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She waited.
‘I would need to know the lady’s name.’
‘My name is Miss Katherine Wilder.’ She aligned her bonnet. ‘Miss Katherine Louisa May Wilder.’ She waited, the room silent.
‘As the one risking so much, on merely a lady’s word, you understand if I cannot agree to the methods used in our business, I will respectfully decline and never see or hear you again.’
She made a clucking noise. ‘I agree as I do not see how you will be able to fault me in any way. I assure you, I have read many novels and have learned much about crime. I did not lie when I claimed I have the mind of a master criminal. This will be as easy as picking an apple from a tree.’
‘I believe a lady named Eve said something similar once.’
‘Yes.’ Katherine regarded him patiently. ‘Since I do want to be tossed out, you’ve nothing to complain about.’
‘No. No complaints at all.’ He crossed his bare arms in front of his chest.
She averted her eyes again. The man should put on his shirt.
‘Tell me more.’ Brandt tapped his fingertips of his right hand against the muscles of his left arm.
She dropped her eyes.
‘Continue.’ He kept tapping.
She tugged her cloak around herself.
‘Are you chilled?’ he asked, his voice holding the innocence of a rector in church. ‘Wearing a cloak on such a warm day?’
She didn’t answer immediately, but pulled at the edge of her glove. ‘I wish,’ she continued, ‘to be abducted from in front of Almack’s on Sunday morning.’
She heard a strange noise from his lips and glared at him. She was certain he tittered. Men were not meant to titter.
‘Surely Tuesday or Wednesday night would be better. I can’t remember which night the lovelies race to Almack’s.’
‘It would be my preference as well.’ She kept her chin high and used the same distance she used when scolding a maid. ‘But the carriages swarm the street. They’d block the way as we left.’ She leaned a bit towards Brandt and lowered her voice. ‘To have a successful plan one must anticipate all possibilities.’ Then she stood and her voice regained its command. ‘I am only about with my stepfather on Sunday morning. He insists we attend services as a show of our perfection. Besides, it’s the only time he doesn’t have a weapon at hand.’
‘A weapon?’ His brows furrowed. ‘That’s something I might need to take into consideration.’
‘I did for you.’ She made a fist. ‘I want him to be frightened as well. I want him to think that, in one moment, a blackguard could take him away.’
‘Why didn’t you choose to have him robbed and killed?’
‘They don’t hang well-born women,’ she spoke with a bit of a sniff. ‘But I wouldn’t wish to be the first and, while I don’t love the man, I can’t be responsible for his murder.’ Her eyebrows rose. ‘If you wish to throw in a few punches his way, I would not suggest more than six. He’s spindly.’ She held up one finger. ‘But absolutely no blood. Our laundress has no time for frivolities.’
‘How many punches would be the exact number you prefer?’
‘Let me see your fists.’
He held up a hand, fingers closed.
She examined his knuckles. ‘Perhaps you should not punch him. He’s thin, old and, well, I don’t know if he could survive.’
‘What if he decides to protect you and I must throttle him?’ Brandt lifted his eyebrows.
‘He will not.’ She gently shook her head. She tried not to let her face show Brandt how inept he was in the ways of crime. ‘Simply follow the plan. Don’t worry about anything else. I will be carried away by you and you will not deviate from my instructions.’
He shut his eyes, waited a few seconds and then opened them.
‘This is life or death,’ she snapped out the words.
He shook his head and moved back to the chair. He again propped an elbow on the table and rested his cheek on it. ‘Continue. I’m listening.’
The raptness in his face didn’t fool her. He already overacted. She lowered her eyes and used one finger to touch the table and moved as if following the path of the carriage. ‘I’ll pretend illness to get my stepfather to stop the carriage. You’ll be waiting by the bookseller’s with a gig—out of sight.’ She indicated an intersection, touching the table. ‘When the carriage stops, you’ll wrench open the door and pull me out.’ She raised her eyes to his. ‘My carriage is not attended by anyone foolhardy enough to risk the plan by attacking you, but you may bring a discharged weapon to make sure of our success.’
‘I must have a gig and a weapon.’ He held out an open palm.
She shook her head. ‘You may reimburse yourself from the ransom money. If—’ she leaned closer ‘—you purchase the necessary tools instead of stealing them.’
‘I must have blunt.’ He waved an arm around the room. ‘You see nothing to sell. And I’ll not steal a pistol or a horse.’ He again put his palm out. ‘No one would have a bit of trouble fashioning a rope necklace for me.’
She leaned back and reached inside her cloak. She took a purse from the depth of her clothing, but paused before handing it to him. ‘It’s taken me four years to get this much.’ She raked her eyes over him. ‘Don’t squander it.’
He took the leather, used a finger to loosen the ties and looked inside. He frowned and raised his eyes. ‘I suppose this will buy a knife and a saddle.’
‘You’ll have to manage.’
‘I can cut back on my own costs.’ His eyes had an exaggerated mournfulness. ‘But the poor lightskirts will have hungry children.’
She reached to snatch the purse from his hands, but he moved the leather pouch aside quickly. She lowered her hand.
‘I will contact you soon to give you an exact date and make sure you’ve purchased the supplies.’ She said each word carefully. ‘Please be home in the mornings as it is the only time I can easily move from my house without any suspicion.’
‘You don’t ask much.’ He spoke so quietly he almost mouthed the words to himself.
‘I will need to be housed somewhere as I await the ransom.’ She looked around and shook her head at the same time. ‘You’ll need to find other quarters and you must always act as a gentleman in my presence.’
He raised his brows and gave one long blink at her.
‘I will expect you to be thinking of how best to collect the funds, although I see no great difficulty.’ She looked at him, checking to see if he would disagree. ‘You’ll need to suggest a place not easily ambushed. I’m thinking you could watch my stepfather after he receives the ransom request and relieve him of the purse as soon as he has it and before he expects contact.’ She squared her shoulders. ‘Be prepared to repeat your plans to me when I return as I want to make sure we both are in complete understanding.’
‘Perhaps you should write this down for me.’ He raised his chin, his eyes bland.
‘Perhaps you should pay attention.’
She barely took a breath before she continued. ‘By Sunday, I will bring—’ she dropped her eyes ‘—a few personal items I will be needing and that will not be missed and I will expect them to be stored—safely—’ she glared at him ‘—in your residence until I am kidnapped and the ransom is procured and I can leave. Of course, you will need to spirit me away once we have our funds.’
Then she looked at him. She smiled and her lips parted, and she could already feel the success of her plan. She would not let him ruin it.
‘If you should even think of double crossing...’ She indicated the door with a nod. ‘The woman outside will turn you in to the magistrate.’
‘Are you sure the men in your life would not assist you to leave?’
She clasped her gloved hands in front of her and spoke, stepping back. ‘Thank you for your time and I will send someone around with a parcel of soap as a memento of our conversation.’
He picked up the bottle and blew across the opening to make the low, whistling sound.
Miss Wilder captured his attention again as she brushed at her sleeve without thinking, and spoke. ‘Sir, I hope after we complete our business you use the money to find an honest endeavour.’
With those words, she rose as if leaving her subjects. He didn’t even stand as a courtesy.
The door closed softly when she left. Brandt walked to the door, took the key from the wall and locked the latch. That would teach him to come home with enough drink in him to splash up to his ears.
He refused to get bathing water, or his razor.
He settled back in his chair and put his elbow on the table, and made a fist but extended two fingers and put his forehead against them.
Miss Wilder solicited him for a crime, the likes of which he had never even contemplated before, and then chided him to find honest work.
And she made him feel something—something different than a peaceful drunkenness or the black crevasse of desolation. He preferred their companionship.
He took another swallow. Then, he pressed back, again raising the front legs of his chair off the floor, trying to recapture a moment of sitting unconcerned and relaxed. But the image of the woman standing at the door, condemnation in her eyes, would not go away. Anger rolled throughout his body and he could almost hear emotion rumbling in his ears.
He moved, letting the front legs of his chair jar the floor, and stood. Grabbing his hat from the peg, he pulled it on so it covered much of his head. ‘Not as much sense as a tavern wench,’ he muttered, not knowing if he talked of himself or her. He clutched his frock coat and slipped it over his bare arms. He unlocked the door and buttoned the coat as he hurried, hoping he could still catch sight of the bonnet. He wanted to know where she lived.
He wouldn’t let Miss Wilder fashion a noose for him. He’d at least select his own rope for the hangman.
Chapter Four (#u55217e6c-c35f-540e-9d60-aac153df2186)
As soon as Katherine turned the corner and knew she was away from the windows of his home, she grabbed the arm of the older woman and pulled her to a stop. She gulped in breaths of air, concentrating on the movement of her lungs. ‘You must steady me as my knees are trembling.’
Mrs Caudle put a hand on Katherine’s arm, and squeezed. ‘All of you is trembling.’
Katherine closed her eyes, straightened her back and then looked into Mrs Caudle’s face. ‘I will not let Augustine destroy me. I will use him to grow stronger and then I’ll use that strength against him.’
‘You are as wilful as he is.’
Katherine shrugged away the talk of her stubbornness and they crossed the street, moving towards the cared-for shops.
The older woman kicked at a dried pod of horse dung. ‘You’ve got to move from your stepfather soon or Fillmore will have you in his grasp.’
A carriage rumbled past, drowning the words.
‘I know,’ Katherine spoke. ‘And he is determined that Gussie be sent to a madhouse. As soon as I get the ransom, the very next time he tells you to take her away, do so. I will have a house for the three of us.’
She shook her head. ‘Gussie’s his own blood and he wants her put away.’
‘He thinks she’s damaged because she doesn’t speak and hides from him,’ Mrs Caudle said. ‘But since she first toddled about, he would throw something at her or shout when she got in his way. She’s much better when he’s away, and he refuses to let her leave the house. I don’t know if it’s because he’s afraid someone will see her and think his blood tainted.’
‘Or because he thinks I will run away with her.’ Katherine nodded, stepping faster to hurry them past the windows. ‘We must separate her from Augustine. Otherwise, he’ll likely put her in St. Mary’s and she’ll be locked away.’
‘The sooner she gets away, the better,’ the governess said. ‘Another footman left the house this week because Augustine threw a dish at him.
‘If that wastrel doesn’t do this...’ Katherine tugged at her bonnet ties ‘... I will handle the kidnapping on my own. I just need someone who looks like a rogue and he does. I’ll prop him up if I have to. Augustine has to believe it is true.’
Katherine pushed back a strand of hair which had escaped from her bonnet. She slowed and tried to catch her reflection in the windows as she walked. She wanted no hint showing of where she’d been.
The old woman laughed. ‘You have to admit he doesn’t wish to kidnap anyone. That speaks highly of him.’
‘Yes, but we...’ She groaned, increased her speed, and put a hand to her hip. ‘I will just have to do it myself. I can, I’m sure.’
‘You need ransom money and a place to hide. And Fillmore has to believe it. The only way your stepfather will pay anything to have you returned is if his nephew says he must.’
‘We have to have someone Augustine doesn’t know,’ Katherine agreed, searching for a hackney. ‘That scruff of a man can do it.’
‘I wouldn’t call him a scruff. If you’re going down an ill-got path, he’d be the place to begin.’
‘I don’t want to go down any paths. I want to hide. Peacefully. In the country. With you and Gussie.’
A donkey and cart awaited them, a young man with obsidian hair holding the reins of the donkey.
Few people were on the street and she didn’t want any of Augustine’s friends happening upon her. She’d known better than to request the carriage. Augustine would have needed it for some reason or other. Or worse, he might have insisted he would go along. When they were trapped in a carriage, he complained or chastised with every turn of the wheels.
‘Child. The lad will kidnap you,’ the old woman insisted, helping Katherine into the cart. ‘He’s got the sight of you and he won’t be able to walk away. Remember, when you find yourself alone with him—don’t breathe the same air as he does. Men put off an elixir or something. I’ve thought on it for years and can’t get it figured for sure. I think it’s the way they breathe and it blinds us. Blinds us. Pulls our senses right out of our body. Makes us forget about all else, but having our way with them.’ She shook her head. ‘You don’t need to be wasting your virtue.’ She raised her voice. ‘And do not breathe in when he’s close enough to sniff.’
The old woman jumped into the cart with the same spry step as the youth and called to the donkey to move.
She mopped her brow with a handkerchief she pulled from her pocket. ‘Lad’s rather sturdier looking than I expected.’ She mumbled something else, turning her head sideways so Katherine couldn’t hear her over the hooves.
Katherine thought back to the man. ‘I’d like to see him cleaned up a bit.’
‘Ho. Ho. Take my word for it. This one would clean up sparkly as a new guinea. You’d best be hoping he don’t clean up none around you, child.’ She nudged Katherine’s foot with her booted one. ‘I’ve not seen many like him in my life. You be keeping your toes on your hem when he’s about or your skirt might be flying over your head on its own.’
Katherine raised her chin. ‘I’m not a jade.’
‘Don’t matter. He’s full of elixir. I could tell that the moment I laid eyes on him.’
* * *
The house welcomed Katherine, but only from the outside. At the front, filigree bowers for ivy stood almost six feet tall on either side of the door. When her father lived, servants kept the ivy trimmed enough so that visitors could see the metal underneath. But now no one could read the inset of her mother and father’s initials in the filigree.
Katherine hurried into the house through the servants’ entrance, avoiding the butler, Weddle. He reported Katherine’s every move to her stepfather.
Her stepfather must believe the kidnapping.
Witnesses. They would need good witnesses.
Katherine thought of sending a discreet note to TheTimes so an engraver could be present. She would simply curl up her toes and swoon to have the kidnapping on the front of TheTimes.
Her dagger’s blade barely stretched longer than her hand, and she wondered if she should take it with her. The knife rested against the base of her bed’s headboard so a maid wouldn’t see it—although she doubted any would care. Her thoughts caught on Brandt’s face. She should have told him not to get near a razor or soap for the next few days. Surely he’d not decide to clean up for the occasion—but one never could be certain what a foxed man would decide if left on his own.
