Abigail, sitting at her husband’s right side, shook her head. “I haven’t seen Josephine in a couple of days.”
He looked around at the other occupants of the table. Lady Elizabeth, the dowager—no, not the dowager, she was Mrs. Wang now. Her husband sat next to her at the table. And there was John, Abigail’s brother. They all shook their heads, confirming his worst suspicions. Nobody had seen Josephine today.
What other friends did she have in London? With each minute that passed on this fruitless search, he was aware of a clock ticking. Time slipping by. The breeze of premonition was now a full force gale wind raging inside him. Demanding action. If only he knew where to direct his energy.
“Are you talking about Lady Josephine Everleigh?”
Michael’s head whipped to John, surprised by his question. Of all the people at the table, he would have thought John would have the least to do with Josephine.
“Yes. Have you seen her? Do you know her whereabouts?”
“Not precisely. But I have information that could be relevant.”
“For goodness’ sake, tell us already. What do you know?”
“I was the one who negotiated her release from the harem and brought her back to England,” John said, patting his lips with the serviette and standing.
Every eye at the table turned to him, and Michael could tell he was not the only one shocked by this news.
“You? You are the John who brought her back to England?”
John inclined his head. “By request of Her Majesty herself.”
“She had mentioned a John. But I never imagined it was you.” Michael shook his head. “But more to the point, what information do you have?”
“As part of my job for the Foreign Office, I keep abreast of the news from Egypt. Her Majesty is interested in the Suez Canal development. The Pasha of Suez happens to exert significant control over that area.”
“That is the bastard who kidnapped Josephine and kept her prisoner,” Michael fairly growled.
“Correct. The Queen wanted to keep the kidnapping and imprisonment of a British lady quiet, so as not to upset Britain’s interests in the region. But the man is…problematic, to say the least. I have kept a close eye on him, so I know that he departed Egypt two weeks ago, and yesterday, his ship anchored at St. Katharine Docks. There has been no official announcement that the pasha is in England, but—”
“He took her.” His vague fears congealed into an icy ball of certainty in his gut. “The bastard took her again. I’m going after him and I’m going to tear him limb from limb.”
He turned and stalked to the door, the energy he felt right before battle coursing through his veins.
“Aycliffe, wait. Do you have a plan?” This came from Hartfield.
Michael threw him an impatient glance. Abigail’s husband had never hidden his hostility toward him, so he couldn’t imagine what business it was of his what he was going to do next.
“I’m going to rescue my fiancée, of course.”
“Of course,” Harfield replied, imperturbable. “But I’m asking how you are going to go about it. You need a strategy. Reinforcements.”
“I’ll go to the police. Get some peelers to come with me.”
“You’ll never convince them in time. They’ll require proof or reasonable evidence that Josephine is being held on said vessel,” John said.
“I’ll threaten, bribe, throw my title around, whatever is necessary. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” He marched toward the door again, but once again, the earl’s voice stopped him.
“I’ll go with you,” Hartfield said.
Michael was so surprised by the offer that he forgot his manners.
“You? Why?”
Harfield gave him a twisted smile. “Let’s just say I can relate to the desperation you are feeling right now.”
“I’m going as well, of course,” Brentworth added.
