“Had no choice—” A wet, rattling cough seized her and spittle, thick with blood, sprayed the floor and splattered their clasped hands. “My son.” Her voice grew weaker and a single tear curled over her nose. “Giles.”
Earlier today, Catherine had sensed a kinship with this woman, but no amount of coaxing would lure her to share a confidence. Now she knew why, and felt a stab of guilt for her shabby treatment of this suffering mother. “Mrs. Clarke, where are they taking my daughter?”
“My son. Find him. London boys’ home.” She coughed again.
“Mrs. Clarke, please—”
“The bleeding won’t stop,” her mother said. “You must try not to cough, Mrs. Clarke.”
More tears streamed over the bridge of the governess’s nose. “Tell Giles I l-love him, tell him I wanted to do what was right—” Another wave of coughing, this one far worse than the last, halted her confession. When she finished, she could barely lift her eyelids. “His father—danger…” Her dying body sagged onto the floor like an inflammable air balloon losing its heat. The dead woman’s grip on Catherine’s hand loosened.
Pounding feet sounded in the outer room a moment before Sebastian stormed into the small chamber, his eyes wild and his hair disheveled. Catherine’s vision blurred at the mere sight of him. Relief like nothing she’d ever known poured into her limbs.
“Sebastian,” she said through trembling lips. “They took Sophie.”
He stepped forward, and Catherine flew into his outstretched arms. They curled around her, holding her close. Between whispered promises to find their girl, he kissed her eyes, lips, cheeks, anywhere he could reach. She wanted to believe him, wanted to trust that everything would be set to rights. But thoughts of Meghan McCarthy intruded, and it was only a matter of time before her active imagination replaced the carpenter’s daughter’s death mask with her daughter’s sweet face.
Her stomach heaved, and she jerked out of Sebastian’s arms.
He touched her shoulder. “Catherine—”
“Please don’t,” she whispered, fighting back the nausea.
Cora moved between them. “Chief, I found this by the woman’s body.”
Sebastian tore his gaze away from Catherine’s quaking back to find Cora holding out a blood-spotted letter. He accepted the missive, ignoring his too-perceptive agent’s gaze. “Mrs. Clarke?”
“Dead, sir.”
“Let us remove to the outer chamber.”
He waited for the women to file out, disappointed when Catherine kept her eyes downcast.
“Did the governess provide any clues to Cochran’s destination?”
“No,” Cora said. “She spoke only of her son and of regrets. Given the fact that we found her alive, Cochran can’t be that far ahead. London, do you think?”
“Would be a logical assumption,” Sebastian said, reading Cochran’s letter. “According to Jack, they have twenty—thirty minutes’ lead on us.”
“What of Bingham?” Cora asked.
“Alive, but badly injured.”
“Do you need me to fetch Guy and Ethan?”
“Jack’s on it,” Sebastian said. “But we must bring Bingham inside to have his injuries looked after.”
“Mother,” Catherine said, “I’m sure the servants are hovering nearby. Can you ask Edward and a few other male servants to bring in Bingham?”
“Yes, of course.” Her mother looked relieved to have something to do.
“May I assist, Mrs. Shaw?” Cora asked.
“By all means. I welcome the help.”
“What does Cochran’s letter say?” Catherine asked.
Sebastian refolded the paper. “He wants an exchange.”
“What sort of an exchange?”
Tension rippled along the muscles in Sebastian’s shoulders. He did not want to hurt or frighten Catherine any more than she already was, but he could see no other way around telling her the truth.
Catherine’s mother, sensing what was to come, stepped to her daughter’s side and wrapped an arm around her waist.
“Sebastian,” Catherine said. “What does Cochran want? The list of agents?”
He nodded. “In exchange for your daughter’s life.”
“Dear God.” Catherine turned into her mother’s embrace.
Sebastian’s jaw clenched, wanting to be the one she sought for comfort. But after his insensitive remark on the path, he understood why she would not want to invest any more emotion into an affaire with an end date. “Bloody stupid bastard,” he said beneath his breath.
Cora stared up at him with understanding shining in her eyes. “Does Cochran’s letter say anything else?”
“For us to stay put, that he will send more instructions, and to keep the authorities out of it.”
Cora raised a brow. “Is that all?”
“I cannot wait so long,” Catherine said, swiping at her cheeks. “Mother, please see to Bingham.”
“What are you planning, daughter?”
“I’m going after Sophie.”
“Don’t be ridiculous—”
“Chief, do something—”
“No, you’re not,” Sebastian said.
Determined brown eyes met his. “You can’t stop me.”
If she only knew the many ways he could stop her, she would run from the