Abducted by a Prince (36 page)

He snapped the reins and the chestnut set off at a smart trot. Blast Ellie’s independence. He would go to Pennington House, talk sense into her, stop her rash plan to live there again. But more than that, by God, he didn’t want her to face that nest of vipers alone.

*   *   *

Ellie had no trouble gaining entry to Pennington House.

Fortuitously, the family had gone out on a drive to Hyde Park. Joseph, the young footman, had regarded her warily at first, clearly fearing she might demand to wait for her uncle when she’d been barred from the house. He had looked relieved when she’d claimed to have forgotten a few of her belongings in the nursery, and that she would let herself out once she’d collected them.

But instead of going to her old quarters, Ellie proceeded up to Walt’s suite of rooms on the second floor.

She cautiously opened the door, stepped inside, and then closed it behind her. To her surprise, the draperies were open to the late afternoon light. With Walt banished to the country, the curtains ought to have been drawn shut. Perhaps a maid had come in here today to dust and had forgotten to close them.

Having never before had occasion to enter the bedchamber of her eldest cousin, Ellie took a moment to orient herself. The large room held a mahogany four-poster bed, various tables and chairs, and a chaise covered in green chintz in front of the fireplace. Despite the sunshine, the maroon walls and dark oriental carpet created an oppressive air.

Or perhaps that was merely her own disconsolate mood. The dreadful quarrel with Damien lurked at the edge of her mind. If she let herself remember it, she might end up weeping again.

Concentrate,
she told herself. Where would Walt hide a key?

She went to his writing desk, opening the drawers to find stationery and quills, sealing wax and inkpots, a penknife and a packet of fine sand. Reaching all the way back into each drawer, she came up with nothing but a length of string and a few loose pins. Crouching down, she felt around on the underside of the desk for a hidden compartment. There, to her surprise, she found a key tucked on a tiny shelf.

In triumph, she brought it out, only to realize that it looked nothing like Damien’s key with the crown and three teeth. This one was plain, and it fit perfectly into the keyhole in the top drawer of the desk.

Discouraged, Ellie stood up and dusted off her hands. Might Walt have a safe or a strongbox somewhere? She peeked behind each one of the numerous pictures of hunting scenes, but found nothing. Next, she poked futilely through a collection of miscellany in his bedside table.

Hoping to improve her luck, she ventured through an open doorway and into his dressing room. Here, light streamed through a high window onto a masculine preserve of boot racks and clothespresses, a shaving stand with a white porcelain bowl, and gilt-framed paintings of horses on the walls. The air smelled faintly of her cousin’s cologne, raising a prickle over her skin. He wasn’t in London, Ellie reminded herself, yet she couldn’t shake a nagging uneasiness as she rifled through a tall mahogany chest of drawers.

She felt like a thief—or worse, a voyeur. With a sense of revulsion, she touched the articles that her cousin had worn: the kid gloves, the starched linen cravats, the smallclothes and nightshirts, looking underneath those items for the key. It was surprising that he’d left so much behind while on a long sojourn in the country.

While searching in a drawer full of silk stockings, she was startled by the click of the bedroom door opening. Ellie froze, her heart pounding. It must be a servant. How could she explain her presence?

Heavy footsteps approached. In a panic, she quietly tried to shove the drawer shut, but it stuck at one end. She gave up and jumped to her feet, looking for somewhere to hide. Too late.

A ginger-haired gentleman in riding clothes entered the dressing room. He was looking down while unbuttoning his green coat.

Ellie gasped in recognition. “Walt!”

Jerking up his head, her cousin gaped at her in slack-jawed shock. “You! What the devil are
you
doing here?”

Ellie thought fast. Perhaps she could salvage something from this utter disaster. “I believed you were gone. And I came to see if I could find that key you stole from my husband.”

“Your husband, eh? A pity you were compelled to marry the bastard. I see he’s sent you to do his dirty work.”

“He most certainly did not! Damien doesn’t even know I’m here.”

A predatory smile spread slowly over Walt’s face. He took a menacing step closer. “Indeed? Then we are quite alone here.”

Ellie’s heart jumped. She couldn’t forget that one awful night in the nursery when he had crudely pawed her bosom.

Nevertheless, she held her chin high. He didn’t dare harm her, not in daytime when there were servants within earshot. “You don’t frighten me, Walt. I want that key. Tell me where you’ve hidden it.”

His mouth twisted into a crafty leer. “Do you really wish to know, dear cuz? Then first, you shall have to make it worth my while.”

As quick as a striking cobra, he lunged toward her.

*   *   *

Without invitation, Damien strode past the footman who answered the door and stepped into a dreary entrance hall with mustard-brown walls. “I’ve come to see Mrs. Burke.”

“Sir? If you would be so kind as to give me your name—”

“I am Mr. Burke. The earl’s niece is my wife. You will show me to her at once.”

The young servant eyed him warily, no doubt having heard hair-raising tales of the Demon Prince. “I—I’m afraid she isn’t here.” Subjected to Damien’s coldest stare, he amended, “Er … rather, she
was
here. To fetch an item from the nursery perhaps half an hour ago. She promised to let herself out.”

Odd, Damien thought. Perhaps, knowing she wasn’t welcome, Ellie had hidden herself there to await the return of her uncle. “Did you actually see her depart?”

“N-no, sir. But I’m sure—”

“Then you may show me the way up to the nursery.” Seeing the footman about to raise a protest, Damien added, “Or perhaps you would rather I wander about the house at will. On my own.”

The footman’s face turned chalky beneath his white wig. Apparently realizing the validity of the threat, he stuttered, “As—as you wish, sir. If—if you’ll come with me, then.”

He led the way up a wide marble staircase. Damien followed close behind, his mind focused on what he would say to Ellie. How could he convince her not to leave him? It was daunting to think that she despised him so much that she would prefer to return to the house where she had been treated as an unpaid servant.

At least there was one bright note. He’d ridden fast and arrived before her family. It was possible they’d made a stop on the way home. That gave Damien the chance that he needed to beg her to reconsider …

But as they reached the next floor, the front door opened in the hall below. Glancing down the stairs, he saw Lady Beatrice and her grandmother sweep inside, followed by Lady Anne and then Ellie’s uncle.

Removing his top hat, the Earl of Pennington looked up and spied Damien on the upper landing. There was a moment of utter silence as the two men stared at each other. Then his lordship’s broad features flushed red with displeasure. “You!” he said, stomping toward the staircase. “What the devil are you doing in my house?”

Damien clenched his teeth. Dammit, another few minutes and he’d have had his opportunity to speak to Ellie alone. Now he would be forced to placate her uncle first.

But fate intervened.

A muffled scream make Damien pivot sharply, his blood turning to ice. The sound had emanated from somewhere on an upper floor. Ellie? He took off up the stairs at a run.

*   *   *

Ellie shoved hard at her cousin’s chest. His arms were like snakes, coiling around her as he attempted to press a loathsome kiss to her lips. He had her trapped against a wardrobe, the knob digging into her back. She couldn’t even move her hands high enough to scratch his face.

“Don’t deny me any longer,” he said, his lips slobbering over her cheek. “You’ve lifted your skirts for that lowborn bastard. Now you can share a little taste with me, too.”

As he attempted to grope her breasts, Ellie opened her mouth and screamed loudly. At the same time, she stomped her heel down hard on his instep, and Walt yelped in pain. But his riding boots must have provided some protection, for he didn’t release his cruel hold. His face screwed up in a grimace, he clamped his sweaty hand over her mouth and nose to cut off her air. “Hush, you little tart.”

Ellie struggled to breathe. Twisting and fighting, she couldn’t wrest herself free of his vile touch. She tried to scream again, but only muffled sounds emerged. Black spots began to swim before her eyes.

Walt rubbed his loins against her. “D’you like it rough, then? Be happy to give it to you. And don’t think to tattle to the earl. He’ll never take your word over mine—”

“But
I
shall,” a deep voice said from behind Walt.

It happened in the blink of an eye. One instant, his hot breath seared her cheek, and the next, he was yanked away from her. Gasping, Ellie sagged against the wardrobe, trying to draw air into her starved lungs. In a haze of shock, she saw who had come to her rescue.

Damien?

He spun her cousin around and, in a flash of movement, landed his fist to Walt’s jaw. The sickening smack of flesh on flesh resounded in the dressing room. Walt staggered backward against the washstand. The porcelain bowl tipped and crashed to the floor. His hands came up ineffectually to ward off the next blow. Damien yanked Walt upright and hit him a second time. Blood began to pour from her cousin’s nose.

“Enough!” roared the earl from the doorway.

Coming to her senses, Ellie rushed forward to step in between the two combatants. She caught hold of Damien’s arm, knowing that a fight would only make matters worse. “Don’t, oh, please, don’t!”

The fury hardening Damien’s face eased slightly as he looked at her. He caught her by the waist and pulled her close. His green-gray eyes scoured her face. “Are you all right?” he asked. “Did he harm you?”

“I’m fine, truly I am.” She touched his reddened knuckles. “But … what brought
you
here?”

His jaw tightened. “Ellie, I had to come, I had to tell you that—”

“Only a bastard like you would have the effrontery to invade my home,” the earl broke in furiously. He tossed a folded handkerchief to Walt, who tilted his head back and tried to stanch the flow of blood. “And to attack my son! I’ve a good mind to send for the police!”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Ellie said, wheeling toward the earl. “Because if you do, I will tell all of society how your son tried to force his unwanted attentions on me just now.”

Walt made a muffled protest from behind the bloodstained handkerchief. “Ain’t true, Papa. She’s a thief! Caught her poking through my things.” He pointed at the tall dresser. “See, the drawer there is standing open!”

Damien aimed a questioning frown from Walt to her. Ellie paid no mind to either of them. She folded her arms and coolly addressed her uncle. “I was looking for the key that Walt stole from my husband. It’s high time that it was returned to its rightful owner.”

“What key?” Beatrice asked from the doorway.

“Never mind, it’s all drivel,” her grandmother proclaimed from beside her. “Basil, shall I ring for a pair of footmen to toss both of these interlopers out on their ears?”

“An excellent notion, Mama,” the earl said.

“And entirely unnecessary,” Damien snapped. “I shall be quite happy to remove my wife from this den of vipers.”

He placed his hand at the small of Ellie’s spine and urged her toward the door of the dressing room. Beatrice, her blue eyes wide beneath a pretty straw bonnet, stepped back to let them out. So did the countess, along with Lady Anne, who hovered in the background like a slim gray wraith, fingering the cameo at her throat as she stared intently at Damien.

Ellie let herself be walked into Walt’s bedchamber before she dug in her heels and came to a stop in the middle of the room. She glowered at her uncle. “We most certainly will
not
leave,” she said firmly. “I will
not
be cast out until I have in my possession what I came here to fetch.”

“Ellie,” Damien said warningly, “you will leave this matter to me. It is no concern of yours.”

“Oh?” She gave him scornful look. “You abducted me in order to retrieve that key. I would say that gives me a vested interest in it!”

“You’re on a fool’s mission,” the earl said bluntly. “My son does not have this key in his possession anymore—nor has he since his school days. Tell them, Walter.”

Walt, who had trailed them into the bedchamber, sank onto a chair and gingerly dabbed at his nose. “I don’t have it, and that’s God’s truth!”

“There, you see?” Pennington said triumphantly. “You are wasting your time—and ours. There is no purloined key to be found here!”

Ellie looked from her uncle to her cousin and felt a sinking in the pit of her stomach. Perhaps they really
were
telling the truth. And even if they weren’t, how was she ever to prove it? She had wanted leverage to force Damien to procure the cottage for her. But all of her efforts had been for naught.

“Come,” Damien murmured, sliding his arm around her again. “You needn’t suffer any more of their insults.”

Ellie took one last look at the sneer on her uncle’s florid face, the hauteur in her grandmother’s manner. Beatrice watched with avid fascination, while Lady Anne appeared distraught almost to the point of tears, her hand over her mouth. Walt sat slumped on the chair, preoccupied with his injured nose.

Ellie nodded in acquiescence to Damien. She felt too dispirited even to voice a good-bye as they started toward the door.

“Wait,” Lady Anne said in an agonized voice. “Oh, please do wait. Damien—Mr. Burke—
I
have your key.”

Stunned, Ellie turned back to see Lady Anne gliding toward them, fingering her cameo on its delicate gold chain. Even as Ellie and Damien exchanged a startled glance, Pennington stepped swiftly toward his sister-in-law.