The Reluctant Duke (A Seabrook Family Saga) (27 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

“What do you
mean, Emma is not in her room and her bed was not slept in?” Thomas paced
around the entry hall, trying to keep his wits about him.

“She dismissed
her maid early in the evening, and no one has seen Emma since then.” Bella
paced right beside her brother; she looked no better than he felt.

Thomas wanted
to scream. He wanted to smash something. What he really wanted to do was fall
down on his knees and pray. Deep inside his gut, he knew something was terribly
wrong. He had sent for Myles, Amesbury, and the Bow Street Runner they had
hired to discover the blackmailer.

Without a doubt
Thomas knew, with certainty, that the same person was responsible for Emma’s
disappearance. Every nerve ending in his body tingled with fear. His heart
pained with the knowledge that she could be in grave danger. All he could think
about was when she was kidnapped as a child. His heart sank to think she could
be going through the same – or worse.

Dear Lord,
please let her survive a second time. He would do anything to have her back.
Give all her money back to her. Even let her go to America…anything as long as
she escaped safe and unharmed.

“God, what is
taking them so long? Giles,” he bellowed at the top of his lungs, “where are
they?”

“Your Grace, I
believe I hear them now.”

And sure
enough, three men came bounding up the stairs and into his house.

“What happened?
Where’s Emma?” Myles asked as he came through the door, his eyes wide and
anxious.

“I don’t know.
That is why I sent for you.” Thomas placed his hands on either side of his head
and grimaced. “God damn it, I don’t know where she is. But I do know one thing.
She is not in this house. We have searched every nook and cranny, and she is
not to be found.”

Amesbury
stepped forward, “Wentworth, this is Mr. Smythe, the runner you hired to find
the person who penned the note.”

“Mr. Smythe,”
Thomas acknowledged. “Did you find out anything?”

“Well, Your
Grace, the man involved is no fool. I traced the note through several couriers.
Right down to a dirty street urchin. And alas, that is where my search ended.
Although I have a theory, if you would hear it.”

“Well, yes,
please do tell.” Damn, but Thomas’s control was on a tenuous thread, ready to
snap and implode.

Smythe glanced
around at all the onlookers, including many of Thomas’s servants. “Could we go
someplace more private?”

“Yes, of
course.” Thomas had lost his mind. He certainly should have realized he could
not discuss this in front of the whole staff of his house.

Once the four
men were seated in his study and brandy had been passed around, Smythe began to
explain his theory.

“After talking
over the circumstances surrounding the card game you partook of with Mr.
Hamilton, I believe the blackmailer, err, kidnapper came upon the knowledge
some other way. I did some investigating of this barrister Mr. Hamilton hired,
a James Webster.”

Smythe paused
and took a sip of his drink. “He is heavily in debt. Made some bad investments
and on top of that he likes to gamble. Webster owes several unsavory men. If I
were to put my money on a suspect, he would be it. He knew about everything,
has motive, and had the opportunity.

Smythe paused
to let everyone digest the information before he continued. “He could have made
contact with the duchess, made everything seem proper and innocent. Used the
notion of showing her the will himself to get access to her. What we need to do
now is figure out where Webster is keeping her. And I would presume a ransom
note will be forthcoming.”

“When I get my
hands on the bloody bastard…” Thomas’s eerily calm voice penetrated the room.
“Where is he now? I will kill him. There will be nothing left of him to
identify as remains.”

“No,
Wentworth,” Myles broke in. “Do not go off half-cocked. When we find him and he
is thrown in Newgate he will wish we killed him. Leaving him there to suffer,
starve, and rot to death is a much better punishment. But first we need to stay
calm and rational. It won’t do Emma any good if we lose our heads.”

Thomas heard a
commotion and then running feet before his study door was flung open and a
breathless Bella, Amelia, and his mother piled inside. Bella waved a sealed
note in her hand. “This just came and it is addressed to you.”

Wentworth
reached across his desk and broke the anonymous seal. He studied it, then
recited out loud:

Duke,

I have your
duchess. Since you failed to meet my demands the first time, I have upped it to
seventy-five thousand pounds for the duchess’s safe return. Since I know you
would not want me to harm one hair on her pretty little head, or use her
lusciously ripe body for my pleasure, I think you will meet my demands. As
before, deposit the monies in the London Nation Bank in Account Number 00516.
You have until this time tomorrow or I will thoroughly enjoy your young bride,
and you will never see her again unless you can work miracles by draining the
Thames.

During his
life, Thomas had known anger, dealt with criminals, spent time with fools and
men too stupid to live. But never in his life had he known such rage boiling up
inside his body, threatening to overthrow his senses. On top of the rage was
the fear. A fear so profound his body shook violently on the inside. He felt a
need to kill, a need he’d never felt so close to the surface. Even he was
frightened by his thoughts. And as Myles had pointed out, he needed to stay
calm. More so now that they believed they knew what they were dealing with. And
there was nothing he would not risk to save his Emma.

“Pardon me,
Your Grace,” came the voice of Smythe through his thoughts.

“Yes.”

“Your family?”

My family,
Oh, right. They were still in his study. Three wide-eyed female faces stared at
him. “Mother, Amelia, and Bella, I think you should leave. You have heard
enough shocking things already, and I wish to spare you more.”

“But––” Bella
began, but Thomas put up his hand.

“Please. I
can’t think straight with you three here.” He softened his voice. “I know what
you are feeling. I feel it as well. But I promise you
I will find Emma
and bring her back unharmed. You have my solemn vow.”

“But…” Once
more Bella tried to speak.

“No.” Jesus,
his voice sounded horrible. “Can’t you see I’m on the precipice of hell here? I
need you three to leave this to us.”

Thomas’s eyes
followed the women until the door closed behind them.

Once the men
were alone they plotted and planned their strategy. If things went according to
plan, Mr. Webster would not know what hit him.

***

Emma didn’t
expect to wake up tied to a bed, her mouth stuffed with a foul-tasting rag, her
head aching from the chloroform used to drug her – again. What had gone wrong?
She pushed her mind through the fog and tried to remember what had happened.

The note from
her papa’s barrister… Surely he would not have done this? But who else could it
be? Her eyes adjusted to the darkness of the small room. Unfortunately, seeing
better did not provide any clues other than she was alone.

Oh, God,
please, please help her. This time her abductor did not take an innocent child.
She was a grown women and she knew what could be done to her.

Thomas,
please save me.

Emma pulled
against her bonds, but both hands and legs were tied to bedposts with rope. The
unnatural position of being spread like this had her heart pounding in panic.
She was utterly defenseless. Her skirts were up over her knees. One side of her
dress was pulled down exposing one of her breasts. Bile threatened to rise up
her throat and she fought it down. Indeed, if she vomited she would die by
choking to death because of the rag stuffed in her mouth.

She tried to
concentrate to see if she was sore between her legs.

Had her
abductor violated her body? Emma didn’t believe he had. She said a quick prayer
of thanks to God for that.

Even so, what
would become of her? What did the man want? As much as she needed these answers
she did not want to come face to face with her abductor. Not yet anyway. Not
until she’d come up with a plan.

Emma tried to
be optimistic. A plan of attack… How could she come up with a plan of attack
tied to bedposts? Her body twisted and turned as she yanked against her bonds,
managing to do nothing but make the knots tighter and the ropes bite into her
flesh more.

No, no, no,
not again
. Her desperate mind screamed her denial as she tossed her head
from side to side, causing the bedsprings to creak.
Oh, dear God
. The
door squeaked open and a thin, middle-aged man carrying a candelabrum swayed
into the room.

“I see we have
awoken,” he said in a drunken slur. “Your duke should have paid the monies the
first time around, then you would not be here as my prisoner.” Now he stood
beside her.

His
liquor-laden breath nearly made her vomit, and her skin chilled with dread.

“If I take this
rag out of your mouth, do you promise not to scream?” His mouth curled into a
sadistic grin. “But even if you do, there is no one around to hear you.”

The horrible
man pulled the rag out of Emma’s mouth, and she coughed to clear the horrendous
taste. “May I please have some water?”

It killed her
to beg for water. She cringed when he removed a flask from his coat pocket and
brought it to her lips to pour the fiery liquid down her throat.

Emma tried not
to gag. But between the taste of cheap brandy and knowing his mouth had touched
it, her reflexes had her spitting the stuff out into his face.

Emma never saw
it coming until the slap numbed her cheek and lip and the cracking sound split
her ears.

Blood.
She
tasted her own blood. Then the numbness ended and pain set in. Never in her
life had anyone hit her. Not even when she was kidnapped as a child. They had
actually treated her well.

If the look in
her captor’s eyes were any indication, she would have to tread very carefully,
because this man looked as though he could and would commit murder.

Ignoring the
pounding in her head and her breathlessness, she choked out, “I am sorry. I did
not mean to do that.” Would her apology appease the man standing beside her?

“See if I give
you another drink.” His hand snaked out and he ran it down her uninjured cheek,
down her throat, and across the exposed breast.
No, no, no.
But his
filthy hand curled around her breast and squeezed painfully. Lice would be more
welcome then his vile touch. Emma shrank from him, her body vibrating with
disgust as sweat broke out on her skin.

“What a lovely
piece you are. It is too bad you are already married and no longer a virgin. I
really prefer the innocent ones. But maybe in your case I will make an
exception.” The dreadful man backed away toward the door. “Let us hope, for
your sake, your duke comes through for you.”

Never in all
her life had Emma thought one could die of fright. After what she’d just
experienced, she realized anything was possible. “Oh, dear Lord in Heaven,” she
whispered. The man had touched her intimately. And he had hit her.

Her insides
trembled as well as her outsides as she remembered the look of pure evil she
glimpsed in his black soulless eyes. Eyes she believed belonged to the devil
himself.

And then it hit
Emma, and her heart sank to the back of her chest. Would her husband think she
ran away to America and not even look for her? No, that was not right; hadn’t
she heard the vile man say he expected to be paid for her? Yes, that was what
he’d said. Surely her beloved Thomas would do and pay anything to get her back.
She fought back the sob rising up her chest.

What if Thomas
decided he’d had enough of her?

What if he
decided she was too much trouble and not worth the money?

No matter what
scenario Emma’s mind conjured up, in her heart she knew Thomas would do
anything for her. He loved her. Surely he would not have married her if he
didn’t love her. Hadn’t he insisted his siblings marry for love and not for
convenience?

Surely that
went for him as well?

***

Thomas was
beside himself. He wanted nothing more than to pay the ransom to free Emma.
Smythe, however, advised against it. His exact words were, “He will probably
kill her anyway and run away with the funds. The only thing we can do to ensure
the duchess’s safe return is find them.”

Indeed, but how
exactly did they find them?

Smythe assured
Thomas he and his men were on it. Not to worry, they would have her returned to
him by nightfall. Not bloody likely. Thomas wouldn’t let them go without him.
So when the Bow Street Runner and three of his trusted men left his home, he,
Myles, and Amesbury followed behind them.

Thomas was
stupid to think the three of them would not be found out. Any Runner worth his
weight in salt would know they were being followed. But he did not care.

Thomas needed
to see Emma for himself. Needed to reassure himself that she was unharmed.
Needed to know the vilest creature on earth had not touched one hair on her
head.

Because if he
had, the pistol he carried would put a bullet right between the man’s eyes.

“Wentworth.”
Amesbury’s voice startled him.

“What?”

“You are not
going to do something stupid, are you?”

The sick
laughter that bubbled out of Thomas’s mouth surely did not come from him. “I
certainly hope not. But if I do, can I count on you two to have my back. The
last thing I want is to be hanged for murder.”

“You would
never be found guilty of murdering such a bastard as one who abducted your
wife. They would hail you as a hero,” Myles added.