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  “I know the streets are usually deserted this hour of morn,” her unknown male rescuer commented, “but I don’t think it’s a good place to rest.”

  Elizabeth was about to protest that it was no accident that she’d almost been run over—when she glanced at the man. He winked at her, and she managed a smile in return. “Thank you for your assistance.”

  He boldly studied her up and down, and it was at that moment she noticed his amber-colored eyes and his overall good looks.

  “It’s my pleasure.” He doffed his hat, turned, and left.

  She watched him for a few moments. He was one of the most striking gentlemen she had seen in a long time, besides Adam, of course. She brushed her skirts and continued on her way to Four Courts where she hoped she’d find her father asleep or at work—one of the two, but at least well.

  By the time she reached Inns Quay, her final destination a half hour later, she at last saw another noddy. Now you get here.

  She glanced up at the impressive dome of the structure before she entered and hurriedly walked to her father’s office. To her dismay, the room was dark with no indication he had been there recently. She retraced her steps back towards the entrance, questioning any of his fellow-workers along the way if they had seen him. No one had.

  What could have happened to him? With a heavy heart, she headed back to their town house on Henrietta Street. This time, she was able to catch a ride within a block of Four Courts and managed to be home ten minutes later. Her only hope as she walked through the entryway was that her father had arrived in her absence and was safely upstairs asleep.

  Hannah approached her immediately. “Child, you have a visitor.”

  “I don’t care about visitors. Father wasn’t at Four Courts. Has he come home while I was gone?” She removed her cloak, hat and gloves and handed them to Hannah.

  “ ‘Tis sorry, I am, but he has not.”

  “Oh Hannah, whatever are we to do?” she asked, and hugged the woman.

  “If he doesn’t return by this eve, we’ll notify the authorities, but first you must see this visitor.”

  “Please, send whoever it is away. I’m too concerned about my father to talk to anyone.” She started to climb the staircase to her room when Hannah grabbed her arm.

  “The gentleman in the parlor has been waiting for you since practically the time you left. He said it’s important that he speak to you and vowed not to leave until he did so. Maybe he has some information about your da.”

  Elizabeth considered it only a second and turned towards the parlor. “I’ll speak to him, but give me some time to at least freshen myself.”

  “I’ll go tell the gentleman,” Hannah said, but before either could take a step, the object of their discussion entered the entryway.

  Surprise must have clearly shown on Elizabeth’s face, and she instantly realized her mouth hung open and snapped it shut. The gentleman in front of her was the same one who had helped her from the street.

  His surprise mirrored her own, yet he gained his composure much more quickly and said, “We meet again.”

  The look in his amber-colored eyes for some reason did not appear as friendly as before. “Sir,” she said, “how may I help you?”

  Hannah must have suggested the gentleman remove his overcoat and hat while he waited, for he stood before her in an excellently tailored coat and deep brown waistcoat with a crisp cream-colored cravat. The combination was impressive against his dark hair and the color of his eyes. She wondered if he was married and supposed, if he were not, many a female would stand in line to do so. Adam was handsome, but his mere presence never suggested such arrogance. Consequently, she was immediately prejudiced against the man before her. Aware of her own disheveled state, she uncomfortably shifted her feet.

  “Pardon for the intrusion. I have been waiting a long time for your return. I’m Christian Corbett Traynor. I understand you were the last one of late to see my twin—my brother.”

  “Adam? Adam is your brother?” she glanced at his dark hair and studied his face. “You look nothing like Adam.”

  “Be God, I’ll say ye don’t,” Hannah spoke out and added, “Yet ye’re easy on the eye, too.”

  “Hannah,” Elizabeth said and flushed. “Please leave us. We’ll be in the parlor. Mr. Traynor will be staying only momentarily.”

  Hannah nodded, but hesitantly left the entryway as they entered the parlor.

  “We’re fraternal twins.” Christian now appeared annoyed and abruptly got to the point. “I stopped at our family town house first. The housekeeper said she hadn’t seen Adam for over two months. Has he been residing here?” He eyed her from head to toe, and added, “as your guest.”

  Had he not clarified the question, she would have personally thrown him out the door. “Sir. He is not living here as my guest. Odd as it seems, he hasn’t told me where he lodges nor have I heard so. Perhaps you should check with some other friends of his.”

  “I already have, and I get the same answer. No one seems to have seen him for two months. As luck would have it, I was at the Crow Street Theatre and happened to ask a mutual acquaintance about Adam. Walter Bloomfield overheard us and suggested I talk to you. Walter said you were friends with his fiancée, Charlotte, and stated that Adam had been courting you for some time. The strange part about this whole conversation was that our mutual acquaintance asked me and Walter Bloomfield why Adam kept the woman he was courting such a mystery, and why he had chosen the same time to drop out of the social circle.”

  Elizabeth turned away from the handsome man’s scrutiny. It had disturbed her that Adam had not wanted for them to participate in any social affairs yet. They attended suppers and small, private socials with Charlotte and her friends, but not with any of his friends.

  “I saw your brother last night,” Elizabeth said, “however, where he is now is a curiosity to me, as well.”

  “Woman! How can you court a man and know so little about him? And what of your father and mother? Surely, your father would have wanted to know more about him?” Clearly irritated, he angrily fisted one hand into the other and paced the floor before her. “I’m sure Adam must have met with an accident or has lost his memory. Why else would he court you this way under these conditions?” He stopped pacing and waited for her reply.

  Outraged and stunned by the man’s insult, Elizabeth immediately said, “We had an agreement. He wanted me to know him for himself before he shared who he was. Nay, I didn’t question him. I sensed he was in need of this time before he shared his family and past. He was always a gentleman, and I granted him this request. My father knew his background, but said Adam wanted to tell me about himself.”

  Her anger reached its pinnacle. She poked him in the chest. “Perhaps you can enlighten me. Who are you Traynors that you must keep secrets? Or, as I’m beginning to wonder, are you all a bit loony?”

  Christian held his hands behind his back and was about to speak when Hannah entered the parlor once more. “Bethy, I must speak to you.”

  “Perhaps now would be a good time for you to see yourself out the door,” Elizabeth told him.

  “We’re far from done.” He stood his ground.

  Elizabeth frowned. She pulled Hannah the short distance away into the entryway and whispered, “What is it?”

  “This came by courier earlier. I was going to give it to ye after the man left, but maybe this will help ye both.”

  She handed Elizabeth a sealed envelope. “Perhaps this is about your father, or from Adam.”

  Elizabeth nervously opened the missive and silently read its contents.

  Next instant, she flung the message aside and grabbed the object nearest to her, which happened to be a crystal vase that sat on the entryway table, returned to the parlor, and charged Christian. He saw her unexpected wrath and the vase come towards his head. He captured her wrists and knocked the intended weapon from her hands. It missed the carpet and hit the wooden floor with a crash before it shattered into pieces.
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  “Damn you and your brother,” she shrieked. Tears started to pool in her eyes, but she blinked them away. She’d not let this man know the true extent of her sudden pain.

  He dragged her by the wrists a few steps towards Hannah, who had picked up the note. “Give me the letter,” he demanded of her.

  “Aye. Please do, Hannah,” Elizabeth said, holding back a sob. “Let him read for himself that his brother is not only a scoundrel, but a black-hearted murderer as well.”

  Chapter Two

  Nearly noontime, an hour later, Christian still sat on a wing chair in the parlor and stared at the note. A sick feeling washed over him. The unique handwriting sprawled across the page was penned by his brother. Of this, he was not mistaken, though the script appeared to have been shakily written.

  Damn! What the hell had Adam been up to these last months? He reread the note written to Elizabeth Corry for the third time.

  I’m sorry about your father. There was no other way, but to dispose of him. Don’t blame yourself though, and please forgive me for what appears to be my betrayal. One day you’ll understand. Don’t try to find me, or call the authorities. It will only make matters worse. I did love you, Elizabeth.

  Always, A.

  Poor woman. Christ! He wasn’t exactly thrilled by the turn of events, but she had suffered a double blow. She seemed a nice enough lady and wasn’t unattractive. In fact, when he first met her on the street, her physical attributes appealed to him immediately. Though he preferred his women a bit more endowed; he certainly understood Adam’s attraction. Hell. He wadded the note and pitched it across the room. How could Adam have treated her in such an ungentlemanly fashion, and what was this business with Edward Corry? Adam never hurt anyone, nor could he. To say he was worried was an understatement.

  He glanced up to see Hannah enter the parlor carrying a well-filled glass of brandy, which she handed to him. “How is she?” he asked, accepting the drink.

  “The powder put her to sleep all right. Poor child. I guess I would assume the worst, too, if I read what she told me the note said. Yet, it doesn’t necessarily mean Mr. Corry is dead. Do ye think?”

  “Hannah, I don’t know what to think. My brother’s actions are strange, to say the least, and don’t fit his character, but I know he wrote this. I’ll just have to find him.” He swallowed a large gulp of the brandy.

  “Thanks for the drink. You could have thrown me out as Elizabeth suggested you do.”

  “Regardless of what yer brother may have said, he don’t strike me that same way.”

  He gave her a weak smile at the offhanded compliment to his brother. What had his brother Adam done? True, he had been extremely despondent since the death of his wife a year ago, but Christian never thought he’d go to the extreme he apparently had. If only he could find him and sit him down and talk to him. He was sure there was a valid explanation for everything.

  “Can you tell me anything at all you remember about Adam?” he asked, “especially the last night when he called on Elizabeth.”

  “He was always a gentleman, but we never struck up any lengthy conversations, though the two spent most of their time here, or with Charlotte Godfrey and her friends. As far as I know, nothing unusual happened the last night she saw him.” She paused and placed her hands on her hips. “That is, unless ye mean his asking her to marry him.”

  The statement brought him to his feet. “Bloody hell. The situation is getting worse by the minute.”

  “Elizabeth Louise Corry is a prize for any man, and don’t ye be forgetting it. I think ‘tis time ye did take yer leave.” Hannah defended Elizabeth.

  “It’s not what I meant at all. It’s just that none of this makes sense. My brother left our estates in North Ireland to come to Dublin to secure a structure that would be appropriate for an orphanage. I’ve learned that no one has seen him in the last two months except Elizabeth and her friends.” He took another swallow of brandy, set the glass down on a side table and put on his coat to leave.

  “What are ye going to do?” Hannah asked. She followed him from the parlor.

  “I don’t know. Right now, I’m going back to our family town house to think about all this. I’ll call on Elizabeth again in a day or so. Hopefully, she will have calmed down and will remember some detail that will enable me to locate my brother.”

  “Aye,” Hannah agreed. “Maybe if ye find Adam ye’ll obtain more information on her da.”

  He pursed his lips. “I expect to do just that. In the meanwhile, here’s my card. If you think of anything, please send word to me.” He placed his hat atop his head and saw himself out the front entryway.

  * * * *

  Elizabeth, though still dressed in her day clothes from earlier, shivered from the cold chill in the air and instantly lay still on her bed in the darkness. She sensed someone was in her room only seconds before a hand clamped over her mouth and face. She struggled against the act and tried to scream, but her voice failed her.

  “I’m going to remove my hand,” her assailant whispered. He kept her pinned to the bed. “If you call for help or raise your voice, I’ll run the tip of this along your throat. Understand?”

  Even in the dark of her bedchamber, the metal from the dagger threateningly gleamed before her. She nodded. He released his hand from her mouth.

  The man rummaged through a chest of drawers near the bed with his free hand while he guarded her with the knife in the other.

  He wore a black cloth mask over his eyes and nose like one would wear for a masquerade. He was dressed as a mariner, yet he smelled more of tobacco than fish or the sea.

  “Tell me where the molds are and I’ll be gone,” he ordered, in a smooth, cultured voice that hardly fit his appearance.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she truthfully answered.

  “Need some encouragement, do you?” The man abruptly turned on her. He waved his dagger dangerously close to her face. “The molds. The dies. Whatever. You know.”

  “Nay. I speak the truth. What? What molds?”

  “Don’t lie to me.” The man yanked her by the arm from where she sat, now fully upright on the bed, and pulled her to him. He pressed the tip of the knife into her cheek enough to nick her.

  She let out a cry. He clamped his hand over her mouth.

  “Shut up! The blade barely touched you, but let it be a warning. I mean to have them. Don’t fool with me, wench. The day before yesterday, I saw Roderick’s assistant put them in the drawstring bag you carried.”

  Despite the darkness in her bedchamber, her eyes quickly adjusted to it. She turned her head towards the corner of the room where her reticule sat on a wing chair near the heavily draped window. Some of its contents were thrown on the floor. The silk, three-paneled screen she sometimes changed behind lay collapsed on the other side of the chair.

  Her intruder, who watched her closely, said, “I already checked the bag.”

  “Please,” she said. “Check everything in this room. In fact, I’ll help you. What do these molds look like? Are they silver, decorative pieces, or actually used for baking?”

  The man pushed her from him. He studied her for a moment before he kicked a small, but thankfully empty chamber pot on the floor near the foot of the bed. Next instant, he cringed at his error and the noise the chamber pot made as it tumbled across the room. “You stupid wench. You really don’t know what I’m talking about, do you?”

  She shook her head, relieved that the man believed her, yet uncertain what he might do because she knew nothing about the molds or dies.

  “I’m not through with you,” her intruder said and grabbed for her wrist.

  She tried in vain to pull away from him, but knew it was no use. Her pulse rate doubled. She feared this man would either beat or rape her. As quick as she was to react to his grasp, she calmed herself, deciding it might surprise him if she cooperated, thereby giving her the smallest advantage, whatever it might be.

  Instead, her assailant raise
d his dagger as if to strike her. Reflexively, she backed away.

  “I’ll not harm you unless you cross me, and I don’t prey on the innocent. I’ve learned having the advantage is easier. Now lead me to the front entryway. Unlike my arrival where I had to let myself inside when the old woman wasn’t watching, I think I’d like an escort this time. Move.”

  She stepped towards the closed door to her bedchamber when the man stopped her.

  “Wait. Who else is in the house besides the old woman?”

  “No one, but my governess and myself,” she answered.

  The man was a bit of a dimwit to just now be worried about others.

  “What about your father?”

  “You know my father?” she asked, surprised and at once mindful of the note she received that implied he was dead.

  “Everyone on the wrong side of the law has heard of Edward Corry, alias Corry the Cold-hearted. The son of a bitch never lets up. He never bends the law, and favors the smallest crime to be punishable by death.”

  He could have pierced her heart with the knife, for the shock and pain from his words she now experienced surely was the same.

  “You are mistaken. My father is a kind and gentle man.”

  “To you maybe, lassie, but a crueler magistrate, I’ve never known. Now tell me. Is he here?”

  She shook her head. Her heart was heavy with fear, but not for herself. If her father was as this criminal spoke, Adam’s note would be understandable.

  “If he is as cruel as you say, which I doubt,” she defended Edward Corry despite her negative thoughts, “then why don’t the criminals quit breaking the law?”

  “I’ve wasted too much time on you as it is. The sun will be up in an hour or so. Move.”

  She wanted to find out more from this man, but understood that to pursue her line of questioning would only anger him.

  With him close behind her, she opened the bedchamber door and stepped out into the dark passageway. She prayed Hannah would not hear them.