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“Stop!” The blood pounding in his head was bringing on a tremendous headache. Amelia was gone. Disappeared. No one would convince him she left on her own volition.
“Have you notified Scotland Yard?”
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bsp; Dante leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “There is something else you should know before you insist on calling in the authorities.” He hesitated for a minute, then continued. “A very expensive necklace went missing the same night your Miss Pence did.”
Driscoll’s stomach dropped. “What does that mean?”
“I don’t know. But since we knew nothing about the girl, why for all intents and purposes she appeared to be in hiding while refusing to tell us anything about herself, I find it suspicious that both she and the necklace disappeared the same night.”
“Have you searched her room?”
“Briefly. I didn’t want to invade her privacy. I will tell you the necklace has not been found since the ball, and someone needs to search her room. Since you seem, shall we say, attached to the girl, I will leave that up to you.”
Driscoll strode from the office where he’d been speaking with Dante and entered Amelia’s room. Like a man possessed, he went through all her belongings, noting she left everything behind.
Dante leaned against the wall while Driscoll pulled out clothing, shoes, undergarments, hair clips, tossing them on the floor, his search becoming more frantic by the minute. He waved at the growing pile on the floor. “Do you honestly believe Amelia left here under her own power and took none of her things with her?”
Dante shrugged. “She’s done it before.”
Driscoll growled at him and knelt to look under the bed. He swept his arm in a wide arc and touched a box. He pulled it out and flipped the top off.
Sucking in a deep breath, he shook the box and thrust it at his brother. “Do you still think she absconded with the necklace? There are numerous shillings and a few farthings in here—saved from her earnings I would say. I hardly think a thieving young woman would steal an expensive necklace that she would be forced to sell, and then disappear leaving behind all her belongings, and this money.”
Driscoll stood and tossed the box on the bed. “Something’s happened. Whatever or whomever she was running from has caught up to her.”
18
For as quickly and unexpectedly as Amelia had been bundled off from London to a place unknown, she was then whisked back to London the next morning.
She slept almost the entire trip since the two men had forced her to drink laudanum. Her gown was stained with it, since she spit it out, then refused to open her mouth until Lyons held her nose so she had no choice but to open her mouth to get some air.
At least they had left her alone during the night. Not once had she heard any noises coming from the other room, and the chair she’d placed in front of the doorknob never moved.
Amelia tried her best to stay awake, to think of a way to escape the two devils, but the drug had done its job. She was helped out of the carriage and then her arms were slung over the two men’s shoulders as they practically dragged her up the steps to Randolph’s house.
She cringed, knowing if anyone saw them they would assume she was drunk and ready to allow these two men to have their way with her. She was grateful that so few people in the neighborhood, even in all of London for that matter, knew her. On the other hand, Randolph’s reputation couldn’t get worse, so he wouldn’t care.
After dropping her ignominiously on the bed in her former room, the men left her after locking the door. She continued to sleep.
It was around dusk when she awoke. Her mouth felt like she’d drank from the Thames, and her body ached. No doubt they didn’t do much to secure her while she slept in the carriage, and the bumps along the way caused bruises in various parts of her body.
She climbed out of the bed and made her way over to the dresser where a fresh pitcher of water sat. It unnerved her to think one of the men might have brought the water while she slept. Hopefully, they’d gotten one of the housemaids to do that duty.
After washing her face and brushing her hair with one of the brushes she had left behind when she’d fled, she felt a bit better. And very hungry.
She pounded on the door until finally it opened. Randolph stood there, an annoyed look on his nasty face.
“I would like something to eat. Or is it your intention to stave me to death?”
He pushed his way in, and she walked to the other side of the bed, keeping her distance.
“No. Now that you’re awake, we’ll have something sent up to you.”
Amelia raised her chin. “Frankly, I prefer to leave and find my own meal.”
There was no doubt he was well on his way to being in his cups. He swayed slightly and waved his hand in the air, then quickly grabbed the bedpost to hang on. Yes, he was definitely feeling the effects of too much spirits.
