An Unlikely Duchess (34 page)

“But what happened G-George? I do not remember much of anything save arriving at Vauxhall Gardens.”

“Rebecca, you have to understand. You belong to me, don’t you? You are mine. I knew it from the second I saw you. But you were so rude to me”— here he began to look angry and Rebecca was terrified— “so snooty, always looking down at me, letting people like that bastard the duke make you think you are too good for me. Well I showed him did I not? I expect he will try to find you, but by then he will be too late. You will be mine and he will not want you when someone else has had you first.”

Rebecca began to feel angry, in spite of her fear, how dare he speak so casually of — of that?

“What the hell happened?” she yelled now, forgetting her panic, forgetting the pain.

“Ah there is the temper I’ve seen so much. I was hoping you’d have a little fight left in you, it will make the whole thing so much more
interesting
.”

Rebecca bit back a retort. With disgust she realised that her fear and anger were exciting him.

She tried a different tact.

“I assume that Lady Sarah was somehow involved,” Rebecca said now, “she was, after all, the only other person I was with last night.”

His smile sickened her. “Clever girl. Yes she was involved, though the idea was mine,” he stated quickly, as if she would somehow be impressed by his devious plan. “She slipped a little something into your drink and then helped me get you into the carriage.”

Rebecca could not believe that the other lady would stoop so low. She must be as mad as Simons himself.

“But, why? Why are you doing this?” she almost sobbed.

The question seemed to anger him and he leapt from the bed and began pacing up and down in front of her.

“Why? WHY?” he shouted. “Why the hell do you think? Do you think your father would have let us be together? Or your precious duke? They all think they are better than me. Every one of them. Well nobody is better than George Simons. Not the fool who handed over this house, not your father and not
you
,” he spat.

“And they’ll know won’t they? When we’re married. They’ll know I am just as good as any of you.” He was breathing heavily now and his eyes were wild.

“I will not marry you,” Rebecca argued. “I will not. How can you think I would after all of this? You cannot treat people this way.”

Her words seemed to drive him forward and he loomed over her and placed a calloused hand around her throat. He leaned close so that she could see the bloodshot whites of his eyes. His breath stank and Rebecca feared she would gag.

“You will not have a choice, Princess. Not when I’ve taken you so that no other man will have you.”

His other hand ran down her body and Rebecca did her best not to scream. The bastard would enjoy hearing her fear and she would not give him the satisfaction.

She closed her eyes and prayed that he would stop and mercifully, he did.

He moved away from her and went to a tray that she had failed to notice before.

“Sit up and eat,” he demanded, then added with a leer that caused her skin to crawl, “You will need to keep your strength up.”

He set the tray on the bed beside her and Rebecca saw her chance.

“George,” she called softly as he made to leave the room, “I cannot eat with my hands tied.”

He narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

“Please,” she fought to keep her voice calm, “just untie me for a few moments, you can come back and retie the ropes when I am done.”

He seemed to consider it for a moment then moved slowly back to her and pulled out a hunting knife.

Rebecca swallowed as it glinted in the dim sunlight.

“If you try to leave,” he said quietly as he sawed at the ropes tying her hands together, “I will kill you.”

Rebecca nodded her understanding and rubbed her wrists that tingled painfully with the blood rushing back into them.

Without another word, he turned and left the room slamming the door behind him.

Rebecca immediately began to pull at the ropes on her legs. She did not have the benefit of a knife and after ten minutes of trying, was sweating and exhausted. The pain in her head was worsened by dehydration but she dare not drink anything lest it was drugged.

She almost gave way to the fear threatening to overwhelm her but told herself not to give up. Rebecca fully believed him when he said he would kill her if he caught her trying to escape but really, what awaited her if she did not try? A fate worse than death.

Finally, when it seemed impossible that she would be able to release her ankles, she managed to half-slip one of her feet out. Pulling and tugging with all her might until the foot was free, she almost cried out in pain as the blood rushed back to the area, and the loosening of the tie on the left foot had tightened the rope almost unbearably on the right. Already her foot was beginning to swell and become discoloured.

But it did not matter. She could use her feet now. Stepping silently off the bed Rebecca stood up. Her head swam alarmingly and she gripped the poster for support until the sensation passed.

She looked round the room for something to use as a weapon should she need one. Her eyes fell on a sturdy looking candlestick and she crept over to the sideboard to retrieve it. Now, all that was left was to try to get out of the house undetected by the mad man and try to find her way back to London with no money, no help and absolutely no idea where she actually was…

****

Edward hammered at the front door of Lady Sarah’s townhouse. It took what seemed like hours but in reality was only a few moments for a footman to open the door. Edward barged past the man without uttering a single word. When the footman made to step after him, Tom reached out and grabbed the servant by the arm.

“If you have a preference for your limbs to be attached to your body,” he said cordially, “I suggest you do nothing save call for the mistress of the house. Tell her the Duke of Hartridge is here to see her. And he is not happy.”

The footman’s eyes widened in fear, whether of the threat or of the stature of the man who’d come through the door as if the hounds of hell were after him, Tom did not know. Nor did he care.

The sooner they could speak to Sarah, the sooner they would find Rebecca. He looked to his cousin’s tense back as he roared for Sarah to come down at once. He was hanging on to his sanity by a mere thread, thought Tom. If anything happened to Rebecca it would destroy him. They had to get her back.

The butler had made an appearance at this stage and was doing his best to calm Edward down but Edward was in no mood to be told anything and was seconds from punching the man just to shut him up.

The noise level rose with Edward still bellowing for Sarah, the butler still begging Edward to quiet down and Tom shouting suggestions of threats for Edward to deliver to the butler.

Lady Sarah’s appearance at the top of the stairs brought a sudden halt to the cacophony of sounds.

“Good heavens Edward, you will wake the dead with that racket,” Sarah exclaimed as she moved slowly down the stairs. She was not yet dressed for the day and merely wore a robe over her nightrail. The robe was tied loosely and did nothing to cover the body underneath.

Ever the exhibitionist
, thought Edward cynically.

“Where is she?” Edward asked without preamble.

“Good morning to you too,” Sarah quipped flippantly.

“Damnation Sarah I am not in the mood. Tell me where she is or I will ruin you.” His words were made all the more powerful by the cold stone-like expression on his face and the glacial tone he used. Had he shouted and raved, she would have believed him less.

“Where who is?” she asked innocently.

“Where IS she?” This time his shout was loud enough to shake the chandelier hanging from the vaulted ceiling of the hallway in which they stood.

Lady Sarah took an involuntary step backwards and Edward noticed for the first time some subtle changes about the lady.

For one, her face was paler than ever he’d seen it before. For another, her voice, far from the husky confident tone it usually had was brittle and shaky.

“You told Tom and Caroline that I had sent a message to you and told you I was taking her home. You and I both know that is a complete lie. So I suggest you start talking and talking quickly.”

Edward was surprised when Sarah, usually so confident and arrogant, crumpled into a mess before his very eyes.

“I am sorry,” she managed to say through the tears, “I am so very sorry Edward. It was only supposed to be a little trick. Something to put a spot on her reputation. T-to hurt her popularity in the
ton
. But he — I believe he is quite mad and I do not know what he has planned, I swear it. He threatened me. Told me that I must help him. That I must not tell anyone. Oh God, would that I had never listened to his insane plan. But I swear, on my life, Edward he was only supposed to leave her somewhere so that she would spend the night alone. But I think — I think he must have something more sinister in mind. I am sorry.”

At this point her sobbing became so hysterical that she could not utter another word. The butler and a maid who had appeared from upstairs rushed to her side to lead her away.

“Stop,” demanded Edward hoarsely. “Unhand her at once, I am not done.”

“Please, your grace. She is overcome.”

“Let her go or I will put a bullet in your head,” he answered coldly.

The butler let go of Lady Sarah and instructed the frightened maid to do the same.

“You will calm down and tell me exactly what happened, Sarah,” said Edward fighting his anxiety. He sent the butler to retrieve the earl’s brandy before turning back to Sarah.

“Now,” he said in as reasoned a tone as he could muster. He dreaded asking the next question because he knew the answer. He had failed to protect her from the one person of whom he should have been more wary. “Who is he? The man who took her?”

“I had not met him before the day she and I argued in the park.” Sarah’s words were coming between gut wrenching sobs.

“His name, Sarah,” Edward did not relent.

“George Simons,” she gasped.

Edward knew it. And his fear increased ten-fold.

The butler returned with a snifter of brandy and Edward shoved it into Sarah’s hand.

“Tell me everything, Sarah. And make it quick.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Rebecca’s heart pounded furiously as she slowly opened the door to the bedroom in which George had deposited her. Praying to the heavens that the door would not creak she opened it just wide enough to slip outside.

She found herself at the end of a long corridor with a staircase halfway down. Rebecca felt a moment’s indecision as she wondered what the best course of action would be. She had looked out the window before exiting the room to see if perhaps there was a tree outside or anything that could be used to climb down. But there was nothing but a sheer drop to the ground. Nor could she see any path or trail. Just fields for miles.

Now she wondered if she should check the rooms toward the front of the house or risk moving downstairs. Having no idea where Simons was there was only a second to decide. Finally, she judged it best to just make her way downstairs and try to get out the door. Then she would run flat out and hope to God there would be something or someone to help her.

She slipped down the stairs as slowly as she could, listening intently for any sound or sign of Simons. But so far, she heard and saw nothing.

Her tension had reached fever pitch by the time she made it to the foot of the stairs. She could not quite believe she had gotten so far without incident. The candlestick was slippery in her sweaty palm but she gripped it with all her strength.

Her right foot was throbbing along with her head and she felt altogether more ill than ever before in her life. But she would not give up.

The front door came into view down a long, darkened hallway. There had been a change in the light and Rebecca could only guess that there was a heavy rain coming, if it was not already upon them.

Gradually, she made her way down the hallway to the door. Every room was closed making it nearly impossible to see but at least giving her a small chance of remaining undetected.

She made it to the door and took a deep breath. This was it. His attention was sure to be drawn the second the door opened. She would have to make a run for it.

Simons had removed her shoes at some point during the night or the morning and Rebecca had not stopped to try to find them. Sending up a quick prayer and keeping Edward’s face firmly in her head, she wrenched the door open and ran outside.

She had no clue which way she should go but ran as fast as her legs could carry her. Not too far from the front of the house there seemed to be a wood of some sort and she headed for that, hoping that the trees would provide at least some shelter for her.

Her guess about the darkening sky had been right. There were dark heavy rainclouds racing about her and before she had even cleared the small front garden of the lodge they opened up and emptied onto the ground below.

Within seconds Rebecca was soaked. The material of her dress became incredibly heavy and the gravel of the pathway tore her silk stockings to shreds. And still she ran.

She did not dare to look behind as she sprinted for the trees. She had just made it through the first of them when her heart sank as a shot rang out followed by her name. He had discovered her escape and he was shooting at her.

****

Edward and Tom left Sarah crying miserably and headed as fast as their mounts could carry them to a set of rooms in a seedy part of town that George Simons had taken on his arrival to London. It was not sheer luck that they knew of this place. Sarah told them, with some pride, that she had him followed after their first meeting. She liked to know whom exactly she was dealing with at all times.

Sarah’s information had been scant but there was enough to know that a clue was awaiting them at Simons’ lodgings. He had told Sarah he would take Rebecca to a hunting lodge on the outskirts of Town and that he would leave her there to find her own way back.