What Happens in London

Still, when he saw the prince standing there, illuminated by a single candle on a bare table, Harry snapped. His fear made him even stronger, and when they both hit the floor, it was with stunning force.

“Where is she?” Harry yelled again. “What have you done with her?”

“Stop!” Vladimir wedged himself between the two men, pulling them apart. It was only when Harry was standing again, held an arm’s length from the prince, that he realized Alexei had not fought back.

The terror in the pit of his stomach grew. The prince looked pale, grim. Frightened.

“What is going on?” Harry whispered.

Alexei handed him a piece of paper. Harry took it over to the candle and looked down. It was written in Cyrillic; Harry didn’t protest. This was not the time to pretend he could not read it.

The lady will live if you cooperate. She will be expensive. Tell no one.

Harry looked up. “How do we know it’s her? They don’t mention her by name.”

Wordlessly, Alexei held out his hand. Harry looked down. It was a lock of hair. Harry wanted to say that it might not be hers, that there could be another woman with hair that color, that unbelievable shade of sun and butter, with the same amount of curl, not a ringlet but more than a wave.

But he knew.

“Who wrote this?” he asked. In Russian.

Vladimir spoke first. “We think-”

“You think?” Harry roared. “You think? You had better start knowing, and damned soon. If anything happens to her…”

“If anything happens to her,” the prince cut in with icy precision, “I will cut out their throats myself. There will be justice.”

Harry turned to him slowly, trying to hold back the roiling acid in his belly. “I don’t want justice,” he said, his voice low and flat with rage. “I want her.”

“And we will get her,” Vladimir said quickly. He shot the prince a look of warning. “She will not come to harm.”

“Who are you?” Harry demanded.

“It does not matter.”

“I think it does.”

“I work also for the War Office,” Vladimir said. He shrugged a little. “Sometimes.”

“Pardon me if you fail to capture my trust.”

Vladimir looked at him again, that hard, direct stare that had unnerved Harry back in the ballroom. It was clear that he was much more than the menacing manservant he pretended to be.

“I know Fitzwilliam,” Vladimir said in a low voice.

Harry froze. No one knew Fitzwilliam-not unless he wanted them to. His mind reeled. Why would Winthrop have ordered him to observe Prince Alexei if they already had Vladimir in place?

“Your man Winthrop did not know about me,” Vladimir said, anticipating Harry’s next question. “He is not high enough to know about me.”

As far as Harry knew, the only person higher up than Winthrop was Fitzwilliam himself. “What is going on?” he asked, struggling to keep his voice even.

“I am not a sympathizer of Napoleon,” Prince Alexei said. “My father was, but I”-he spat on the floor-“am not.”

Harry looked at Vladimir.

“He does not work with me,” Vladimir said, motioning with his head toward the prince. “But he is…supportive. He has given money. And the use of his land.”

Harry shook his head. “What does this have to do with-”

“There are those who would seek to use him,” Vladimir interrupted. “He is valuable, alive or dead. I protect him.”

It was amazing. Vladimir really was Alexei’s bodyguard. One tiny truth in a web of lies.

“He is here to visit his cousin, just as he says,” Vladimir continued. “It is a convenient way for me to meet with my associates in London as well. Unfortunately, the prince’s interest in Lady Olivia did not go unnoticed.”

“Who took her?”

Vladimir looked away for a moment, and Harry knew it was bad. If he could not look him in the eye, Olivia was in grave danger indeed.

“I am not certain,” Vladimir finally said. “I can’t tell yet if there are political considerations or it is just for money. The prince is a man of considerable wealth.”

“I was told his fortunes had declined,” Harry said curtly.

“They have,” Vladimir confirmed, raising a hand to stop Alexei from defending himself. “But he still has much. Land. Jewels. More than enough for a criminal to wish to ransom someone close to him.”

“But she’s not-”

“Someone thinks I was planning to ask her to marry me,” Alexei cut in.

Harry turned on him. “Were you?”

“No. I might have considered it once. But she-” He waved a hand dismissively through the air. “She is in love with you. I do not need a woman who will love me. But I will not tolerate one who loves someone else.”

Harry crossed his arms. “Apparently your intentions were not made clear to your enemies.”

“For that I would apologize.” Alexei swallowed, and for the first time since Harry had known him, he looked uncomfortable. “I cannot control what others think of me.”

Harry turned to Vladimir. “What do we do now?”

Vladimir gave him a look that told him he would not like what came next. “We wait,” he said. “We will be contacted again.”

“I’m not going to stand here and-”

“And what do you suggest we do instead? Interview every last guest? The note said to tell no one. We already disobeyed when we told you. If these are men like I think they are, we do not want to make them upset with us.”

“But-”

“Do you want to give them a reason to hurt her?” Vladimir demanded.

Harry felt himself choking. It was as if someone had reached up from his belly and was strangling him from the inside out. He knew Vladimir was right, or at least he knew that he didn’t have any better ideas.

It was killing him. The fear. The helplessness. “Someone has to have seen something,” he said.

“I am going to investigate,” Vladimir said.

Harry immediately made for the door. “I am going with you.”

“No,” Vladimir said, putting up a hand to stop him. “You have too much emotion. You will not make good decisions.”

“I can’t do nothing,” Harry said. He felt small again, young and powerless, staring down a problem only to find there were no good solutions.

“You won’t,” Vladimir assured him. “You will do much. But later.”

Harry watched as Vladimir went to the door, but before he could leave, he shouted, “Wait!”

Vladimir turned around.

“She went to the washroom,” Harry said. “She went to the washroom after…” He cleared his throat. “I know that she went to the washroom.”

Vladimir gave a slow nod. “This is good to know.” He slipped out the door and was gone.

Harry looked at Alexei.

“You speak Russian,” Alexei said.

“My grandmother,” Harry said. “She refused to speak English to us.”

Alexei nodded. “My grandmother, she was from Finland. She was the same.”

Harry gave him a long look, then sank into a chair, his head in his hands.

“It is good that you speak our language,” Alexei said. “Very few of your countrymen do.”

Harry tried to ignore him. He had to think. He didn’t know where to start, what he might possibly know that could help to determine Olivia’s whereabouts, but he knew that he had to scour his brain.