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“And you can wait a few weeks more,” her mother shot back calmly.
Kitty suppressed a chuckle at their antics. She was just as inpatient as her father for things to be set to rights. Very soon, she thought with a fond squeeze on Sebastian’s hand, things would be just as they ought to.
**
“Are you sure that you will be alright?” Sebastian asked, his voice tinged with worry as he watched Kitty settle beneath the counterpane, her face pale and her eyes bloodshot from a particularly violent bout of vomiting. It’d been two weeks since Halston’s identity had been uncovered, and Kitty’s symptoms had taken a turn for the worst in the ensuing days. He feared it was due to the stress of his increasingly irascible mother.
Kitty gave him a sunny smile. “Mama says it is perfectly normal and that I just need some rest. Please, Sebastian, don’t stay in on my account. I’m just going to fall asleep the moment you leave.”
Amberwood had cajoled him that morning at Whites into agreeing to grace Barrow with their exalted presence, claiming it had been far too long since the three of them had gathered together. While Sebastian normally would not hesitate to accept a night of revelry with his friends, he was loath to leave Kitty alone, especially considering that Miss White was away at the Highbridge home after being summoned by his father-in-law. The Runner he’d hired confirmed that Halston had left the country, so Sebastian was assured there was no longer any danger afoot, but he felt odd leaving his wife at home with her discomfort whilst he went carousing. “If you are certain,” he said, not at all certain himself.
Kitty rolled her eyes. “Stop being such a ninny. If I wasn’t in the delicate position I am then I would be dressed and ready to go alongside you.” She paused thoughtfully for a moment before speaking. “I meant that sarcastically, but that sounds like a wonderful idea, actually. I fully expect you to escort me to The White Heather after our little one is born.”
“You are determined to make a spectacle of us, aren’t you?” he replied, the amusement at the prospect outweighing any truly scandalized sensibilities.
“Completely,” she said with a smile. “Now, go have enough fun for the both of us. I expect a detailed account of your shenanigans upon your return.”
Sebastian could only shake his head and lean down to kiss his wife’s honey colored hair. “I’ll be sure to get up to much mischief, if only to satisfy you,” he murmured into her crown.
She beamed. “Good duke. Now, be a dear and snuff the candles on your way out.
**
“Where in the world is that scoundrel of ours?” Amberwood said with a quizzical assessment of the main floor at The White Heather. “He usually wanders over to our table by now.”
“Perhaps there was a problem that required his attention,” Sebastian replied with his own curious scan of the card tables. “Though, he usually sends his man over to tell us when there is a delay.” They’d been at their usual table for nearly an hour, with no sign of Barrow to be seen. It was a concerning oddity, given that the man liked to walk the length his floor every hour or so in order to ensure there was no mischief afoot, especially since it was nearly eleven, an hour of peak activity in the club. “You did send a note that we were coming, correct?”
“Yes, and he sent a jovial reply back.”
Sebastian scanned the room once more, making sure to check the balconies lest the man was lurking somewhere in their shadows. One of Barrow’s guards walked down the length of it, his pace brisk and his face disturbed. Mr. Raleigh, Barrow’s right hand man, soon followed behind, stopping in the middle of the balcony to stare out at the floor. The man’s eyes fell on their table, and he gave Sebastian a summoning gesture, his mouth set in a firm line.
“Something is wrong.” Sebastian rose from his seat. “Mr. Raleigh is gesturing rather frantically for us to meet him upstairs.”
Amberwood followed his gaze and stood as well. “He does look quite insistent, doesn’t he? Let us not waste time, then.”
“Be sure not to draw attention to us, Amberwood.” Sebastian knew that Barrow valued the reputation of his club above all else and would likely not be pleased if a commotion were to be drummed up. The fact that Raleigh didn’t seem to care about being subtle was cause for extra concern. They made their way across the floor, keeping a casual pace and nodding cordially to anyone they knew, until reaching the door leading to the back stairs. Sebastian noted with alarm that the guard normally posted there was missing. Something was very wrong, indeed.
Raleigh was waiting for them at the top of the stairs. The rest of the hall was a flurry of activity as guards methodically entered rooms and servants bustled about anxiously. Raleigh gestured them up, anger glittering in his dark eyes. “Your Grace, My Lord. We have a problem, and I think you two are the only ones who can help us solve things without causing a ruckus.”
“What happened?” Amberwood asked.
“Mr. Barrow was taken.”
The marquess’s brows rose to his hairline. “Kidnapped? Barrow?”
“I’m afraid so. One of the ladybirds had gone out back with her pipe and spied two large men loading him into a carriage. She ran back as fast as she could, but they were already gone by the time we got down there.”
His chest prickled with anxiety. Barrow had many enemies, as one did when running an establishment such as his. The man could have been anywhere in the city by now, could be dead or close to it at the hands of some criminal or other. “Do you need us to strongarm the authorities into doing something?”
“We’ll raise absolute hell if we must,” Amberwood replied grimly, his eyes narrowed in rage.
Raleigh shook his head. “I don’t think that will be necessary. We are certain that the culprit is a peer, which is where you two come in.”
“Whose door are we breaking down?” Sebastian would utterly destroy the man, whoever he was.
“We don’t know, hence why I need your aid. Our lady got a good look at the crest on the carriage and we were hoping one of you would recognize it from her description.” Raleigh fished a paper out of his pocket and held it out. “She was able to draw it for us.”
“I’m thankful they were stupid enough to use their own carriage,” Amberwood said, swiping the paper from the man. Sebastian watched him scan the contents. The marquess looked at the drawing with a furrowed brow, and then up at him. “This is strange.”
“What?” He asked, trepidation running through him as Amberwood again looked down at the paper and back to him.
“It’s the Ashford crest.”
“Give me that.” Sebastian snatched the paper from Amberwood’s hands, sure that the man had made a mistake. He looked down at the drawing and froze. There was his ducal crest, drawn to perfect detail. “What the devil?”
