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“Do you know this Saracen Street?” April asked.
“Seven Dials, isn’t it?”
It wasn’t an area April knew well, although she was only too closely acquainted with other dangerous parts of St. Giles.
“They’ve either got his lordship or they know he’s been taken,” Stewart said bluntly. “We need to go to Bow Street. They’ve got the resources to look for him.”
“And if his kidnappers kill him?”
Stewart whitened.
April swallowed. “We’ve got until tomorrow evening. I want you to take a letter to his lordship’s solicitor, Mr. Pepper. And say nothing, nothing, to anyone about this demand.”
Stewart bit his lip but inclined his head. “If you wish,” he said doubtfully.
She only just managed to write the note and thrust it into Stewart’s hands before the world descended in the persons of Dr. Laine, Aunt Hortensia, and Gussie.
***
SIR PETER HAGGARD—HAGGS to his friends—paced his friend Petteril’s library, scowling because he could not make up his mind what to do. Aware that his lordship had not come home last night, Haggs, more than anyone, knew that boded seriously ill. Nothing could have kept Withy away from his wife when she was giving birth. His aunt might declare it was typical, but it was not.
Which was one reason, although he knew they were there, why he did not join the dowager Lady Petteril and her delightful daughter Gussie, in the drawing room. He had heard Gussie’s excited voice in the hall, asking after April and the child and declaring her desperation to see both. Haggs had been drawn as far as the library door before he recalled that Gussie had taken him in dislike—which hurt far more than it should—and also that one should not worry the ladies.
Particularly, one should not worry the new mother. Although if he knew April, she was already climbing the walls. Her devotion to Withy was absolute and always had been. No, the powers in the house right now were Park and Stewart, Withy’s valet.
Stewart had appeared in Haggs’s house at midnight looking for his master. Between them, they must have covered anywhere Piers might have gone. And by the fact that Park had not attended him here, Haggs suspected the butler was out looking for him again.
Something is very wrong here... He could waste no more time. He had to go to Bow Street and alert the magistrate. The decision made, he strode out of the library in time to see Stewart running lightly ahead of him.
The valet should have been using the servants’ stairs but was clearly in a hurry. And he carried his hat in his hand.
“Stewart,” Haggs called.
The man did not immediately stop and Haggs had the impression he would have preferred to ignore him altogether. However, he paused at the foot of the stairs.
He even nodded, a gesture that in him almost passed for a respectful bow. “Forgive me, sir, I am in something of a hurry. May I walk with you for a couple of moments instead?”
Haggs blinked, for this was either insolence or Stewart did not wish to be overheard. Grimly, Haggs followed the valet across the hall. Stewart politely presented him with his own hat and opened the front door, following him outside when he should, by rights, have used the area door below.
“What’s going on, man?” Haggs demanded impatiently. “Where the devil are you off to in such a tearing hurry?”
“An errand for her ladyship, sir.”
“Does this mean you have any more idea than last night as to where his lordship is?”
“No, sir,” said Stewart.
“Then I’m informing Bow Street.”
“No,” Stewart snapped, “you mustn’t do that.”
Haggs stared at him. “Why the devil not?”
Stewart compressed his lips. “I’m not at liberty to say. Understand, sir, that his lordship’s absence must not be made public.”
“Ridiculous!” Haggs said angrily. “This is no time for mere discretion—”
“But it is, sir. Absolute discretion. I beg you, and Lady Petteril begs you, to say nothing to anyone. Good day, sir.”
