Where would she go? Was there a chance of catching her? She couldn’t have been gone long, no more than an hour. If he caught her, he’d wring her neck and pry the money from her cold, dead hands.
Mr. Shine leapt up from the chair and raced down the stairs. He would find out from the old porter when she had left and which direction she’d traveled. He might be able to catch her yet.
He flung open the foyer. It was empty. The man was gone.
Mr. Shine kicked the wall. He must catch her!
Perhaps he could take Ashworth’s horse and just choose a direction out of the city, depending on lady luck to guide him.
No. It would be stupid to even try it. It would only waste time. He suspected she’d head for a port, but he could not fathom which port or where she would set sail to. Back to America? To the Continent? Did she head for a port this moment? Or did she closet herself away in some rented hidey-hole? He could not chase after her on only a guess when that guess was so likely to be wrong. The odds were against him and he never flouted the odds.
What did he have to work with? She had not been able to take the house with her, but how was he to keep it and carry on with the business when he’d got two swells locked in the attic? In fact, those two were currently his only assets. It was not much, it was not at all what he wanted, but it was what he’d got.
As he had so often done in his career, Mr. Shine rubbed his chin, thinking of how to work with what he’d got.
First, he must bind and gag them so there was no chance of escape and no chance of them calling out for help. He would send a ransom note for Lord Ashworth—certainly the duke would let go of a considerable amount to retrieve his eldest son. No need for the old sot to realize that the fellow so genially relieving his purse was the same that had relieved purses at a long-ago house party. It had amused him that Lord Ashworth had known his name, but had not known ofthatcircumstance. Father and son could put the whole thing together at their leisure, once he was safely gone from the scene.
The ransom note delivered, he would instruct a drop off of money late tomorrow night. That would give the old duke time to confirm that his son had in fact gone missing and gather the funds necessary. He would move Ashworth’s horse to some far away stable so that it would appear that he’d left the gambling establishment and met with disaster on the road somewhere. Then, he would open the doors for gambling on the morrow’s evening as if all was as it should be, only claiming that Lady Carradine had gone off to tend to a sick relative.
What of Miss Farnsworth? She was another matter—would there be a hue and cry over her whereabouts when she did not arrive home? Yes, he supposed so. The only thing going for him there was that the girl was under the protection of Mrs. Hemming. He did not think the lady particularly clever or resourceful. He’d invent a mysterious woman, a titled lady, who had taken Miss Farnsworth to the country. Mrs. Hemming might just believe it. That particular ruse would not hold long, but it would hold long enough. In any case, once Miss Farnsworth was located, would Mrs. Hemming really advertise that her niece had been alone for so long with Lord Ashworth? He thought not.
All questions satisfactorily answered, he would proceed to use the marked cards. If all went well, he would win a large amount. Late in the night, he would make his way to the drop off he’d directed to the duke and collect a further large amount for the lord’s safe return. In place of the money, he would leave the lord’s location, as he would have instructed in the ransom note. Then, he would slip into the shadows and lay low for a few months. He’d establish a new identity and make his way to South America.
He must move quickly and decisively.
He dashed down to the kitchens for rags and then rummaged the house for rope. He’d finally settled on the heavy weaved wool bands that held back the curtains in various bedchambers.
As he prepared to mount the stairs to the attic, Mr. Shine paused. Like any plan hastily formed, he’d almost forgotten an important detail. Miss Farnsworth’s carriage was due to arrive at two o’clock. It was minutes to the appointed hour and would likely be there even now. He must get rid of it.
*
Lily had foundherself on the balcony below the window, crashed atop Lord Ashworth. He gently lifted her up, set her on her feet, and whispered in her ear.
“Below is a portico. I will go first and you will come after me, just as you have done. Do not lose courage.”
She nodded, willing to follow the lord’s direction. He might hope she had courage to lose, but the truth was, Lily was terrified. She was certain Mr. Shine would make himself known at any moment. They might have got out of the attics, but they were still well in range of a pistol shot.
Lord Ashworth climbed over the balcony railing and jumped to the portico. Lily was glad he was so tall—a shorter man might have broken a leg.
She peered over and saw his face upturned to hers, his arms up to catch her. She quickly turned and climbed over, determinedly pushing away the idea that Mr. Shine might suddenly appear at the window above her.
Lily felt the lord’s hands on her hips. She let go of the railing.
Lord Ashworth eased her down with strength and she did not collapse upon him as she’d done the first time. He motioned to a sturdy branch that grazed the corner of the portico’s roof. She had not climbed a tree since she was a girl, but she would do anything to get away from this place.
They moved quietly and quickly to the edge of the roof.
Below them, a door banged open.
Lord Ashworth grabbed her arm and stopped her progress. He laid his forefinger against her lips.
The lord croucheddown and pulled her down with him.
“You there,” a man called from below.
It was Mr. Shine. Lily felt the blood drain from her face. Could he see her? How could he know that she was just above his head?
“What do you still do here?” Mr. Shine went on. “Miss Farnsworth was taken away by Lady Marchelan over an hour ago.”
