Ariane appeared unmoved.
“Do you know what kind of a man your husband is?” Phoebe demanded. She was trying without success to put some pressure onto her legs in order to stand. “You’ve not lived with him for some years, I gather. I didn’t want to reveal the extent of his…depravity, but now I have no choice. You’re better off knowing the truth. I presume you left because he was as cruel to you as he has been to me…and to Ada who sent me here.”
“Ada?” Wentworth raised an eyebrow and took a step forward, though Phoebe was disappointed to see he still blocked her only means of escape. It was hard to breathe evenly, and she was doing her best to remain calm.
“Miss Ada Redding?” He gave a surprised laugh. “Ada sent you here? Why, that silly goose hasn’t the gumption to say boo to anyone much less discover what I’ve gone to such pains to keep hidden.”
“Perhaps she’s had to change since you ruined her,” Phoebe said bitterly. “She lost her reputation, her baby, and her will to live. No wonder she was at such pains to find your weak spot. Obviously, now that you’ve inherited my husband’s title—that is, the title of the man you murdered—you don’t want to be saddled with an innkeeper’s daughter when you could have a lady with a vast dowry to help you with those gambling debts of yours.” She swung around to face Ariane, saying defiantly, “I was Wentworth’s mistress, you know. I didn’t want to wound your sensibilities when I thought you were an injured party, and I wanted to protect you from the truth, but you need to know it. My husband wished for an heir, and it certainly didn’t seem likely that Wentworth would inherit, so he was more than happy to woo me and then make me his mistress.” She spat out the words, as disgusted with herself as she was with the couple before her, for Ariane had now moved to her husband’s side, and he’d placed an arm casually about her shoulders.
Phoebe stared, barely able to comprehend the truth. “Who are you?” she whispered, staring at Ariane. The woman looked like something between a water sprite and a witch, with her translucent gown clinging to her curves with such indecency and her piercing eyes, more virulent green than celestial blue as Phoebe had first thought, boring into her.
“I am the wife Wentworth can’t live with but can’t live without.” She gave a mirthless laugh. “Wentworth would be nothing without me.”
Phoebe was familiar with Wentworth’s overbearing pride and arrogance. No woman could speak to him like that. She fully expected to witness Ariane receive an ear-boxing for having been so boldly insulting in front of him. To her astonishment, Wentworth’s mouth split into a slow grin. “My wife speaks the truth. I’m a gentleman fond of the cards, but as you quite rightly point out, a gentleman does not consort with an innkeeper’s daughter, though an innkeeper’s daughter who works as a hostess in gambling dens and is a dab hand at keeping a sharp eye out in the interests of her husband, can further a fortune to a surprising degree. I’d go so far as to suggest an innkeeper’s daughter with such a talent is a far better financial proposition than, say, a lady of impeccable breeding with three thousand a year.”
Ariane inclined her head in appreciation of the compliment. She raised her hand to stroke her husband’s cheek. “When Wentworth is sufficiently plump in the pocket, I shall sweep into his life suitably kitted out as the foreign lady of fashion he’s waited for his whole life.”
Phoebe stared aghast. “But he…he’s no husband if he follows his roving eye as he does, let me assure you.”
“What’s good for the goose is good for the gander, my dear Phoebe, or Lady Cavanaugh, I ought to say.” Ariane indicated the decanter upon the table. “Another glass before my husband takes you away? You may find a lack of such concern for your comfort in the next place you visit.”
Phoebe didn’t answer. So this was how it would end. She stared at her feet. What a credulous fool she’d been.
“I’m afraid you have little choice.” Wentworth’s tone was regretful as he barred her progress to the door. Striding swiftly forward, he took Phoebe’s arm and jerked her to her feet. “What do you think, Ariane, my love?” he asked, cupping Phoebe’s chin painfully. “She’s a charming piece. Shall we share her before we surrender her to her miserable fate?”
Ariane’s expression was assessing, her mouth trembling with what suddenly seemed like anticipation. “Oh, Wentworth that would be a treat,” she murmured. “She’s a tasty morsel to be sure.”
“No!” Phoebe’s piercing shriek rent the air, shattering the calm and causing Ariane to step back in sudden alarm. Then Wentworth’s mouth was on Phoebe’s, and the scream was truncated by the disgusting repossession of the man she feared above all others.
Self-preservation was stronger than it had ever been. She brought her knee up sharply, ducking out of his grasp and making for the door with a sudden surge of speed that had not seemed possible minutes ago when the lethargy was heavy upon her.
“No!” she screamed again as she fumbled with the door handle and flew into the passage, nearly bowling over a woman veiled and dressed in black.
Wentworth was right behind her, his hand gripping her shoulder, swinging her back to him as the woman asked haltingly, “Is…is everything all right?”
“Please help me!” Phoebe sobbed. “Don’t let him take me away.”
“A touch of hysteria. Pay no mind,” Wentworth said smoothly although Phoebe heard the waver in his voice. It clearly didn’t convince the woman who said more firmly now, “I think you should drop your hand, sir. The woman appears…frightened.”
“The poor creature came seeking pleasure, just like yourself, ma’am.” Ariane was now between Phoebe and the disguised woman. To Phoebe’s astonishment, Ariane put her hand on the woman’s sleeve. “But the pleasure was not to her liking, after all. She certainly didn’t enjoy it as you did, my lady.”
The sudden stillness—no doubt from shock and embarrassment—rendered the other woman immobile for a moment. Then she shook off Ariane’s hand and stepped back against the wall.
“Help me!” Phoebe sobbed again when it appeared she was going to continue along the passage. “I’m being taken against my will. You have to help me.”
“I shall call someone!” the woman said with unexpected strength, glancing at her companion who’d just brought up the rear, a diffident-looking young man some years her junior.
“Perhaps the bailiffs,” Ariane suggested smoothly. “Do you realize who this is? A murderer. That’s right. This is Lady Cavanaugh who has stolen the newspaper headlines for the past weeks, the murderer of her own husband whom the authorities have been seeking, and now we are taking her to the magistrate.”
“How can you be sure?” The woman’s hand went to the ruby pendant at her throat.
“Oh, I know her well. But to reassure you, ma’am, I shall bring one of the servants along for the ride,” Wentworth suggested smoothly. “You, boy! I’ll give you sixpence if you stand sponsor for the safe conduct of this woman to the magistrate. I shall accompany you both.”
The woman stared at Phoebe, her companion standing awkwardly to the side. Phoebe clutched at her sleeve.
“This man is the villain. I won’t go with him. If I do I’ll…”
“Die?” Ariane insinuated herself between the veiled woman and Phoebe. With her hands on her hips and her eyes flashing, she looked more like a Valkyrie than a vestal virgin. “Yes, and only because justice will be served at last!” she addressed Phoebe directly. “You’ll be dangling at the end of a noose, which is where you belong for driving a knife into the heart of your poor defenseless husband.”
Phoebe made to run, but Wentworth’s arm shot out, and he dragged her back. She tried to struggle, but it was no use. So she screamed instead. “After this man forced my hand so he could claim I was the murderer and therefore claim my husband’s inheritance.”
“She’s rambling, of course, but you see she does admit she’s the lady who’s been sought the length and breadth of the country, and furthermore, that she held the murder weapon as it went in.
” Wentworth looked with satisfaction between them all. “So, Lady Cavanaugh, now that you have declared yourself, it’s time for the judicial process to take over.” With an ironic bow to the veiled woman and her companion, he caged Phoebe’s hand on his arm, indicated to the lad to escort her on the other side, and swept her down the corridor and into the street.
16
Hugh had never been so anxious to return home.
“Phoebe, dear heart, I’m back! God, I’ve missed you! Where are you?” Fired up with excited expectation, he burst into the drawing room, tossing his low-crowned beaver onto the ottoman as he looked about him. He was surprised not to have been greeted by the maid, but more so that his beloved had not made a hasty appearance.
“Oh, sir, ye’re back! Thank the good Lord!” cried the girl as she flew into the room, her eyes wide. “I thought ye’d never come. The mistress ‘as been gone these two days, an’ ye also. Who was ter pay me wages? I feared ye both dead.”
“Your mistress is not here, Mary? Two days, you say?” Alarmed, Hugh swung around as if he might be furnished with the very clues the young maid had missed. The elegantly furnished room looked just as it had done when he left. “Why has no one reported the matter?”
“There were no one to report it ter, sir—”
“A note? Surely she’s written—”
“Nothin’, sir, beyond a couple of drafts tossed in the grate,” said Mary, scrabbling among a pile of correspondence in the rolltop desk before handing him a couple of crumpled, soiled sheets. “She jest dressed ‘erself all in black with a veil over ‘er face an’ then she went into the night, and that were the last I seen,” Mary was saying as he scanned the few unhelpful lines.
A painful throbbing of his heart was competing with a growing thundering in his brain as he tried to reconcile Mary’s explanation with the cryptic words Phoebe had written him…two days before?
“Where did she go, Mary?” he asked, crumpling the paper into a ball and advancing upon Mary, who stepped back in alarm. “I’m not going to hurt you.” He tried to master his emotions and the urgency in his voice. “I just need you to tell me all she said to you!”
“Oh sir, she told me nothin’, I swear, else I’d ‘ave found a way ter stop ’er. I dunno what’s she’s done or who she’s met or what she planned. On me honor, I don’t.”
Hugh strode to the window and stared out into the street as if that might throw some light on what had happened.
“Her clothes, Mary…did she take any of her clothes?” He swallowed. “Or come back for them?” he added as the terrible thought intruded that she might have planned to run away the moment he was gone for any length of time. Surely not! She loved him madly. She’d declared it in as many words, just as he’d pledged his own affection. He’d not stinted when it came to making it very clear the strength of his feelings.
“What possible reason could she have had for disguising herself and slipping away in the dead of night, never to return?”
“I dunno, sir. I dunno anythin’, sir!”
“Go, Mary! Ask anyone you can think of. The neighbors. If you hear anything, you must tell me, obviously. Just go!”
He thought he’d break down any moment now. The devastation at the thought that Phoebe might have left to seek new diversions, just as she’d left Blinley Manor the night she entered his life, was too much to bear.
She’d spoken of boredom when he was away. Could she have gone out seeking fresh entertainment? No, she’d have come back to him. She’d not planned to desert him. Surely he could be confident of that, at least? But what if she’d gone out pleasure-seeking, intending to come back, yet something had happened to her?
He thrust his knuckles into his eye sockets and breathed heavily. Where had she gone? God, he loved her, but could he forgive her if she wanted to return?
No, he mustn’t think like that. Something inexplicable had happened. He must not be so quick to think ill of her. And yet, she’d left the house unaccompanied and on some clandestine mission.
And she’d not returned.
Breathing heavily, he began his weary progress to the door. How would he ever find her if she chose not to see him again? Should he even try?
“Sir! A note’s jest come from yer sister.” Mary was back upon the threshold brandishing a piece of parchment.
Hugh groaned when he read it. The last thing he needed right now was to meet Ada, who apparently would be waiting in the park opposite just as soon as he indicated he was back home. Why she didn’t just come to the house, he didn’t know.
But he was ever the loyal brother. Just as he’d considered himself a loyal lover.
Ada hailed him, raising her gloved hand from the far end of the park as she advanced with her lady’s maid at her side.
Her dimples popped out when she saw him, and she tilted her face to receive his kiss. “I’ve missed you, brother,” she said. “I have such exciting news to tell you, too, and you were gone a whole day longer than you said.”
“Well, what is it, Ada?” he asked. “I hope it is important as I’ve only just returned from a long and tiring journey.”
“My, but you are grumpy today. Perhaps I shan’t tell you, after all.”
Hugh rolled his eyes. “Don’t play games, Ada. I’m not in the mood.”
His sister let out her breath in a sigh. “You’ve taken away all my excitement when I’ve been waiting two days to tell you my news,” she pouted. “And for so long you’ve been telling me I must open my heart up to the opportunity of meeting a nice gentleman.”
“My goodness, that is news,” he remarked drily.
“Yes, indeed, I have met a very nice gentleman, though perhaps you don’t consider that as noteworthy as the fact that Lady Cavanaugh has been apprehended, and Mr Wentworth will be testifying as a witness to her murderous actions in doing away with her husband. I’m sure that’s hardly news to you.”
Hugh sighed. “It’s all I’ve been reading about for the past two days.” He stopped suddenly. “Why, Ada, you said his name without….”
“Yes, without weeping and wailing. That’s because I have a plan, Hugh.”
“You can’t possibly do anything at such a public juncture that might bring attention to yourself, Ada—”
She cut him off. “Or shame on the family. Of course I know that. No, I have a plan as regards my new young gentleman that’ll help me recover and get on with my life. I don’t intend ever mentioning Mr Wentworth’s name again. There! That’s the last time I’ll say it out loud. I’ve practised putting it in a coffin, like my baby, and throwing away the key. They’re dead to me, Hugh. Aunt Alexa has been counseling me well. I thought she was worse than Aunt Belcher, but in truth, she’s been good for me. I can be strong, and I can have a life. I intend Mr Xavier to consider me a good prospect, Hugh. Because I am. I will not be branded beneath contempt when Mr…you know who I mean, should suffer equally for the crimes we both committed. I just hope Phoebe didn’t do anything foolish after I asked her to seek out Mrs Wentworth. She assured me she’d be careful though she didn’t want to go, and for that I feel a trifle guilty.”
“What?”
“A few days ago, I begged Phoebe to go to a certain not quite respectable salon I’d discovered Mrs Wentworth was known to frequent. You wouldn’t do it for me, Hugh, but Phoebe is so much more accommodating than you are at times, so I asked her. She can go anywhere, being the kind of woman she is.”
“Don’t speak like that, Ada,” Hugh warned. “That was unnecessary and beneath you. I happen to love her.” He ran his hand distractedly through his hair. “But she’s gone.” He looked away, embarrassed.
“What do you mean, she’s gone? Not gone gone, surely? She’ll come back. She loves you.”
“Mary told me that three days ago she put on her black cloak over her finest dress, topped it with a veiled bonnet, and disappeared into the night. She has not returned.”
“Three days ago?” Ada put her hand to her mouth and stopped in her
tracks. “Oh Hugh, three days ago was when I asked Phoebe to go to Mrs Plumb’s Salon.”
Hugh grew cold. “That was just about the time Lady Cavanaugh was apprehended. Surely Phoebe would not testify on behalf of her mistress, would she? Not if she were so convinced of the threat Wentworth posed.” He knew he was talking aloud about matters Ada would not know about, but he had to tease out every possibility. “Phoebe is loyal but not that loyal that she’d risk her neck—and not without consulting me?”
Ada looked surprised. “You really trust her so much that you’d attribute her disappearance to something noble, rather than the fact she might have grown bored and sought diversion elsewhere?” She gripped his arm and put up her hand to prevent him from interrupting. “You forget that I know just how deeply one can be sucked into the maelstrom of intense feelings for someone. Why, I thought Mr Wentworth as worthy of my regard as you seem to of Phoebe. I don’t wish to be unkind, Hugh, but Phoebe is a lightskirt. She was never prepared to work or soil her hands like a common servant, though she was no better. No, she wanted a new wardrobe so she could flaunt her handsome looks, and you gave her one. No doubt she’s moved on to find bigger fish to fry. Someone with a title and a fine fortune.”
Hugh felt himself gaping just like that supposedly bigger fish Ada claimed his darling Phoebe was out trying to lure. Angrily, he shook his head. “You do her a grave injustice. Besides, she took no jewelry and nothing else of any value. No, she went out empty-handed to do your bidding, Ada. She went out seeking information upon your request, and something happened. That’s what I believe.”
“Well, I hope you’re right. I certainly thought she was very fond of you,” Ada conceded.
“Fond of me! She was more than that, I can tell you!” Hugh removed Ada’s hand. There was nothing to be gained from losing his temper. The truth was he was angry with himself, not Ada. He was responsible for Phoebe, and he’d promised to keep her safe. “It’s getting late, and you must call your maid and return to Aunt Alexa’s,” he muttered.
The Duchess and the Highwayman Page 15
