“Come out, Mrs. Bryce. The house is on fire. We must leave at once.” She cocked the derringer and aimed it at the entrance of the cell. “Did you hear me? Come out at once. Surely you do not wish to roast to death down here.”
When there was no response from the interior of the cell, Victoria moved out of the stairwell and started forward.
Louisa came away from the wall in a desperate rush, swinging the heavy key ring with all of her strength.
At the last instant Victoria sensed movement behind her and started to turn, but it was too late. The iron ring struck her head just above her right ear. She fell to one knee, shrieking in pain. Blood flowed down the side of her head, but she did not collapse. Her eyes wild with rage, she started to turn the barrel of the derringer toward Louisa.
Unable to think of anything else to do, Louisa struck her a second time. Victoria sprawled on the stone floor. This time she did not move.
Just like Lord Gavin.
Louisa whirled around. Both men were still fighting furiously. As she watched, Quinby produced a knife. She ran toward the pair, but Anthony, evidently aware of the new danger, broke free and rolled away from Quinby.
Quinby got to his feet and charged, blade raised to strike. Anthony’s hand closed around the grip of one of the revolvers. He aimed, cocked the gun, and fired. Quinby jerked violently, spinning backward. He came up hard against the wall. The knife fell to the floor.
“Bastard,” Quinby stared at Anthony, raw hatred etched in every line of his face. “You ruined everything. Everything.”
He gripped his injured shoulder with his other hand, swung around, and stumbled away into the darkness of the tunnel.
The room went very quiet. Louisa went to Anthony.
“Are you all right?” Anthony asked. The heat of battle still burned in his eyes.
“Yes,” she whispered. “You?”
“Yes.” He got to his feet and looked at Victoria.
Louisa followed his gaze. Blood matted Victoria’s blond hair and pooled on the stone. Again the image of Lord Gavin, bloodied and dead, rose up before her, roiling her stomach. She gasped for breath. She could not be sick, she told herself. Not yet.
“Is she dead?” she managed.
“I don’t know.”
Anthony crossed the room and crouched beside Victoria.
“She’s alive,” he announced. “You didn’t kill her.”
Louisa’s stomach calmed miraculously. She breathed deeply. “What about Quinby?”
“He’s Clement Corvus’s problem now.”
Anthony tore a strip of fabric off one of Victoria’s petticoats and used it to secure her wrists. He repeated the procedure with her ankles.
Yet another set of footsteps echoed on the stairs, heavy boots this time. Louisa flinched and whirled around to face the opening. Anthony raised the nose of the revolver.
Marcus Stalbridge appeared. He smiled broadly when he saw Louisa. “Ah, I see you found her. Shall we be off, then? The police and the fire brigade will be along soon. It would be best if no one noticed our Mrs. Bryce emerging from a brothel.” He winked at Louisa. “Not that we couldn’t handle the problem if it arose, of course.”
“My cloak,” Louisa said. “It’s in the cell.”
Anthony disappeared into the small chamber. When he emerged he had her cloak in his hand. He secured it around her shoulders, covering her from throat to toe. He adjusted the hood so that it concealed her features.
“Come along, love,” he said gently. “It’s past time to leave this place. I think there has been enough excitement around here, even for an intrepid journalist such as you.”
Love? A figure of speech, she told herself, hurrying up the stairs behind Marcus. There was no time to dwell on the tiny endearment.
When they emerged into an empty hall, Louisa saw a strangely odorless thick white smoke drifting eerily through the air.
“I don’t see any flames,” she said.
“That’s because there aren’t any,” Marcus chuckled. “The managers of the Olympia Theater don’t want real smoke, you see, so I had to go about things somewhat differently.”
“I don’t understand,” Louisa said.
“I’ll explain later.”
“Take her to the carriage,” Anthony said. “I want to look around Madam Phoenix’s private rooms before the authorities arrive.”
He paused long enough to kiss Louisa hard on the mouth. Before she could question him he disappeared up a staircase.
“Come along, my dear,” Marcus said.
He ushered her out through the tradesmen’s entrance into a night filled with chaos and shouts. None of the people standing around outside in the alley paid them any heed.
A few minutes later Marcus guided her into a nearby lane. A closed carriage stood waiting. The door of the vehicle flew open. A woman garbed in a cloak leaned out.
“Hurry,” Clarice said, her voice bright with excitement. “We must get you away from here, Mrs. Bryce. We do not want to take the chance of you being seen by a member of the press. You know how those correspondents are when it comes to a story of sensation and scandal involving those who move in Society.”
Stunned, Louisa got into the vehicle. When she sat down she realized that Clarice was not alone. Georgiana Stalbridge sat on the seat across from her. She, too, was draped head to foot in a concealing cloak.
“Thank goodness you are safe,” Georgiana said. “We have been so worried about you. Are you hurt in any way, dear?”
“No,” Louisa managed. “I’m fine. Truly.”
“That is a relief,” Georgiana said. She looked at Marcus as he climbed into the cab. “Where is Anthony?”
“Stayed behind to have a look around before the police arrive,” Marcus said. “We’ll meet up with him at home.”
The carriage rumbled forward.
Louisa looked at Clarice, Georgiana, and Marcus in turn. In the dark confines of the unlit carriage it was difficult to see the expressions on their faces.
“I don’t understand,” she said to Georgiana. “Why are you and Clarice here? I know Anthony must have felt an obligation to rescue me, and it was very kind of Mr. Stalbridge to assist him, but surely there was no need for you and Clarice to take the risk of being seen this close to Phoenix House.”
Georgiana reached out and patted her hand. “Clarice and I refused to remain at home while Anthony’s future wife was in peril. In this family we stand together.”
Anthony’s future wife. Appalled, Louisa stared at her. “I fear there has been some terrible misunderstanding.”
“I’m sure that’s not the case,” Clarice said, relentlessly cheerful. “Now, we will go straight home and relax with a glass of brandy while we wait for Anthony.”
48
The door at the end of the hall was closed. All the rest had been flung open by the fleeing staff and clients. Anthony paused on the landing. He had intended to go straight to the top floor where Madam Phoenix’s private quarters were located, but the closed door caught his attention.
He went down the hall and stopped. Gripping his revolver, he stood to one side and tried the knob. It turned easily in his hand. He pushed the door open with the toe of his boot, keeping himself out of the line of fire just in case. No shots rang out from inside the room. Instead there was a frantic rustling sound, followed by an urgent moan.
He looked into the room. The walls were covered in black velvet. A glass-fronted case containing a variety of whips and unusual devices stood in the corner.
Elwin Hastings lay face up on a bed covered in black silk, his wrists and ankles shackled to the bedposts. He was naked. There was a gag in his mouth. When he saw Anthony relief replaced the fear in his eyes. He moaned again.
Anthony walked to the bed and untied the gag.