Rescued by an Earl (The Duke's Daughters Book 3)

by Rose Pearson

  Jacintha left him then, glad that all seemed to be at an end. They would leave Ferryway and return home where she might forget entirely about Lord Slate – and think only of Henry. How much she wished to see him! Especially when she could tell him just how much of a comfort he had been to her, even through the window of Lord Slate’s home.

  Walking back to her bedchamber, Jacintha drew in a great breath, relieved that the entire experience was coming to an end. She had no need to worry any longer. Lord Slate would soon be nothing more than a distant memory.

  “There you are!”

  Jacintha let out a frightened squeak as Lord Slate slammed one hand over her mouth, his other hand grasping her arm tightly. His damp clothes pressed against hers, making her shiver.

  “I knew you’d come back here eventually,” he hissed, pushing the door shut with his body and letting go of her mouth. “I told you that you’ve already seen too much. You’re going to be my wife whether you like it or not.”

  “What do you think you are doing?” Jacintha gasped, struggling to get away from him. “I haven’t seen anything. Please, let me go.”

  He chuckled darkly, his eyes narrowing as he dragged her towards the other side of her bedchamber. For a moment, Jacintha thought he meant to ruin her, tugging away from him all the more, but, much to her astonishment, he pushed aside the large tapestry that had been draped on the wall and, after another moment of searching, pulled open a door.

  “You spoke to your father, I presume,” he spat, wrestling her through the door and pushing her in front of him. “I heard that various arrangements had been made for your departure.”

  Panic was swirling through her so strongly that Jacintha couldn’t think what to do or what to say. Her limbs became wooden, Lord Slate’s rough hands the only thing forcing her to keep moving.

  “I told you I would not allow it,” Lord Slate continued, his voice echoing through the tunnel as they began to descend some stone steps. “I mean what I say, Jacintha.”

  “My father will not stand for this,” Jacintha managed to say, her fingernails scraping on the stone walls as she struggled to make her way down without falling. There were a few lit candles on the walls but that gave her very little light to see by. She had no idea what Lord Slate had planned for her, nor what it was he was so frightened of her revealing to others. “You know that he will come after you.”

  “He will be powerless, given that you will be my wife by that time,” Lord Slate replied, darkly. “Do not think you can escape from me this time, Jacintha. I will have you.”

  Her breath was coming so fast she thought she might faint from the fear of what Lord Slate intended for her, the realization that no one - neither Harmonia, her father or Henry - knew where she was or what was happening to her. They had all assumed that Lord Slate had gone from the estate, but it was clear that he had used these secret passages to return without anyone being aware of his presence.

  “Where are we going?” she whispered, seeing the floor become level once more with another wooden door just ahead of them.

  “The trapdoor, my dear,” he replied, sounding surprised that she had not yet worked it out. “That door you found, the one you told your sister about, I am sure you saw the trapdoor there and wondered what it was for.”

  “I did not question it,” Jacintha lied, even though she knew such a thing would not change his mind. “I have had no thought of it since.”

  He snorted, reaching past her to open the door before hurrying her through it. “You are not a particularly good liar, Jacintha. Now hurry up and move along. The trapdoor is just ahead of you and you will find it already open for you. All your burning questions will be answered in one moment.”

  Jacintha turned her head and saw the door to the library and, in a moment of panic, rushed for it – only to discover that it did not open for her. Lord Slate grasped her arm and tugged her away, jarring her arm.

  “You little brat,” he snarled, dragging her so close to him that she was forced to look up into his face. “When will you learn that you can’t escape from me? I’ll do whatever I must in order to get you to submit. Now get down that ladder and don’t try such a thing again, or it will be all the worse for you.”

  All the strength left her body, weakness rifling through her. She was trapped, tied to Lord Slate forever unless she could find a way to get away from him. The walls seemed to close in around her, the air becoming thick.

  “Now don’t try that on me,” Lord Slate murmured, a warning tone settling over his voice. “Who knows what I might have to do to you in order to revive you?” His hand trailed down over her arm, down the curve of her waist and beyond. “Do I make myself clear?”

  Shuddering at his touch, Jacintha nodded and began to move away from him towards the trapdoor. Screaming would do no good, the walls were too thick to alert anyone – and even his staff, should they hear her, would most likely ignore her cries for help.

  She had no choice. Peering down at the trapdoor and seeing the rope ladder swinging from it, she began to gingerly climb down. Lord Slate grasped her arms roughly, ensuring that she would not slip, and Jacintha descended further into the gloom until another pair of hands caught her.

  Shrieking aloud earned her nothing more than a hard slap, the shock of it stunning her into silence.

  “Careful, there,” Lord Slate said angrily, as he came to join Jacintha and the other man. “She belongs to me and no-one else. Understand?”

  “Understood, my lord,” came the gruff reply. “Now, are you sure you’re not wanting to wait here for a time? The boat is a little around the mainland so it is out of sight of the shore, but it’s still awful risky.”

  “I don’t have a choice,” Lord Slate grated, tugging Jacintha along as he began to make his way down the cold stone floor of the tunnel. “Her father would have taken her away and I couldn’t let her go. She knows too much.”

  “I don’t know anything,” Jacintha cried, her heart crying out in fear. “I don’t know a thing about this place or what you’re doing.”

  The man who had caught her as she descended laughed harshly. “Of course you’d say anything to get away, wouldn’t you? Pretending you don’t know about the smuggling.”

  Jacintha looked over at him, the lantern he held casting strange, murky shadows across his face. “What are you talking about?”

  The man chuckled, his eyes dark. “Do you not know by now? Your Lord Slate here is a smuggler.”

  “A – a smuggler?” Jacintha stammered, hardly able to believe it.

  “One of the best,” the man replied, as the first shards of daylight began to pierce the tunnel’s darkness. “And soon you’ll be joining the operation, I’ve no doubt about it.”

  “That she will,” Lord Slate replied, his voice echoing around the tunnel walls. “She won’t have a choice.”

  Jacintha continued to stumble down the tunnel, hearing the sound of lapping water from below. The crash of the waves only added to her fright, her hand tightening on Lord Slate’s sleeve as he held her arm. She hated having to lean on him but, given the circumstances, she had very little choice.

  “The boat’s below, my lord,” the other man said, as they came near to what appeared to be a large hole in the tunnel floor. “Stevenson’s waiting.”

  “Very good,” Lord Slate grated, giving Jacintha a slight shove. “Now, climb down there and don’t dare make a sound.”

  Seeing the other smuggler sit down on the edge of the hole before climbing down what appeared to be another rope ladder, Jacintha had no other choice but to follow suit, her dress growing damp and clammy around her legs. Her legs trembled as she tried to make her way down the ladder, only for hands to grab at her feet, making her shriek aloud.

  “Quiet!” Lord Slate exclaimed from above her. “I said not a sound.”

  Jacintha shuddered violently as she was helped to a small boat, not able to so much as look at the two men who had helped her into the boat. They were in a large cave with only
a small opening between themselves and the open sea.

  “Quickly, my lord,” one of the smugglers called, as Lord Slate descended. “The tide is against us.”

  Jacintha watched as Lord Slate climbed into the boat, before wrapping up the rope ladder and tying it securely with a smaller piece of rope. It dangled there, almost invisible to the naked eye, and certainly not easily spotted unless you knew it was there.

  “On we go,” Lord Slate instructed, as he took his seat. “And be on your guard. I am not certain that this next part will go as smoothly as we had hoped.”

  As the boat left the cave, Jacintha blinked furiously as she looked up into the blue sky, wondering if this would be the last time she would see England’s shores. Turning her head to look over at the beach, she thought for a moment about jumping into the sea, trying her best to swim to the shore, only to realize that she would be dragged to the bottom in seconds. Her skirts would fill with water and, given that she was already feeling rather weak, she knew she wouldn’t have the strength to even attempt to get to shore. Feeling desperate, she looked over at the shore with grief growing in her heart, seeing a small figure on horseback racing across the shoreline. She could hear nothing but the sound of the waves and the cries of the gulls as they circled overhead. Any remaining hope that she might escape flickered and died, quenched by the anguish she felt. She would never see her sisters again, never see her father. Henry would be nothing more than a memory.

  There was nothing but darkness waiting for her.

  Chapter Twenty

  After they had been turned away from Lord Slate’s home, Henry had not stopped thinking of Jacintha. Even though he had been a part of the discussion over what the men had discovered in the caves, they could not exactly mount an attack on Lord Slate’s home without finding evidence of the supposed contraband. There had to be a way to link Lord Slate to the smuggling, otherwise, their entire operation would be utterly useless. Yes, they had one smuggler in custody but that meant nothing if they couldn’t catch Lord Slate. Were he to get away with what he had done, then Henry would be more than angry, especially if he still had Jacintha by his side. A man ought to pay for his crimes.

  Even though his uncle had insisted that he rest before going out on patrol in the hope the smugglers might place more contraband in Lord Slate’s tunnel, Henry had tossed and turned, his mind caught up with thoughts of Jacintha. He had walked under the stars, looking over at the manor house and wondering if the flickering lights within came from her room. Was she safe? Was she still as sure about Lord Slate as she had been before? Over and over, he had cursed his lack of clarity when he had been in London. If only he had seen her for what she was back then, if only he had stopped himself from becoming the cad and the rogue he had been, then things might have worked out very differently.

  “Here.”

  Looking up from where he sat, Henry saw his uncle standing beside him, handing him a roll filled with something that smelled delicious.

  “One of the men is a baker,” Roderick explained, coming to sit down beside Henry, who was leaning heavily against a tree trunk. “He saw that you’ve been out for most of the night and didn’t intend to go home.”

  “I need to watch the house,” Henry muttered, rubbing his eyes. “I can’t let Lord Slate get away with this.”

  Roderick let out a long sigh. “The men didn’t find anything.”

  “Nothing?”

  He shook his head. “No, nothing. The tunnel was empty.”

  “So we have no proof,” Henry muttered, before biting into the roll, his stomach growling appreciatively.

  Roderick sighed heavily. “Nothing yet. But we will. Eventually. There are men on patrol day and night, even though you might not always see them.”

  “Getting Lord Slate eventually isn’t good enough,” Henry replied at once, gesturing towards the manor house. “I cannot wait around for him to allow me to see Jacintha! She might be in danger.”

  “I agree,” Roderick replied, heavily. “However, short of barging in and demanding to see her, which would only alert him to how close we are to catching him, I think the only thing we can do is wait.”

  Henry’s lip curled, his jaw clenching. “I don’t like it, Uncle.”

  “I can tell,” Roderick replied, his words tainted with good humor. “But she is there with her sister and her father, what could Lord Slate possibly do to her under those circumstances?”

  Shrugging, Henry finished the last of his roll, thinking hard. “I’m not sure, uncle. I don’t want to speculate but I get the feeling that all is not well with Jacintha under his roof.”

  There was a short silence, with both pairs of eyes looking over at the manor house, the sound of the ocean waves lapping at the shore the only sound.

  “Well, at least you’re well-hidden here,” Roderick replied, getting to his feet and gesturing to the tree Henry was sitting under, which was surrounded by the tall waving beach grasses. “If I hadn’t known you were sitting here then I wouldn’t have seen you.”

  “Good,” Henry muttered, his gaze narrowing as he saw some movement at the manor house. “That is just what I was hoping for.”

  “Are you going to sit out here all day?”

  “If I have to,” Henry said, firmly. “I’ll be along to the house if I see anything.”

  “Very good,” Roderick replied, with a quick smile. “Try not to worry too much, Henry. And, if you see anything, for heaven’s sake don’t take it on yourself!”

  Henry nodded, watching his uncle walk away before returning his gaze to the manor house. Whilst he did want to watch what was going on at the house, his ultimate goal was Jacintha. If Lord Slate left, then he would simply make his way to the house to call on her, even without Lord Slate’s permission to enter his home.

  He wasn’t quite sure how long he sat there, glad that the sun was already warming his chilled bones. The night had been cool, with the sea air adding to the chill. Now, at least, he was warm and not as hungry as he had been before.

  A sudden movement caught his eye, making him sit up straight. A horse was making its way from the manor house towards the gate and Henry was sure he knew who it was.

  It could only be Lord Slate.

  The man was riding at a gallop, coming out towards the shore. Henry held his breath, remaining exactly where he was. He wondered if Lord Slate might make his way towards the caves, only to realize that the man would not be that stupid nor that obvious. Besides, the tide had turned some time ago, which meant that some of the caves would not be accessible in anything other than a boat very soon.

  Watching closely, Henry saw Lord Slate take a turn up towards the village, his horse’s hooves digging into the sand. Torn between a desire to follow him and to find Jacintha, he paused for a moment before getting to his feet, knowing that he needed to talk to Jacintha. His uncle could deal with Lord Slate and he was sure there were other men watching, just like his uncle had said.

  Wishing he had thought to bring a horse, Henry tramped his way towards Slate’s home, his heart thundering wildly as he thought about Jacintha. She would be willing to see him, would she not? He couldn’t bear it if she had turned her back on him now, aligning herself with Lord Slate.

  Then he remembered how she had looked at him through the window and hope burst to life within his heart. She was waiting for him, wanted to speak to him. He had to believe it.

  “Open up!”

  Henry thundered on the door, his hand beginning to pain him as he banged on it again and again.

  No-one answered.

  He had been knocking on the door for a good few minutes now and still, no-one came to answer him. He had no idea where Lord Slate’s staff had gone, wondering whether or not Jacintha and her family still remained inside or if they had left without his knowledge. Surely they could not have returned to London without him seeing, given that he had watched the house all day? His heart began to thud wildly in his chest, anxiety rising with every breath he took.

&n
bsp; “Henry?”

  “Jacintha?” he shouted, as the door handle turned underneath his hand. “Is that you?”

  It was none other than Harmonia who stood there, her eyes wide and cheeks pale. “Henry! Whatever is the matter?”

  “Jacintha,” he said, stepping inside. “Where is she?”

  “I – I don’t know,” Harmonia replied, looking about rather helplessly. “I don’t even know where the staff has gone. I heard you knocking and tried to ring for the butler or the maid but no-one came. What is going on?”

  Henry grasped her hands, seeing her white face. “Is your father here?”

  “He has been unwell almost since the day we arrived,” Harmonia replied, shivering just a little. “Lord Slate has been….he has not treated Jacintha well, Henry. I am afraid of him, just as she is. He is not the man we thought.”

  “I know that,” Henry said, firmly, trying not to let his own concern show. “Now listen, Harmonia, where is Jacintha? We must find her and prepare to leave this place at once.”

  “We have been packing,” Harmonia replied, hurrying towards the staircase and gesturing for him to follow. “Jacintha told father everything this morning and, given that he is now well enough to travel, we were to leave as soon as possible.”

  “Then we must fetch her,” Henry replied at once, filled with a deep sense of happiness that Jacintha was not to wed Lord Slate. “I must know that she is well. There is more to Lord Slate than even she knows.”

  Harmonia knocked on the door of the bedchamber before turning the handle and stepping inside – only to stop dead. Henry, forced to step back in order not to bump into her, tried to look past her shoulder.

  “She’s not here,” Harmonia whispered, turning around slowly to face him. “I – I don’t know where she would have gone.”

  “Would she be somewhere else in the house?” Henry asked, a slow rising panic growing in his chest. “Is there anywhere else she might have gone?”