Sacrifice (Fashionably Impure Book 3) (10 page)

“Bullet
wound!”

“The
brothel owner was alarmed that Winterton had consumed so much alcohol. And she
had sent his valet for a doctor. They had just come to assist the duke moments
after the fatal shot had been served. Winterton’s servant shot Danvers as he
fled the brothel.” Drake paused and compressed his lips.

Miranda
could only gape at him, horror filling her soul.

 
“Only one in a thousand would be likely to
survive a wound like that.”

“Oh my
God, oh my God…” She put her hands over her face, unable to stop repeating the
phrase.

If
Adrian were dead, she would have nothing to live for. She couldn’t go on.

She
couldn’t.

“You
must brace yourself for the storm to come. The news flies with tide and soon
all of Winterton’s powerful friends and political allies will hear of this.”

“But
Adrian is… I mean I just received the letter. He is coming—”

“Hush
yourself, my lady. You know nothing.” His cold, intelligent eyes bore into
hers. “Nothing.”

“What
are you saying?”

“Listen
to me and if you value your lord’s life, obey me. Go and pack three trunks.
Include all the absolute necessities that you and Danvers’ young son will
need.”

“Why?”
she asked, dread crawling through her stomach.

“Because
you must run and disappear for now.”

She
gaped at him. “Run?”

“I will
handle everything.”

“I
barely know you.”

“Danvers
asked me to watch over you. He trusts me.”

Stephen
Drake’s voice rang with complete confidence. He inspired confidence.

She did
not know this man.

She had
felt afraid the first time she had looked into his cold, calculating eyes. “I
can go and stay with my mother in Sussex.”

“My
lady, you are more intelligent than that. That would be the first place anyone
would look.”

“I’ll
think of something.”

“You
don’t trust me.”

“I do
not
know
you.”

“Your
husband trusts me. He made me vow to protect you.”

She
remembered her wedding day. When this man had come to her house and tried so
hard to make sure that her husband knew the sacrifices he would make in
marrying her.

She had
thought them such good, close friends.

Now icy
tentacles wound through her innards.

Sacrifice.

Her
heart started pounding hard as the realization swept over her. Drake hadn’t
been speaking of their wedding at all.

He’d
meant this sacrifice, the killing of her father.

Yes, her
father was a heartless, cold man. But what had driven Adrian to this extreme
action?

“You.”
She leapt from her chair and charged towards Drake. “You instigated this.”

Anger
flared through her blood like wildfire now.

Drake
remained calm. “No my lady, he came to me, over a year ago and asked what could
be done to bring Winterton to his knees. When I investigated your father, I
found him to be an exceptionally evil individual. I decided then and there to
help Danvers with the final solution to his problem. Though I could clearly see
that he was not at that time ready for the truth.”

“The
truth?”

“Yes,
the truth that nothing but death can stop a mighty, well- positioned duke.”
Then he frowned. “You’ve received correspondence from Danvers? Recently?”

The
sudden change in subject jarred her. But not as much as that grim expression
which fell over his face.

“Give
the letters to me immediately. They must be burnt. All of it.”

Miranda’s
blood ran colder than ever. “No, you’ll not take my letters from him.”

“If you
won’t give them over to destroyed, you may well be the death of him.”

Miranda
shook her head. “No.” The word was a useless denial of everything he had just
told her. She didn’t trust this man. Why should she hold his word as any more
meaningful than that of Mr. Jan Sexton who had told her that Adrian had
suffered a fever only?

No
matter how badly Winterton had treated her and Mama, Adrian was a civilized
man.

He was
incapable of such an act of cold-blooded, premeditated murder. He could never
have been so ungentlemanly as to have shot Winterton in the back of his head,
whilst he was unconscious from too much drink.

That
alone proved that Drake was lying.

“I won’t
know the truth of this matter until I speak with Adrian, face-to-face.”

“You
refuse to comply?” Drake asked.

“I will
wait for Adrian. He’s coming soon.” She had no idea how soon her husband would
arrive. But how could she possibly just leave with this stranger?

A
stranger who Adrian seemed to trust…

Drake
grabbed her forearm.

She
jerked her arm to free herself.

He held
her firm.

The
memory of being drugged and accosted and forced to kiss those boys that night
at Applewaite came back to her. More of Winterton’s treachery.

What if
Drake were really in league with Winterton?

What if
everything he was telling her was lies?

Like a
thousand spiders crawling along her skin, panic crawled and stung her.

She
fought Drake with everything she had, kicking, clawing, biting— all the whilst
screaming for Mrs. Williams.

He
grasped her waist and whirled her about to hold her against his body. He
clamped a hand over her mouth. “I made a promise to your husband. I promised to
keep you safe.”

He
removed his hand from her mouth.

More
panic slammed into her. Waves and waves. She continued to struggle like a wild
trapped animal but somehow he managed to hold her whilst she sensed him fishing
in his pocket.

At the
sight of a silken cord, she cried out and began to scream for Mrs. Williams
again, hearing the note of hysteria in her voice.

Before
she knew it, he had her wrists firmly tied.

Her body
grew weaker and he managed to pick her up and carry her to the settee. There he
held and tied her ankles.

Mrs.
Williams burst into the chamber, her round face flushed. “My lady!” she said
between panting breaths. “What—”

“Mrs.
Williams,” Drake said in a patient tone. “Do you remember me?”

The
matron’s eyes were wide and she nodded, in a slow, somehow servile way. “Yes,
of course, you are Baron Drake.”

“Do you
remember what Lord Danvers told you?”

She
nodded, her eyes still glazed with that servile, obedient look. “Yes, he said
that you were to be trusted and that if Lady Danvers or his sons were in
danger, I am bound to trust you and obey you.”

“He said
what?” Miranda said between desperate gasps for breath.

But Mrs.
Williams’ attention was all for Drake.

“What
else did he say?”

“That I
was to obey you before anyone else if you judged the situation truly
dangerous.” Mrs. Williams spoke in an odd monotone that unnerved Miranda.

“The
situation is truly dangerous. “You must listen to me. For the sake of your
mistress’ safety, I am forced to take her with me tonight.”

The
matron nodded.

“I need
your help now, Mrs. Williams. You must go and pack three trunks with all the
necessities that you, Lady Danvers and David Sutherland will need for this
coming trip.”

Mrs.
Williams nodded and turned to hurry off.

“Mrs.
Williams! Mrs. Williams!” Miranda cried after the woman, watching in horror as
her own servant ignored her and kept on walking.

****

They had
traveled at such speed to Cornwall that Davey became carriage sick.

Miranda
had begged Drake to slow their pace, to allow an overnight rest. But he refused
and, instead, he had dosed the boy with something to make him sleep and that did
seem to let him keep sparing amounts of bread and cheese and well-watered wine
down in between sleeps.

They had
not stopped any longer than necessary to change horses and use the privy. Not
that Miranda had had any privacy. Drake had allowed her to be untied during the
long stretches of carriage riding but once at the stops, he had bound her
wrists, hiding this discreetly beneath her pelisse. Mrs. Williams had assisted
her from there.

Mrs.
Williams held to that strange, instant, unwavering obedience to Drake the
entire trip.

Now the
vehicle had stopped for the last time, apparently, for Drake had not bound her
before the footmen had opened the door and set the steps in place.

Footmen?

She
supposed that what to call them. But they were big, hulking men with broken
noses, facial scars that made Davey’s eyes go wide. He clung to Miranda’s side
as she moved away from the carriage on legs that still shook from the hours of
motion.

She took
his hand and held it firm.

“Where
is the closest inn?” she demanded.

“Not for
miles and miles.”

She
glanced at the house. It appeared in bad need of paint and a hammer and nails
as well. Dilapidated shutters and dirty windows greeted her. A profusion of
overgrown shrubbery flanked the house.

“I know
it doesn’t look very promising, Lady Danvers, but I assure you that it is quite
comfortable inside.”

Drake
had not actually hurt any of them. But she was livid at the way he had treated
her.

Davey
stumbled along beside her. His face was pale and dark circles lay beneath his
eyes. She knew he needed a long sleep overnight in a real bed. Escape would
have to wait.

Lady
Drake waited them in the house. She was dressed in a simple muslin day dress
with her hair in a plait tied in a ribbon over her shoulder. “Lady Danvers, how
are you?” she said, as politely as though Miranda had come for tea.

“I am
fine but no thanks to your husband.”

Rebecca
put her hand to her collarbone. “Oh dear.”

“He’s
insane!” Miranda threw Drake a glare as she clutched Davey closer to herself.
“First, he assaulted me and bound me and kidnapped me and my son.”

Rebecca
winced. “Oh, no.”

“Oh,
yes, he did. And then he forced us to travel at such speed, my son has been
ill.”

Lady
Drake whirled on her husband. “Oh you blackguard!” Lady Drake laid a closed
fist to his chest. “What were you thinking?”

“She
threatened to run away.” Drake caught his wife’s pelting fists and held them.
“I promised Danvers that I would do whatever it took to keep her safe.”

“Was the
execution of Winterton worth all of this?” Rebecca said.

“I did
not wish to detain her so violently but she would not comply and I couldn’t be
sure how much time we would have before someone might be coming to retaliate
against her.”

“Please
leave us, my lord,” Rebecca said. “You will only make things worse at this time.”

Lady
Drake took Miranda’s hands and began massaging her wrists where the bounds had
rubbed faint, sore marks. “Not too bad.” Her forehead creased in a frown and
then she looked up at Miranda. “I’ll have you a bath prepared in no time at
all. And then a nice hot tea and a filling meal. You’ll have a sleep and things
will sort themselves out.” She sighed. “Stephen means well, he truly does. But
he has no idea how the average person reasons. To him, the ends always justify
the means.”

Drake
had not gone away but hovered by his lady’s shoulder. “Is she all right?”

“I think
she will be.” Lady Drake pursed her lips. “Eventually.”

“England
is safer for Danvers’ actions. Winterton was a madman.”

Lady
Drake threw a glance over her shoulder at her husband. “He did you such a
service—”

“He did
England
a service.”

“Well,
can’t England do more to save him from the wrath of Winterton’s allies?”

“They
are working on that.”

“He was
just a debauched noble who occasionally dabbled in politics.”

“He was
a murderer and meddler. A man who plotted and planned to drive people to
suicide or murder for the sheer excitement of it.”

“Murderer?”
Miranda softly exclaimed.

“My
darling, I don’t think this is the best place for us to have this discussion.
No matter what he is or what he has done, she is his
daughter
.”

“Well,
suffice to say he was evil incarnate. Fascinatingly so. But the world is better
for his loss and I was happy to have a hand in his demise.”