The Unquiet - J. D. Robb [41]
Mentally running through her list of items—umbrella, satchel with periodicals, trim kit, and reticule—Lydia turned her mind to business and rehearsed her speech, hoping to sound both businesslike and optimistic. Yes, Irina Allerton was Alexei’s sister, but Mr. Allerton was a mill owner first and last, and family would mean nothing if he thought the offer unsound.
The fact that a woman now ran Chernov Drapers was offset by the recipe for purple dye, definitely the Chernov’s greatest asset. That Grandmama would allow Mr. Allerton the use of it in exchange for his exclusive business would, Lydia had no doubt, tip the balance entirely in her favor.
The purple the Chernovs produced was perfection. This purple was the truest color of royalty, of wealth. The color every woman who aspired to be fashionable wanted. The fabrics colored from royal to lavender were expensive to make and even more dear to purchase. Allowing Allerton the use of the dye recipe would expand its availability and make them both wealthy.
Of course, Mr. Allerton was already wealthy, and she was not much more than modestly successful. True wealth for her was years away. But she would allow the exaggeration. Of all people, Mr. Allerton understood the usefulness of hyperbole.
Fully prepared, Lydia sat back and closed her eyes.
Wish.
The word whispered through the carriage and she grabbed at the coin on a chain around her neck, shock if not fear making her sit bolt upright.
Wish.
There it came again. It was not a spoken word, certainly not Alexei or his ghost. It was the sound of the wheels on the wet road. She listened for it again, but the only sound she heard now was the light patter of rain. Her heartbeat slowed and she drew a steadying breath, but did not close her eyes again.
When the hackney rocked over some loose stones, Lydia realized that Mr. Leopold was moving the horses more quickly than usual. As she raised her umbrella to knock on the roof, the conveyance skidded to a halt. Before she could lean out and question Mr. Leopold, the street-side door swung open.
Cold, wet air was not the only intrusion. A man jumped aboard. At the same moment, the hackney began moving again.
I should never have come out without a maid, was Lydia’s first thought. Or a pistol.
She had faced bigger threats than one strange man in her conveyance, but still her brain conjured a dozen horrors. The ghastly images of her own body broken, bleeding, or worse made her stomach churn, but she pushed beyond terror to action. Thank God her fear did not paralyze her. She touched her necklace again, as if it could comfort her, and spoke with as strong a voice as she could muster.
“Who are you? What on earth are you doing?” Terror hid behind her indignation. Holding tight to her umbrella, she made ready to use it as a weapon.
“Mr. Leopold!” she called. “Do you have your pistol?” She had no idea if he carried one or not but hoped the question would give the intruder second thoughts.
The man, a very large man, laughed and settled on the opposite seat, his feet raised and propped against one door, leaning his body against the other so she could not reach either handle. “Leopold is counting his bribe money and heading for the nearest whorehouse. My man is driving.” The intruder smiled with smug complaisance, still blocking the doors with his shoulders and feet.
“What do you want?” If he wanted money or her supplies, she would willingly abandon them to him.
“The Russian wants what you have.”
“What does that mean? I don’t know any Russians.”
“But you do. Alexei Chernov.”
Her heart rose to her throat. “Mr. Chernov is dead.”
The man shrugged, and the careless gesture frightened Lydia more than his words.
Lydia caught her breath. This was not a random abduction. This man wanted her. Or something of Alexei’s. Alexei