Page 24 of A Rogue at Stonecliffe

“How did you know that key would fit an outside door?” Annabeth whispered in astonishment as they ran down the street away from the house.

Judy shook her head. “I just know ’ow cheeseparing and lazy people are. And incautious. Cheaper and easier to ’ave the same locks and one key to open them all.” She gave a little shrug and slowed down as they reached the intersection of another street.

They looked carefully up and down the cross street. It was a narrow lane with a general air of dilapidation, the buildings old and grimy. They were clearly not in Mayfair anymore. Judy turned to the right and walked briskly down the street, avoiding looking straight at anyone.

“Why did you go this way?” Annabeth asked. She was certainly getting an unusual education from her maid. But it was probably more useful, she thought, than the time she’d spent learning to walk like a lady.

Judy shrugged. “We got to get as far away from that building as we can. They’ll come looking for us.”

“People will remember us. We must look a fright.”

Judy looked down at her dress, dusty and torn. “Aye, well. This isn’t a place that’s shocked by anything. Nor a place where people are likely to gabble...unless they offer some coins.”

They continued to walk at a rapid pace, frequently turning onto different streets until Annabeth was completely lost. Hopefully their erratic course would throw off their pursuers as well. Her chest was tight, the palms of her hands sweaty. Judy, on the other hand, looked completely calm and alert, unobtrusively checking the streets and the people around them.

Annabeth wondered what sort of life Judy had lived before this and how she’d come to take a job as a servant. She was obviously quite accustomed to streets like this, which Annabeth, for all her years in London, had never seen.

They finally reached a larger street, and the buildings became interspersed with better ones. Then, in the distance, Annabeth spotted the dome of St. Paul’s, and her heart lightened. But it wasn’t until Judy hailed a hackney and it stopped for them that she was able to relax and for the first time think about something other than getting away.

“Why did they kidnap us?” Annabeth asked Judy as the hack rolled along.

“I ’ave no idea. It sounded like they were supposed to only grab you. Maybe they were looking for your grandma to pay them money. Or maybe...” She cast a look at Annabeth.

“Or maybe Sloane was right,” Annabeth finished, sighing. “I should have listened to him, but it seemed so silly, and I—well, he’s someone I cannot trust anymore.” She paused, gazing out the window, then said, “Do you think it’s the same people who broke into my town house the other day?”

“I don’t know, miss. It doesn’t seem like it—I mean, breaking into a ’ouse and messing it up is a far cry from abducting a lady.”

“But it’s awfully coincidental, don’t you think, the two of them happening so close together?”

“Yes.” Judy nodded, frowning. “I can’t figure it out.”

When the hackney rolled to a stop in front of Lady Lockwood’s house, Annabeth was so happy that she almost cried. As soon as the vehicle stopped, she jumped down from it and ran up the steps through the front door. Judy was right behind her. The hackney driver roared in protest.

The footman inside the house whirled around at the sound of the front door opening. “Miss Winfield! You’re alive.”

“Yes, Harris. I am. Will you pay the hackney driver, please?”

He jumped to intercept the coachman, who was charging up the steps. Annabeth and Judy hurried down the hall toward the sound of raised voices.

“Don’t just stand there, man, do something!” Lady Lockwood demanded.

“Believe me, I would like to!” Sloane’s voice cut through the air.

Annabeth checked her steps for an instant, then went on.

“Please, Lady Lockwood, why don’t you sit down?” Nathan coaxed.

“If I had any idea where she is, I would be there right now,” Sloane went on. “I have talked—”

“We have talked—” Nathan inserted.

“We have talked to every blasted servant and resident or passerby, and no one saw anything.”

Annabeth and Judy paused at the doorway, their steps covered up by the angry voices. Lady Lockwood was standing in front of her chair, glaring at Sloane, and he was glaring back. Nathan hovered beside Lady Lockwood, trying to take her arm to ease her down into the chair. Petunia had wisely retreated to the farthest corner of the room under a low table.

“You’re the one who consorts with ruffians and scoundrels,” Lady Lockwood said, pointing her cane at Sloane. “Go ask your friends where my granddaughter is.” The old woman’s voice wobbled on her words. “Oh, do stop fluttering around me, Nathan. I don’t want to sit down.” She marked her words with a thump of her cane.

Annabeth stared. She had never seen Sloane looking like this, his jacket and neckcloth rumpled and twisted, his hair sticking up wildly here and there as if he had been running his hands through it, his face stamped with...could that possibly be fear?