by Mary Brendan
‘Riley will have gone to ground,’ he reasoned hoarsely. ‘He will have suspected that Emily would not go with him without leaving a message of sorts with someone she trusted. He is wily enough to know that person would come looking for him when Emily did not return.’ Mark paced to and fro, his hands plunged deep into his pockets, his face a study of savage concentration. ‘Devlin will have arranged that Emily be taken to an isolated spot. Without Riley leading us there, it will be impossible to find it.’
‘Jenny will have a few ideas where Riley hides out.’ Tarquin’s face grew animated. ‘We can go and beat out of him where he has taken Emily.’ Tarquin’s bright expression crumpled and he aimed a grimace at the Beaumont residence. ‘I’ve deflected my parents’ questions so far with lame excuses. My father is too disgusted with me to stay in my company for long.’ He paused. ‘But Mother is a constant shadow. I had a devil of a job escaping just now. She attempted to drag me back by my coat-tails when I said I was off out with you.’ He shook his head in despair as he dwelled on their likely reaction to knowing of their daughter’s jeopardy. ‘We must bring Emily back, whatever that bastard has done to her. If she is sullied, we must make sure that we are the only ones who know of it.’
‘It won’t come to that!’ Mark gritted out and turned on Tarquin eyes that resembled ebony slits. ‘We must make sure it doesn’t come to that.’
Tarquin quickly nodded, keen to pacify his friend. He had known for a while that Mark was soft on Emily. His friend was sensibly attempting to direct his energy into solving the riddle of Emily’s whereabouts. But until they had an inkling of where that might be they were powerless to save her, and Mark’s simmering frustration was close to erupting in violence.
‘If we manage to snatch Emily from his clutches, Devlin might threaten to spread gossip from spite,’ Mark said. ‘He knows it is Emily who will suffer most from a scandal.’
‘I’ll cut out his tongue if he does that!’ Tarquin said. ‘After that, I’ll take his black heart.’
‘You need to keep a cool head until Emily is safe.’ Within a moment he had added on an insightful sigh, ‘We both do …’
As though fearing Mark might refuse his company, Tarquin sprang aboard the curricle and settled firmly into the seat. ‘There’s no time to lose. Let’s go and find Jenny. I’ll wager she’s privy to Riley’s hidey-holes.’ He cast a worried look homeward and noticed his mother peering at him between the curtains. ‘My father will kill me if Emily is harmed!’ he groaned.
‘He won’t. I will,’ Mark vowed with perilous quiet before he joined Tarquin on the seat.
Chapter Thirteen
‘You have planned this quite meticulously.’ Emily raised her goblet and let ruby wine just moisten her lips. She had no intention of allowing Nicholas to get her tipsy. But there might be an advantage in fostering his mellow humour and letting him think she was tolerant of his company and his hospitality. The less he thought she was inclined to escape the more likely she was to successfully do so.
The initial shock of having been kidnapped had lessened and Emily had come to the conclusion that expending energy on angry complaints would be foolish. Better, surely, to employ the same craftiness that had been used against her.
She guessed she had now been in captivity for some hours although she had no idea of the exact time. It seemed the only people at the house were the manservant who had opened the door, and a young maid who had shown her to a chamber to make ready to dine.
Despite her fright and simmering anger, Emily had been grateful for the sanctuary it provided. She had been tired and dusty after her headlong trip with Riley and felt unprepared to pit her wits immediately against her captor.
The chamber had been warm and steaming scented washing water had helped to soothe her fraught senses. Emily had dismissed the maid despite the girl’s insistence that she must press her crumpled dress and style her hair. Emily had had no intention of allowing herself to be primped for the benefit of the scheming lecher waiting for her below. She had also wanted the maid gone from the room in order to investigate possible escape routes. But a swift inspection had revealed that every window was sealed and the door had been locked from outside. That discovery had set Emily’s pulse racing alarmingly. In a moment desolation had overwhelmed her and brought scalding tears to sting her weary eyes.
From the moment Riley had departed, leaving her alone with the Viscount and his minions, she had not given up hope that she might soon manage to flee. But it seemed that Nicholas had schooled his servants well. Both his butler and his maidservant had cooperated in her incarceration.
By the time the maid had returned Emily had curbed the craven instinct to wail and plead for liberation and was more composed. With the girl’s encouragement she had freshened herself with the lavender-water and untangled the knots from her blonde tresses well enough to tease them into a plain chignon. Her pride in her appearance had been solely for her own benefit. She had resolved not to appear before Nicholas looking a wreck lest he believed he had managed to cow her. She would not snivel, nor would she outwardly quake even if her insides felt like jelly. She would certainly never willingly do his bidding. Once she had believed he cherished her, and had proved she trusted him by gifting him her body. Now she would fight him with her last breath rather than tolerate even a kiss from him.
As she had followed the girl down the wide carpeted stairway, Emily had been oblivious to her plush surroundings. Her thoughts had been with her parents. She had drawn comfort from the recollection that they had an invitation for this evening. If they returned late from the opera they might retire without ever knowing their daughter’s bed was empty. There was yet time to avert their heartache … and a scandal. But she must get home, and to do that she must pray that Mark came to her rescue in time.
She would remain optimistic, she vowed beneath her breath, her fingers stressfully tightening in her lap. By now Mark would have her note and be immediately suspicious as to Riley’s motives for taking her out of town. He would go to Callison Crescent and, without alerting her parents to her jeopardy, discover she had not returned home. Then he would search for Riley and interrogate the duplicitous pimp until he admitted he had tricked her into going with him, and revealed her whereabouts.
Having thus boosted her morale, she resented the small inner voice that would rob her of such sweet confidence. But what if Mark cannot find Riley? it whispered. Perhaps he might be injured in the pursuit of the villain. And plainly there was a chance he might not yet have returned home to take delivery of her note. He was a leading light of polite society with family, friends and a mistress to occupy his time. He might not return to his own home or bed at all tonight …
Emily forgot her rule to be abstemious. She took a spontaneous gulp from her wine to steady her pounding heart. If only Mark had been at home when she called! Abruptly she deposited the glass on the table, fearing it might shatter in her bone-white clutch. She fought down the panic tightening her chest and gulped in a steadying breath.
A calculating look flew from under her lashes at the man seated opposite her. To keep at bay his advances, she must engage him in conversation. Eventually she might prick his conscience, and persuade him to go home to his wife.
‘You have been deep in thought, my love. Have you concocted a plot to escape?’ Nicholas’s torrid gaze swept over her, lingering where the rapidity of her breathing was straining the buttons on her bodice.
Emily felt her cheeks tingle; he was close to reading her mind. ‘Escape?’ She gurgled a laugh and made a dismissive gesture. ‘Do you expect I might resort to running around aimlessly in the cold and dark?’ Her tone was scornful, yet in truth she would most definitely choose the night, and the unknown countryside, over him.
‘Is this house yours or have you acquired it simply as a theatre for seduction?’ She inwardly praised herself for sounding so calm when it was hard to keep her teeth from chattering. Her sleek fair head turned this way and that as she studied the styl
ish furnishings bathed in an ambience from logs burning in the grate. ‘It is a fine stage. Should I be flattered that I merit such lavish treatment?’
Devlin gave a throaty chuckle. ‘I am pleased to know that you are still my proud, intrepid Emily. No tears … no tantrums … you know deep in your heart, my love, that we are destined to be together, do you not?’
‘You have not answered my question, Nicholas,’ Emily scolded breathily.
‘The property was one of many that came to me on marriage as part of my wife’s dowry. But what matter its origins? I’m glad you like it—we shall make regular use of it. It shall be our special place to meet. Perhaps—if you greatly please me—I might eventually make it yours.’
‘How kind … But I’m not sure that I like it that much,’ Emily returned acidly. ‘And I doubt your wife would appreciate the use to which you put her property.’
‘It is no longer her property and we will not speak of her again.’
‘Why ever not?’ Emily demanded pithily. The longer they conversed about his duty to his family, the more confident Emily became that he might relent. ‘Would you deny your wife’s existence? Or that of your unborn child?’
Nicholas forcefully thrust away his plate, making Emily start and drop her fork. It seemed she had softened him not one jot.
‘I suspect you are about to moralise and we both know you are hardly a lady fit to do so.’
‘And you are hardly a gentleman to have reminded me,’ Emily returned. She had expected a reference would be made to their one night of passion and had steeled herself to parry it. Yet she could feel tingling in her face and queasiness in her belly from the shame of it. Her brazen riposte remained blocked in her dry throat.
‘I am not complaining about your passionate nature, my dear, as I’m sure you know.’ Nicholas gave a lascivious chuckle as he noticed the roses in her cheeks spread to her throat.
‘I thought I loved you, Nicholas, and it ill behoves you to mock my sincere emotion. Had I not been so young, and so very naïve, I would have understood that, for you, I was just sport. When I lay with you, I truly believed we soon would be man and wife.’
‘And I truly regret it could not be,’ Nicholas drawled. ‘Alas, you tempted me with your body, my dear, but had no such desirable dowry.’ He smiled wryly. ‘I must say that, for just a few thousand more, I might have forgone an heiress …’
‘I doubt it,’ Emily snapped. His flippancy had fired her anger to such a degree her trepidation was evaporating.
‘I do too,’ he conceded with an impenitent smile. ‘A woman with thirty thousand, and a property portfolio of the same value, has undeniable allure for a man with pockets to let.’
‘You tricked me with lies and promises. You had no intention of marrying me, did you?’ Emily accused.
Nicholas shrugged and spread his hands in a show of insolent apology.
‘Our betrothal was a sham. You proposed simply so you might seduce me.’
Nicholas sighed in irritation and shoved himself back in his chair. ‘Do not make me out the heartless villain.’ He eyed her through lowered lashes. ‘You were ripe for love, innocent yet wanton, and took little persuading that night.’
Emily’s soft lips parted in shock and indignation at such brutal honesty. But then she ought to know by now that Nicholas was careless of wounding her ego. A small corner of her mind acknowledged too that, young or not when engaged, she had been a credulous fool to be so totally blind to his true character. The only consolation was in knowing that she had not been the only one taken in by his lies. He had duped her parents too with his smooth talk of love and honour.
‘You will find I am very different now, Nicholas,’ Emily said coldly. ‘I have no liking for you, let alone any stronger feelings …’
‘Enough!’ Nicholas snapped before Emily could amplify her disgust. ‘I would far sooner treat you gently, Emily … share the pleasure with you.’
‘You are a fool if you think you can get away with this,’ Emily pointed out quite levelly although her moist palms were quivering in her lap. ‘How do you intend to explain away having kidnapped and forced your attentions on a gentlewoman? By now my parents will be worried for my safety. The authorities will have been notified. You will be arrested once the truth is out.’
Nicholas snorted an unconcerned laugh. ‘And who will tell the truth? You? Your parents? The last thing any of you want is for our affair—now or in the past—to be common knowledge. Your reputation would be irrevocably lost and your family would share in your shame.’ The wine goblet performed a balletic twirl between his fingers. ‘You were willing once; who would not believe you were willing again?’ He smiled, almost sympathetically. ‘You would not lie under oath, Emily, and deny we were lovers. You must accept that it is meant to be. Fate and your brother’s folly have happily reunited us.’
‘Which house?’ Mark’s voice was eerily soft as he addressed Jenny, but his eyes glittered hard and bright as ebony stars. A scouting look assessed the vicinity. In the meagre light he could just see that Jenny had directed him to the heart of a London slum. Stumpy terraces wobbled like rows of rotten teeth on lanes that yawned in four directions.
Jenny was wedged between the two men in the curricle. She nodded at a property that looked slightly less dilapidated than its neighbours. A weak lamp was burning in the ground-floor window. ‘I reckon he might be in there gaming. When he’s flush he likes to play dice for big stakes. I came here once before with him.’ She swallowed and her wide dark eyes swung between the two men. ‘You both best be careful. There are coves who hang around with him who’d crack your skulls open soon as look at you.’
‘Can’t Riley fight his own battles?’ Tarquin scoffed, seemingly unperturbed by the idea of a brawl.
Jenny’s top lip curled. ‘He’s a coward who saves his beatings for the girls who work for him. He got that broken nose off his pa for backchat when he was a youngster.’
Tarquin’s lips twitched at the anecdote then, disengaging his elbow from Jenny’s fearful grip, and with a fierce instruction to her to sit tight till he returned, he followed Mark towards the building.
‘If I jump, you’re in big trouble.’
‘So are you,’ Mark returned without bothering to take a look at the man trussed beside him.
Riley wriggled in his bonds and flung himself back against the squabs. ‘Anything happens to me, you’ll never find her.’
‘And if I don’t find her … a great many things will happen to you. That’s a promise,’ Mark said with tranquil menace. His cool demeanour admirably concealed that his anguish was mounting by the minute.
He had long known Devlin for a debauchee, but never before had he believed him capable of such dastardly behaviour. In abducting Emily he had proved himself to be a ruthless criminal too. But how far would he go to assuage his lust? Would he resort to physical violence if Emily resisted his attempt to charm her into bed? Would he ply her with drink and rape her helpless, comatose body? Emily was Devlin’s captive, at his mercy for him to do with her what he would! Mark felt the agony writhe again deep in his gut as vile images of Emily’s torment rotated in his brain.
He loved Emily Beaumont and had wanted to ask her to marry him. Had she been his betrothed she would have been protected by his name. Devlin would not have dared corner her to demand a kiss, let alone more. How would he ever forgive himself if she were harmed? A groaning oath tore from between his lips and he urged the horses to a faster pace. He must find her and there was only one man who could lead him to her. He’d use verbal persuasion to start, but if that didn’t work he’d do whatever was necessary. God only knew the villain beside him deserved a beating for what he’d done to Jenny, let alone his part in this evil plan.
Abruptly he turned his head and a gaze so replete with loathing was levelled at his reluctant passenger that Riley shrank back into the corner of the vehicle. ‘You’re in deep trouble,’ he gritted through his teeth. ‘The sensible course of action would be fo
r you to assist in righting the wrong you’ve done to Miss Beaumont. In a judge’s eyes, it might redeem you slightly and lessen the severity of his sentence.’
‘I’ll swing anyhow if Jenny croaks.’
Mark’s face tautened into bleak lines at the reminder of the disturbance he’d left behind in town.
Jenny had not taken Tarquin’s advice and stayed in the curricle. Instead she had slipped inside—probably to assist and keep Tarquin from harm—when a fight erupted. Riley had had his henchmen with him and, whilst Mark and Tarquin were battling with them, Mickey Riley had noticed his nemesis hovering in the corridor. Realising that Jenny had betrayed him, the ruffian had battered her savagely to the ground. Jenny was rendered unconscious before Tarquin or Mark realised she was in the house.
Within minutes Mark had left Tarquin tending to his limp, bleeding wife and set off towards the Surrey border with Riley cursing and squirming beside him. Now that his bruisers were unable to save him Riley had quietened, but Mark knew that his foxy brain was constantly calculating methods of escape.
‘If you want to jump, go ahead,’ Mark snarled. ‘There’s a good chance it won’t kill you … not straight away, anyhow. The sight of your broken limbs won’t bother me. As long as you’re able to talk, that’s good enough.’
Riley kicked out in frustration at the side of the vehicle, then slouched into the seat with a sullen scowl on his face.
