It shouldn’t have come as a surprise to Marigold that her world could be turned upside down in the blink of an eye. For the third time in almost as many months, everything changed in an instant, leaving her with the feeling that she’d been hurled from a catapult into the unknown.

“The next train to London leaves in just over two hours,” Mr. Bolton informed them as Alex grabbed Marigold’s hand and shot out of the station. “Do you want me to make out a ticket?”

“Make out two,” Alex called to him, clearly anxious to get moving. “I’ll need Phillips with me.”

“Three,” Marigold corrected. “I’m coming too.”

Alex stopped his rushed steps to pivot to her. “Are you sure you feel well enough?”

Marigold stared at him, her brow furrowed in determination. “He’s my son too.”

The corner of Alex’s mouth twitched, and a momentary spark of joy lit his expression. He wanted her with him, no matter the danger. She would fight for James, fight for them to be a family, as doggedly as he would. “Three,” he called to Mr. Bolton, then set off with Marigold as fast as she could run.

Winterberry Park was in an uproar when they returned. Word had somehow gotten back that it was very likely Miss Goode had run off with James. Everyone from Mr. Noakes to Annie, the scullery maid, were beside themselves. And Ruby was inconsolable.

“I didn’t know,” she sobbed, crumpled up on one of the benches in the front hall. “She seemed like such a nice woman. She was from the same place as me, the same street I was raised on.”

Marigold broke away from Alex to rush to Ruby’s side. “Have you not had many friends, Ruby?” she asked, gently rubbing the distraught woman’s back.

Ruby hid her face in her hands, shaking her head. Marigold hugged her, bitterness and pity warring in her heart. It didn’t take much to deduce that Miss Goode had told Ruby everything she’d wanted to hear in order to get close to her, just as she may very well have chosen a false name that would prompt them to trust her. Which meant that whoever Miss Goode was, she was an expert at deceit.

“Phillips.”

Marigold and Ruby both looked up as Alex turned to greet Mr. Phillips, who ran in from one of the sitting rooms. His face was splotched red with exertion, which, combined with his auburn hair and the fury in his eyes, made him look as though he were ablaze.

“I’ve just heard, sir,” he said. He sent an unreadable look in Ruby’s direction before marching up to Alex. Ruby buried her face in her hands once more, weeping twice as hard. “I was searching down by the Portis’s farm. Mabel Portis said she saw Miss Goode walk past, carrying James, about an hour and a half ago.”

Alex nodded, then started for the stairs. “We leave for London at once. Pack what you can in a suitcase.” He glanced up the stairs to where Ada was just coming down from the first floor. She stopped, then turned to head back up. “We only need enough for a day or two. Everything else will have to follow after.”

“Yes, sir,” both Ada and Mr. Phillips said.

“I’ll pack my own case, Phillips,” Alex went on. “I need you to hurry down to the train station to telegraph Malcolm Campbell. Give him as much information as you can, and tell him we’re on our way.”

“Yes, sir.” Phillips pivoted on the stair, then raced down again. He jumped the last three stairs and shot toward the front door.

Ruby raised her red, tear-stained face from her hands and called, “I’m sorry, Gil.”

Mr. Phillips skittered to a clumsy halt and turned to her. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. His frown darkened, and he pursed his lips before turning and dashing out of the house.

Ruby burst into a fresh veil of tears. “He’s never going to speak to me again,” she wailed. “He told me I shouldn’t be so trusting, that we knew nothing about Miss Goode. I should have believed him. He’ll hate me now, and I don’t think I can live with that.”

Marigold’s brow inched up. They didn’t have time for romantic drama, but the hint that there was an entire story taking place under her nose that she hadn’t guessed at surprised her. She continued to rub Ruby’s back, as frustrated with her as she was sympathetic.

“You didn’t know,” she sighed. “But I suppose trusting people is a sign of a good heart.”

“No.” Ruby shook her head. “I’m of no use to anyone. You never should have taken me out of the workhouse, ma’am. That’s what I deserved.” She glanced mournfully at Marigold. “You’ll send me back now, won’t you?”

Marigold let out a tight breath. “We’ll discuss that later. As for now, we all need to concentrate on is getting James back.” She stood, starting for the stairs.

“I should come with you, ma’am,” Ruby called after her, jumping to her feet. “There’s places I know, places where they might take James, places I’ve been. Surely someone here could mind Faith for me. I…I owe it to you to help.”

A terrifying kind of hope surged through Marigold as she paused, waiting for Ruby to catch up to her. “Turpin is behind this.” She intended her words to be a question, but there was no doubt in her mind.

Ruby looked equally convinced. “He must be, ma’am, what with you and Mr. Croydon exposing him. And I know how his mind works.” She lowered her head as she spoke.

Marigold reached for her hand. “Then you’re right. You should come with us.”

The race to be ready in time to catch the train kept Marigold far too busy for the next hour to worry about Ruby’s part in James’s kidnapping, or, blessedly, what might be happening to James. When panic started to overtake her as she helped Alex and Ada pack suitcases, she forced herself to remember that James was of more use to Turpin alive than dead. But with that thought, she couldn’t shake images of how frightened and lost her little boy must feel. Her little boy. He’d only just walked into her life, but she would fight for him as fiercely as any mother.

Marigold didn’t have a chance to catch her breath until she and Alex were seated side-by-side on the train as it pulled out of Lanhill’s station. They’d managed to secure an entire first-class compartment for themselves, allowing Mr. Phillips and Ruby to ride with them rather than buying them second-class tickets.

“Time is of the essence,” Alex told Mr. Phillips as all four of them wriggled with impatience. “Turpin will know we’re coming after James. Who knows how long he’s had to plan for this.”

“There’s only so many places they could take the boy, sir,” Ruby spoke up tentatively. “There’s a house in Kensington, one across the river in Vauxhall, one in Spitalfields.”

“Unless he’s set up more places since you left him,” Mr. Phillips cut into her explanation. Ruby snapped her mouth shut and turned away from him, misery twisting her face.

That misery seemed to fill the compartment as the train chugged on. None of them felt much like talking, although if the others were anything like Marigold, their thoughts refused to stay still. The sun set, leaving them in tense, lonely darkness as the hours ticked slowly by in time with the train clattering over the tracks.

At one point, Marigold dozed off, her head lolling against Alex’s shoulder. She woke up with a start as the whistle sounded. Outside the compartment, a conductor passing through the train car shouted, “Paddington! London, Paddington, next stop.”

Relief spilled through Marigold as she and the others gathered their things and prepared to leave the train. The moment it stopped, Mr. Phillips shot forward, opening the door and stepping down to the night-blackened platform. Alex climbed down next, giving Marigold a hand as she disembarked. Mr. Phillips waited to give Ruby a hand down, rippling with tension. They exchanged a look that was heavy with emotion before both looked away.

“Alex!”

Lord Malcolm Campbell’s voice as he greeted them on the platform was the first encouraging thing Marigold had heard in hours. She rushed to Alex’s side, ready to greet Lord Malcolm as he marched toward them.

“Malcolm.” Alex paused only long enough to shake Lord Malcolm’s hand before their entire group headed for the station’s exit. “What have you been able to find out?”

Without hesitation, Lord Malcolm said, “Turpin’s people are definitely on the move. There was too much coming and going at his townhouse, and at the other houses he owns, for this time of year.”

“Did anyone see Miss Goode arrive here with James?” Alex asked.

“We have a few leads,” Lord Malcolm answered with a frown. “But a woman traveling with a child isn’t unusual enough to stand out.”

“Someone must have seen something,” Marigold said as they stepped through the station door and into the bustling, London street. Even late at night, the area was full of activity and noise. The rush had always been a comfort to London-born Marigold, but for the first time, it unsettled her.

“We’re following several leads,” Lord Malcolm told her. He pointed down the street to one of at least a dozen waiting carriages.

Their conversation was interrupted by the bustle of climbing into Lord Malcolm’s carriage. There wasn’t enough room for Mr. Phillips and Ruby, so Mr. Phillips offered to take Ruby to Croydon House in a hired hack. Their small amount of luggage was sorted out, and after what felt like far too much time passing for Marigold’s liking, the carriage pulled out, taking them home.

“We have to move fast,” Lord Malcolm began as they rolled along. “There’s no telling how deep they could hide James if we don’t go after him immediately.”

“What if they hurt him?” Marigold asked, her heart fluttering to her throat. “Will they hurt him if we close in too fast?”

Lord Malcolm didn’t answer immediately.

“I’m sure they’ll keep James out of bodily harm,” Alex said, though his words felt more like they were designed to placate her than to be truthful.

Marigold swallowed, clinging to Alex’s arm.

“My men are already on the alert,” Lord Malcolm went on. Turpin is being watched in every way. We’ll know soon where he’s taken James, and once we do, we’ll move in.”

Lord Malcolm and Alex continued to discuss their plans as the carriage rattled on, but Marigold had a harder and harder time paying attention. All she could do was imagine James, scared and crying. Would he call out for her? Could he possibly understand how desperate she was to save him, and then to hold him and never let go?

By the time they arrived at Croydon House, Marigold was a bundle of frazzled nerves. Alex helped her down from the carriage and took her arm as he led her up the stairs to the front door, which Mr. Poole held open for them. But she wasn’t entirely ready for the shock that met her in the front hall.

“My dear, I’ve been worried sick about you all night.” Lady Stanhope stepped out of the front parlor, her arms outstretched to embrace Marigold.

Marigold blinked at the woman, astounded that she, of all people, would be standing in the front hall to greet her under such dire circumstances. But between the confidence in Lady Stanhope’s fierce expression and the weariness that clung to every fiber of her being, Marigold was so overwhelmed that she broke away from Alex and rushed into her friend’s arms.

The comfort of Lady Stanhope’s greeting was cut short a moment later as Lord Malcolm growled, “What the devil are you doing here?”

A surge of tension encompassed Marigold until Lady Stanhope let her go. Marigold stepped to the side as Lady Stanhope stiffened her back and stared at Lord Malcolm. Her eyes narrowed, and a wicked grin played across her lips, making her handsome, angular face shine with challenge.

“Good evening, Malcolm,” she said, taking a few, swaying steps toward him.

“You have no business interfering.” Lord Malcolm stepped forward to meet her, his eyes narrowed as well.

They came to within a few feet of each other, Lord Malcolm glowering and Lady Stanhope staring down her long nose at him with a grin that grew by the second. The air in the hall crackled, and Marigold felt her temperature rise by several degrees.

“I heard you might need me,” Lady Stanhope said at last, when it felt as though the standoff would ignite the house and burn it down.

“I’ve managed well enough without you so far,” Lord Malcolm replied.

“Have you?” One of Lady Stanhope’s eyebrows twitched up.

A tense silence followed as the two stared each other down. Marigold glanced past them to Alex. The frustration dripping off of him was obvious. Marigold couldn’t blame him. They had more urgent matters to deal with than the friction that obviously existed between Lord Malcolm and Lady Stanhope.

“How do we make contact with your men in the field to discover what they’ve found out?” Alex stepped in, breaking Lord Malcolm and Lady Stanhope apart.

In an instant, the tension in the room lessened. Lady Stanhope continued to smirk as though she’d won the confrontation. Lord Malcolm frowned at her, then turned to Alex.

“I have runners scheduled to report to me when they learn more,” he said.

Alex didn’t seem at all appeased. “They should have already reported in. Someone must know something by now.”

“As soon as we discover where James is being kept—”

“We already know where James is being kept,” Lady Stanhope interrupted, her voice sharp and a tad bored. Both men and Marigold snapped to face her. She shrugged. “As I said, you might need me.”

“This is no time for your petty games, Katya.” Lord Malcolm marched back to her, but his frightening glower barely made a dent in Lady Stanhope’s regal calm.

“Who’s playing games?” she asked, batting her eyes as though they were at a parliamentary debate instead of desperate to rescue a helpless three-year-old from a man who wouldn’t think twice about killing him. “I had my people out looking the second I heard James was taken.”

“You don’t have people,” Lord Malcolm rumbled.

Lady Stanhope returned his stare with fire in her eyes. “I can assure you, I do. Reliable people. People who know Shayles’s operatives on sight and who spot them the moment they arrive by train.”

“Shayles?” Marigold pressed a hand to her thundering heart.

“Yes, my dear. I’m afraid Lord Shayles is the mastermind of this whole, dreadful thing. Turpin counts Shayles as a friend. Shayles sees Turpin as his vote in Commons. The Devil is loath to lose his power.”

“Your operative saw Miss Goode with James at Paddington?” Alex stepped forward before Lady Stanhope could finish shooting her grin of triumph in Lord Malcolm’s direction.

“Yes,” she answered, rolling her shoulders and assuming a more business-like mien. “Your Miss Goode is one Amelia Blunt, one of Shayles’s toadies. She was followed to a house on Pollard Street in Bethnal Green.”

“Then we should go at once,” Alex said. He marched to the door, Lord Malcolm following him.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Lady Stanhope called after them.

Marigold gaped at her. “Why not? The sooner we recover James, the better.”

Lady Stanhope shook her head, resting a hand on Marigold’s arm. “They will know that you’re coming,” she told the men, who had reached the door which Mr. Poole held open. “They will know, and they’ll be ready for you. If you take the direct approach, without adequate planning, you’ll put yourselves and James at risk.”

“Whether they know we’re coming or not,” Lord Malcolm argued, “they won’t have had enough time to plan against a full assault of my men.”

“They’re present and accounted for and ready to move in?” Lady Stanhope asked.

“Yes.”

Lady Stanhope shook her head. “All the more reason to proceed with caution. Shayles and Turpin know your men just as you know theirs. If they’ve seen them lurking anywhere near their safe houses, they’ll already have a plan.”

“We can’t just sit here and do nothing,” Alex hissed.

“No, you can come up with a better plan,” Lady Stanhope countered.

Marigold was torn between the two. She wanted more than anything to trust her husband, but to her ears, what Lady Stanhope was saying made sense. All the same, she couldn’t bear the thought of James in trouble for a moment longer than he needed to be.

“Every minute we stand here debating is a minute lost,” Lord Malcolm said at last. He glanced to Alex, then nodded to the door.

Alex sighed, glancing quickly to Marigold. “I’ll find him,” he said. “I’ll find him and bring him back.”

Marigold rushed across the hall to grab his arm. She lifted to her toes to kiss him. “Hurry,” she whispered.

He kissed her back, nodded, then rushed out into the night.