quite spry for his years, grabbed her arms and pinned them behind her back.
Assailed by the memories of the earlier brutality, Kat twisted in his arms. “Nooo! Let me go! Let me go!” Sinewy muscle held her fast, the coarse cloth of the watchman’s homespun shirt scratching her bare arms. Her efforts weakened as her strength reached its limits. Gasping for air, she couldn’t find enough. One last struggle to breathe, and darkness descended.
* * * *
The low crackle of a fire, its warmth flickering along her cheek, brought Kat toward consciousness. With an effort, she opened her eyes to faded yellow walls and dingy white ceiling plaster. A hard settle underneath her, a none-too-clean gray wool blanket covering her. She closed her eyes again and frowned, trying to remember where she was and why. When the events of the evening crashed back, she sat up so abruptly the world wavered into darkness again. Tears of rage and exhaustion trickled slowly across her cheeks. She sank back, drawing the dirty cover up to her chin, a poor shield against the prying eyes of the world.
Before she began to cry in earnest, a door opened. A matronly woman in the dark clothing of a servant entered, bearing a tray with a pot of tea and a cup. “Have you woke up good now, dear?” the woman said, and placed the tray on a nearby table. Her ordinary round smiling face, dark brown eyes and apple red cheeks seemed somehow out of place in this new, nightmarish world.
The cheerful woman poured tea and Kat cautiously sat up. “There you go.” The servant put the cup and saucer into her hands. They shook so badly, however, the woman rescued her cup, then sat down on the settle beside her. “Here, dear. Drink a bit. I put in extra sugar and,” she dropped her voice conspiratorially, “a nice drop of brandy. You looks like you needs something to fortify you.”
The kind matron tipped the cup toward Kat’s mouth and she drank obediently. The hot, sweet tea stole into her empty stomach where the brandy started a pleasant fire. Another good gulp and she found she could hold the cup herself.
“Thank you, ma’am.” She gratefully drained the rest and gazed around the austere room, noting the plain plaster walls and paucity of furniture. “Could you tell me where I am, please?”
The friendly woman nodded. “No wonder you don’t know where you are, dear, you being dead to the world when they carried you in. You’re at Four Bow Street.”
“Bow Street?”
“The magistrate’s office, miss.”
The scene on the corner surfaced and Kat shivered, once again grateful for the generous splash of brandy. “Have they arrested me?” she whispered.
The woman patted her arm. “I’m sure I don’t know, dear. They just told me as you’d had a chill and needed something hot.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” At a loss, she simply sat beside the woman, silent, trying to think of nothing. It seemed safer.
The door opened, interrupting her reverie, to admit the constables of the night watch with another man whose self-assured air attested he was in charge. They came toward her and she shrank back on the settle, clutching the blanket to her chest.
“It’s all right, miss.” The gentleman with the authoritative mein spoke gently. “My name is Reginald Matthews, one of Sir John Fielding’s Runners. No one means you any harm.”
The man appeared quite distinguished, perhaps thirty-five, with dark blond hair neatly clubbed back. His kind blue eyes exuded concern while his conservative dress, in gray coat and waistcoat, invited trust. He tempted Kat to try her story again.
“Can you please help me?” She searched his handsome face for some speck of understanding. “Two men kidnapped me earlier this evening from a carriage carrying me and my brother, the earl of Manning, to Lady Beaufort’s masquerade ball.”
The absolute shock on Matthews’s face made Kat want to laugh until he responded, “Lady Katarina Fitzwilliam?”
Her jaw dropped. “You know who I am?”
Matthews blinked at her in astonishment. “We’ve been looking for you since early this evening, my lady. Your coachman gave the alarm as soon as he reached home. Your butler contacted me and reported that two men had abducted you, then gave a vague description of them. And a somewhat better one of you, thank goodness. We’ve had runners dispatched all over the city trying to find some clue to your whereabouts.”
Safe! Katarina could scarcely comprehend the sudden fairy-tale ending to her journey through hell. Her shoulders heaved as great wrenching sobs tore from her throat, relief rolling through her as though she had escaped the gallows.
Matthews sat beside her and eased an arm around her in comfort. The gentle touch sent a wave panic through her. Her elbow shot out, connecting with his stomach. A grunt escaped him and he slid to the other end of the settle, breathing heavily.
“She don’t like bein’ touched, that’s fer sure. Bashed Collins a right good one out on the street,” volunteered the elder watchman, who got elbowed by his companion for his pains.
“So I see.” Matthews stood slowly, checking his ribs for damage. “Lady Katarina, neither I nor anyone in this house wishes you harm.”
Her crying slowed as she sniffed and Matthews passed her a plain, square linen handkerchief. Blotting her face, Kat rallied her courage. The biggest unknown right now– “Where is my brother?”
Reginald Matthews’s mouth tightened. “He was removed to your home and is being cared for by one of the best physicians in London, but he has not yet regained consciousness.” Ice stole toward her heart. “The blow hit your brother quite close to his temple, which I’m told can be dangerous. A footman is stationed at the house to bring me word of his recovery.”
Horrified by this news, Katarina struggled to her feet. The ice that froze her heart now flowed out through her veins, numbing her. She clutched the blanket around her shoulders like armor. “You must take me to him. I must go to Jack!”
She glared defiantly from one man to the next, and when none moved, shouted, “Get out of my way! You will not keep me from my brother!” She pushed past the cowed watch.
“My lady.” Matthews’s low voice, designed to soothe, remained calm. He pistoned an arm out to the wall to keep her from the doorway.
She shoved against him in vain before he curled a large hand around her shoulder in gentle but firm restraint. She went still, staring at him in accusation.
“I give you my word, you will see your brother soon. As he seems in no immediate danger, I must insist on questioning you now about your abduction. Getting all the information as quickly as we can will make all the difference in apprehending your kidnappers.”
Katarina closed her eyes to get herself in hand. Such a wild display would not help Jack. Though part of her had been spoiling for a fight all evening, if she was going to trust any man tonight, Matthews was the one.
She forced herself to take a breath and relax. Matthews apparently remembered his sore ribs and moved away from her. “I do beg your pardon, Mr. Matthews. I am not always so violent toward strangers, but my ordeal this evening has left me...defensive.” A deep breath, slowly exhaled, and she could meet his light blue gaze. “If you would question me, may we begin now? I would like to see my brother as soon as possible and change out of these
