She stepped back, her throat closing around a string of questions. After a couple seconds, she craned her head around the draperies to see Cochran open the carriage door. He reached inside—
From the direction of the entrance hall, a door slammed, pulling Catherine’s attention away. Then the sound of pounding boots running up the stairs stopped her heart cold. Sophie was upstairs.
She flew across the drawing room and into the corridor while her mind frantically attempted to understand what was going on. When Catherine reached the bottom of the staircase, it was empty.
She lifted the hem of her dress, preparing to go after the stranger, when a noise from behind stopped her. She whipped around to find Cochran reentering her house with a pretty mahogany-haired woman on his arm. The errant thought that the woman looked none too happy swept through Catherine’s jumbled mind.
“What is going on?” Catherine demanded. Her mind screamed for her to run upstairs, to find the strange man and her daughter. Inching her way up one step, then another, she tried again. “Mr. Cochran, who are these people? Why have you brought them into my home?”
Cochran glanced over her shoulder. “In due time, madam.”
Catherine followed his gaze. Nothing.
She returned her attention to the couple below her and then eased up one more stair.
Cochran motioned for her to come down. “Perhaps we’d all be more comfortable in your drawing room.”
A feminine screech sounded from above. Mary. Her fear—barely controlled—unleashed, and she bolted up the stairs.
“Stop,” Cochran ordered. “Silas won’t hurt them. No guarantees, though, if you charge up there.”
Catherine halted, gasping for air. Every instinct she owned urged her onward, but Cochran’s threat kept her pinned in place, helpless in a way she’d never experienced before. Then she heard her daughter’s furious voice a moment before the little man—Silas—appeared, dragging her resisting daughter down the corridor.
“Sophie.” Catherine started after her daughter, but a large hand grasped her arm.
Cochran’s cold gaze met hers. “I told you. My man has everything under control.”
“Mama!”
Silas slung Sophie over his shoulder. Her small hands pounded against his back, shoulders, head, anything she could reach. “Let me down, you rabbity beast.”
Catherine jerked hard on her arm and winced when pain shot up to her shoulder. She clawed at Cochran’s restraining grip, and his other hand grasped her throat, forcing her chin into an unnatural angle.
“I said stay.”
“Mama!”
Unable to move her head, Catherine’s eyes found her daughter. “Be still, Sophie.” Her fear for her daughter’s safety was as palpable as the hands restraining her. “Mama will take care of everything.”
Cochran chuckled, his thumb raking across her lips. “Will you, indeed?”
“Release me at once.” Her sight was becoming blurrier by the second.
His nails bit into the tender flesh of her neck and then he pushed her down the stairs.
Sophie yelled.
Catherine scrambled for purchase, her world a whirl of images until she caught the balustrade. Cochran came up behind her, grasping her arm and towing her the rest of the way down, giving her no time to catch her breath. Catherine tried to keep her daughter in sight, but failed.
“Mama!”
She fought back tears. “Be strong, Sophie.” She twisted around to meet her daughter’s frightened gaze. “It will be all right.”
“Do you promise?”
Catherine hesitated a moment too long, for her perceptive daughter began to struggle in earnest, kicking and pounding on her captor.
“Say it, Mama. Say it.”
“Quiet,” Silas ordered with a smack to Sophie’s behind.
“Leave her alone,” Catherine demanded, fighting Cochran’s grip.
Silas’s scold did nothing more than stun her daughter into speechlessness for a half second. Enough time for Cochran to yank hard on Catherine’s arm, making her cry out and forcing her toward the drawing room.
Away from Sophie.
Sixteen
Catherine stared into her daughter’s wary brown eyes as her six-year-old scooted her small frame back into the chair’s cushioned seat.
“That’s a good girl, Sophie. Thank you for joining us.” Cochran patted her narrow shoulder, acting as though she had been invited down to the drawing room, rather than packed down like a sack of potatoes.
“Now then, where were we, Mrs. Ashcroft? Oh, yes, I remember. You wished to discontinue your involvement in our little investigation.” He smoothed his hand over her daughter’s blond curls. “I hope I’ve provided sufficient inducement for you to press on.”
“Inducement?” Her daughter spat out the word, no doubt recalling her grandmama’s various incentives.
“Not now, Sophie.” Catherine’s gaze returned to Cochran. “Yes, more than sufficient. Now may my daughter return to the nursery?”
Cochran’s hands clamped around her daughter’s tiny shoulders, looking more like manacles