Lord Sinister (Secrets & Scandals Book 3) (31 page)

CHAPTER 32

Megan watched her sister-in-law scurry from the room and grew worried.  Amelia’s face had been the color of chalk, her voice strained.  Seeing the open box on the sofa, the gift from Julian, Megan shook her head.  No wonder Amelia looked so grim.  The poor woman had just been reminded of why her husband had gone—to try and absolve her of criminal charges.

“Shall we play?”

“What?”  Megan turned to Jeremy, having forgotten him entirely.

“Chess.  Heard you’re wickedly good.”  A peculiar twinkle sprang into his eyes.  “Of course, it was Nick—who thinks you can damn near walk on water—who told me that.”

Her eyes followed his hand as he reached out and lifted one of the gold pieces from the board beside him.  “My husband can be rather biased.”

“So you admit you aren’t that good?”

She stiffened.  Her gaze snapped up to his.  How she wanted to tear that smug expression right off his face.  Slowly, she moved forward and sat in the chair to the right of the board.  “Take a seat, Jeremy, and judge for yourself.”

His grin spread with feline elegance across his lips.  “I must warn you, my precious little pet, I won’t take it easy on you.”

The smile she gave in turn had him swallowing audibly.  “Neither will I, my lord.”

After a moment’s pause, his flirtatious grin returned.  “Then may I suggest a wager?”

She cocked her head to the side.  “How much?”

He oozed naughtiness.  “Not for money, pet.”

“Jeremy!” she gasped with an exasperated chuckle despite herself.

“Oh, all right.”  He looked crestfallen.  “For money, then.  How much?”

Megan withheld her jubilation.  It seemed she found her first investor with which to expand the orphanage she funded.  She just prayed her mother wouldn’t return from Claremont visiting Nicholas’s mother and catch her in this wager.  There would be hell to pay for sure.

****

Amelia stumbled on a patch of ice and fell to her knees.  Puffs of frozen breath erupted from her mouth, her throat and lungs stinging from the frigid temperature.  She shivered uncontrollably, her hands swallowed up in chunks of frozen mud.  She could no longer feel them.  She’d forgotten her gloves.

“Alex,” she whispered, closing her eyes.  The urge to lie down and sleep gripped her in steely claws.  How easy it would be.

“No!”  She had to snap out of it.  The bitter cold made her drowsy.  And if she fell asleep, she would die.  So would Alex.  And the baby.

Amelia lifted her head.  Gritting her teeth, she pulled her hands up, flexing them several times.  She summoned all her strength and staggered to her feet.  Grabbing a handful of her frozen skirt, she trudged forward.

Just as the road came into view, small white flurries spilled from the sky.  Amelia halted, trying to catch her breath.  She had no idea what time it was.  But each minute she stood there shivering and alone filled her with more panic.  Oh, God, had she arrived too late?

Something to her right moved.  Amelia squinted at the movement down the road.  A horse materialized, followed by a rickety, two-wheeled gig.  When it halted before her, a man called for her to climb up.

The slick ice, fatigue, and her condition all worked against her.  She placed a damp, half-frozen slipper on the iron step, and almost fell back when she hefted herself up.  A gloved hand snaked out and gripped her arm, keeping her from tumbling backwards.  Her heart thundered behind her ribs at the near disaster.  And before she could take a deep breath of relief, he yanked her hard toward him.

Amelia came crashing down at his feet.  Her head spun.  When she tried to rise, she heard his shrilly whistle and the snap of the reins.  Then the gig lunged forward, sending her tumbling back to the mud-slushy floor.

As her consciousness ebbed away, she inhaled Alex’s scent still clinging to the scarf around her shoulders.  But Julian’s face swam into her mind. 
I love you, my husband.  Please, understand I had to try and save our son.

****

Megan studied the board where about ten pieces were left.  Oh, he was good.  She pursed her lips.  Though she would never admit just how good out loud.

“Find yourself in a predicament, my pet?”  His voice sounded a silky purr.

She moved her rook.  “I wouldn’t gloat just yet, Jeremy.”

The sensuality of his smile vanished as he dropped his gaze to the board.  He took another sip of wine.

Megan settled back in her chair with a smug grin and folded her arms.

Jeremy reached out, his long fingers heading for the bishop she knew he’d take, when an urgent knock sounded.

They turned to the door in unison.

“Enter,” Megan said, exasperated at the intrusion, and came to her feet.  Jeremy walked up behind her.

Jenkins appeared.  “Sir Mortimer Mountjoy insists on seeing you at once, Your Grace.  He says it is an emergency.”

Her heart sank.  Jack.

She nodded and started to follow the butler.  Then remembered Jeremy and stopped.  He crashed against her back.

“Sorry about that, pet.”

Sure he was.  She turned.  “I must speak to this man about private affairs, Jeremy.”

His face fell.  “You’ll dabble with some minor title with a God-awful name like Mortimer, but not me?”  He splayed a hand against his chest.  “You cut me to the quick, madam.”

Megan wanted to kick him right in the…  “I’m not having an affair, Jeremy.”

“Of course not, pet.”

“Oooh, go to Bath!”  She spun around and marched off, her steps quickening when she heard Jeremy’s chuckle.

As soon as the drawing room doors opened, she dismissed the lingering servants who awaited instruction for refreshments.  When the doors closed, she stormed toward the trussed-up dandy wearing fuchsia velvet. Halting before his powdered face, glaring at those ridiculous painted lips, Megan planted her knuckles on her hips.  “Have you lost your mind entirely,
Sir Mortimer
?”

Instead of answering, he turned and indicated something with his hand.  “May I introduce Hilda?”

Megan cut her eyes over.  The woman—who looked more like a witch—nearly had her jumping out of her skin.  “How do you do?”

Leaning on a twisted branch of a cane, the woman hobbled to Jack.  “We’ve no time to waste, pirate.  That sweet girl is in trouble.”

Feeling her jaw fall open, Megan turned to Jack.  He heaved a great sigh.  “For two days, this woman has insisted Amelia is in some sort of danger.”

“And it’s almost too late,” Hilda stated with a frown, her white eyes narrowed in anger.

“I have no idea what is going on here.”  Megan glanced from one to another.  “But Amelia is safe.  She’s upstairs rest—”

“She’s gone,” the old woman said, smacking the tip of her cane on the floor twice.

As Megan started to argue, Jack stepped up to her.  He placed his hands on her arms.  “Please, Megan, will you just go and check?”

The genuine worry in his eyes had her nodding.  “All right.”

As soon as she opened the door, Jeremy stood there.  “That was fast.”

“Oh, shut up, Jeremy.”

He followed her up the stairs.  “Where are you going?”

“To check on Amelia.”

As she reached Julian’s chambers, some unexplained urgency came over her.  She opened the door and rushed past the antechamber to the bedroom.  Halting in the doorway, she gaped when she found the bed empty.  She scanned the room.  Empty.  “She’s not here.”  Megan turned to Jeremy, eyes wide.  “Julian is going to kill us.”

****

Amelia opened her eyes.  Two Alexes swam before her.  She blinked several times, and he came into focus.  Although his lips moved, she couldn’t hear him.  Then, in a snap, her ears opened and she felt pain.  The side of her face ached fiercely.  And her hands burned.  She found them bound together before her.

“Mama?”

Her son sat beside her, staring at her with wild, frightened eyes.  “I’m all right.”

“When you wouldn’t wake…”  His voice trailed off and he shivered slightly.

She straightened from her slumped position, wincing from the stitch in her cramped back, and glanced around the crumbling stone cottage.  “Do you have any idea where we are?”

“No.”  He shifted, and she realized his hands had been tied behind his back.

“Oh, Alex, are you hurt?”

He wagged his head.  “No, just uncomfortable.”

Coming more alert, she examined him carefully.  Alex didn’t look hurt.  Thank God.

“Who is he, Mama?”  A blaze of anger lit his eyes.  “The man who took us?”

As she opened her mouth to answer, the door creaked open.  The man entered, bringing a gust of cold air into the interior.  He shook the sleet from his shoulders.  Then he removed his hat and turned.

Amelia looked up to his green eyes, then to the ugly scars that ran down the length of his left cheek.  She gasped.

He smiled, revealing an absent front tooth.  His nose was bent to one side from a terrible break and his left eyelid drooped.  “Hello, Violet.  Miss me?”

“Mr. Giles!”  Terror shot right through Amelia as she stared at the man who tried to dupe her into working as a prostitute.

****

Julian raced into the warm interior, shaking the sleet from his hair.  His father and Nicholas right behind him.  As he started to peel his stiff, wet coat away, he heard Megan’s voice raised in agitation.  With a frown, he hurried toward the drawing room and pulled open the doors.

“What do you mean her life is in danger?” Megan demanded of an old blind woman.  A man wearing the most ridiculous dark pink velvet clothes he’d ever seen paced beside them.

A grin started on Julian’s lips, then he recalled what his sister had asked.  “Whose life is in danger?”

Everyone turned to him in unison.  Jeremy, standing before the windows, finally answered in a strained voice.  “It’s Amelia.  She’s missing.”

Julian let go of the door handle, his world falling away.  Amelia was missing?  He looked from Jeremy’s sympathetic expression to the sleet raining down in sheets outside the windows.  He went completely numb.  His wife—his love—out there?

“Jules.”

He glanced down.  How had Megan come to stand there before him?  He hadn’t heard her approach.

“Jules.  We’ll find her.”  Tears shimmered in her eyes.  Then Nicholas took Megan into his arms and held her.

“Where’s Maggie,” he heard his father say.

“Claremont,” someone answered.

Julian stood there, numb.

“Young man.”

He looked down into the wrinkly, scarred face of an old, blind woman.  Her white eyes fixed on him as though she could see perfectly well.

“There’s no time to waste.  We must go.  Now.”  She glanced over her shoulder.  “Come, pirate.”

The dandy stopped pacing and frowned at the woman.  “It’s Mountjoy, Hilda.  How many times must I tell you?”

Julian blinked in surprise.  “Jack?”  The white rice powder and fake mole beside those painted red lips concealed much, but his voice gave him away.

Jack heaved a sigh and came to stand beside the old woman.  “Julian, there isn’t much time to explain.  This is Hilda,” he nodded to the woman, “and she claims to know where Amelia is.”

“Claims?”

Hilda smacked the tip of her cane on the floor.  “Lady Amersleigh is in the clutches of the man who shot you.” She pointed a bony finger at Julian.

“What?”  His hand automatically rose to the pinkish scar on his chest.

“There isn’t a moment to waste,” the old woman said.  “She and the boy are being held in a small house made of stone.”

“Boy?”

Hilda’s face softened.  “I am sorry, my lord.  He has your son, too.”

His father stepped forward.  “What is this nonsense?”  He glared down at the woman, folding his arms over his chest.

“I don’t think it’s nonsense, Papa,” Megan said softly.  “Amelia is nowhere to be found.”

“Tell me again, Hilda, where is my wife?” Julian asked before his father could bark out another question.

She shook her silvery-white head.  “I saw a small house, a cabin, made of red-brown stone.  That is all.”

“We have several of those within a five-mile radius of here,” Joseph stated, arms folded, still looking unconvinced.

Nicholas sighed.  “And I have two on my property, near the border.”

“Are they vacant?” she asked, turning from his father to Nicholas.

Joseph nodded.  “Two are.”

“Both cabins on my property are.”

“No one lives in the cabin where Lady Amersleigh is being held.  It must be one of the four,” she said.

Julian turned to his father.  “We’ll have to split up.”

“Count me in,” Nicholas said.

Jack took a step forward.  “Me, too.”