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Blake closed his eyes against the dagger-like pain those words inflicted on him. He knew exactly where Annalise was going and why. Away from him, because he had acted like a total arse. Hearing just how much he’d hurt Annalise that by the second month of their marriage, she was used to his absences and was ready to leave him, grated more than he was willing to admit to his friend.
“But then I talked to my driver to find out where you went after the gambling hell, and he said he never saw you that night.”
Blake nodded. It made sense. If he had been taken from the carriage, everybody would have started looking for him. Perhaps they’d have been able to find him. But there was no way of knowing that for sure, and he didn’t want to dwell on what-ifs.
“When I came to, I was in a dank, filthy basement by the port. I don’t know exactly where. I’ve never found that out. I don’t know how long I was out before I woke up, or even if it was the first time I woke up after being taken. The only thing I remember is the smell of moldy stones and the sounds of waves. Perhaps I’m misremembering. It was a confusing time. I was drugged and beaten.” He shook his head and looked down at his hands. “Then, it got worse. They wanted some information, something I knew nothing about, but they didn’t seem to believe me or care. They just… delighted in torture.”
“What did they want to know?” Jarvis asked with a wince, and Blake just shook his head.
For some reason, he wasn’t comfortable telling Jarvis the entire truth yet, that he was tortured on account of a boogeyman. It was painfully embarrassing.
“Some nonsense. I don’t recall. I was out of it most of the time, and I had no idea what they were talking about.”
“How long did they hold you? Don’t tell me you’ve spent all this time—”
“No,” Blake interrupted hastily. “No. Once they realized they would get nothing out of me, their leader ordered them to kill me. Instead of doing me in there, as I thought they would, they”— he paused and swallowed—”they sold me to some slave ship. I suppose I was worth more that way, rather than dead.”
Jarvis blinked at him as if startled, lost for words, and Blake laughed bitterly. “What followed was five agonizing months at sea. Taking beatings, cleaning other men’s shit, slaving away. Long story short, I and a couple of others managed to escape. We jumped overboard near one of the Indian ports and swam for the shore.”
Of course, it wasn’t as easy as that. The memory of his escape still haunted him to this day. The entire ordeal did. He shook his head. “It wasn’t smooth sailing after that either; we didn’t have any clothes or money. But we were lucky enough to get hired on one of the British cargo ships. Unfortunately, it was sailing a long way before returning to England. But at least we had food, a roof over our heads, and were not slaving anymore. It took me seven months to get back to England. You know the rest.”
Jarvis scratched his jaw. “And you have no idea who did this to you?”
Blake just shrugged. “No. However, I did go see Ford, the thief-taker, last night. He will know where to start looking, I am sure.”
“The thief-taker.” Jarvis let out a snort. “I doubt he’ll be able to help. He didn’t find you then either, did he? Besides, it’s not much to go on if you don’t remember what information they wanted from you. I’d suppose the start would be to question Hades. But we tried that before. Nobody is able to get anything out of the man.”
Blake frowned. Hades was what everybody called the owner of the hell Blake and Jarvis had been in the night of his disappearance. The man was a criminal and held power over half the city, including most of the high society. His clubs were aptly named Hades, and since nobody knew his real name, people chose to call him the same.
“I don’t suppose he’ll be ready to confess.”
“No, of course not.”
Blake brought his drink to his lips. The smell of brandy hit his senses. One part of him wanted to take the drink and soothe his raw nerves, another part of him knew he had to give up the habit. He sighed wearily and placed the drink back down.
He didn’t want to talk about this anymore. Of course, he would do anything to find the bastards and make them pay. The idea that they would come after him again shook him to the core. But talking to Jarvis about it wouldn’t yield any results. Perhaps, it would only drive him to drink again. But he couldn’t allow that to happen.
His mind, however, kept working at the mystery of who the culprits might be.
What if the thugs who took him were hired to do so? What if the man behind the curtains had nothing to do with them and just paid the blokes to get rid of him? In that case, they could have used the Shadows tale to try and throw people off his trail. On the off chance that his enemy was clever and cunning enough to anticipate Blake’s escape, he might have concocted the story of torturing the information out of Blake, all the while having other nefarious plans for him.
Blake furrowed his brows as he stared into his glass. Or perhapsthe Shadows story was for the thugs’ benefit. Not a lot of criminals would go for seizing and torturing—much less killing—a peer. If found out, they would be prosecuted under the penalty of death. So they could have used the bandits’ nightmare story to control the thugs while needing Blake dead for some other reason. And that opened—
“What are you thinking?” Blake was distracted from his thoughts by Jarvis’s gruff voice. “You seemed like you were contemplating something very grave.”
“Actually, I was thinking about what we might be having for supper this evening.” Blake forced a smile. “I haven’t eaten a hearty English meal in… well, in over a year now. Today’s breakfast notwithstanding. Would you care to join us?”
Jarvis flashed his characteristic, charming smile. “I would love to, but I suppose you and your wife need some catch-up time.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively and roared with laughter.
If you only knew.
Jarvis stood and clapped Blake on his shoulder. “No need to stand on my account, old man. I’ll see myself out. You’ll tell me if you need anything, won’t you?”
“Of course.” Blake nodded and sat back in his chair, watching his friend leave.
His earlier gloomy thoughts came back to him now as he sat there contemplating the vacant seat in front of him. If indeed his disappearance had nothing to do with this Shadows business, then perhaps he ought to look at the people who’d benefited most from his demise. He lowered his head and absently looked through the ledgers. Townsend was definitely at the top of that list.
Blake moved slightly away from his desk so he could access one of his drawers and took out a bulky leather journal. He flipped it open to a fresh page, dipped his quill into an inkwell, and scribbled at the top of the page:
