Chapter 27
Terror shot through me and I shrieked. “Let me go! Get your hands off me. Gage!”
But he didn’t move or respond, not even with a groan. Blood began to mat the back of his blond hair, his hat having been knocked off. At first I feared they’d shot him in the head, and a bolt of sickening panic nearly paralyzed me. But then I saw the crude cudgel one of the other men was brandishing. By his hulking size, his brown coat, and the smallpox scars Bonnie Brock had described, I knew him to be the man who had followed us from Lennox’s several days ago. McQueen’s man.
I kicked out, struggling against the man who had my arms pinned behind my back, but in my expectant condition I was awkward and clumsy at best. My Hewson percussion pistol was nestled inside my reticule still attached to my wrist, but I couldn’t reach it with my hands restrained. The door across the corridor cracked open, and the woman who had spied on us the day before peered out. I screamed at her to help, but she merely slammed the door.
“Shut your gob,” the man behind me ordered. “Or I’ll throw ye doon these stairs, and we’ll see how much ye like that.”
Knowing that such an act would likely kill me and the child in my womb, I bit my lip. My eyes darted around us, trying to find some way out of this situation. But without anyone’s help, there was little I could do but obey their commands. The two other men lifted Gage’s body, carrying him unceremoniously down the stairs, while I was hustled after them.
I considered elbowing the man restraining me in the gut and trying to run once we reached the bottom of the stairs, but another contraction ended any such attempt before I could even try it. I stumbled forward, wishing I’d taken the pains more seriously earlier. They were still paced well apart, but if I was truly going into labor, they would only get worse. Much worse. And who knew where these men intended to take us.
Rather than turn right to return to the street where our carriage awaited us, they hustled us to the left along the lane at the base of the hillside to a wider close some one hundred yards farther west. There, an old hackney carriage stood waiting. Gage was tossed into its confines before I was pushed toward its dilapidated step. I wasn’t even certain it would hold my weight. But before I could begin to climb, the man who had restrained me wrenched me back around to face him.
“Noo, just a moment. We was warned ye might be armed.” He yanked my reticule from my wrist, feeling through the velvet the clear indentation of my weapon. His dark eyes glinted with satisfaction before trailing over my pelisse. “Ye got anythin’ else concealed under there?”
I scowled at him to no avail.
“Open it, lass.” He leered, revealing a large gap between his front teeth. “Or I’ll do it for ye.”
I unfastened the buttons in sharp tugs, angry that I was being treated so, and frightened for Gage, myself, and our child. Once I’d parted the claret fabric, his gaze ran over me insultingly before focusing on my neck.
“Noo, what do we have here,” he drawled, reaching for the gold chain draped around my neck. He pulled the amethyst pendant my mother had given me from beneath the bodice of my gown. “Take it off.”
My heart squeezed at the idea of doing so. I wore it so often, not only because it was the most special thing she’d ever given me but also because she’d said it was for my protection. And even though rationally I knew that it wasn’t imbued with any magical powers, I still felt vulnerable and exposed at the thought of not possessing it.
“Take it off,” he repeated sharply, leaving me with no doubt he would rip it from my neck if I didn’t.
I lifted my shaking hands to undo the clasp before passing it to him. He stuffed it into his pocket and then gestured for me to get inside the carriage. Fighting a wave of panic, I did as I was told. Surely our coachman would realize something was wrong when we didn’t return. Surely Heron had heard us being attacked outside his rooms and would go for help. Or maybe the woman peering at us through her door would take pity on us and run for a watchman.
I rearranged Gage’s limp body as best I could, resting his head in my lap. His wound bled profusely, but his skull didn’t seem broken. So I did what I could to stanch the flow of blood with the skirts of my gown while the fingers of my other hand searched the side of his neck for a pulse. I found it beating strong and steady and released a shuddering breath. Then as unobtrusively as possible, I searched the pockets of Gage’s greatcoat but found that his pistol had also been taken.
The gap-toothed man climbed into the carriage and sat across from us, the harsh stench of his person mixing with the acrid smells that had leached into the tattered leather of the hackney and the metallic odor of Gage’s blood. I breathed shallowly through my nose, reminding myself I’d suffered through fouler aromas, but my stomach rebelled nonetheless. So much so that sweat broke out across my brow, and I was forced to swallow repeatedly.
The faded curtains were pulled tightly shut, and I wasn’t allowed to see where we were going, but fortunately our destination was not far. We pulled to a stop, and my muscles strained with the desire to flee. But when the door was wrenched open unceremoniously, flooding the carriage with light, it was to allow someone to peer inside, not for me to exit.
Lennox’s sharp gaze took in the sight of Gage bleeding in my lap and my pale, distressed face blinking back at him, but he didn’t spare us an iota of remorse. “You should have steered clear of this one, Lady Darby. You should have let Kincaid have his due.”
He turned abruptly to the gap-toothed man. “Don’t leave the job undone this time. Had Kirkcowan revived . . .”
“Costs extra,” the man replied.
“I paid plenty,” Lennox snapped. “If you’ve a problem with your cut, speak to McQueen.”
Then the door was slammed shut, taking with it all the fresh air that had rushed inside, and a shout went up for us to roll forward.
I warred with myself over whether to try to reason with the gap-toothed man. To ask where we were going. To offer more money for him not to harm us. But speaking meant breathing more air, and I was perilously close to vomiting all over Gage and myself.
When we jerked to a halt a short distance away, I wasn’t sure what it meant until the gap-toothed man descended from the conveyance. “Get down,” he ordered me, crowding close, but not offering me any assistance as I struggled to descend without tripping and falling.
The other men hauled Gage from the hackney while I turned to look around me. We were in a dark enclosed space between two tall buildings of some kind. They appeared to be tenements, for I saw a number of faces staring cautiously from the windows above down at us below. None of them interfered. They simply watched. A group of lads clustered nearby, and I stared at them, begging them with my eyes to help us lest my words earn me a blow to the stomach.
“Isna that the butcher’s wife?” I heard one of them murmur.
I felt a pulse of hope, not even caring that he’d called me by one of the cruel epithets the papers had dubbed me with following the revelations of my assisting Sir Anthony. If they knew who I was, perhaps they would go for help. But one of McQueen’s men barked at them, and they backed away, lowering their gazes.
My right arm was clasped in a tight grip, which would leave a bruise, and I was propelled through a doorway and down a dark, cramped corridor and up a staircase. Another contraction rippled through me, and some of my attention was pulled away from my surroundings as I breathed through it, despite the air here not being much sweeter than in the carriage. We entered a dim chamber, passing through it into another room, and then what I thought would be another, but the scent and the feel of the air around us alerted me to the change. I gazed around me at the dark rugged stone arching overhead, at the uneven colors and textures revealed in the light of the battered lantern the gap-toothed man was given by one of his men, and I suddenly realized where we were.
Horror lanced through me. We were being led into the vaults below South Bridge—that underground labyrinth of damp, darkness, and disease. Even now, the sour stench of dank stone and musty air assailed my nostrils. I resisted the gap-toothed man’s efforts to pull me forward, my feet rooted to the spot in fright. But he tugged harder, nearly pulling me off my feet as he led me through the tunnels of rock.
My heart fluttered in my chest as I tried to memorize the path he led us on through the warren of rooms and tunnels, but I soon lost track. Occasionally hollow-eyed faces would stare back at us from the darkness, or a groan or cough would reach my ears, but as before, no one spoke to us, no one interfered.
The farther we walked, the lower my hopes became, for how would anyone ever find us? And if they did, would they find us alive or merely corpses? Lennox had ordered them to finish the job, and I held no illusions about what that meant. I cringed as a fat rat scampered down the corridor past us with seemingly little concern about being seen.
In my panic, I couldn’t tell how long we’d been walking, but we appeared to have reached the bowels of the place. The deeper we’d gone, the fewer people there had been, and I soon understood why. The floors were damp, the corners black with foul growth. Even the rats didn’t appear to want to live here. I shivered in my pelisse, not simply from revulsion but also the cold.
A wall loomed up before us, and I could see now that we’d come to the end. Along the far edge, a stagnant puddle had formed into which the water running down the walls from above dripped. The men dumped Gage onto the floor, and I turned to face them, wary of what was to happen next. But it appeared they had no stomach to actually kill us. Or perhaps they’d decided the effort was unnecessary.
My throat constricted with fear as they began to back out of the chamber.
“Best pray it doesna rain,” the man in the brown coat quipped in a rough voice, making me stiffen with dread that perhaps this area actually flooded to above our heads.
I turned my wide eyes to the gap-toothed man, who was the last to leave, taking his lantern with him. I was petrified with the realization that there would be no light without it, leaving Gage and me alone in the pitch blackness. Something of my terror must have penetrated his heart, for he paused and reluctantly returned to pass me the light.
He hesitated a moment longer, reaching into his pocket before tossing something on the floor. “Ye may wish for this afore the end.”
Then he turned his back to me and strode from the room.
“Please,” I finally squeaked. “Please, don’t leave us down here.”
But even as I begged, the door slammed shut, and a bar dropped into place, locking us inside.
I trembled, perilously close to dissolving into hysterics. It was all I could do simply to breathe and keep my legs beneath me. Especially when I realized the item he had thrown onto the floor was my reticule with my pistol tucked inside.
Tiny spots formed in my vision, and I closed my eyes, telling myself to focus. But they quickly popped open again at the recognition that the lantern would not last forever, and I would be facing the darkness soon enough.
Ignoring my bag, I turned slowly to examine the contents of the room, of which there were few. Nothing but a broken bottle, a few sticks, and a dented horseshoe. The stone was etched with crude drawings, but nothing of help. Perhaps I would be etching my own words into the stone soon—my name and Gage’s, and that of our unborn child.
I grimaced as another contraction swept through me. I hadn’t any concept of time, but they still seemed far enough apart, and the pain was not much greater than a discomfort. However, I no longer denied the truth. I was in labor, and the pain would only get worse. And soon.
I studied the construction of the door, finding it sturdier than I’d hoped. Glancing down at the light flickering inside the lantern, I considered attempting to set the door ablaze. But I worried the wood was too damp to catch fire, or that it might suffocate us before we could ever escape.
The sound of a groan behind me pulled me from my musings, and I hurried over to kneel beside Gage. Lifting his head into my lap again, I did my best to brush aside the dirt and debris that had caught in his blood-matted hair and smeared across his face. When he blinked open his eyes, it was all I could do not to sob in relief. “Sebastian. Darling,” I croaked, gently stroking his face.
He stared up at me as if struggling to focus. “Kiera?”
I nodded, dashing the wetness from my eyes.
He flinched, lifting a hand toward his hair. “My head . . .” He inhaled a sharp breath through his teeth. “What . . . ?” Then his eyes opened wider as he peered around him. “Where are we?”
“The vaults.”
He struggled to sit upright with my assistance, his face blanching in pain.
“McQueen’s men ambushed us outside Heron’s rooms. They hit you over the head and brought us here and locked us in.”
He glanced at the door.
“I’m sorry. They took my pistol and . . .” I pressed a hand to my neck, now devoid of my mother’s pendant, and then shook my head, for it was of no consequence at the moment.
Gage reached into his greatcoat pockets, finding them as empty as I had.
I swallowed, eyeing my reticule like a snake coiled to strike. “Though they’ve since given it back.”
His face registered the meaning of this gesture with the same revulsion and horror I had felt.
“They threatened to harm the baby if I screamed or fought. I didn’t know what to do,” I told him, distress seeping into my voice. “I-I’m sorry.”
“Shhh,” he murmured, pulling me into his arms. “Hush, now. There’s no cause to blame yourself. You were protecting our child, and I was unconscious.” He heaved a sigh, pressing my head to his heart, where I could hear it beating steadily through his linen shirt. “Joe will have alerted someone by now,” Gage told me, displaying faith in our coachman. “They will be looking for us.”
“Yes, but they’ve no idea where we’ve been taken. And we’re so deep inside the vaults. How will they ever find us?”
“They will,” he said with a greater confidence than I felt. “You’ll see.”
I could only cling to him and pray.
Three hours later—a passage of time I could only tell because I’d asked Gage to let me hold his pocket watch—our lantern was running low on oil, and I could no longer pretend my labor wasn’t steadily progressing. While Gage had prowled around the room, searching for some way to contrive our escape, I had been praying. Bargaining with God, really. Begging him to make the labor stop, to calm the child inside me for just a little while longer. But this, it appeared, was denied, and nature would have its way.
That Gage had not yet noticed my discomfort when the contractions struck I credited to his preoccupation with our situation and determination to rescue us from an unescapable situation. Even now he was examining the door for approximately the sixth time, as if its construction and mechanics had somehow changed. Meanwhile, I continued to shift positions—standing, sitting, slouching, walking—trying to find the most comfortable stance in which to endure. I kept taking my pelisse off and then putting it back on, alternating between hot and cold, sweating and shivering.
Eventually, I could remain silent no longer. “Gage.”
When he didn’t turn but continued to examine the door, I tried again.
“Gage, could you come over here?”
“If only we could contrive a lever of some kind,” he ruminated aloud, giving no indication he’d even heard me.
“Sebastian,” I groused, finally capturing his attention as he pivoted to look at me. “Could you please come here?”
He crossed the room, studying my face in the flickering light. His eyes dipped to the lantern before he knelt to examine it. “You’re right. It will be out of oil soon,” he said, answering a question I hadn’t asked.
“I know. But we also have another problem.” I turned his watch toward him, but before I could speak, another contraction swept up through my lower back and around to the front.
This time Gage recognized that I was in pain and reached for me in alarm. “Kiera?”
“It’s a contraction,” I bit out between clenched teeth. “They’re coming faster now . . . and more intense.”
His eyes widened in apparent fear, but then he sank down next to me. “Tell me what to do.”
As the contraction subsided, I relaxed in relief, taking several deep breaths before answering. “Let me lean back against you.”
He gathered me between his legs, and I melted into him, laying my head against his strong chest. His arms wrapped around me, cradling me close, as his hands rested against my abdomen. “How long has this been happening?”
“I started to notice them when we were on our way to Mr. Heron’s, but I thought they were false labor pains like before.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
My nerves ruffled at the irritation in his tone. “I told you. I thought they were false labor pains. I didn’t know I was actually going into labor. And the plan was to take everything to Maclean after speaking to Mr. Heron. I wasn’t anticipating any danger.”
He moved his hands to my arms, rubbing them soothingly up and down. “You’re right.”
“I didn’t know this was going to happen.” My voice cracked with emotion. “I didn’t know we were going to be trapped in the vaults.”
“I know, Kiera,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to my temple. “Don’t fret. Everything will be well in the end.”
“How?”
“I don’t know, but it will. Trust me.” His fingers brushed my disheveled hair away from my face. “You do trust me, don’t you?”
“Yes,” I replied without hesitation.
“Then let me worry about all of that. You just focus on yourself and telling me what to do. I’m at your command,” he attempted to jest.
My lips curled into a little smile. “That might be how I got into this situation in the first place.”
Gage laughed, a deep hearty sound that shook the firm muscles of his abdomen, jostling me in the process. I flushed with the pleasure of knowing I’d been the one to cause him such merriment even in the depths of our bleak circumstances.
“Touché. But the offer still stands.”
For the moment I was simply content to be supported by his embrace, and the knowledge that at least I wouldn’t have to go through this alone.
And with that thought, the flame in the lantern flickered and went out.