Following Stanton had been no easy task. He hadn’t traveled to Portsmouth like the road he’d ridden along had suggested, and it had taken some backtracking and questioning of the locals to discover that he’d taken Lucy to a neighboring town instead.
Arriving in France, they’d once again wasted valuable time on questioning anyone who claimed to have seen a tall, dark-haired man riding off with a red-headed woman. Most had been willing to fabricate a story in return for a bribe, and weeding out the facts from the lies had led them astray more than once.
But when they’d gotten as far as Novi Sad, William had been fairly certain of where Stanton and Lucy were heading. However, he still suspected that they had arrived in Constantinople three days after them—three extra days for Stanton to do with Lucy as he pleased. William shuddered.
“We can still find her,” Ryan quietly told him. “We know she’s here somewhere.”
William laughed, but it was a laugh of hopeless defeat. Lifting his head, he spread his arms wide. “Where do you suggest we look? She could be anywhere. It’s impossible for us to search every house.”
Trenton stepped forward and held a glass out to William. “Here, drink this.” He waited for William to take it, which he eventually did with a lengthy sigh of resignation. “Let’s try to analyze the situation from a logical point of view. We know Stanton hasn’t killed Lucy, which can only mean that he wants her alive for some reason. Why bring her all the way back here? What’s his goal?”
“He must have something to gain from it,” Ryan ventured.
William, frustrated, turned it all over in his mind again. They’d been down this road before, pondering all the possible reasons behind Stanton’s behavior in the hope that understanding him would somehow lead them to Lucy. Unless…Bloody hell. He was on his feet in a heartbeat, his drink forgotten as he reached for his jacket and headed for the door. Why hadn’t he thought of this before? His hand already on the door handle, he said, “Women fetch a handsome sum on the slave market here.” His voice was tinged with the excitement of his insight.
“Christ,” Ryan exclaimed, hurrying after him with Trenton following close behind, their heels clicking sharply against the tiled floor.
Stepping out into the busy street filled with horses, carts, and people jostling to and thro, William took a sharp turn to the right and started walking. He hadn’t the faintest idea of where he was going, but his eyes roamed over the many faces in the crowd as he went, until he spotted a middle-aged man of heavy girth, dressed in a richly embroidered caftan. Squeezing his way past a vegetable cart in order to reach him, William signaled for the man to stop and then addressed him in French. “Excusez-moi. My friends and I are new in town. I was hoping that you might be able to direct us toward the market. We desire to purchase a woman.”
The man stared back at William with obvious incomprehension before finally pointing a finger toward something in the distance and muttering words in Turkish that William couldn’t understand. He then hurried on his way. Turning around just in time to step out of the way of a horse and rider, William tried to locate Ryan and Trenton. He spotted both of them a little further down the street and started toward them.
“Do either of you happen to speak the local language?” he asked hopefully, knowing full well that the answer would be no.
Confirming this, Ryan and Trenton both shook their heads. “I can get by in Latin,” Ryan offered, “though I doubt it will do us any good unless we happen to stumble upon another physician. Wouldn’t mind having Mary along right now. I believe she speaks enough Turkish to make herself understood. She’s also familiar with the town, having spent a little over a year here with her father.”
Trenton turned to Ryan. “I take it her father was busy harvesting knowledge. Perhaps he worked with some of the physicians, and they would be able to help us. Do you recall any names? Did she happen to mention a location…the name of a hospital, perhaps?”
“No, her descriptions were not so detailed, and besides, she was here a long time ago—five years or more, I believe.” He stopped to think, and William knew that he was wracking his brain for any small piece of information that might be of use to them.
Impatient to find Lucy, he began walking again. He knew it was probably a wasted effort since he’d no idea where he was heading, but at least he felt as though he was doing something. They needed a translator of some sort—someone who knew the town in and out and could both interpret the language and help them deal with the culture because even if they did happen to find Lucy standing on an auction block, they’d have no idea of how to partake in the bidding. In all likelihood, they would just end up getting their heads lopped off as soon as they tried to steal her away.
“I’ve thought of something, and though it may be a long shot, there is a man who would be capable of helping us.” It was Ryan who spoke as he came up alongside William.
William halted in his tracks, almost colliding with Trenton who was right behind him. “Who is it?” He asked, his eyes locking with his brother’s in a hard stare.
Ryan leaned close to William’s ear. “The sultan,” he whispered.
“Are you mad?” William gasped, drawing both Ryan and Trenton to the side and out of the path of those trying to get past them. “We can’t just walk up to the sultan and ask for an audience.”
“Why not?” Trenton asked, his expression quite serious.
“Because the way I see it, it wouldn’t surprise me in the least if he’s the very man behind all of this. Think of it: if we’re correct in our assumption that Stanton has returned here with the intention of selling Lucy, then he must be expecting to receive a huge amount of money. The fact that he was still searching for her after six years indicates that he had a lot to gain from finding her, and if that’s the case, then a man like the sultan would certainly have the funds to compensate him for his troubles, not to mention that the murder of Lord and Lady Hampstead might have been political.”
Trenton shrugged. “I suppose so. But if that is the case, then we’ve even more reason to seek him out.” He turned to Ryan. “Were Mary and her father well acquainted with the sultan?”
Ryan nodded. “Mary speaks highly of him. From what I understand, she and her father resided in the palace for a lengthy period of time as his guests. Naturally, Mary would have been little more than a child back then, but she says that her father and the sultan spent much time in each other’s company and that he considered him a friend.”
William sighed in response to the look that came over Trenton’s face as Ryan spoke. It wouldn’t be so bad having the sultan on their side, but it could be detrimental if he turned out to be their enemy. He was their fastest chance for success though, and as it was, William dared not consider what Lucy might be facing with each passing moment that he spent looking for her. He had to find her fast. “Very well,” he said, as he began to rise to the familiar thrill of adventure. “Let’s pay a visit to the palace.”
As it turned out, their plan was by no means as expeditious as William would have hoped. For some absurd reason, he hadn’t imagined having to wait for more than an hour to meet with His Majesty, but it had already been three hours since their arrival and William had long since lost his patience. “We should leave,” he said as he got up for the hundredth time and paced across the mosaic tiled floor. “This is getting us nowhere.”
“We’ll be no better off roaming aimlessly about the city in search of one woman when we don’t even speak the local language,” Ryan said with an edge of exasperation. “We need help, and as far as I can tell, this is our best chance.”
“We can stop more people on the street,” William insisted. “Surely we must be able to find somebody who speaks French, Latin, or English. We could try the harbor for instance; sailors often speak a variety of different languages.”
“That may not be such a bad idea,” Trenton muttered. He pulled out his pocket watch and studied it. “Let’s give it another fifteen minutes. If nobody shows up, we’ll make our excuses and leave.”
William drew a deep breath to calm himself. The thought of Lucy in the company of Stanton alone was enough to make his stomach roil. What on earth would happen to her if he sold her off to some wealthy pasha? She’d become a concubine in his harem, would have to…He swallowed hard and squeezed his eyes shut to force away the disturbing images that swept through his mind. No, he would find her first. He simply had to, not only to ensure her safety but, blast it all, to tell her that he loved her too. If he’d learned anything at all over the course of the past six weeks, it was that his life would be empty and meaningless without her in it.
A door opened and a short, slim man with a hooked nose entered. He was dressed in a pair of dark blue şalvar and a matching cropped vest, edged with gold thread. Upon his head, he wore a turban of sorts—its style not entirely dissimilar to some of the ones being paraded about by London women, though William had never approved of the fashion himself.
“Bu şekilde.” The servant gestured toward the door, indicating that they should follow.
With a glance in both Ryan’s and Trenton’s directions, William strode after the little fellow, knowing that they would be right behind him. They’d been searched for weapons upon their arrival and had been told that their daggers and pistols would be returned to them as soon as they left again, but William did not enjoy the feeling of venturing into unfamiliar territory without any means of protection. As a result, his eyes took in every little detail as they passed, observing all possible escape routes and the location of all the guards. It was an exercise that couldn’t be helped even if he’d tried, for it had become second nature to him now—a result of many years of service to his king and country.
Bird song reached his ears, and a moment later, he stepped out into the sunlight and followed the servant across an open courtyard shaded by orange trees, their crowns densely filled with ripe and heavy fruit. Entering a colonnaded walkway paved with marble, they continued onward until they arrived at a tall, open doorway, arched at the top and surrounded by an elaborate mosaic.
Drawing a tight breath, William glanced back for good measure, ensuring that Ryan and Trenton were still with him. He then entered behind the servant and found himself in a vast hall with gilded ceilings that seemed to arch at precarious angles. The walls were covered with elaborately painted tiles that shimmered and gleamed with intricate floral designs. The floors were flooded with plush silk carpets overlapping one another in a rich frenzy of pattern. The furniture was sparse, save for four divans facing one another to form a square with a table in the middle, each one beckoning with a bounty of cushions that scarcely allowed for a place to sit.
William’s gaze shifted to the man already spread out upon one of the divans. He seemed to be of average height, though it was difficult to tell since he did not stand up. His dark brown eyes were set on either side of a long, slim nose, his mouth almost entirely concealed by a thick, black beard. His clothes were similar in style to what they’d seen other men wear but appeared to have been made from expensive silks, the edges trimmed with gold thread embroidery. A young girl with a multitude of bracelets about her slim wrists was seated at his feet, her back perfectly straight and her chin held high as she delicately balanced his glass of wine in her hand.