Christian scanned the height of the wall. “You go next. I don’t need your assistance.”
Stanton blinked in surprise as his gaze drifted over the breadth of Christian’s chest.
“School pranks,” Christian continued, “you know how it is.” Once, he’d climbed from the roof down to the lower floor to seek revenge on Haystack Henry.
Stanton was heavier than expected but one good push and the earl cleared the wall, too. Christian followed Lady Stanton’s lead and used the gaps left by the missing mortar as footholds.
“Did the note say where Rose should meet Taylor?” Christian brushed the dust from his hands as he scoured the garden. Rows of beds lined the walkways, each one filled with unusual plants and herbs.
“No, but I don’t suppose there are many places for a person to hide.” Lady Stanton walked a few paces along the path. “But from the stench in the air, it’s clear we’re close to the river. Perhaps there’s a—”
A high-pitched shriek captured their attention.
“Rose!” The sound of a woman’s mournful wails held Christian rooted to the spot.
“This way.” Stanton pointed south, and they took flight along the path. With the heavy crunch of their boots on the gravel, the whole of London would have heard them coming.
They followed the cries to a row of brick buildings, the door to one stood ajar. Christian thrust out his arm, a gesture to urge his companions to stop and tread carefully.
“Shush,” he whispered, and they crept closer to the door. “We don’t want to startle Taylor.”
The loud din inside the building obliterated any other sound. Cries of despair followed bouts of angry curses.
“You did this,” a woman yelled, “meddling and poking your nose in where it doesn’t belong.”
“Don’t just stand there,” Rose said. Hearing her voice calmed Christian’s racing heart. “We must call for help.”
“Why could you not leave things alone? Look! Look what you’ve made me do.”
“It is of no importance now. You must check his pulse. You must try to stop the bleeding.”
Lady Stanton put her hand to her mouth and coughed. Perhaps she still suffered from the effects of the smoke inhaled at Morton Manor. But one cough led to another, and another.
“Who’s there?” The woman peered around the door but shot back into the room. “Don’t come any closer else I’ll put a knife through your maid’s heart, too.”
Christian looked at Stanton. No one knew quite what to do.
A scuffle broke out inside the building. Rose groaned. The woman cursed. A chair scraped along the floor. Rose appeared in the doorway. Her frantic gaze met his, and Christian’s heart dropped like lead into the pit of his stomach.
The woman held Rose around the neck, the edge of a shiny blade pressed to her throat.
“Move away,” the woman cried, shoving Rose forward.
A single drop of blood trickled onto the collar of Rose’s white shirt.
“Let her go.” Christian spoke as calmly as he could, given the circumstances. “Leave here, and we’ll promise not to follow you.” It was a lie, but he’d come to learn that sometimes they were necessary.
The woman snorted as she shuffled to her left. “We’re leaving by barge. Once I’m safely away, I’ll let your maid go.” That was another lie.
“Do what she says.” Rose’s hoarse voice conveyed fear. She kept her head stiff and rigid as she spoke. “One of you must attend to Dr Taylor.”
Taylor?
Stanton looked at him and raised a questioning brow. “Is he alive?”
“Barely.”
It was only as the woman continued her movement towards the path that they saw her face clearly. Christian recognised her instantly.