To Wed in Scandal (A Scandal in London Novel)

by Liana Lefey

  “Yes, of course,” Sabrina mumbled. She did not like to think how her own family would react upon discovering her deception. Miss Chatworth’s scandal would pale in comparison to the uproar she was about to cause.

  “Now then, we must maintain our dignity. A good beginning would be to show support for poor Melissa,” said her mother. “It isn’t her fault, after all—well, not entirely. She was duped by that trickster.” She hesitated, then: “Sabrina, I want you to know that henceforth I shall endeavor to be more civil toward Lord Falloure. Even if he is not my preference, he has at least behaved honorably. For that, at least, we may be grateful.”

  Inside, Sabrina cringed.

  Later that night, she tossed and turned, unable to find a comfortable position in her corset. Tying the blasted thing had been difficult without any help, but she’d succeeded, though only just. A great deal of twisting and wriggling had secured it on her person tightly enough that it wouldn’t slide down, at least.

  Sleep eluded her, so she arose and lit the lamp, trimming it so that it cast only the dimmest light. A blanket at the bottom of her door and a kerchief stuffed in the keyhole ensured no one passing would suspect she was awake.

  Padding over to her writing desk, she sat. Crisp parchment stared back at her, awaiting the stroke of the pen that would transform it into a blade to bury in a man’s heart. Henry would never forgive her.

  Determined not to cry, she yanked Percy’s ring off her finger and set it on the desk. Digging in her pocket, she pulled out Fairford’s and crammed it on. The gem sat heavy on her hand, seeming to carry with it the weight of all her guilt and grief. She stared at it with unseeing eyes until the ticking of the clock slowly intruded.

  Parchment and ink waited patiently, but time would not.

  One hour and several ruined sheets later, she sprinkled sand and passed the blotter over her finished missive. Rolling it up tightly, she slipped the little tube through Percy’s ring and left it on her pillow. Then she took up her boots in one hand and stuffed a small bundle beneath her other arm.

  With her meager possessions, Sabrina tiptoed down the hall in silence. The servants should all be asleep at this hour, but there was always a chance someone might be up and about, sneaking to the kitchens to pinch a snack or on their way to a tryst.

  Her father’s estate office was dark but for the thin moonlight pooling beneath the windows. Carefully, she picked her way over to the french doors. It had been so long since they’d been opened that the lock was stiff, and the click sounded like a cannon shot in her ears when it finally gave. After a quick pause to be sure no one had heard, she opened the door, wincing as the hinges protested faintly in their outward swing.

  Cool night air fanned her face as she sat and tugged on her boots. Rising, she stepped out onto the path and turned to close the door. Now that it had been opened, however, it refused to shut. Whispering an oath, she propped it closed with a rock and slipped into the night.

  “Come,” Fairford whispered, stepping from the shadows. He mounted his horse and held out a hand. “We must depart with all haste. The faster we leave London behind, the better.”

  Nodding, she passed her bundle up and allowed him to pull her into the saddle before him. Through quiet streets they rode, carefully avoiding the watch as well as London’s other, less savory denizens. When they at last reached his carriage, he helped her in and then went to speak briefly with the driver and his valet, who was traveling with them. When finished, he climbed in and sat across from her.

  She smiled at him, a quick, nervous smile.

  “You have no reason to be worried,” he told her as the carriage lurched into motion. “I shall see to everything.”

  “I have complete confidence in your abilities, my lord.”

  She stared, watching as the light from the setting moon illuminated his face. In this light, his hair appeared white, reminding her suddenly of Miss Bidewell. In her rush to get out of her own predicament, she’d completely forgotten that he was engaged to her. Now, she could not help but wonder how much of his amorous proposal this afternoon was due to a desire to escape marrying her. She said nothing of it, however, and instead closed her eyes.

  Poor Miss Bidewell. She doubted very much whether the girl would be as lucky as she was. If her erstwhile rival had disliked her before, she would positively loathe her now. She did not look forward to facing the young lady’s censure, however well deserved, when she returned to London.

  Above all, she did not look forward to seeing Henry again. Perhaps he would be kind and spare her the pain of an ugly confrontation.

  IT WAS JUST now nine o’clock. What in heaven’s name was taking so long? Henry paced the length and breadth of the salon again, waiting.

  When Lady Aylesford at last arrived, consternation was written in the sharp line between her brows. “Henry, I’m afraid Sabrina won’t come down. Her door is locked. I’ve knocked, I’ve tried talking to her, but she refuses to answer. I don’t know what else to d—”

  “He has broken off the engagement.”

  “What?” She sat abruptly, stunned.

  “She begged him to elope to Scotland after I danced with her. He refused and withdrew his suit.”

  “But…she said nothing!”

  “If she hasn’t told you yet, it’s probably because she’s hoping he’ll change his mind. But he won’t. He came to me this morning and told me everything. I’ve come to ask you for her hand and to request your aid in convincing her to accept my offer. I went this morning and obtained a special license. We can be married today.”

  “I shall fetch her immediately.”

  Only a few moments later, he heard her panicked voice calling. He arrived just as she was giving orders to a burly footman to break down her daughter’s door. When it lay in ruins, they burst into an empty room.

  He saw at once that the bed had been slept in, but where was Sabrina? His eye fell on a curious object resting on the pillow. Coming closer, he saw it was a roll of parchment bound by a sapphire ring. Snatching it up, he tore off the ring and began to read. Halfway down the page, he felt the air leave his lungs. “She’s eloped with Fairford.”

  “Oh my God,” she gasped, all the color leaving her face. “Does it say where they’ve gone?”

  “No.” Pain blossomed in his chest, but he shoved it away. Pain could be dealt with later. What he needed now was information.

  “Have they made for Gretna Green, do you think?” she asked. “Or might he have done the same as you and procured a special license? They might already be married by now.”

  His face grew grim. “If so, it will not be a long marriage.”

  “Henry, you know there might not be anything we can—”

  “You don’t understand,” he interrupted. “I had Fairford investigated, and what we uncovered was more than disturbing. The man is a monster, and I cannot allow her to marry him. We must send riders out to check the roads north for their progress.”

  “What is it?” she exclaimed. “What is so horrible that you look as though you’ve seen a ghost? Tell me!”

  “My lady, Lord Falloure has arrived,” a servant interrupted.

  “Show him in,” Henry commanded him, before the astonished mistress of the house could open her mouth. “If they are no longer engaged, then why is he here?” he asked her.

  “To tell Lady Aylesford my news in person and to try and talk some sense into Sabrina,” said Percy from the doorway. He pushed past the servant and entered. “Looks like you’ve beaten me to the mark. Again.”

  Lady Aylesford snatched the note and thrust it at Percy, along with the ring. “She’s gone and run off with Fairford!”

  He paled. “How long?”

  “My God, do you know something as well? Does everyone know except me?” she asked.

  Henry came and grasped her shoulders. “How long, Auntie? It’s important.”

  “I did not go to bed until just after midnight, and I heard movement in her room as I passed. It had to
have been sometime between midnight and dawn.”

  “We must go after them,” he said, looking at Percy again.

  “What about that Childers woman? Might she know where he’s taken her?” asked Percy.

  Henry shook his head. “She’s his creature…she’ll tell us nothing, and even if she did, we can’t take the chance of trusting her. She might misdirect our efforts out of loyalty to her benefactor.” He paused and then squared his shoulders. “But there is another source we might try. I know where he is keeping the girl he bought from Boucher. We shall go at once.”

  “And I shall accompany you,” said Lady Aylesford, rising.

  He shook his head. “This is no task for a gently raised female. Percy and I will deal with this. You stay here and see to sending men to search for her in London and on the roads north.”

  “You expect me to sit here and wring my hands, waiting for news, worrying myself into a state? I think not! This is my daughter, and I am the Countess of Aylesford. I shall go where I bloody well please, and you cannot prevent it.”

  She rang for service and demanded that her carriage be brought around immediately. While they waited for it, she gave the household staff strict orders regarding the matter of her daughter’s disappearance—specifically their silence.

  Drawing Henry aside, she lowered her voice. “As for sending out a search party, I have no desire to alert the whole of London to the fact that my daughter has run off with Fairford. If we can find her before anything has happened, I would much rather find a quiet resolution.”

  He nodded, knowing her intent.

  An hour and a half later, the carriage stopped at a plain house, one of a row of similar, nondescript houses on a quiet street. Another carriage full of footmen in Aylesford livery stopped just behind.

  “It looks more respectable than I anticipated,” stated Lady Aylesford.

  “Fairford has no interest in people finding out about his proclivities,” Henry muttered, leaping down. “No one would suspect him of keeping a mistress here among the gentry.”

  The curtains at the window twitched. Someone knew they were here.

  Henry walked up and forcefully banged the knocker.

  No answer.

  “If you do not grant me entrance, I will have the King’s Guard grant it for me,” he barked, his voice echoing back down the street.

  The door cracked open, and a wizened face peered out from the narrow aperture.

  “I’m looking for a young Frenchwoman,” he told her, not bothering with niceties.

  “Ye hae the wrong house, yer lordship. There’s naught ’ere but meself and me granddaughter,” the old woman croaked in a thick brogue.

  “I’ll make that determination.” He forced his way past her, and the others followed.

  A pair of burly men stepped out and blocked the way to the stairs.

  Henry drew a pistol and cocked it just as the rest of his group piled in behind. “Is it worth your lives?” he asked softly, leveling the weapon and twitching aside his coat to reveal a second pistol at his waist.

  The guards were unprepared for armed intruders and backed off. “His lordship paid us to see the girl didn’t escape…he didn’t say nothing about staving off nobs with guns,” said one, putting up his hands.

  “Very wise of you,” Henry replied. “See they don’t bother us,” he commanded those following him.

  Four footmen remained behind to see to the task, while the other two accompanied him up the narrow stair. At the top was another door, locked.

  “On three,” Henry whispered. He and Percy stood side by side and, on the count of three, kicked it down.

  Before them lay a bed containing a woman curled up and facing away from them. She gave no indication of having heard them enter.

  Lady Aylesford stepped inside, peered into the gloom, and gasped in horror.

  Henry couldn’t have agreed more. Ugly red weals crisscrossed the woman’s back, some of them still raw and oozing, and purpling bruises blossomed across her body. When he came closer, he saw there were many, many scars. Back, ribs, legs, wrists, ankles—all were covered by a fine lacework of pain.

  “My God,” the countess whispered, tears springing into her eyes. “You poor child!”

  Hearing them, the girl tried to turn. She cried out in pain, but it was only the weakest of sounds.

  “Don’t move,” Henry said gently. “We’ll come around.” What manner of monster could do this to another human being? “Go back down and help the others,” he ordered the footmen, struggling to maintain a steady voice. “We’ll call if we need you.”

  “Poor, poor child!” she again whispered, kneeling beside the bed to gently brush the girl’s hair back, ignoring the dried blood and vomit fouling the tangled mass. “She is so young, no more than sixteen!”

  Henry saw that her beautiful face was unmarred, save for the tearstains streaking it. The rest of her, however, had been ravaged. It would have taken months to cause such scarring in her young flesh. Months of what could only be called brutal torture. What he saw up close made the bile rise in his throat. Forcing control to return, he grabbed the coverlet, draping it over her prone form. “Never did I imagine this,” he muttered softly. “I knew he was a sick bastard, but I never thought—”

  “We cannot let this happen to Sabrina!” the countess interjected, looking up at him. “I will kill him myself before I allow it!”

  The girl stirred again and struggled to lift her head.

  “She’s been drugged,” Henry announced. He reached out and gently lifted an eyelid. “Laudanum. A lot, from the look of it. It’s a wonder she’s alive. I imagine vomiting was the only thing that saved her.”

  “We have to get her out of here,” Percy whispered. “We cannot leave her like this! He’ll be back, and those men downstairs, they had to have had something to do with it!”

  “I would not leave a dog in this place!” Henry growled from between clenched teeth, enraged. “Help me move her. Can you see if there are any clothes for her? We’ll just wrap her in the sheet for now. Percy, help me take her to the carriage.” Once they had her body covered, he bellowed for two footmen. “Grab some clean pillows and blankets, and take them to the carriage,” he ordered.

  “And these,” said Lady Aylesford, shoving an armful of clothing at one of them.

  The girl cried out weakly as Henry and Percy tried to maneuver her into a sitting position and wrap the sheet around her more securely.

  “I’m so sorry to cause you further pain,” Henry murmured at her ear, “but you cannot remain here. We are taking you home with us.”

  Several hours later, Henry and Percy sat outside the room where the physician attended the girl.

  The man came out, shaking his head. “She will live, but she has been severely damaged.”

  Henry felt ill as the healer cataloged her injuries and left them with medicine for when she awakened. All he could do now was wait and pray.

  “She is conscious,” called Lady Aylesford a few hours later.

  “I am glad to see you awake,” he said softly, coming to stand at her bedside.

  The girl shrank away from him. “Where am I? Where is my child?” she whispered in French as her gaze darted around the room.

  “You are in my house, and you are safe here, my dear,” answered Lady Aylesford, switching to the girl’s language. “This is Henry, and he will not harm you. He is my friend, and he helped bring you here.”

  Tears leaked from beneath the girl’s lids as she clenched them tightly shut. “I am not in heaven?”

  “No, child.”

  Her eyes opened. “If I am not dead, then he will find me,” she whispered.

  “Fairford will never touch you again,” Henry promised, overwhelmed by pity. She was absolutely terrified.

  But his words didn’t seem to register, and she began to cry in earnest. “He will know, he will come, and he will kill me. He has said that he will never let me go.”

  “Shh. He will not
come here. You are safe at Aylesford House, my dear,” said Lady Aylesford.

  The girl sucked in a sharp breath, her eyes growing wide.

  “You know the name?” Henry asked as calmly as possible.

  “Oui. My master spoke often of a Lady Aylesford and her daughter.”

  “I am Lady Aylesford,” said the countess. “Can you tell me where Fairford is right now?”

  The girl turned toward Lady Aylesford. “He said last night that he is to marry your daughter today. Do not let him, my lady! He is an evil man.”

  “He has taken Lady Aylesford’s daughter from this house,” Henry said to the girl, cutting off the countess’s cry of anguish. “Do you know where he has gone?”

  “He said he would be away for several days at a place called Gretna Green,” the girl answered.

  Henry swore softly as he rose from the bedside.

  “Let me come with you,” said Percy, who’d been listening.

  “No. I need you here in case Fairford has played another one of his tricks to throw off a pursuit. If he has, then he’s still somewhere in town and will soon learn that we have taken the girl. You must see to her protection and that of Lady Aylesford.”

  “And what if he has done as you say and Sabrina has married him?”

  Henry smiled grimly. “Then the marriage shall be very short-lived.” Turning, he made for the stables.

  SABRINA STARED OUT the window. Fairford was quiet, having said that he preferred to sit in silence rather than attempting to make conversation over the noise of the wheels. Silence suited her just fine. There wasn’t much to discuss, anyway. In another day they would be married, and she would have the rest of her life to try and make small talk with him.

  They traveled as fast as safety and the endurance of the horses allowed, and the first leg of their journey was long and uneventful. The little market town of Harborough provided a change of team that afternoon while they stopped for a quick meal, and then it was onward once more.