Miss Hastings' Excellent London Adventure (Brazen Brides Book 4)(75)

Her captor laughed. "We don't have yer husband. 'Twas a ploy to kidnap you."

 

Did that mean there was hope that Adam could still find her?

 

At the top of the stairs. she was shoved into a small room. A mouse scurried across the sagging floor and squeezed beneath the floorboards. The men slammed the door behind her. A lock bolted.

 

When she heard their steps descending the stairs, she was relieved that she was to be left alone.

 

For a while.

 

She went to the musty chamber's only window. Though it was streaked with decades of dust and dirt, she could peer at the barges and ships that floated down the river below. At one time, this warehouse must have been used for shipping.

 

Was there a way to escape? She turned back and surveyed the ten-foot-square room. Its dusty wooden floors showed signs of neglect and age. Nothing else was in the chamber except a handful of nails. She went to the door and tried the lock. Her hands might be tied, but they weren't useless. No matter how much she attempted to jiggle the door, the lock held. Why was it the only thing in the building that was solid was that blasted lock? There was no way anyone would ever find her here, no way she could ever extricate herself.

 

* * *

 

Adam had never felt so helpless. Or hopeless. He had failed Emma.

 

"No way we can we catch that coach," the soldier, Helmsworth, said to him.

 

"I know." He froze there for several moments, numb with fear and stupefied by his own powerlessness.

 

All he knew to do was to go for Ashburnham on the off chance it would lead to Emma.

 

"Get my brother William and tell him I've gone to the Ceylon Tea Company in Southwark. I'll send the other soldiers there."

 

* * *

 

He'd not trust that nag-driven cart to speed him through the Capital. They drove it to Nick's place at the other end of Piccadilly. Because his brother's town home was the largest in London, it housed a sizeable stable. Adam swapped his nag and cart for one of Nick's fleet-footed beasts, as did the pair of soldiers who had not mounted a horse. While his mount was being saddled, he raced into his brother's house, tossing off his woman's wig and shawl as he hastened to Nick's bedchamber and quickly threw on—with Nick's valet's help—men's breeches, boots and shirt. He didn't take time to tie a cravat. They all took off at a manic pace along the city's busy streets.

 

His confidence that his horse could move far more quickly than any carriage paid off. He pulled up in front of the tea company in a matter of minutes. The same journey in a coach at this time of day would have taken nearly an hour.

 

He raced upstairs and came to a halt in front of Ashburnham's empty desk. Then he remembered that the clerk had moved into Simon Hastings' old office. Its door was open, but there was no sign of Ashburnham. Hoping against hope, Adam sped to Fauke's office and threw open the door. "Where's Ashburnham?"

 

"He just received word that he was needed elsewhere and left. I didn't ask where. I assumed there was trouble with one of our customers."

 

Adam cursed. "Where does he live?"

 

Faukes shrugged. "All I know is that he lives in Southwark."

 

"There must be something that has the man's address!"

 

"You might ask the fellows in shipping down below. Perhaps one of them knows."

 

Downstairs, Adam questioned each man. One by one, they shook their heads. When he reached the final worker, a burly young man who could not yet have reached twenty, that man nodded. "I've never been to Mr. Ashburnham's house, but I seen him walk there many times. It's on me own way home from work."

 

"Come. Show me."

 

To the knot of soldiers gathered outside the tea company, Adam said, "Follow us!"

 

William came pounding up on a stallion, and as they rode through Southwark, Adam tired to explain—in short bursts—what had happened.

 

The street where Ashburnham lived was about a mile from the tea company. The Birmingham brothers dismounted and gave orders that the building be surrounded.

 

The extremely narrow house was of the style built more than a hundred years earlier. Not unexpectedly, the street was very quiet, given that people who lived in so modest a neighborhood had to work for a living.

 

Adam dispensed with knocking on the door. He tried the handle. It was locked. He then tried to smash himself into the door. It held.

 

William stepped over to the house's only ground-floor window and butted the hilt of his knife into it. It shattered.

 

William cleared away the broken glass to open it, climbed through the opening, and let his brother in the front door. The two men, swords drawn, went from room to room, searching for Ashburnham. There were two shabby rooms down, two room up. And no Ashburnham.