The Darkest Sin (24 page)
Authors: Caroline Richards
“What do you mean?” she asked, endeavoring to keep the tremor from her voice.
“It may make the situation a trifle easier for you, my dear.” Sebastian stared moodily at the stars overhead. “You see, theirs was a torrid affair, a
coup de foudre,
as we say in French. She was willing to sacrifice everything to be with Rushford, including her marriage to the Earl and her position in society, from which she would be forever outcast should a divorce have ever taken place.” He paused as though shaking his head at the folly. “And yet, I am loathe to reveal, Rushford was more than willing to sacrifice his duchess in order to achieve his own ends.”
coup de foudre,
as we say in French. She was willing to sacrifice everything to be with Rushford, including her marriage to the Earl and her position in society, from which she would be forever outcast should a divorce have ever taken place.” He paused as though shaking his head at the folly. “And yet, I am loathe to reveal, Rushford was more than willing to sacrifice his duchess in order to achieve his own ends.”
Rowena listened wide eyed, her mouth dry.
“The Duchess of Taunton became involved in the Rosetta affair, to her peril when Rushford was given the choice to give up the Stone or forfeit the Duchess's life.” The Baron shook his head with affected remorse. “Alas. He did not choose well.” He held Rowena's gaze for a long moment. “Hardly the hero of the story, I am most sorry to say.”
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They had left Rushford manacled to a chair, which in turn was chained to the armoire by the window. Of course, it was all child's play, Rushford reflected in the moments after they had left him alone. There was little he had not experienced and survived. He was a man who had been beaten in the past, not only by those with everything to lose but also in the ring by men twice his size. And in the navy, captured by a Spanish galleon with a particularly sadistic captain, he had once been kept in a cell slightly bigger than a coffin for a fortnight on the island of Majorca. And there had been the days after Kate's passing when he'd wished he was dead, and he'd been left to explore his own vulnerabilities and guilt so intimately that he knew precisely what he could tolerate and when he would break. As Crompton had discovered, he had a high threshold for pain and feared physical torment far less than what they could do to his mind.
Rowena, he thought.
They will try to use Rowena against me
. The only time he'd been vulnerable in his life was with Kate, and now they knew he would do anything in his power to prevent the senseless death of another innocent. He gritted his teeth and strained once more at the chain connecting the cuffs securing his hands, although the effort was useless. Iron, he thought mordantly, attached to a heavy chair. He heard the door to the bedchamber open and saw the Baron, still in his evening clothes, step forward into the lamplight.
They will try to use Rowena against me
. The only time he'd been vulnerable in his life was with Kate, and now they knew he would do anything in his power to prevent the senseless death of another innocent. He gritted his teeth and strained once more at the chain connecting the cuffs securing his hands, although the effort was useless. Iron, he thought mordantly, attached to a heavy chair. He heard the door to the bedchamber open and saw the Baron, still in his evening clothes, step forward into the lamplight.
“Good evening, Lord Rushford.” His voice was low and rich. “So disappointed that you failed to attend our lovely dinner this evening.” He sauntered farther into the room.
“You were missed, of course, particularly by Miss Warren, whom you will be relieved to know, I took under my wing for a stroll throughout the conservatory. It is particularly lovely this time of year, what with all the lilies and orchids in blossom.” The Baron paused deliberately. “I should really not wish for Crompton and Johnston to have to return,” he said conversationally. “As you know, Johnston can be quite persuasive, and Crompton believes that questioning you into the night should help you reconsider your opportunities, or so he tells me.”
“He's wrong.” Rushford forced himself to speak.
The Baron nodded contemplatively. “I thought you might say that, alas.”
Rushford's mouth was dry. “What's in this for you, Sebastian ? Did Faron promise you another chateau or English castle or perhaps a packet of sovereigns?”
A flicker in Sebastian's eyes. Rushford had learned some time ago that turning the tables was part of the mastery of fighting back.
“We do not speak of Faron,” the Baron said with regal hauteur. “And to answer your question, we simply require your cooperation, and I'm here to ask for it. I hope not to resort to threats.”
“Although beatings are permissible.”
Sebastian shrugged. “Your choice. If you indicate that you are ready to be more amenable, Lord Rushford, I'd like you to pick up the pace. In the interests of civility, let us not delay. What do you intend to do about the Rosetta Stone?”
Rushford half rose from his seat, the violent movement instinctive. The two men stared at each other, and neither budged save for the faint tremor of Sebastian's hands.
Rushford sat back down. “I intend to do nothing.”
“Nonsense,” the Baron tossed off, his eye on the chains around Rushford's wrists and the heavy chair upon which he was seated. “Pure, unadulterated nonsense,” he added succinctly.
Rushford's eyes flicked toward his. “I suggest that you will discover your efforts are futile.”
Sebastian shook his head. “All for nothing? Hardly. That would be most unfortunate as I should be forced to bring Miss Warren into the mix. Or should I refer to her as Miss Woolcott? Once again, your decision.”
Rushford stared at him, anger rising in his throat. “Do not fuck with me, Sebastian,” he warned.
“I have little choice,” he returned genially. “And I'm afraid the fate of Miss Woolcott just may hang in the balance should you refuse to offer your assistance in the matter of the Rosetta Stone. Such a shame, given the situation with the late Duchess . . .”
Rushford tensed his shoulders against the chair. “When I am free,” he said, “I will kill you, Sebastian. With my bare hands. Nobody uses Rowena Woolcott to get to me.”
“But Lord Rushford,” the Baron reminded him gently, “we already have. From the very beginning.” There was a pregnant silence as Rushford strained against his manacles, all the hatred and guilt of the past two years blazing in his eyes. “I have just finished speaking with Miss Woolcott, who is ready to betray you for whatever it is that she wants. Her family's safetyâI believe it is. The Duchess of Taunton, Felicity Clarence, Galveston, and now the Woolcott girl. It really is mysterious, how a man of your experience could be deluded not just once but several times.”
A thick miasma filled the room.
“You appear somewhat discomfited, Lord Rushford. I have heard it said that you have a fierce temper.”
With sudden violence, Rushford thrust himself out of his chair, the chain attached to the armoire breaking loose with a bone-crunching sound. “Deluded,” he spat out, his manacled hands clanking against the chair. Sebastian retreated a step but not soon enough. With his fingertips, Rushford lifted the edge of his seat and hurled the back of the chair, legs first, at the Baron. It struck once, and though Sebastian stepped instinctively backward, one of the legs caught his cheek, the cut instantly welling with blood.
“Johnston,” the Baron called calmly, pulling a handkerchief from his vest pocket, “it would seem that Lord Rushford requires extra inducements to convince him to oblige us.” The large man appeared almost immediately, his heft invading the room. He attempted to push Rushford back in his seat. Instead he found himself kneed in the groin, pushed to the ground with one of the chair's legs and his pistol taken from his waistband.
Rushford's breaths came evenly. “Now let's review our options again,” he said calmly as he aimed the pistol with both hands steadily at Sebastian, its blunt nose pointing through the legs of the chair. “Beginning with these manacles, shall we?”
Still holding the handkerchief to his cheek, Sebastian smiled nastily. “How prescient of you, my lord. We no longer need the manacles, nor as you shall soon see, do you need use of the pistol. You will quickly understand the wisdom of assisting us in our endeavors. As a matter of fact, the decision will be all yoursâwhen it comes to Rowena Woolcott and her dear aunt. You could have left her to die in the Irthing and gone after Faron. But you didn't. And now you're together again after all these months. Whether or not you believe it to be true, you care for the girl, Lord Rushford.” He dabbed the handkerchief against his cheek before calling for Crompton. “The keys, if you will. Lord Rushford is prepared to be obliging. I shall predict that he has had a change of heart.”
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Rowena awoke to a dimly lit room. Her sleep had been so heavy that for minutes she couldn't move her limbs although something told her she was not alone. Finally she was able to turn her head and open her eyes.
Rushford was sitting at the end of the bed, a glass of brandy in his hand, watching her with a granite expression. Everything rushed back to her in a dizzying flood of panic. She sat up in bed. It was then she noticed the shadows beneath his eyes, the bruise on his jaw, and the blood on his torn cravat.
“What happened? You're hurt,” she began. She had never seen him this way. He appeared more of a stranger than the first night she had met him in his bedchamber on Belgravia Square, and as unreachable as the farthest shore.
Rushford interrupted with a wave of his hand. “That's the last of our worries, Rowena.” His next words were soft, freighted with lethal menace. “What did you agree to tonight? And by God, don't lie.”
There was a beat of silence. Where had he been? With the Baron as well? “You don't understand,” she began, her thoughts disorganized. “Let me explain.”
“No explanations. I asked what you agreed to tonight. With Sebastian.” The tone of his voice was ugly.
She became immediately defensive. “I divulged nothing to Sebastian. I have nothing to divulge because you have told me nothing,” she said, panic making her ramble.
“And that was a damned good decision on my part. Because you wanted to.” He stood up in one swift, angry movement, the glass falling from his hands and breaking on the floor.
Feeling vulnerable, Rowena slid to the edge of the bed, looking for her wrap, watching as he advanced upon her. With one desperate and silent plea, she swung her legs to the floor, avoiding the shards of glass, and stood up. The room was dark save for a slit of light emanating from behind the closed door to the hallway. With shaking hands, she lit the lamp by the bed.
“Let me explain,” she began again, turning her profile away from the light. “I only promised to tell him what I learned in exchange for access to Faron. And protection for Meredith.”
“About the Rosetta Stone.”
“About which I know nothing,” she said, exasperation in her voice and posture. She rubbed her hands against her bare arms. “In exchange, Sebastian revealed where Faron resides, knowledge which surely is of help to you.”
Rushford laughed, the sound bleak. “I already know where to find Faron, you little fool,” he said.
“And yet you didn't tell me?” she demanded. “Now who is betraying whom?”
“So you could go rushing off to France with some wild notion and be killed?”
“Why did you not tell me?” she continued, ice in her veins. “I believed we were working together, if for different purposes, against Faron.”
He stood over her, his face a mask of fury, his eyes deadly. The bruise on the side of his jaw was purpling, and in the candlelight, she could now see a rip in his shirt, the collar smudged with smears of blood.
“What happened to you?” she asked again, her head spinning, and she was suddenly more frightened than she had ever been in her life. Even more, if possible, than during the lost days of her abduction. “You do not look well. You don't look like the man I know.”
“I'm far from well, Rowena,” he said with the same soft savagery. “And you don't know me. What did you promise to do? Seduce meâin exchange for information about the Stone?”
Rowena stood up slowly as the words tumbled in desperate explanation from her lips. “Of course I would not tell the Baron anything of value. I would merely mislead him but allow him to think that he . . . And in exchange he would guarantee Meredith's safety.”
Rushford's face was gray in the dim lamplight, his eyes dark in his face. “You once told me you would do anything to protect your family, and I clearly didn't listen,” he said in a voice devoid of emotion. “And yet you dared wonder why I was reluctant to reveal matters relating to the Stone.”
“No!” Rowena shook her head vigorously. “Never! How can you believe I would ally myself with a man like Faron?” His eyes blazed with a ruthless rage, and she suddenly knew why. She felt as though her heart was breaking. “Why do you not believe me, after everything that has happened between us?” She regretted the words the instant they left her mouth.
Rushford stepped back from her, a bitter hostility in his eyes, but he was once again in control of himself. He said nothing. Rowena swallowed. “You cannot tell me that what we have shared means nothing to you. Or that it means nothing to me.”
“You used me,” he said finally. “Or you were prepared to, if you only knew how. And if you could.”
Rowena gazed down at the floor, at the broken glass, looking for words of defense. He spoke only the truth. “Yes,” she said in a low voice. “You're entitled to that interpretation, I will concede, but I never led you to believe otherwise. I have always said openly that I would do anything to protect those I love.”
“Including betraying me.”
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