Invitation to Ruin (35 page)

“Then you’ll stand trial for white slavery.”

He laughed in Anthony’s face. “I don’t think so. I’d have to tell the whole story—the whole story of how a jealous husband planted women on my boat, so enraged with jealousy over his wife’s affair.”

   Anthony stood there fuming, his chest heaving. He refused to accept the truth of Rothsay’s words. Before he could think of a thing to say, the cellar door flew open.

A woman was silhouetted in the doorway, the light hiding her features.

“Stand back,” Anthony warned through gritted teeth. He looked closely, his eyes adjusting to the flood of light. “Is that you, Cassandra?”

Rothsay laughed. “She’s my favorite plaything. Have you missed me, Cassandra?”

She didn’t make a move to enter. She simply raised her arm and pointed a pistol directly at Rothsay’s heart. “Viscount Strathmore tells me you’re going to stand trial for running a white slavery ring. You’ll likely get transported to Australia. That’s not good enough.” Her words were barely audible in the quiet of the cellar.

Suddenly Rufus was behind her. “Don’t be rash, Lady Sudbury. He is not worth killing.”

Cassandra’s voiced wobbled. “It is worth it to repay him for all the terrible things he made me do.” She spat. “You pig.”

Rothsay took a step toward her. “You enjoyed every minute of it. You love being down on your knees.” Rothsay laughed in Anthony’s face. “She wants me dead because I hold the marker to all her debts. Very well played, my dear.”

Before either Anthony or Rufus could react, she’d moved closer. “This time, you get down on your knees. Now!”

As Rothsay made to comply, he warned, “Don’t do this, Cassandra. One word from me, and these gentlemen wouldn’t care if I snapped your pretty neck.”

Cassandra cocked the pistol.

“She was the one that suggested I get rid of Melissa. She wanted you for herself. She’s broke.” Rothsay turned his head and sneered at Anthony. “However, Cassandra wanted her dead. But I was going to return her to you. Just used a bit. Wouldn’t it be ironic if my son became the next Earl of Wickham?”

Anthony lashed out. Another punch sent Rothsay forward toward Cassandra. “Cassandra, watch out!” Anthony roared, but he was too late.

Rothsay shot out his hand and grabbed her by the hair, yanking her toward him. She shrieked as she stumbled against him, and he whipped the pistol out of her hand before any of them could stop him and put the gun to her head.

Cassandra screamed.

“Stay back or she dies,” the Baron warned with a wolfish grin.

“Shoot him,” Cassandra screamed. “Kill him.”

“Shut up, slut,” he growled at her.

“Rothsay, let her go. This is between you and me,” Anthony said in deadly quiet.

Rothsay tried to drag Cassandra to the door, but she refused to cooperate. She sunk down to the floor. “I’m not going anywhere with you. You’ll have to kill me.”

Rufus stood blocking the cellar door. He had not moved an inch. His gun was primed and fixed on Rothsay. “I’d let her go, Rothsay. If what you say is true, and she was responsible for you kidnapping Melissa, I don’t care if you shoot her. I’ll simply shoot you as soon as she’s dead.”

Anthony hoped Rothsay didn’t know Rufus was bluffing. Rufus would never let Rothsay kill the woman.

Suddenly Cassandra screamed and twisted in Rothsay’s hold, grabbing at the pistol. They scuffled and fought. There was a loud shot and a puff of smoke as the gun discharged. Cassandra and Rothsay stood looking at each other, eyes wide. Then as if time had slowed, Rothsay slid to the floor. Dead.

Rufus checked his gun. “Go to your wife. I’ll clean up here.”

As Anthony made for the door, Cassandra grabbed at his arm. “It’s not true you know. I’d never have asked him to hurt Melissa.”

But she couldn’t look him in the eye. He shook off her hold. “Get out of my sight. If I see you near me or Melissa ever again, I’ll kill you.” He left without a backward glance.

He wanted Melissa.

He wanted his wife.

A
nthony paced the hall, waiting for the doctor to finish his examination. He couldn’t forget the sight that greeted him when he’d burst into the schooner’s cabin. He knew as he’d raced to her rescue what Rothsay would likely be doing to her. His fists clenched at his side. It was not her fault. She did not willingly go to his bed. Still, Anthony couldn’t get the sight of her standing before Rothsay clad in only thigh-high leather boots and a sheer negligee out of his mind. Had Rothsay raped her or had he saved her in time?

Guilt ate at him. He should never have left her alone at Bressington. He should have foreseen Rothsay’s plan.

His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides. He was glad Rothsay was dead. He would have liked to have killed him with his bare hands.

The door to Melissa’s bedchamber opened, but it was only Theresa.

“Is she—all right?”

Theresa patted his hand. “The doctor will be out soon. I’m off to organize the hot water for a bath. She wants to wash the feel of Rothsay off her skin.”

Visions of what Theresa’s words inferred had Anthony stumbling for the hallway chair. Theresa had already hurried off down the stairs before he could clarify. Anthony licked his lips. If she had been raped, he’d deal with it. It didn’t
change how he felt about her. If Rothsay had got her with child … he swallowed, he would accept that, too.

But would it change how she felt about him? He’d not saved her? He’d left her alone to become a weapon of revenge. He brought her into his world, his world of evil.

He dropped his head in his hands. If Rothsay had forced himself on her, then Rothsay’s vision might come true. He hadn’t slept with Melissa for over six weeks. If he made love to his wife now and she delivered a child in nine months, he would never know whose it was. Pain knifed through him. This was a fitting punishment for the way he’d treated her.

Anthony was so deep in his misery he didn’t hear the doctor leave her room until he put his hand on Anthony’s shoulder. Anthony stood up with a start. “How is she, doctor?”

Doctor Kilmer was a kindly gent. Anthony saw the pity shining in his eyes and expected the worse. “She’s bearing up remarkably well. She needs a bath, some food, and a good night’s sleep.”

Anthony gulped. “Did he—is she hurt?”

Kilmer took pity on him. “Rothsay did not rape her if that is what you are trying to ask.”

Anthony sagged against the wall. “I got to her in time.”

“Yes. For a woman in her condition, she has come through her ordeal a picture of health.”

Anthony grabbed the doctor’s arm. “Condition?”

“Congratulations, my lord. You are to be a father in around seven months’ time.”

His eyes opened wide in amazement. It was almost two months to the day that he’d mistakenly taken her virginity. Warmth blossomed in his chest. He wanted to tell the whole world. He was going to be a father. He felt no fear, no terror, merely mind-numbing happiness.

“Can I see her?”

Doctor Kilmer chuckled. “She wants to bathe and dress first. While you wait, why don’t we go to your study and celebrate with a glass of that fine brandy you keep?”

* * *

Melissa sank into the hot water and sighed. Her shoulders were still knotted with tension even though she knew she was safe. She wished she could stay here for hours. The thought of getting dressed and facing Anthony sickened her. He would want to know what happened. She didn’t know whether she should tell him what Rothsay had forced her to do.

Anthony had suffered enough disappointment and pain in his life. She wanted to shield him from any more.

She felt ill remembering the feel of Rothsay in her mouth. She’d already washed her mouth out with brandy many times. She still couldn’t get rid of the taste of him.

“Theresa, are you there? Can you bring me another glass of brandy please?”

She lay her head back on the edge of the tub and closed her eyes. Warmth infused her skin, and it wasn’t from the hot water. She remembered the look on Anthony’s face when he’d stormed into the room and saw she was safe. It was a definite look of profound relief.

At first she thought it was from guilt. But he’d cradled her tightly against his chest on the trip back to Craven House, whispering endearments in her ear and placing gentle kisses against the top of her head.

He’d come for her.

“This is the third glass you’ve had. It is not like you to drink hard spirits.” Theresa eyed her suspiciously as she handed her the glass. “What did you not tell the doctor? Did you lie? Did Rothsay force himself on you?” Theresa pulled up a stool next to the tub.

Theresa’s face lost its smile when she saw the tears well in her eyes, and Melissa would not answer her. Instead Theresa said, “Would you like me to wash your hair?”

Melissa nodded and, after taking a large gulp, handed the glass to Theresa.

She sat upright in the tub, screwed her eyes shut, and
tipped her head back. Theresa poured the hot water through her hair and then gathered the soap and began to massage it through her scalp. Her hands were gentle and soothing.

In a small voice Melissa said, “Rothsay didn’t exactly rape me.” She couldn’t see the look on Theresa’s face since her eyes were still closed, but she felt Theresa’s hands stop for a moment on her scalp.

“What did he do, Mel?”

She shuddered. Tears began to leak out from under her eyelids. She screwed her eyes up tighter, trying to keep the tears from flowing. She was safe; the baby was safe, which was all that mattered.

“He forced me to pleasure him with my mouth.” She couldn’t help the sob that escaped with her words. Her body began to shake.

Heedless of the water, Theresa pulled her into her arms, rocking her gently and cooing, “That’s it, let it all out. You cry all you want. I’ve got you.”

Melissa cried and cried until she had no more tears to cry. Then she pushed out of Theresa’s arms and wiped away her tears with her hand. “Anthony is going to ask me what happened. What should I tell him? Should I tell him the truth?”

Theresa hesitated. “Is there any need for him to know? Men may seem tough on the outside, but they often hide a soft inner center. They crumble and are consumed with guilt over not being there to protect those they love. Telling his lordship would only bring him pain over something he cannot change. Unless you cannot bear to carry the burden of your secret on your own?”

Melissa shook her head. “If I can bear being forced to do it, I can bear keeping it secret. I do not wish to hurt Anthony.”

“Good girl. You’re strong. You won’t let a man like Lord Rothsay destroy you.”

Melissa smiled and ran her hand lovingly over her belly. “Not when I have so much to live for. I’ve never wanted to
hurt anyone before, but when I pointed the pistol at Rothsay’s chest, I so wanted to shoot him.”

“I for one am glad you didn’t. Apparently his lordship and Viscount Strathmore had been staking Rothsay out for the last few months. Viscount Strathmore was going to ensure he stood trial for running a white slavery ring.”

“Was?” A cold chill raced through her. “They haven’t let him go?”

“Bless me, no. Lady Sudbury shot him with her gun.”

“What’s Cassandra doing here?”

Theresa held up the towel for her to step into. “She was with the men when they rescued you.”

As if a strong wind rose up and blew out a candle, the hope and happiness she had in her chest petered out. He hadn’t come to rescue her; he’d been on a government mission. She’d simply been lucky enough to be taken by the one man they were watching. Would Anthony have bothered to come for her otherwise?

She knew the answer. Probably not. Anthony had brought Cassandra with him. Had he broken his promise? Was Cassandra now his mistress? Is this who he’d been spending the past six weeks with? Did Cassandra share his bed?

All her fears and doubts flooded back. She made it to her bed before she collapsed. Once again, she’d simply been his obligation. He had to save his wife. Society would expect nothing less. It was really closing down a white slavery ring that was important.

Not her. Never her.

Knowing Anthony’s lover was under the same roof, she couldn’t face him.

“Pass my nightgown, Theresa. I don’t want any dinner. I’m exhausted. I want to go to bed and sleep.”

Theresa helped her into her gown and tucked her into bed. “Shall I tell his lordship to pop up to say good night?”

“No.” She bit her lip. “That is tell him I need a good night’s sleep and I shall see him in the morning.”

* * *

“She doesn’t wish to see me?” Anthony asked incredulously. With sinking heart, he knew why. Melissa hated him. He’d banished her to Bressington and left her to be kidnapped by a heinous monster. He did not blame her for never wanting to see him ever again.

His punishment was to be forever despised by the only woman he loved. To live as her husband and never be able to touch her, love her. His innards gripped with pain.

Doctor Kilmer picked up his hat and gloves. “If you’ll excuse me, my lord, I shall take my leave. I’ll call tomorrow morning to see how the Countess is faring.” He closed the study door softly behind him.

Theresa curtsied and made to follow.

“Is she all right, Theresa? Please tell me he didn’t hurt her. I couldn’t bear it if he’s hurt her.” Anthony sunk back into his chair and rested his head on his hands.

Theresa hesitated at the door. She turned to face him. “Your wife is strong. She wouldn’t let an animal like Rothsay cause her one moment of concern. Your problems are not caused by Rothsay.”

Shame made him unable to meet Theresa’s knowing gaze. “God, I’ve made such a mess of things.”

“Anything can be fixed if you want it bad enough.” Theresa stepped forward. “Do you? Do you want her?”

Anthony raised his head. “I love her. I need her more than she’ll ever need me.”

Theresa smiled. “There is your answer. You know what you have to do.” Theresa turned to leave.

Anthony rose from his chair, panic gripping his voice. “What answer? Theresa, what am I supposed to do? Tell me. I’ll do anything.”