's men with me. And in the meantime, you are to stay here with Vincent. I do not trust Simon. This could be simply a diversionary tactic, intended to leave you unprotected. That is not a chance I am willing to take."