by Aston, Alexa
“You’re joking. You think to sell me?”
His gaze bored into her. “I never joke when it comes to money.”
Caroline flung herself at him, knocking them both to the ground. She raked her nails across his face as he shouted. Suddenly, she was yanked up, her arms pinned to her sides. She screamed as loudly as she could but the arms tightened about her. She couldn’t breathe and began kicking her heels at the shins of the man who held her.
Netherby dragged himself to his feet. He took a handkerchief and wiped the blood from his face and then nodded. The arms relaxed and she was free. She whirled and slapped the scarred man. He struck her quickly, knocking her to her knees. Caroline fought for a breath as pain spread across her cheek.
“I’ve told you to handle the merchandise with care, Coswell. No bidder wants damaged goods.”
“Sorry, Mr. Netherby.” The man latched on to her elbow and jerked her to her feet, keeping her in place.
“No more screaming, Lady Caroline. It doesn’t do any good. No one will come to your aid here. It’s a true hell for ladies such as yourself. Coswell will take you to a room where you’ll stay until the auction.”
She began trembling. “You truly peddle women?”
“You’d be surprised at the dark taste of some gentlemen of the ton. Only beatings and torture excite them sexually. My father assures me that you have no living blood relatives since your father was murdered. You have no fiancé. With your disappearance, your bookstore will quickly fail.”
“Why would you do this? For money? I have money.”
He shook his head. “Not as much as I can fetch for you. I’ll make a fortune off you and Father will have one less competitor to worry about.”
Netherby returned to his seat. “Take her to her room, Coswell. I’ll see you tomorrow evening, Lady Caroline.”
The brute holding on to her opened the door. She jerked her arm away and walked into the hall under her own power. As he stepped out and closed the door, she took off running, knowing it might be her only chance at escape. He quickly caught up to her. Once again, the strong arms encased her, pinning her arms to her side. Pressed against him, she felt the beginning of his erection and thought she might be ill.
Into her ear, he softly said, “If I have to, I’ll tame you, my lady. Netherby doesn’t want any wild ones. I’ll tie you to a bed and have my way with you, over and over, until I break you. Unless you cooperate. Do you think you can do that?”
He licked her ear. Revulsion swept through her.
“I’ll behave,” she said quietly, knowing for now she was defeated.
He released his hold and marched past her.
Caroline had no choice but to meekly follow, not wanting to chance the punishment he threatened. They went to a door marked with a huge X and he removed the keyring hanging from a nail pounded into the wall. Unlocking the door, he gestured for her to enter.
She walked into the small room. A bed and chamber pot were the only things she saw.
“You’ll get a meal tonight. None the day of the auction. Netherby likes you to be hungry.”
With that, Coswell closed the door. She heard him lock it again and then his steps receded.
Caroline looked at the unmade bed and saw a large bug crawling in the sheets. Bile rose in her throat. She went to the window and pulled back the curtain, seeing bars across it. She pressed her back against the wall and slowly slid down until she touched the ground. Dropping her head against her knees, she wept.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Luke had wanted to visit Caroline at the bookstore. Spending two days away from her had seemed like an eternity. He vowed never to do so again. At the same time, he wanted her to enjoy her independence and not have him hovering about all the time. That very independence was one of the things he loved most about her. He forced himself to stay away from Evie’s all of Monday.
His compromise was to head to the Merrick townhouse so he could ride with her to tonight’s ball. He planned to sign her programme as many times as she would allow him.
Kent greeted him and stepped aside so he could enter. Luke looked around and spying no one asked, “Has Lady Caroline come downstairs yet?”
“No, Lord Mayfield. She hasn’t returned from the bookstore yet.”
“What?” He glanced at the grandfather clock standing in the foyer. “It’s half-past eight. Are you sure she’s not here?”
Uneasiness filled him. Before Kent could answer, Luke bounded up the stairs. He had no clue which was her bedchamber, so he started shouting her name. A door opened and Rachel and Evan stepped out, dressed for tonight’s ball.
“What are you doing, Luke?” his sister asked.
“Which is Caroline’s bedchamber?”
“The third on the right.”
Luke ran down the corridor and threw open the door, startling a maid who was turning back the bed.
“Have you seen Lady Caroline?” he demanded as he hurried inside the room.
The maid shook her head. “No, my lord. Not since early this morning. She’s not back from the—”
“Then where the devil could she be?” he shouted.
The girl burst into tears.
By now, Rachel and Evan had arrived and his sister said, “Quit terrorizing my servants.” To the maid she said, “You may go,” and the girl rushed from the room.
“Didn’t you miss her at dinner?” Luke asked.
“She mentioned to Kent that she might stay late tonight,” Evan said.
“Surely, she wouldn’t be at Evie’s at this time of night.”
Something made him go to the wardrobe and open it. To the left hung several gowns suitable for balls. To the right was a gap.
He turned. “Explain this.”
Rachel joined him. “It looks as if some of her clothes are missing,” she said, a tremor in her voice.
“She knows how I feel about her,” Luke said.
“You told her you love her?” she asked.
“Not in so many words. I told her she was my entire world. That we would speak once I returned from my weekend in the country. Would that make her flee?” he asked, his anguish obvious.
Rachel lay a hand on his arm. “Women do need to hear the words, Luke. Are you . . . are you sure Caroline felt the same as you?”
“You don’t make love to a woman three times in one night and—”
“You ruined her?” Rachel accused.
“There was no ruining to it. No compromising. She wanted to be with me.” He took Rachel’s shoulders. “It was the most incredible experience of my life.”
“There has to be a reason she’s gone,” Evan pointed out.
“She wouldn’t leave without telling me,” Rachel insisted weakly.
Luke released his sister and raked his fingers through his hair. “It’s got to be those damned rumors. She was upset before. About her father’s death. She overheard he’d been murdered. She hadn’t known that.”
“Oh, that must have been awful for her,” Rachel said.
“She also has this notion that the ton won’t accept her because she owns and runs two businesses,” he continued.
“Caroline mentioned the same to me,” Evan said. “I tried to dissuade her of the notion.”
“There was more to it, though,” he said. “Something that she wasn’t telling me. I was determined to get to the bottom of it when I saw her tonight.”
Rachel snorted. “If anyone can clue you in as to what rumors are flying about, it would be the dreaded Three B’s.”
“Then I need to confront them,” Luke said, determination filling him.
“You can’t do it in front of a ballroom full of guests,” Evan pointed out. “That only works with romantic declarations of love.” He smiled at his wife. “You’ll need to find a private spot to do so.”
“Jeremy can help there,” Rachel said. “He can ask Viscount Wilson. A viscount would never turn down a simple request from a duke needing privacy.”
“Th
en let’s go to the St. Clair townhouse,” Luke said. “It’s on our way.”
They quickly went to the carriage and drove the short distance, finding Jeremy and Catherine emerging from the front door in their ballroom finery. Luke flung open the carriage door and hurried to his brother.
“Caroline’s gone missing. I need your help. Ride with us.”
On the way, he filled the pair in. Once they arrived and went through the receiving line, Jeremy told Viscount Wilson he had the need to attend to a brief bit of business and wished for a quiet place to do so. The viscount summoned a footman who led them to a small parlor off the ballroom.
“Everyone stay here,” Luke said. “I’ll retrieve the Three B’s. I saw where they were lurking.”
“I’ll go with you,” Jeremy said. “They may require some ducal persuasion.”
The men approached the trio, surprise obvious on their faces, as Jeremy asked them to accompany him. They did so without any question. His brother shot him a look, one that said being a duke had its advantages. Once inside the room, Luke closed the door. No one invited the Three B’s to sit.
Knowing he’d frightened Rachel’s maid with his harsh tone, he did his best to remain calm and said, “You three seem to always know the current gossip bandied about. Tell me what’s being said about Lady Caroline Andrews.”
Immediately, Lady Bettina’s eyes fell to the ground and Lady Betsy crossed her arms protectively in front of her as she stared off to the side. Only Lady Bethany, the obvious ringleader, stared up at him in defiance.
“Do you truly want to know, Lord Mayfield?” she asked.
“I do.”
Lady Bethany sniffed. “First, her return to London and debut into society has dredged up the gossip of her father’s murder. Everyone knew of the earl’s gambling and whoring. What’s now come to light is the possibility he was . . . a sodomite.”
Luke held his tongue and merely nodded at the woman.
“There is a certain group within the ton that finds having Templeton’s daughter at events unsavory. Especially now that she’s gone and become the owner of that little teashop and bookstore.” Her nose crinkled in disgust. “It’s simply wrong for anyone in the ton to be involved in trade. And when it’s a woman? She is not wanted at society events.”
So far, he hadn’t learned anything he didn’t already know so he pressed her now. “What else, my lady? Surely, there’s more.”
She swallowed and said, “I would think that would be enough, Lord Mayfield.”
Lady Bettina’s head whipped up. She stared at her friend as Lady Betsy’s jaw fell open.
“Tell him, Bethany,” Lady Bettina urged.
“No.”
“Then I will,” Lady Bettina said. She looked at Luke, pain in her eyes. “A portion of the ton—a very small group—has been spreading rumors. The Duke of Everton danced with Lady Caroline at his ball and he dances with no one but his duchess. That’s what started the gossip.”
“I was hoping to help introduce Lady Caroline into society,” Jeremy said. “I wanted the ton to see she was a family friend and had our support.”
Lady Bettina nodded nervously. “Most did, Your Grace, but a few took that as an indication she was . . . under . . . your protection.”
“What do you mean? Say it plainly, my lady,” Luke demanded.
“That the duke and others—you and Lord Merrick—are sharing . . . her favors.”
Rachel and Catherine gasped audibly. Rage poured through Luke. So this was what Caroline had hidden from him. That rumors flew declaring her the mistress of men in the St. Clair family. He couldn’t imagine the humiliation and hurt she’d experienced.
He gazed steadily at Lady Bettina. “You know it’s false, don’t you? That my brother and brother-in-law are faithful to their wives.”
“I do, Lord Mayfield. The love between them is genuine. I cannot ever see either man being unfaithful to his wife.” She hesitated. “You do have a certain reputation, though, my lord.”
“I’ve rid myself of my mistress. I haven’t looked at another woman since the Season began. Except for Lady Caroline,” he said. “I would never compromise her. I love her.”
Lady Bettina nodded. “Then the best thing you could do would be to announce your engagement. It would put an end to the rumors.”
“You really think so?” Lady Bethany asked. “I, for one, think the St. Clairs will be looked down upon for allowing Lord Mayfield to wed the little trollop.”
It took everything in Luke’s power not to strike the vile woman.
Lady Betsy finally found her voice. “You’re wrong, Bethany. I find Lady Caroline very sweet. And I went to her bookstore on Saturday. I don’t think the ton will judge her as harshly as you claim. I’m done with you.”
“I am, too,” Lady Bettina declared. “We’ve followed you around like lost puppies and where has it gotten us? You’re an angry, vicious person, Bethany. Our friendship is over. Do not attempt to speak to either of us ever again or our cut direct will become public.”
The two women linked arms and marched from the room, leaving their friend looking unsure for the first time.
Luke said to the remaining B, “If you ever say another word about Lady Caroline, you will live to regret it.”
Lady Bethany had gone stark white, the gravity of her situation finally sinking in. “I understand,” she whispered. “If you’ll excuse me.” She left the room.
“At least we know what upset Caroline so,” Catherine said. “But where could she have gone?”
“I haven’t a clue where her staff lives,” Luke said. “If she’s left London, she would have had to tell Mr. Stinch since he manages both the bookstore and tearoom. And possibly Higgins, her solicitor.” He paused. “I plan to be at the bookstore before it opens tomorrow. I’ll find out where she’s gone—and bring her home. To us all.”
*
Caroline remained on the floor, not trusting the bed. A woman, under Coswell’s watchful eye, had brought her a meal last night of cold chicken and stale bread. She’d forced it down, wanting to keep up her strength. Still, she was hungry this morning—and knew she wouldn’t be fed the rest of the day.
She’d been over every inch of the room, looking for a way out or something she could fashion into a weapon. It had proved fruitless. She still couldn’t reconcile the thought of Leland Netherby hating her so much that he would have this done to her—to have her sold to a stranger who would do unimaginable things to her. Tears formed in her eyes again and she angrily wiped them away. They did no good. She had to think of a way to escape before tonight’s auction.
The key sounded in the lock and she quickly rose to her feet. If it were only the woman, she would rush at her and knock her to the ground. Caroline fisted her hands, readying herself.
It was Coswell—but he wasn’t alone. He had two women with him and he pushed them into the room then brandished a knife about. She held her breath and backed against the wall as he entered. He spun the one with dark hair around and Caroline saw the woman’s hands bound in front of her. Coswell cut through the rope and pushed her aside. He freed the second woman, as well, younger than the first and dressed as a servant.
He glanced at Caroline, his eyes raking down her body. “Need any lessons taught, my lady?”
“No,” she said firmly, looking him in the eye. She was deathly afraid of this man but would do anything to prove otherwise.
“Too bad,” he said and then left the room, the lock turning once more.
She looked at the two women. “I am Lady Caroline Andrews,” she said simply.
The older one was dressed in a similar fashion to her. “I am Belinda Barrow, bastard daughter to a viscount who decided to sell me in order to pay his gambling debts to Netherby.”
Shock ran through Caroline. She wondered if her own father would have resorted to such measures had she not been in Boston.
“This is Emily,” Belinda continued. “My maid.”
The girl looked
no older than fifteen. She began crying and Belinda wrapped her arms about the girl, trying to comfort the servant. Caroline could see the rope burns on both women’s wrists.
“There, there, it’s not so bad.” Belinda’s gaze met Caroline’s and she could see the young woman didn’t believe her own words.
“Who put you here?” Belinda asked.
“Netherby’s father,” she replied.
“Why? Who are you to him?”
“I am the owner of a new bookstore and tearoom in Mayfair. Netherby believed the competition too great for his own establishment and he wanted me eliminated.”
“You actually own two businesses?” Belinda asked. “I’ve never heard of a woman of the ton doing so. From your dress and speech, it’s obvious you are a lady.”
“I won’t own anything if we can’t get out of here,” she said. “Let’s put our heads together and see if we can figure a way out of this.”
Despite her brave front, Caroline believed their situation hopeless.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Luke arrived at Evie’s Bookstore and Tearoom an hour before its ten o’clock opening, knowing that was the time the employees reported. Jeremy and Evan insisted upon accompanying him. They’d agreed if they learned something from Stinch, they might have to break up in order to cover more ground.
He pounded on the locked door and, through the glass, saw a clerk scurry his way. Without opening the door, the man said, “We’re not open, sir.”
“Get Mr. Stinch,” Luke demanded, glaring at the clerk, who quickly retreated.
Less than a minute later, the manager arrived and opened the door. “Lord Mayfield. Lord Merrick. Your Grace. Please, come in.”
The three men entered and Stinch closed and relocked the door.
Before Luke could speak, the former butler said, “I don’t know where Lady Caroline is.”
“But she’s gone?” he asked.
“Yes, my lord.”
“Tell me everything,” he insisted.
Stinch glanced to the three clerks who seemed overly interested in the conversation. “Let’s go back to her office,” he suggested.
