The Piper's Paramour, page 14
Rhys stilled. All the mockery he’d been ready to torture Shaw with dissipated like smoke from a chimney. Taking its place was a raging fury. He could feel it bubbling up inside of him, ready to explode, although when he spoke his voice was eerily calm. “You better not lay a finger on her.”
“I doubt it will come t’ that. Freddy ’ere said ’e was rather convincin’ today when ’e paid a visit t’ th’ lady an’ told ’er t’ stop associatin’ wit’ ye.” He shrugged. “But then I decided I should just deal wit’ ye myself.”
Rhys exhaled steadily. At least that explained why Tory was reticent to speak with him this evening. And why she’d sent him away. The urge to return was as strong now as it had ever been, just to assure himself that she was safe. But first, he had to get rid of Shaw and find out what it was he was truly after.
“This game is getting old and I’m not inclined to play any longer, so how about you tell me what it is you really want?”
Shaw stopped in front of him, braced his feet apart and crossed his arms. “I wan’ half o’ th’ profit.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” Rhys returned smoothly. “I already promised it to Miss Jones.”
“Then I’ll take yers.” Shaw smiled, and then glanced around the interior of the foyer. “Ye got a nice place ’ere, Gray.” He rubbed the side of his jaw. “I might be inclined t’ let yer little venture continue wit’ th’ enchantin’ Miss Jones if ye’d be willin’ t’ take o’ a side partnership.”
Rhys took into consideration Shaw’s desire to gain control of the entire London underground and took a gamble of his own, however risky. “You mean like the one you have going with Jack Black and the other gangs?” He shook his head when the other man’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You should have known that your rat smuggling days wouldn’t be able to continue forever. At some point, you were going to be stopped and how fortunate it is that I’m the man to put you away.”
“Ye think yer so smart,” Shaw snapped. “But ye don’t know anythin’ about it livin’ ’ere in yer fancy house.” He waved a hand to encompass the richly furnished interior. “Those rats are our livelihood an’ none o’ us are ready t’ see it end.” He stepped closer to Rhys and held up his knife threateningly. “An’ I’ll be damned if I let some middle-class gent ruin it all.”
With a nod to Freddy, a gag was shoved in Rhys’s mouth and a sweet smelling cloth was pressed against his nose.
Chloroform.
As a scientist as well as a veterinarian, Rhys knew the scent well, as it had been of great use when it came to its anesthetic qualities.
The last thought that arose in his head before the darkness claimed him was of Tory — and how he might never see her again.
And that was a damn shame.
Chapter Fourteen
True to her word, Mrs. Wood had indeed put an article about Tory in her magazine, for Rebecca walked in the following morning waving a copy of ‘Argosy.’ The moment she saw Tory, she held it up and began to recite;
“‘It has been quite an age since London has had any truly talented female photographers, but I’m pleased to say that Miss Victory Jones is a true testament to what ladies can accomplish. I had the privilege of working with Miss Jones on a recent commission, and I can tell you that I was highly pleased with her attention to detail when it comes to the art of photographic images. She has a skill with the placement of the lens that makes the individual appear to come to life. Combined with her kindness and her personality, I cannot speak well enough of this woman and I encourage anyone looking to pursue a portrait to seek her out on Drury Lane…’”
Rebecca dropped her arm and said, “I would say you made quite an impression indeed, and of all the woman in London to recommend you…” She shook her head. “Needless to say, I wouldn’t worry about finding customers any longer, for they shall come to you in droves.”
As her friend had predicted, Tory was thoroughly overwhelmed with inquiries for the rest of the day. By the time she locked the doors at seven o’clock, all of the rats she had on display had been adopted out, and she had made appointments for several new photography commissions. It had been her most successful day thus far. If things kept up in this manner, she might actually be able to hire the help she needed.
It also seemed that, regardless of the threat from Shaw’s hired henchman the previous day, not everyone was reluctant to seek her out.
Of course, now that things had settled down, her focus was entirely on Rhys and how much she missed him. She realized now that she should have told him what had happened. She just hadn’t wanted to embroil him in something even more dangerous after witnessing the brawl at the Blue Anchor. But the despondency that had followed at his departure, like a gaping wound in her chest, wasn’t a feeling she cared to repeat.
Thus, she quickly hailed a hansom and headed for his townhouse to tell him what had happened — and perhaps even how she felt about him. When she arrived, it was to find that all the windows were dark.
She sighed, for he must have already gone out for the night.
But then something caught her attention. She peered at the door and stilled.
It was slightly ajar.
Tory nearly jumped from the hansom as she ran up the steps and pushed open the door. There was no sign of Rhys, but there were two wiggling sacks on the floor. The fine hairs on the back of her neck began to stand up, for intuition told her that something was dreadfully wrong. She knew Rhys well enough to figure out that he wouldn’t have ignored the responsibilities to his rats, nor would he have left his house unattended in such a manner. That left one other possibility, and it wasn’t a very pleasant idea to contemplate.
Tory wasn’t sure where to go for help, but these rats couldn’t remain as they were, so she managed to get them downstairs to Rhys’s laboratory where she found two large cages and carefully emptied the contents inside. Afterward, she quickly made her way back upstairs where she located the kitchen. Before now, she had been in the lab in the basement, and on the second floor — in Rhys’s bedchamber.
Her face flamed, but she couldn’t think on such things when time was of the essence.
Once she had prepared some water and gathered some carrots, she fed the new arrivals and checked on the others who were there. She shut the door on her way out, but didn’t lock it in case she had to return, and made her way back to the hansom where she’d asked the driver to wait for her.
She hesitated, wondering where to turn, when the man atop the carriage asked almost impatiently, “Where to, miss? I ain’t got all night.”
Remembering that Rebecca’s husband was a good friend of Rhys, she asked, “I don’t suppose you know where Dr. Harold Veltree lives, do you?”
To her relief, he nodded to the left. “Aye. They’re across th’ way. I’ve taken Dr. Grayson there plenty o’ times.”
Tory’s jaw set. “Then that’s where you’re going to take me too.”
They had traveled but a short distance before they stopped again. “It’s that one.” The driver pointed to a stately home and Tory gathered her courage to step down to the ground. She’d been in plenty of nice houses in her lifetime, but it was one thing to rely on someone’s charity and goodwill, and quite another to hope that they might look at you as an equal.
Nevertheless, nothing would keep her from doing what she could to help Rhys, so she knocked on the door. After a brief wait, she was facing a rather proper butler. He swept his gaze down her plain attire and she couldn’t tell if he found her appearance lacking or not, as his expression didn’t change. “May I help you, miss?”
“Is this the Veltree residence?”
“It is.” He paused. “Who is calling?”
He didn’t immediately slam the door in her face, so she took that as a hopeful sign. “My name is Victory Jones and I need to speak with Dr. Veltree at once. It’s a matter of great importance regarding Dr. Grayson. I think he may be… in trouble.”
He opened the door wider for her to come in. “Stay here,” he instructed and walked down the hall.
Under other circumstances, Tory might have admired the elegant décor, but all she could think of was her reception and if her request for assistance would be denied.
She glanced up when she heard determined footsteps coming down the corridor where the servant had disappeared. A man approached her and held out his hand. He appeared about Rhys’s age, with thinning chestnut-colored hair and curious brown eyes. “I’m Dr. Harold Veltree and I understand you’re Victory Jones, the photographer?”
Thinking that his wife had mentioned her name, Tory nodded. “I am.”
“And Parker said you had news about Rhys?”
“Yes.” She swallowed heavily, but still her voice cracked. “I fear something… terrible has happened.”
His expression turned grim. “If you are claiming it is so, I am inclined to believe you, as Rhys speaks very highly of your character.”
As concerned as Tory was, she couldn’t help but say, “He does?”
“Indeed.” This knowledge warmed her heart, although she couldn’t help but wonder what else he might have said to his close confidante. “Now what makes you think something has befallen him?”
She took a deep breath and explained about his altercation with Shaw and her own visitor, as well as the state she’d found Rhys’s residence in just a short time ago. “I can only think Shaw is behind this latest upset as well.” It made her stomach queasy just thinking of how Rhys might be suffering. “I feel like it’s my fault for not telling him what had happened to me, so that he might be better prepared.”
“That certainly explains his eye when he paid a call this morning,” Dr. Veltree muttered. “Although he told me it was nothing to worry about.” He laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Rest assured, Rhys wouldn’t want you to blame yourself, for he obviously didn’t believe that Shaw would take such drastic measures so soon. He’s been able to deal with Shaw when they’ve clashed in the past, but the stakes appear to be higher now, which makes the situation more dangerous.”
“What can we do?” Tory asked.
“You will do nothing,” he corrected. “But await word from me. You’re welcome to stay here if you like. My wife will surely enjoy the company while I’m out. She’s upstairs in the nursery, but—”
“Tory?” As if on cue, Rebecca walked down the hall and rushed forward to embrace her in a friendly, welcoming hug. “Parker told me that Miss Jones was here, but I daresay I had to see for myself!” She paused, seeming to notice the tension between Tory and her husband. “Oh, dear. What’s wrong?”
“I’ll let Miss Jones fill you in on the details,” her husband replied, as he kissed the top of her head. “I’ll return shortly.”
Once he’d gathered his outerwear and walked out the door, Rebecca turned to Tory with a sigh. “I have a feeling we’re both going to need a drink.” She looped her arm through Tory’s. “Come with me.”
***
Rhys was thrown into some sort of underground pit. When he hit the hard dirt, he groaned slightly as consciousness returned to him. As a door shut somewhere in the distance, he cracked open his eyes, but found himself in utter darkness. At least he wasn’t dead — yet, which meant he still had an opportunity to try to escape.
He sat up and fought a wave of dizziness. His mouth was like cotton and his limbs were still a bit unsteady, but he had to get out of here, if nothing else, than to assure himself that Tory was unharmed.
He stumbled slightly as he rose to his feet, but he threw out an arm and braced himself on the wall. After a moment, he tested his endurance by taking a step forward. Blinking rapidly, his body slowly started to respond to his demands and he began to maneuver about the area, feeling his way around for the door. He breathed a sigh of relief when he finally found it. He tested the knob, not surprised to find that it was securely fastened. But as a scientist, surely he could pick a lock.
He patted his pockets to find something he could use to manipulate the mechanism — and that’s when he heard it. The familiar sounds of squeaking rats. While he couldn’t even see the hand in front of his face, he knew he was in a precarious position. Apparently, Shaw wasn’t even going to do the dirty deed himself, but let his pit rats do the job for him. These rodents had been trained to be lethal, their scent for blood insatiable, and they were slowly starting to close in around him.
At least they hadn’t taken away his recorder.
Rhys withdrew the instrument from his inner pocket and began to play. Instantly, the cellar quieted, as his song hypnotized them.
But how long could it last?
After an interminable length of time, where minutes could have easily turned into hours, Rhys heard the shuffling sounds of movement coming from outside his makeshift prison. He prayed it was reinforcements, for he wasn’t sure how much longer he could continue playing.
As the door was shoved open, light burst into the cellar, causing the rats to scatter in confusion.
It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the light, but when they did, Rhys saw Harry standing in the frame. Relief flooded him and nearly sent him to his knees. “Thank God. What took you so long?”
Harry grinned. “You know how I like to make an entrance.” He turned serious. “Come on. Let’s get you out of here before we’re discovered.”
Rhys wasn’t inclined to argue. “Are you alone?”
He nodded. “Yes, so I do not wish to tarry, if it’s all the same to you.” Harry glanced around them, checking for signs of trouble, and then motioned for Rhys to follow him.
“How did you know where to find me?” Rhys asked.
“Call it a hunch,” his friend said over his shoulder. “Miss Jones told me of your altercation with Shaw and I put two and two together. I figured the most logical place to start would be the tavern. Turns out my instinct proved right.”
Rhys stopped Harry with a hand on his arm. “Wait. Tory came to see you?”
“Technically, she went to your house first, but when she realized that something was amiss, she sought out my assistance.”
Harry turned to continue on, but Rhys had to know, “She’s safe?”
“She’s with Rebecca,” he confirmed. “But if we both don’t want to end up in that cellar—”
Rhys held up a hand. “Say no more.”
With that, they made their escape.
***
Tory sat in the Veltree parlor and held a half-empty glass of brandy. Rebecca had pressed it into her hands as she’d relayed what had happened.
“I should have been honest with Rhys instead of pushing him away,” Tory said despondently. “Maybe he would have been better prepared if he’d known—”
Rebecca reached out and took her hand. “None of this is your fault. You’ll find that London is overrun with some rather unsavory types. You just had the misfortune to become embroiled with some of them.”
“But Rhys—”
“Chose this path,” Rebecca inferred. She sat back and regarded Tory steadily. “I think there’s something you need to know about Rhys.”
Tory’s stomach clenched as she prepared herself for the worst — some deep, dark secret that he’d been harboring.
“Has Rhys told you anything about his past?” Rebecca began.
Some of Tory’s tension eased somewhat. “If you mean his failed engagement with Marissa and about his parents, then yes.”
“Then you also know about the deaths of his brother and sister when he was young.”
Tory nodded, remembering the sadness in which he spoke of Levi and Anastasia. “I do.”
Her companion hesitated, as if trying to decide where to begin. “I’ve known Rhys a long time, about ten years, ever since Harry and I began courting.” She smiled, the recollection of meeting her future husband obviously a happy one. “At the time, Rhys and Harry were in veterinary school. I always thought Rhys had the same desire to be in the field, the same as Harry, but I found out later it was merely to please his parents’ expectations.”
Tory remembered him saying much the same.
Rebecca sighed. “After Harry received his degree and we were wed, we encouraged Rhys to visit us as often as he liked, but while he rented out his townhouse across the square, his appearances were rare. He quite literally threw himself into his scientific studies.” She held up a hand. “Don’t get me wrong. Rhys has a brilliant mind when it comes to his rats, but I was starting to worry it was going to consume his entire life. When he began moving about London’s underground and rubbing elbows with men like Shaw, Harry and I were concerned that something would happen to him. It wasn’t until he met Marissa at one of the few social gatherings we were able to drag him to that he started to break out of the shell he’d built around himself.”
Tory looked down at the hands clasped in her lap. All this time she’d felt such animosity toward this faceless woman who had held Rhys’s love for a time, when she probably should have been thanking her for bringing him out of the muck.
“I had high hopes for Rhys and his future, but then things turned sour.” Rebecca shook her head “I had never seen anyone so morose for so long. I actually thought that he might… try something drastic to end his misery.”
Tory shuddered, just thinking of a world without Rhys in it. It was unimaginable. And heartbreaking.
“That’s when Harry convinced him to travel abroad to France, to leave everything behind for a time and refocus on his work. We didn’t want him to immerse himself in his studies as before, but we felt it was best if he kept his mind occupied with something other than his own despair.” Again, Rebecca reached out and grasped her hands. “That’s when he met you. From the beginning, we could see the change in him. The hope had returned to his eyes because he’d found something truly worth living for.”
