Blinking, Blake was surrounded by darkness. The sway of the ocean was absent. His back hit a solid surface as he straightened. Male voices filtered through his fog-filled brain. Had they docked? Where were they holding him? Calais? His tongue rubbed again the gritty cloth stuffed in his mouth. Lifting a hand to remove the offensive gag, pain ripped through his arm and shoulder. They left my hands unbound—why?
Lifting his head and opening one eye while the other remained swollen shut, he could make out the outline of a door. He was being held in a room. Raising a hand to his face, he gingerly tested the tenderness around his eye. Puffy, but the structure seemed to be intact. He didn’t consider himself vain; however, he did wish to preserve the looks he had been gifted with regardless if some considered him plain.
The voices were increasing in volume. What was being said?
He needed to get closer to the door. Aches and pains riddled his body as he rolled to his side. With his feet left unbound, he managed to position himself on his hands and knees and began to crawl. Who was beyond the door? Brutus? The gentleman traitor? French. He shook his head to clear it and closed his eyes in the hopes of sharpening his hearing. With his mind still foggy, he struggled to piece the conversation together, but there were a few words he recognized for certain. Unharmed. Healthy. Journey. Ride. Fortnight.
A fortnight! The risk of remaining in one location for extended periods was high. They must be holding him in an area they were confident his presence would not raise suspicion. Healthy? Physically, he was barely able to hold his head up, drained of all energy. Mentally, the lack of information as to why he had been kidnapped was taking a toll on his mind. Journey? Ride? His body riddled with cuts and bruises, Blake was in no condition to mount a horse. He would need food and rest over the next fortnight to rebuild his strength. What concerned him most was whether he had the mental strength to endure another fourteen days of captivity.
Light footsteps approached, definitely not Brutus. Uncertain if it was morning, noon or night, Blake let his eyes close as he slid to the floor. A tray scraped along the floor, and a whoosh of air brought with it a clean, sweet scent to his nose. A woman. The metal click confirmed he was again imprisoned in the small cramped bedroom. Where was Brutus? Why had a maid delivered his tray? Did she fear him? The idea that a woman was afraid of him tore at his soul.
He shuffled to the tray and picked up the metallic cup. As water flowed down his gullet, his stomach quickly revolted against the liquid. Too much, too soon. His nostrils flared as he inhaled deep breaths. After a minute or two, he eyed the meager fare of cheese and bread.
Lucy’s voice filtered through his thoughts, “Croissant? Bread, light and airy? With paper-thin layers? I’ve never experienced such a thing.” She had been incredulous of his description of the French creation.
Once again, the image of Lucy brought him renewed hope. Blake began to consume the food in painfully small quantities until all was gone. Shoving the tray away, he rolled his stiff shoulders. Time to begin strengthening.
Stretching his legs out and tensing the muscles that were weak from lack of use, Blake groaned as a stabbing pain shot down his right leg. Rubbing the aching limb, he found he was unable to reach past his knee before wincing as his back muscles seized up. Forced to lean against the wall, he let his head fall back. Deliberately, he began to relax each muscle, starting with those in his forehead and working down his body until he reached the soles of his feet. He wasn’t going to escape in his current condition; he would have to bide his time and rebuild his strength.
Having spent the past week diligently working through each missive, Lucy jumped up from her seat. “Carrington, we did it! We figured it out! Not only have we figured out their destination, we now know who was behind Blake’s kidnapping. We will need to contact…”
Lucy stopped short as Matthew and Mr. Smyth entered the library. “Matthew, where have you been? I’ve completed the assignment.” Waving sheets of paper about, she said, “The Foreign Office was aware of the threat also and had placed agents…”
“Lucy, please slow down.”
There was no time to argue with her brother. She needed his help to get to the Continent and swiftly. She briskly walked over to Matthew and shoved two sheets of parchment into his hands. “You can read the decoded missives yourself.”
Matthew read:
Foreign Office Missives
Tracked Addington down. Plans to travel to Sandgate Cove.
Intercepted correspondence indicating Devonton is to be taken within the fortnight.
Agent should be advised—urgent.
Unable to identify Addington’s contact. Lord H seeks permission to continue investigation on Continent, delay return.
French Missives
Transport arranged on Njord to Calais.
Asset to be delivered in good condition, healthy and able to travel distances.
Addington to receive payment upon delivery of asset.
Matthew frowned down at the decoded message. “Lucy, are you certain? Addington has not returned from France, and he is one of the Foreign Office’s best operatives.”
Lucy was assisting Carrington in packing her writing instruments but stopped at her brother’s question. “I’m positive I’m correct. Matthew, if you know him and how he operates, it will be easier for us to track him down and locate Blake. We must pack posthaste…”
Matthew and Lucy’s gazes collided. “Pack?” He took a bracing step toward her. “Lucy you are not going anywhere. You are to remain here with Mama and Edward.”
“Why?” She began to plead, “Matthew, I can assist…”
Matthew’s features were drawn tight. “No.”
One glance at Matthew’s stubborn stance and features and Lucy knew there was no way she would convince him to alter his decision. Deciding it would be far more efficient if she were to arrange her own departure with her own staff and team, Lucy gave Carrington a side glance, and her maid scuttled out of the room.
She didn’t need the assistance of her brother or the Home Office. Giving her brother a placid smile, she replied, “All right, brother, as you wish.”
Mr. Smyth’s smirk caught Lucy’s attention. Sending a silent plea not to speak his mind, Lucy continued to address her brother, “I shall retire to my room. Have a safe trip.”
With questioning eyes, Mr. Smyth quietly opened the door and let Lucy pass. She dare not return his gaze, for if she did, he would detect she was scheming.
After placing her foot on the first step to ascend to her rooms, Lucy paused. Who should she send word to first? Reports of her brilliant stratagems had spread over the years. She was often sought out by various individuals to investigate complex or plain bothersome issues. Some cases were more challenging than others, but ultimately the majority were related to funds or a lack thereof. Figuring out the identity of an embezzler, blackmailer, or kidnapper had kept her occupied when she wasn’t working on an assignment for Archbroke.
Captain Bane. She trusted the captain would get her across the Channel safely and undetected. In order to obtain all the necessary resources and information to locate and retrieve Blake, she would have to call in nearly every favor she possessed.
She and Carrington rushed about Lucy’s bedchamber, packing for her departure. Neither noticed Mr. Smyth’s arrival. “Lady Lucy, I need to speak to you.”
Surprised and relieved at Mr. Smyth’s entrance, Lucy asked, “Mr. Smyth, what is it?”
“My lady, as you are aware, I have orders to protect you. I fear you have no intention of remaining in England as your brother has asked of you. I am here to tell you I have never failed in my duties; thus I shall be accompanying you.”
“If you suspect I’m planning…”
Mr. Smyth interjected, “I know you are, Lady Lucy, and I intend to be a part of those plans.”
“Mr. Smyth, I’d be happy to have you along with us for the journey.” Lucy turned her attention back to Carrington. “I need you to cover for me as long as possible.”
Carrington pleaded, “Lady Lucy, please, let me accompany you. I want to be of assistance.”
“Carrington, the best way you can assist me is by not letting Matthew know that I have left. I need you to remain behind and ensure I’m not missed.”
Resignation set in and Carrington sighed, “Yes, my lady. I’ll do my best.”