Tempting a Sinner (23 page)

“If you wish.” Faith paused. “Your mother-in-law is staring at you.”

“Let her stare.” Malinda inclined her head an inch in the marchioness’s direction, and moved toward the exit. She came down the stairs and smiled at the footman on duty.

“Can you call for our carriage, please?”

“Yes, my lady.”

Faith paused to speak to an acquaintance, and Malinda walked outside to await the appearance of the Westbrook carriage. The wind had come up and the front door of the mansion suddenly slammed behind her, cutting her off from Faith. Almost at the same time, someone grabbed her elbow and pulled her off the steps and down into the dark basement entrance below. She kicked out as hard as she could and her captor cursed, but it was to no avail. Her head was covered with a filthy sack, and she was swept up and over someone’s shoulder in a grip that bruised her ribs.

She tried to struggle but received a crashing blow to the side of her head, which left her dizzy and sick. Surely someone would notice she was being abducted in broad daylight? Seconds later, she was flung onto the back of a cart of some kind, and her captor followed her in. He rested one enormous foot on her torso while he tied her skirts around her ankles.

The cart started to move and they were away with no sounds of pursuit behind them. A light rain started to fall, dampening the sack and Malinda’s clothing. Why was it that every time she wore one of her new gowns it was ruined? Where was the man Benedict had sent with them? Where was Faith?

It seemed to take forever for the cart to stop moving through the streets and for Malinda to be bodily picked up again and brought into what she assumed was some kind of shelter. She was carried down some steps into a place that echoed and smelled of ale, wooden barrels, and decay. Was she in the cellars of the Red Dragon? Surely that would be one of the first places Benedict would look for her.

“Here you are, Mr. C. She’s a feisty bitch.”

She was suddenly upended and dumped on a rickety chair. The blade of a knife nicked her throat as the burlap sacking was cut away.

Fred Castleton grinned and slapped his thigh. “Malinda Rowland, it is you, by all that’s holy.”

“Do I know you, sir?” Malinda glared at him.

“There’s no need to be all high and mighty with me, lass. I knew you when you had pigtails and were carried around on your father’s shoulders.”

“Then one might ask why you abducted me rather than simply asking me to meet you when it was convenient?”

His smile died. “I think you know why. What I want to know is what Patrick Rowland’s daughter is doing hanging around with the likes of Lord Keyes and that bastard, the Marquis of Alford.”

“What does it matter to you?”

He slowly rose to his feet, advanced toward her, and casually slapped her face. “Less of that cheek, lass. Answer the question.”

She stared at him, ignoring the pain and the sting of her lip where his signet ring had cut into her flesh. “I came to London to find out if the Marquis of Alford killed my father.”

He cocked his head to one side and studied her. “You thought he might confess such a crime to you?”

“I intended to force him to do so.” She gathered her scattered wits. “I used Lord Keyes’s old friendship with me to get access to his father.”

“So why is the old bastard still alive?”

“Because . . . when it came down to it, I found I didn’t have the guts to shoot an old man in his own bed.”

“You’re a woman.” Fred returned to his seat and sat down. “You don’t have the stomach for it.”

“Do you want to kill him too?”

“I’m asking the questions, lass, not you.”

She went still, aware of the threat of violence in his voice.

“Why did you come here to my inn with Lord Keyes, then, if you’re at odds with him?”

“He forced me.”

Fred nodded. “I can believe that. Keyes is a coldhearted sod like his father. But why this inn?”

“Someone set light to his property in Maddox Street, and he was told the suspect worked here as a waiter.”

“By whom?”

“I don’t know. I’m not in his confidence. He said he needed to come here in disguise to look for the man he sought, and that I was merely to act as a distraction. He made me stay in the parlor while he asked questions.” She shivered. “I believe he has many enemies.”

“Why do you think the Marquis of Alford killed your father?”

If she’d hoped to distract him into thinking the matter was all about Benedict, it hadn’t worked.

“My mother left a journal. She suggested that my father and the marquis had some sort of secret involving the contents of the baggage train. She believed the marquis killed him to stop him talking about whatever that secret was.”

Fred rose again and she tensed. He put his hands behind his back and walked a slow circle around the cellar. She tried not to crane her neck to see where he was, but it was so tempting.

“Where is that journal now?”

“In my room at the Sinners Club.”

“Has Keyes seen it?”

“No.”

He was right behind her now and all the hairs on the back of her neck bristled. She jumped when he touched the cut on her throat.

“Who has seen it?”

“No one, but me.”

“I don’t believe you.” His fingers closed around her throat and tightened until her vision blurred and she started to choke. “Who else?”

“No one.” She managed to gasp out the words. “I wouldn’t share it with the family I believe killed my father.”

“And what if I told you that you are both right and wrong about that?”

He released her throat and she gulped in some much-needed air.

“What if I told you that your father was part of a plot to deceive innocent soldiers of their hard-earned pay?”

“My
father?
” she whispered.

“Aye. I suppose he thought he was going to be rich, but you should never make a deal with the devil.”

He poured himself a drink from the brandy bottle on the upturned barrel beside him. “The night before he left, Patrick had a drink with some of his old friends and told us the secret he shared with the marquis.” He looked at her closely, but she kept her expression bewildered. “They were bringing in gold to pay the troops.”

“Gold?”

“Aye, lass, and your father and the marquis decided between them that the gold would never get through.”

She shook her head. “My father would never—”

“But your father was angry with the marquis because he’d been hauled before him and ordered to keep his filthy slut of a daughter away from the marquis’s son and heir.” Fred chuckled. “We all knew the boy lusted after you. In fact, we were taking bets as to when he’d tumble you. We didn’t mention that to your father, obviously.”

Malinda swallowed bile and forced herself to keep still.

“So Patrick asked us to help him instead. He would bring the gold back, and we’d arrange an ambush along the way and take care of it for him until the marquis stopped looking for it.”

“But he died.”

“That was unfortunate, lass. One of the men traveling with him realized they’d been betrayed, and shot your father in the back screaming at him for being a traitor and a coward.” He shrugged. “By the time I reached him he was dead.”

“And the gold?”

Fred looked around the well-stocked cellar. “As you see here. After the fuss died down, we shared the gold with our fellow soldiers—not quite all of it, obviously, because, well, we’d done the lion’s share of the work to acquire it, hadn’t we?”

Malinda stared at his smiling face, dug her fingernails into her palms, and risked another question.

“What is it that you want me to do?”

Fred finished his brandy and wiped his mouth. “It’s like this, my beauty. If you stop poking your nose in where it doesn’t belong and encourage your ‘friend’ Keyes to do the same, we’ll keep mum about your father’s part in this. If you don’t, we’ll ensure that your father and the marquis are publicly shamed.”

She drew a painful breath. “My father and mother are dead.”

“But the marquis and his son, your
husband,
my lady, are not. And if the marquis is finally brought to justice, don’t you think suspicion will fall on the son too? A man who holds so many of the nation’s secrets allied to a traitor like your father and a thief like his own?”

Malinda looked down at her shaking hands. Her father was beyond shame, but Benedict? He was the most honorable man she’d ever met. His reputation meant everything to him, and was vital in his line of work. She knew if scandal touched him, he’d resign and their country would lose a fierce defender.

“I don’t believe I have enough influence with Lord Keyes to prevent him from carrying on this investigation.”

Fred rose again and came toward her. “Then you’d better try harder to persuade him, hadn’t you, lass?”

His gaze raked the neckline of her dress. “You looked better dressed as his tart with your titties hanging out.” He reached out and ripped the front of her bodice away.

Forgetting her legs were tied, she leapt to her feet and went for him, nails clawing at his smiling face. He caught her in his arms as she toppled over.

“You’re eager, aren’t you?”

He squeezed her breast hard enough to make her gasp.

“Let me go.”

He thrust his hand into her hair, forced her head up, and brought his mouth down over hers. Dread shuddered through her and she started to fight him again, but he was too strong for her. She whimpered as his fingers closed over her wrist and ground her bones together until something gave with an audible
snap
. Pain engulfed her and she stopped fighting him, going limp in his arms, letting her knees collapse.

He struggled to contain her but she managed to fall to the floor and curl up in a ball. She could see his booted feet but not much else. She stiffened as he crouched down beside her and caught her chin in his hands.

“I don’t have the time to finish this now.”

She licked her bleeding lips. “If you kill me, I can’t help you, and you will have to kill me before I’ll let you rape me.”

He laughed into her face. “I doubt it, lass. But you do have a point. I don’t intend to rape you. I still have some small fondness for the daughter of my old friend. I just want your bastard of a husband to know that I could’ve had you if I’d wanted to.” He looked up at the man still standing guard by the door. “When it’s dark, Nate, take her and drop her near the Sinners. She’ll find her way back.” He patted her cheek. “I’ll give you three days to stop this witch hunt, and then I’ll go to the newspapers and the authorities. Do you understand?”

She nodded and he left her alone. She heard him walk over to the man at the door and converse quietly with him before the door shut behind him. She stayed where he’d left her, curled up and defenseless, and tried to make sense of what he’d told her. Benedict’s father wasn’t the only villain of the piece after all. Her father was just as bad—worse maybe, because he’d chosen to betray his own kind and the marquis.

She swallowed her own blood. Yet again it seemed that Benedict would have to pay the price for caring about her and her family. That wasn’t fair, but how could she prevent it? A faint idea formed out of her desolation, and she concentrated on how to execute her plan. He’d already given her more than he’d ever know. It would mean the end of everything between them, but he’d survived her defection once and would do so again. Losing his career and reputation was another thing, and she was going to do everything in her power to stop that happening.

“B
enedict, we’ve found her.”

Faith’s quiet voice had him spinning around to face the door. He’d been pacing Adam’s study for hours, raging at himself and at the fates that had taken Malinda from him once again. Once more he’d let her down. Why was it that he couldn’t protect those he cared about the most? She’d be better off without him.

“Where is she?”

“James found her in the square. He’s bringing her in.” Her voice broke. “I’m so sorry, Benedict. I don’t know how I lost sight of her—”

For once he didn’t stop to reassure Faith, his gaze on the front door of the Sinners, his attention all on the woman cradled in James’s arms. Within seconds he was beside her, and he wanted to howl in anguish at the sight of her battered and bruised face. Her long auburn hair concealed her full expression, but pain radiated from her shaking form.

“Take her into my study, James, and get Dr. Finbar from the kitchen.”

Adam’s calm voice.

Benedict glared at him. “She needs to be in bed. I’ll take her upstairs.”

“As you wish, although I’ll still send the doctor up.” Adam waited until James carefully transferred Malinda over to Benedict. “Thank you, James. Where exactly did you find her?”

“She was clinging to the railings in the center of the square and she suddenly collapsed.” James swallowed hard. “I recognized her hair.”

“You did well.” Adam thanked the footman. “Now go and find Dr. Finbar for me, would you?”

By the time Adam finished speaking, Benedict was already climbing the stairs with Malinda in his arms. He kicked open the door of his suite and took her through to the bedroom. With great care he eased her onto the bed. Her muddied cloak fell away, and his gaze registered the damage to her gown, to her face, to her throat.... Rage flooded his senses leaving him clenching his fists and shaking with the need to hurt someone, to damage something, to—

“Lord Keyes?”

“Yes.” He couldn’t tear his gaze away from her.

“I’m Dr. Finbar. With your permission, may I attend to your wife?”

His instinct was to say no, to cover her with his own body and stop anyone seeing the damage done to hers. His fault—all his damned fault. He should’ve let her go back to Alford Park.

“Benedict.” Faith came up beside him and put her hand on his arm. “Let us help her, please?”

He nodded and took a reluctant step back, his gaze moving down from Malinda’s ravaged face to the ring of black bruises that encircled her wrist like a heathen tattoo.

The doctor arranged the candlelight so that it fell fully on his patient. He removed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves before washing his hands. He took his time studying her, mentally cataloguing the extent of the injuries.

“Perhaps we could remove her clothes?”

The doctor’s question was addressed to Benedict, but it was Faith who moved forward to offer her assistance while Benedict simply stood there and observed as if he didn’t give a damn, as if this wasn’t his wife lying bloody and bruised in his bed.

As they eased her out of her garments, she stirred and moaned something. Faith put her hand on her forehead.

“It’s all right, Malinda. We have you safe now.”

The extent of the damage revealed made him want to vomit. He’d seen death in all its grotesque forms, but somehow this was far worse. To his credit, Dr. Finbar was very gentle as he examined her and didn’t seem to cause her any more pain. After a while he raised his head and addressed Benedict.

“From what I can tell, she has a lot of bruising, but almost no broken bones. I suspect her ribs are very sore.” He pointed to what looked like a boot mark on her skin. “Unfortunately, her left wrist is broken. I’ll bandage it and her ribs, dose her with laudanum, and let her sleep. That’s probably the best we can do for her tonight.”

“What about internal injuries?”

Benedict was surprised at how calm he sounded.

“Obviously, we will have to watch out for any signs of internal bleeding, or cramps or pain.” He hesitated. “I don’t detect any signs of rape.”

“Apart from a ripped bodice, bruised breasts, and a bloodied mouth?”

Dr. Finbar grimaced. “I’m not trying to trivialize the extent of your wife’s injuries, my lord, I’m just attempting to relay the physical facts to you.”

“Of course, as her husband that should offend me most, shouldn’t it? The fact that someone might have raped her, might have—”

“Benedict.” He looked up and saw Adam at the doorway. “Perhaps you should leave the good doctor and the countess to settle your wife and return when they are done?”

“I’m not bloody leaving her.”

“You’re not going to help her by losing your temper. If you can’t control yourself, come away.” Adam glanced back at the bed. “You’re upsetting her.”

“I am damn well not—”

Faith shushed him and leaned over Malinda, who was trying to speak.

“She wants you to leave, Benedict. Please.”

Without another word he walked out. Of course she wanted him to leave, didn’t she always? He went down the stairs and into his office and then just stopped and tried to breathe through the need to break something.

“Take this.”

Alistair Maclean handed him a glass of brandy. Instead of drinking it, he hurled it at the fireplace, where it shattered into a thousand pieces.

Another glass was placed in his hand. “You have three more in this set, sir. Go ahead.”

This time he drank the brandy.

“Will you sit down, my lord?”

He glared helplessly into his secretary’s calm green gaze.

“Seeing your wife like that was a terrible shock, sir. Your reaction is perfectly natural.”

“I should have let her go home.”

“I’m not sure about that.” Alistair’s Scottish accent was curiously soothing. “If you couldn’t fully protect her with all the resources of the Sinners, I doubt your staff at Alford Park could’ve done any better.” He sighed. “I’ve learned to my cost that sometimes you can’t protect those you love from harm.”

Benedict sank into the nearest chair. Alistair refilled his brandy glass and set the decanter within easy reach.

“Whom did you fail to protect?” It was an insensitive question as well as an intrusive one, and quite unlike Benedict.

“My wife.” Alistair held his gaze, the memories stark and still fresh.

“What happened to her?”

“She died.” His smile was crooked. “At least your lady is alive.”

Benedict nodded and sipped his brandy. His hand finally stopped shaking and his breathing slowed. “I want to go out, find who did this, and tear him limb from limb with my bare hands.”

“Totally understandable, my lord. Luckily you have the ability to do so.” He looked past Benedict’s shoulder. “Mr. Fisher is at the door. Do you wish to speak to him?”

“I suppose I’d better.” Benedict rose and handed the glass back to his secretary. “Thank you.”

“For what, sir?”

“The brandy.”

A smile flicked over Alistair’s austere features. “You are most welcome.”

Adam waited for him in the corridor. “She is sleeping now. Do you want to go up and see her?”

“Yes.” He glanced across at Adam as they went toward the stairs. “I apologize if my behavior was inappropriate.”

Adam stopped moving. “Benedict, your wife was savagely beaten. I’m not sure that any ‘behavior’ is appropriate in that situation other than howling with rage, which means you were remarkably restrained.”

“I’ll apologize to Dr. Finbar too.”

They reached the top landing, and Adam patted his shoulder and left him there, going on to his own apartment. Benedict paused and slowly opened the door. The living room was in darkness, but candles illuminated the bedroom. Dr. Finbar was putting his coat back on.

“My lord. She is sleeping now. I’ll call again in the morning. If anything untoward happens before then, please send for me.”

Benedict held out his hand. “Thank you. I apologize if I was a little sharp with you earlier.”

“There’s no need, my lord. You were simply anxious about your wife.”

He bowed, picked up his bag, and left the room. Benedict turned to Faith, who was sitting in a chair by the fireside, her hands folded on her lap. He went and sat opposite her.

“Thank you, Faith.”

She looked up at him and he realized she’d been crying.

“I did very little except hold her hand and soothe her when she was in pain.”

He swallowed hard. “Which was far more than I was capable of doing.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. Shock affects us in different ways.”

“But this is my fault. I should have let her go home.”

“Benedict, I’m the one who let her out of my sight.” She sighed. “I’ll never forgive myself.”

He reached across and took her hand. “Take your own advice, my lady, and please don’t blame yourself.”

“We are a terrible pair, aren’t we?” Fresh tears glinted in her blue eyes as she squeezed his fingers. “Now, do you want me to stay with Malinda for a few hours while you sleep, and then you can take over later?”

“You go to bed. You’ve done more than enough. I’ll be fine.” He helped her rise and kissed her cheek. “Good night, Faith.”

“Do not hesitate to come and find me if you are in need.”

“I’ll do that.”

She smiled and walked quietly away, leaving him alone with his wife for the first time. He went over to the bed and stared down at her. She looked more peaceful now, but nothing could disguise the ugliness of her injuries. He wanted to kiss every bruise and cut and hold her in his arms until she felt well enough to return to the world.

He wanted . . .

With a soft curse, he went and sat down by the fire. He forced himself to detach from his emotions, and think logically about what had happened and how he was going to discover who’d done this and destroy them.

Her anguished moan woke him from a troubled doze and he jerked awake and went over to the bed.

“Malinda?”

She opened her eyes and studied him carefully as though he might hurt her. He forced a smile. “It’s all right. You’re quite safe.” She blinked at him, and he gently cupped the uninjured side of her face. “Do you want anything?”

She shook her head and then winced.

“Then go back to sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up properly.” He waited another minute, barely breathing, until she settled back down, and then he resumed his vigil in his chair.

Adam tapped on the door at dawn and brought hot water for Benedict to shave with and a pot of coffee. Leaving the bedroom door ajar, Benedict went into the living room with him.

“Do we have any idea who took her?”

“Faith said that Malinda’s clothes and cloak stunk of ale. I’m betting we’ll find our man at the Red Dragon. I’ve already sent two men over there to investigate the cellars whether Mr. Castleton is agreeable or not.”

“Good.” He glanced back at the bedroom. “She hasn’t said anything about what happened yet. She’s still sleeping.”

“She might not even remember what happened. Blows to the head can have that effect sometimes.”

“I know.” Benedict’s smile quickly faded.

“Dr. Finbar will be here in an hour or so.” Adam patted his shoulder. “I’ll have some breakfast sent up to you.”

“Thank you.”

Benedict shaved himself while the water was still hot and drank his way through the entire pot of coffee. When his breakfast arrived, he ate it on a tray with one eye on the bedroom door in case Malinda woke up.

Eventually, he went back into the bedroom and, working as quietly as he could, piled coal on the dwindling fire.

“Benedict?”

He turned to see her looking down at him. With great care, he dusted off his hands and went over to her. Between the purple bruises her skin was paper white and her hazel eyes were huge pools of pain.

“How are you feeling?”

“Not my best. Can you help me sit up a little?”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

He slid an arm around her back and gently eased her up on her pillows. “How’s that?”

“I’m fine.”

He doubted it, but he wasn’t going to argue. He also wasn’t going to interrogate her. If she wanted to talk about what had happened he would, of course, listen, but he was not going to ask the first question. He poured her a cup of water and helped her sip from it.

“Better?”

She reached for his hand. “I need to speak to you about something.”

“Whatever you wish.”

“I want Adam and Faith to hear too.”

“Are you sure?”

She swallowed. “I don’t want them thinking you misheard.”

“Then I’ll go and see if they are available.”

It took only a few minutes to find Adam and Faith and bring them to Malinda’s bedside, but it was long enough for a ball of apprehension to lodge itself deep in Benedict’s chest. She wouldn’t even look at him. It was as if he didn’t exist. Was she angry because he’d failed to protect her, or was it something worse? The fact that she required witnesses before speaking to him didn’t bode well either. He set chairs by the bedside for Adam and Faith, but preferred to stand himself.

“Thank you, Benedict.” Malinda’s voice was husky, but that was hardly surprising seeing as someone had tried to strangle her. “Firstly. I want to apologize for bringing so much trouble down on you all. I never meant for things to get this far.”