Page 89 of A Duchess to Unravel
William doubled forward, coughing and sputtering blood. Theo moved quickly, rearing her knee up to his face and connecting with his nose. An animalistic cry roared from William’s chest as he staggered back and fell. Wasting no time, Theo shot to her bare feet and ran.
“Get back here!” William roared, but Theo ignored him, racing down the first darkened hallway she could find. Fear barreled through her as she found a dead end, with only a door on either side of the hallway to choose from. Praying that the one she picked had a lock, she chose the one on the left, opened it, and shut herself in.
Tears welled up in her throat and she whimpered when she turned her back and let her hands run over the door, finding nothing but a knob. She looked around the darkened room quickly, looking for something, anything, to block the entrance, but all she saw in the dim light was a pile of rusted pipes that stood about to her waist.
Knowing it was her only hope, she raced toward them, and jammed one as best she could beneath the doorknob and the floor, faltering several times as she tried to do so with her hands behind her back. She was barely able to make the pipe stick in place before something heavy slammed into the other side of the door, and William’s rage-filled commands to come out echoed through the space.
Theo watched, heart racing as the jagged pole kept its balance, even as the pounding persisted. She continued walking backwards until her back hit a wall and then sunk to the floor. It was there she felt something jagged plunge into her hand. She hissed out a breath at the pain, but quickly tampered it, fumbled for the sharp object with wet fingers, and began sawing it against the ropes at her wrist.
“Alistair,” she sobbed, her thoughts now only running toward one person, one salvation, “Please hurry!”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
“Tristan, stop!” Dominic roared.
He threw himself between Alistair and Tristan, pulling his oldest friend away from Alistair just as he was about to strike him again.
“If you want to be mad at anyone be mad at me,” Dominic growled, holding his friend in a headlock. “I am the one that brought Alistair the wrong information. I am the one who did not do the proper research.”
“It is no one’s fault,” Alistair cut in, “And we’re only wasting time arguing about this. Wemustfind Theo!”
Dominic let Tristan go, and he whirled on Dominic with accusing eyes.
“You should have told me there was a problem,” Tristan snarled. “Youbothshould have told me there was a threat to my sister.”
The three of them were standing in front of the block of abandoned factories by the docks. After sending his spies out and questioning much of the public themselves, they’d found out that a gentleman was seen driving there himself. Dressed finely, yet he was the one driving the carriage. The problem was, there were four abandoned factories on the block, and with the sun setting, they were running out of time.
“You can punish us later,” Alistair stated to Tristan. “For now, stop making such a racket and let us devise a plan. There are four factories and only three of us and we do not know if he has had help or is armed.”
Tristan shot him a glare, teeth bared, but he begrudgingly nodded.
“Later, then,” he said, sounding miserable.
“Tristan, you take the first factory on the left. Dominic, you take the one on the right. I’ll take the far left. If our first search comes up empty, we meet in front of the fourth and go in together,” Alistair commanded. “Give a shout if you run into trouble.”
Dominic and Tristan both nodded, and without another word, the three of them split up. Alistair jogged down to the last factory on the left, trying to keep his emotions in check. Losing himself to affectations was new to him, and he hated it. He needed to be his calm, assured self if he was going to rescue Theo. But being with her had changed him.
Gathering his senses, Alistair approached the door to the factory and pressed his ear to the warm metal; his hand going to the large sliding bar that would open the double doors. For a moment, he heard nothing but the sound of the sea beyond. Then from inside he heard the soft snort and sigh of a horse. Sparks traveled through his veins as he heard the noise, knowing there was no other reason for a horse to be in such a building, and he moved to slide the bar at the doors.
He let out a soft curse as he found it unable to budge. These factories, if they were anything like the ones in Scotland, would have at one time had workers coming in and out all hours of the day, which meant no need for a lock. Which then meant that whatever was holding the doors together had to be on the inside and had to be makeshift. All he needed was enough pressure.
Pressing his left shoulder tight to the one door, Alistair wrapped both hands around the small handle of the bar. He centered his weight, took a steadying breath, and with all of his strength, wrenched it toward him. The sound of groaning metal erupted as he did so, and the two doors separated just enough for him to pass through if he turned sideways.
Knowing the noise was likely to draw Theo’s captor’s attention, Alistair quickly slid between the two doors, and stepped into the dim, cavernous, rusted belly of the abandoned factory. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust, but when they did, he found the horses he’d heard and a carriage roped off in the nearest left corner. He walked quickly toward it, trying to be as quiet as he could, and drew open the carriage door. Nothing.
His worry growing, Alistair shut the door, and pressed his hand to it, taking a moment to think. It was then that his fingers felt the ridges of a painted-over crest. He turned his head, looking quickly over his shoulder. He knelt down and ran his hands once more over the black-painted crest and was able to make out the nameBoyle.
He tucked the name into his memory and then stood. Even if he was too late today, he now had a name to research. Panic scurried through his veins for a moment.Washe too late? The factory was quiet. Still. Aside from the horses, there seemed to be nothing else inside.
Nothing alive, anyway,a wicked voice whispered to him. Alistair fought a tremble threatening to run through his body as his stomach did a sickening flip. Forcing the idea from his mind, not allowing doubt to cloud his current responsibility, Alistair rose up and continued his search. He would find Theo, he’d already decided, and he would find heralive.
Alistair looked behind and under every giant piece of rusted equipment finding nothing but an abandoned small bed and a chair. The hairs on the back of his arms rose when he’d first spotted the bed, and though he had no idea why, he had the sense something awful had happened there.
He was deciding whether to check the loft space next or the darkened hallway when a man with a kerchief pressed to his nose and a limp in his step hobbled out of the hallway. Alistair immediately noted the dirt on his rolled-up white sleeves, thedrops of blood on his lapels and black vest. He certainly did not look like a noble, but Alistair knew that didn’t mean a thing.
“Goodness, you gave me a start!” The man stated in a typical lower London accent, then laughed. “I do not get many visitors around here. Can I help you, Sire?”
Alistair studied him closely, taking in his plain features, accent, and casual nature. It was not the type of man Alistair pictured being Theo’s captor. Still … he’d been wrong before.
