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My Fair Lily(78)

By:Meara Platt


How long had she been unconscious? No more than three or four hours, for she wasn’t hungry yet. Which meant they couldn’t be all that far from London. Perhaps still in London. Could she smell the Thames? She took a deep breath, but all that surrounded her was the nauseatingly sweet scent of the drug used on her in Eloise’s garden. It hadn’t worn off yet. How long would such a thing take to leave her body? Mere hours? Days? She didn’t know.

Concentrate on what you do know. If they were in London, she’d hear the peal of church bells. There were hundreds of churches throughout the town and they rang their bells at regular intervals. She’d hear something, no matter on which side of the Thames she was hidden.

Hours seemed to pass. No church bells. No scent of a river. No sounds at all, other than the rush of wind and intermittent, pelting rain. She wasn’t in London—something about the air and her surroundings felt different. How far away were they?

The lock on her door suddenly clicked and the door slowly groaned open. Someone stepped into the room holding a lantern. She tried to make out who it was, but the brightness of the light blinded her. “M’lord, she’s awake,” the villain called to someone standing just outside the room. “What shall I do?”

“Put her back to sleep.” The voice had an odd, deep quality, as though the man behind it did not wish to be recognized.

“No! No!” She tried to resist, but her struggles were useless against the burly fellow. He shoved a damp cloth against her face and pressed tight until she could no longer hold her breath. The disgusting fumes overwhelmed her senses.

Her head began to spin.

Within seconds, she’d be unconscious. However, all was not lost. She’d recognized the voice outside the room, even though the man had tried to mask it. She now knew who’d abducted her.

And now she was really worried.

***

Ewan’s heart was in knots. Lily’s life depended upon the sleepy rambling of a little boy. With only that unreliable clue to work on, he knew they were in trouble.

“What if he’s wrong?” Dillie asked, echoing his concerns.

As they hurried downstairs, George strode in. “The Bow Street runner’s still unconscious.” He glanced around and then motioned for them to join him in the parlor.

Ewan was eager to tell him what they’d learned, but waited for George to shut the parlor doors. The fewer people who knew about Lily’s abduction, the better. Even though she was the innocent victim, Ewan knew her reputation would be irrevocably tarnished if word got out.

“I left the runner in the care of the Duke of Edgeware,” George continued. “He’s offered to do all in his power to help.”

“Edgeware? How did he find out?” This was bad. If the duke knew, then how many others did as well? Ewan began to pace a hole in the elegant carpet. Though eager to ride off in search of Ashton, he needed to hear the rest of what George had to report.

Dillie, who had just fallen into a seat on the settee, shot back up. “Ian’s helping? I certainly didn’t tell him. He must have seen me fretting and figured out something was wrong.”

“Ian, is it? Quite friendly with him. Too friendly, I’d say. I already have one niece in trouble. I don’t need another.”

Dillie shot her uncle an indignant frown. “Rest assured, I have no intention of losing my heart to that man.”

“I hope you’re right. No matter, we’ll discuss it later.” He turned back to Ewan. “Edgeware will inform us as soon as the Bow Street man comes around. He also knows Homer Barrow. Said he’s the best at what he does. He sent one of Eloise’s servants off to summon him with instructions to report to him at the Farthingale residence. Mr. Barrow will come straight here.”

“You can wait for him. I won’t.” Ewan quickly told George what they’d learned from Charles. “I intend to bang down every door in London, turn over every slimy stone until I find that wretched bastard.”

George let out a short, mirthless laugh. “Ashton? No, I don’t believe it. Charles is just a boy. Who knows what goes on in his childish mind? He must be mistaken. Let’s wait for Mr. Barrow. Running off on that flimsy lead without a well thought out plan will be a waste of precious time.”

“Perhaps, but it’s the only lead we have to go on. Staying here, doing nothing is worse.”

George sighed as he nodded. “You’re right. I’ll go with you. I know where he lives. Let’s start there.”

Dillie put a hand on her uncle’s arm. “What about me? I can help.”

“We need someone here to act as our field general, to instruct Mr. Barrow when he arrives, to know where each of us is at all times and send word if there’s a breakthrough,” Ewan said.