Relief flooded Caro when she spied Thorne approaching. At least she wouldn’t have to search further for him.
When he reached her, she forced herself to return his smile of welcome, knowing that she was the object of countless curious stares. The notoriety didn’t bother her—she was fully accustomed to it by now. But no one needed to suspect that she and Lord Christopher Thorne were anything more than longtime acquaintances and neighbors, or that she had come here to fetch him for an urgent mission.
“Did you just arrive in London?” he murmured as he bent gallantly over her hand.
“Yes. I called at your house but was told I could find you here. Thorne, it is Isabella. She has been taken captive.”
His pleasant smile never wavered, although a spark of dark emotion flared in his eyes. “I am delighted to see you again, Miss Evers. Come, you can give me all the news from home.”
Tucking her arm in his, he ushered her from the ballroom and along the elegant corridor to a large library.
Caro shivered as he closed the door behind them. A fire had been lit in the grate, but it was still far colder here than home on her beautiful island.
“So tell me what happened,” Thorne said brusquely, all business now that the need for pretense was over.
“Isabella was returning home three weeks ago when her ship was overrun by pirates. Thorne, it’s almost certain she has been enslaved.”
“Sit down and start from the beginning,” he suggested as she began to pace.
“I couldn’t possibly sit. I have been doing nothing but sitting on board a schooner for two weeks now. I wish it didn’t take so blasted long to reach London!”
“Well, you won’t do Isabella any good by wearing out my aunt’s carpet,” Thorne retorted. “Would you care for some sherry?”
His pragmatic tone had a calming effect. Taking a deep breath, Caro moved over to the hearth and held out her gloved hands while Thorne went to a table and poured her a glass of sherry.
Memories rushed through her mind as she stared at the flames. Lady Isabella Wilde was her dearest friend—a beautiful Spanish widow who frequently traveled the globe, living life as she pleased. The adventuresome Isabella had been like a mother to her, ever since Caro’s own mother died when she was a girl. Isabella was also a role model of independent thinking and had encouraged her in countless ways to pursue her dreams.
Caro was fiercely determined to free her friend from captivity—and so were all the other Guardians. There was no question they would mount a rescue. Caro had come directly to London to give Thorne his orders.
He handed her a full wineglass, then settled himself on a sofa while she explained the facts they had pieced together after Isabella went missing—facts that suggested she’d been taken captive by Barbary corsairs.
“We actually had little information to go on. When Isabella’s ship never arrived, we sent out inquiries. There had been no storms that week, or any other reason to suggest it might have sunk. And then we learned that a vessel flying an Algerian flag had been sighted in the packet’s wake.”
“And there has been no word of Bella since? No demands for ransom?”
“None. Sir Gawain sent two agents to Tripoli just in case our intelligence was mistaken, but the odds are greater that she was taken to Algiers.”
“And Sir Gawain wants me to go directly to Algiers to search for her?”
“Yes.”
“Doubtless he understands the difficulty in locating her there.”
Caro nodded. From what she’d heard, Algiers was a large, crowded city with dwellings crammed together like rabbit warrens. And the country itself—the Kingdom of Algiers—was a vast expanse of rugged mountain and hostile desert.
Her sherry remaining untouched, Caro set her glass on the mantle to reach into her reticule. Drawing out a thin sheaf of folded papers, she handed them to Thorne.
“All the particulars are here,” she said. “Everything we have planned thus far…each of our assignments, including yours.”
Thorne pursued the details quickly, not questioning why Caro had come personally to deliver his orders. The Guardians often communicated by mail dispatches and carrier pigeon, but this assignment was too important to risk being lost.
Caro shuddered to think of what might have happened to her friend. It was hoped that Isabella’s dark beauty and elegant manners would have spared her the fate of many slaves—a terrible life of toil and beatings—and landed her instead in some wealthy lord’s harem. The Kingdom of Algiers was ruled by a Turkish dey, who governed from a massive castle. If Isabella was imprisoned there, breaking her out might be next to impossible.
Yet first they had to find her. A half dozen Guardians were in Algiers now, seeking information, while several others had been recalled to Cyrene in the event they had to mount a rescue.
Thorne looked up from studying his orders. “Hawk is leading the search in Algiers,” he verified, “and I am to link up with him there.”
“Exactly. And I don’t need to tell you how imperative it is that you proceed quickly.”