The cairo curse, p.23
The Cairo Curse, page 23
“There is no understanding between me and Miss Sinclair.” Elliott paused. “What would her true title be? Not Sinclair?”
“Well, she’s the granddaughter of Thomas Kingston, Lord of Kerth, so I believe she would be referred to as Lady Kerth or Amelia Kingston.”
“Lady Kerth.” Elliott sighed. “What a turn of events.”
“That is an understatement, my friend.” Frederick laughed. “To think I’d hoped this would be a relaxing and enjoyable honeymoon trip to make up for Grace’s loss of one when we were first wed.”
“I do not mean to contradict you, sir, but there is a high probability that Lady Astley may be enjoying this adventure with as much delight as she ever would should the situation be more … relaxing.”
“Elliott, I do believe you may be right.” He patted his valet on the shoulder as the cab stopped in front of the house. “I know that this situation between you and Miss—Lady Kerth, is uncertain and may very well end before it begins, but don’t negate it on my account. I have known you for years, and you are the sort of person who can do great and right things.”
“Thank you, sir.” Elliott nodded. “Your opinion means a great deal to me.”
They exited the cab, and Elliott paid the driver as Frederick walked to the entrance. His first attempt at opening the door failed. It seemed something was blocking the way. His pulse began a faster beat. He pushed harder and made enough room to slip into the house. The dark entry gave slow clarity to the heavy mound on the floor.
Heat left Frederick’s face. One of the police guards? He stepped forward only to see a similar body to his left. Both guards. Frederick knelt to examine the nearest body as Elliott entered, pausing in the doorway.
“This one is alive.” Frederick moved to the other guard. “But not this one.”
His breathing grew ragged, and he rushed through the courtyard and up the stairs. “Grace?”
The silence left a resounding answer. He burst into their bedroom. The empty room confirmed it. He drew in a deep breath and searched the space for any clue to her whereabouts.
“Sir.” Frederick turned to find Elliott holding out a slip of paper. “I found this on the floor by the door.”
Frederick took the paper with a note written in familiar hand.
Amelia has been woman-napped. The guards are incapacitated. I have to help, if I can.
Grace
Frederick turned the paper over, searching for anything else, but there was no other clue. No direction or information. He ran a palm down his face and shoved the paper in his pocket. Perhaps she didn’t know the direction at the time? An empty feeling swelled in his stomach. Likely these men had much worse plans than merely kidnapping, especially if they learned how much Grace knew.
A sudden sound from the courtyard drew Elliott and Frederick to the door. Elliott’s hand rested on top of the pistol he had secured after Mr. Graham’s death. Frederick had done the same.
“Rabu Alasid?” The call echoed through the courtyard.
Zahra came into view, her large eyes frantically searching the space until she found him. “Lord Astley, sir.”
“Zahra.” Frederick rounded Elliott and dashed down the stairs to meet the girl at the bottom. “Do you know where Lady Astley is?”
She nodded, her breaths pumping her chest. “She has been taken, sir. A policeman took her.”
A policeman? Did they have one of the authorities working in the stolen antiquities business too? Frederick looked over at Elliott and then back to Zahra. “Can you take us there?”
She nodded, turned, and ran for the door.
How many brides have died on their honeymoon?
It seemed a horrible spin on all the fairytales Grace loved so much. Dying on one’s honeymoon. What a waste of a perfectly romantic adventure! And poor Frederick would have to live with the horrible fact. The idea nearly brought tears to Grace’s eyes. Her poor Frederick. He didn’t deserve that at all.
Even as Lane pulled her roughly into the house, she determined that she could not die on this trip. For Frederick’s sake. Her death would just have to wait for another time. Now how to ensure that resolution was an entirely different story.
The vast, dark room was lit by a few dim lamps, and at the center sat Amelia. A rope wrapped around her chest, strapping her to the chair, with her hands tied behind her.
At Grace’s entry, Amelia and Andrews turned, both pausing in their dialogue. A trickle of blood darkened the side of Amelia’s lips, and even in the shadow, Grace could see swelling around Amelia’s left eye. Heat twisted through Grace’s chest, and she shot the professor a glare she wished had much more power than his response suggested.
Clearly, since she’d never been a governess or a mother, she’d failed to hone her glaring skills to a powerful enough level. Perhaps Aunt Lavenia could teach her. Grace had witnessed a few excellent glares when Aunt Lavenia scolded her gardener on occasion.
“I found her sneaking around outside.” Lane pinched her arm more tightly.
Andrews tugged the cigarette from his mouth and frowned. “This muddies the water.” He stepped toward her, his dark gaze roaming over her face. “You’re rather a nuisance, aren’t you?”
“Usually only for people who are engaging in nefarious business.” Which wasn’t actually true, because Grace was certain she’d been a nuisance for quite a few very good people in her life, but she’d always supposed it was because of her active imagination … or her talking.
“I’m afraid, Lady Astley, you’ve gotten yourself into business much too nefarious for the likes of the genteel sort.” He took another draw from his cigarette and continued to examine her. “Which begs the question, what are we to do with you?”
“I have no doubt her husband is close behind, Andrews, and I doubt he’ll take kindly to you mistreating his wife.”
Amelia cast a look Grace’s way, her expression softening as their eyes met.
The woman was trying to help Grace while Grace was trying to rescue her! Oh, how brave and magnanimous they both were, certainly heroine worthy.
“Is that so, your ladyship?” Andrews’ brows rose. “Well, we must be on our way then.” He turned back to Amelia. “We only needed one more day, Amelia. One more day and we could have all left this place with our pockets full of treasure and a plan for a new life, but you had to go and ruin everything.”
“Daniel didn’t have to die,” she whispered, a sudden sheen showing in her dark eyes. “No one has had to die.”
“That’s the unfortunate bit about this line of work, pet. You can’t leave loose ends.” The professor turned back to Grace as he slowly twirled the cigarette in his hands. “Let’s take her with us, Lane. We may need to use her as leverage should her husband or the police show up.” He tsked and stepped closer to Grace. “And then, once all is clear, we can dispatch her.”
Grace pulled against Lane’s grip to no avail. If she could just hold off long enough for Frederick and Elliott to arrive, then everyone could be saved and the treasure rescued.
“You won’t get away with this, Professor Andrews.” Grace stood taller, but her head barely made it to the professor’s cheekbone. Not intimidating at all. “The police know of your scheme, and they’ll be here as soon as they return from the station.”
“Ah, the station?” His smile spread. “Not on the way to the tomb? I’m afraid, Lady Astley, it is not becoming for a lady to lie.” He shook his head. “If the police knew we were raiding the tomb, do you think they’d really come here first? And if they’re all the way at the station on the far side of town, I feel we have ample time to finish removing the last antiquities to the boat and disappear off into the sunrise.”
If Grace had expert fighting skills and secret gadgets, she’d easily overcome two men and free Amelia from her bonds. With the amount of fury currently boiling beneath her skin, she might possibly produce a few excellent glares too.
Andrews looked to Lane. “Did you take the last few crates to the boat?”
“They’re secure.”
Andrews turned and walked back to Amelia. “I did attempt to keep my promise to my dear Lillian, but you were too apt to misbehave.” He ran a finger down her cheek. “And I do hate to lose such a good thief.”
“You never deserved her.” Amelia glared up at him with such malice, Grace felt a deep appreciation for the woman’s skills. “And if she could see what you’ve become, it would break her hea—”
His backhand stopped Amelia’s response, and Grace attempted to rush forward to Amelia’s defense, only to have Lane tighten his hold until it pinched.
“I thought I’d feel some regret at killing you.” He raised a brow. “But I feel nothing.”
With that, he flicked his cigarette to the floor and a flame burst alive, taking a path set by the liquid he’d poured earlier. Fire brightened the room, creating a growing wall of heat.
“Let’s go,” Andrews said, snatching his jacket from a nearby chair and leading the way as Lane pulled Grace behind him. She pulled against him, causing him to stumble. Grace had to get free. She couldn’t allow Amelia to die such a horrific death. She jerked one arm free from Lane and brought her fist up to land against his cheek. The impact wasn’t as satisfying as she thought it might be. Of course, it was the first time she’d ever tried to punch someone and her lack of practice proved her downfall, because Lane merely grunted and caught her arm, twisting it so tightly against her back that pain shot up her shoulder to her neck.
Her knees weakened as he pulled her a few more steps, and then a flare of anger took over. She slammed the heel of her boot firmly down on his foot. Lane cursed and pulled Grace close so that his fish-laden breath coated the inches between them. “I don’t care if you’re a lady. I won’t let you keep me from getting my part of the treasure, so don’t try me.”
“Then let me go and I won’t slow you down.” Grace shot back.
He growled and shoved her forward.
The last thing Grace saw as the door closed behind her was Amelia looking at her, golden flames and fear reflected in her eyes.
Dear God, help us!
Chapter Nineteen
Lord Astley’s expression remained impassive, but Elliott knew his master too well to question his concern. If the people who had taken Amelia had no qualms with killing a policeman and possessed the physical ability to do so, they were not dealing with amateurs. The gunman from the tomb had proved his skill as well.
This group of thieves wasn’t to be underestimated.
Greed moved many a heart to disastrous ends, and an entire tomb of treasure? Elliott could only imagine the power such a find would wield.
He attempted to keep his mind from Amelia’s part in all this as they raced through the streets of the village following Zahra. His suspicions rose despite himself. He knew the tug of an old life. The power of the habitual and easy path. Had she truly been a victim of the kidnapping, or was she playing a part to draw Lady Astley from the house? He prayed the former proved her character as much as she’d shown when she stepped in to name Mrs. Casper as the murderer of Mr. Graham.
Even if there was no chance to contemplate a future together, he would not wish her to remain a prisoner in her current life. Oh no! He only wanted the very best for her. To learn the pleasure of honest work and the pride of earning one’s own way. To experience care and healing. To know love.
Amelia. His mind breathed her name, but he shook his head. Lady Kerth.
An earl’s granddaughter.
Not a simple, unknown thief.
A plume of smoke rose into the night, and Lord Astley sent Elliott a look, the fear in the man’s eyes unmistakable. Lord Astley broke out into a faster run, bypassing Zahra and charging directly for a small building with smoke billowing from one of the small windows. Elliott followed, a growing dread gaining weight in his stomach. Elliott nearly slammed into Lord Astley’s back as he burst through the house door, the heat and smoke pausing them. The mudbrick exterior created an almost oven-like interior with no escape for the fire except the wooden rafters of the roof.
Elliott’s attention fastened on an object in the center of the room. A woman tied to a chair, her head dropped forward.
Amelia.
Elliott started forward, but Lord Astley’s arm came out to stop him.
“The rafters over there are not stable.” Lord Astley gestured to the right where the fire burned strongest. “We’ll have to go around. Stay near that wall. Follow me.”
Frederick held his shirt up to cover his nose and mouth and Elliott followed suit, but it didn’t fully protect from the smoke-filled air.
The sweltering atmosphere stung Elliott’s eyes and dried his skin. Tears formed to combat the heat, blurring his vision momentarily until the heat dried them up. The fire had caught on Amelia’s skirt and started an ascent, but Lord Astley quickly dropped to his knees at her side and used the surrounding cloth to blot out the fire.
“Do you have your knife?” he yelled over the sound of the flames.
In answer, Elliott pulled the tool from his pocket and handed it over.
“I’ll cut the ropes”—Lord Astley flipped the knife open—“and you catch her.”
Elliott nodded as the man moved behind Amelia and began slicing through the ropes holding her in place. The air grew thicker, harder to breathe. Lord Astley coughed but continued his work until Amelia’s body slid toward Elliott and he caught her up in his arms. She weighed less than he thought she would, and her forehead dropped against his chin, causing her soft hair to tickle his cheek. But she didn’t wake up.
Without direction, he ran back toward the open door and breathed in the cool night air, continuing a rain of coughs. Frederick followed and bent forward, palms on his knees, coughing as well.
Elliott placed Amelia down on the ground and loosed the top button of her blouse. “Come on, Amelia. Wake up. Breathe.”
“I have this.” Zahra ran forward, holding a small bucket at her side. “Water.”
Elliott took the bucket from the girl and dipped his hand inside, bringing the cool water to Amelia’s face. Nothing happened. He repeated the process, rubbing a thumb across her lips.
“Sir, could you support her head?” Elliott attempted to keep his voice calm. “I will try to get some water into her mouth.”
Lord Astley supported Amelia from behind, keeping her in an almost-sitting position, and Elliott slowly tilted the bucket up enough to allow a small amount of water into her mouth. She immediately started coughing. Elliott sent a smile up to Lord Astley. “That’s a good sign.”
“It is.”
Elliott waited until the coughing subsided and then offered another drink.
This time she didn’t cough as much, and those caramel brown eyes of hers finally flickered open. She looked up at him, brow creasing, and then recognition dawned.
“Jason?” Her voice rasped out his name.
Heat climbed up Elliott’s neck, and he refused to look over at Lord Astley. What would his employer think to have this woman refer to him by his Christian name?
“Take another drink,” he said, bringing the bucket up to gently allow a little more water between her lips.
She searched his face with such openness he almost brushed his thumb against her cheek to let her know he understood, but this was not the time for such tender sentiments. In fact, he shouldn’t have those thoughts about Lady Kerth as it was.
“Have you seen Lady Astley?”
Amelia’s eyes closed for a second, and he wondered if she’d lost consciousness again, but then she spoke. “The tomb. The professor took her.”
Elliott met Lord Astley’s gaze before the latter spoke. “I must get to her.”
“Yes,” Elliott replied, adjusting to take Amelia back in his arms. “You’ll need one of the horses.”
They made it back to the house. A servant stood near the table, serving the surviving policeman a drink. The man held his head in his hands, a red stain near one temple.
“What’s happened?” he asked, his words slow.
“Professor Andrews attempted to kill Miss Sinclair,” Lord Astley answered, gesturing toward the other policeman’s body, who had been laid out on the floor nearby. “And I suspect he may have been behind your injury and your colleague’s death.”
The man stood but lost his balance and returned to the chair. “I must alert the inspector.”
Lord Astley looked about the room in an almost desperate search, when his gaze landed on Zahra. “Zahra, you have proven your skills. I must ask you to be brave yet again.”
She smiled up at him, her willingness evident in her quick response. “I am brave, my lord.”
“I need you to take a note to the police station.” He knelt down to meet her eye to eye. “Do you think you can do that?”
“It is near the docks?” Her brow wrinkled a little as she appeared to search her memory. “With the cross flag flying.”
“That’s right.” He nodded, placing his palm on the child’s shoulder. “They usually have the British flag on display since men from my country are stationed here.”
“I know where it is, Rabu Alasid.”
Frederick shot Elliott a questioning look but didn’t inquire further. “Then return to the house without delay, so that you can help Elliott attend to Miss Sinclair. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I will catch you up, my Lord.” Elliott held Lord Astley’s gaze, hoping his friend understood the urgency behind his words. “You can’t do this alone.”
“If I can wait for you, I will.” Lord Astley’s shoulder dropped ever so slightly. His face firmed with purpose. “But I have to find her.”
