Ravished

by Amanda Quick

  But she needed the key to get out of the chamber.

  Harriet took several deep breaths and approached Bryce’s still form very cautiously. When he did not stir or open his eyes she dropped to her knees beside him and reached into his pocket for the key.

  Her fingers closed around the heavy iron object. She withdrew it quickly. It felt cold in her hand. Bryce still did not move. She could not tell if he was even breathing.

  Harriet waited no longer. She ran to the door, inserted the key into the lock, and opened it.

  She was free.

  She dashed up the stairs to the ground floor and found everything shrouded in shadows. The heavy drapes on the front windows had been drawn against the late afternoon sun.

  The door of Mr. Humboldt’s private study opened. A stooped, heavily whiskered figure loomed in the doorway rather like a large spider. The figure scowled ferociously at her. “Here, now, you ain’t the cook with my supper. What the devil are you doing here? All the visitors are supposed to be gone by now.”

  “I was just on my way.”

  “What’s that? Speak up, girl.” He cupped his ear.

  “I said I was just on my way,” Harriet said loudly.

  He waved her off impatiently. “Go on, get out of here. I’ve got important work to do. Much too late for any damn visitors. If it wasn’t for the fact that I need the money to buy more fossils, I would never let anyone at all into this house. Bunch of amateurs and curiosity seekers. Fools, the lot of ’em.”

  Humboldt turned around and stomped back into his study. He slammed the door behind him.

  Harriet realized she was trembling. She brushed what dust she could off her skirts. When she opened the front door of the museum and stepped out into the street she saw Beth waiting for her near the carriage. The girl was laughing at something the coachman had just said. The lad who had taken the admission fees was with them. All three of them turned to look at her.

  “Ready to leave, ma’am?” The coachman asked politely.

  “Yes, I am.” Harriet marched to the carriage. “Let us be off. I am late enough getting home as it is.”

  Beth’s eyes widened at the sight of her dusty yellow gown and pelisse. “Dear me, ma’am, yer lovely dress is ruined. All those dirty old bones and such. I should have brought along an apron for you to use.”

  “Never mind, Beth.” Harriet seated herself in the carriage. “Kindly hurry. I am anxious to get home.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  The lad who had taken the tickets stared at her. “What happened to the other gennelman? The one who said he wanted to study fossils in private?”

  Harriet smiled coolly. “I have no notion. I did not see anyone else about when I left.”

  The lad scratched his head. “He must have come out when I wasn’t lookin’.”

  “I daresay.” Harriet gave the signal to the coachman to be off. “I am certain it is none of our concern.”

  Twenty minutes later, Harriet was handed down from the carriage in front of Gideon’s townhouse. She still could not decide how much to tell her husband.

  On the one hand she wanted to throw herself into his arms and tell him everything. She needed to talk to someone about the dreadful events in Mr. Humboldt’s Museum.

  On the other hand, she was terribly afraid of what Gideon might decide to do. He would not let such an affront to his wife pass without vengeance.

  Gideon was lounging in the doorway of the library when Harriet walked into the hall. He smiled at the sight of her dusty clothes.

  “From the dirt on your gown, it would appear you had a most enjoyable time at Mr. Humboldt’s Museum, madam.”

  “It was a very interesting experience, my lord. I cannot wait to tell you all about it.” Harriet’s fingers shook as she stripped off her gloves.

  She realized she was experiencing some sort of physical reaction to the awful events in the museum. Her whole body felt unnatural. She could not seem to stop the fine, almost invisible shivers that were rippling through her.

  Harriet walked straight past Gideon into the library. His perceptive eyes rested thoughtfully on her face and his indulgent smile vanished. He closed the door of the library and turned to confront her.

  “What has happened, Harriet?”

  Harriet turned toward him, struggling for words. She felt torn apart by her body’s reaction to the violence. She could no longer control herself.

  With a soft cry she ran to Gideon and threw herself against his solid frame, seeking the comfort of his reassuring strength.

  “Oh, Gideon, the most terrible thing has happened. I may have killed Mr. Morland.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  IT WAS NOT EASY getting the whole tale out of her. Gideon summoned his patience and held Harriet close while she gave him a disjointed explanation that involved forged fossils, a stone with a fish embedded in it, and Bryce Morland.

  It was Morland’s name that sent cold rage surging through Gideon.

  “So I threw the stone down at him.” Harriet lifted her head from Gideon’s shoulder. “And it struck him. There was blood, Gideon. A lot of it. And then he fell to the floor and I cannot be certain, but he may have hit his head on the cabinets. When I went to get the key out of his pocket he did not move. Gideon, what are we going to do? Do you think I will hang for the murder of Mr. Morland?”

  Gideon controlled his fury with an effort of will. “No,” he said. “You most certainly will not hang for murder. I will not allow it.”

  Harriet’s shoulders slumped in relief. “Thank you, my lord. That is very reassuring. I have been so worried.” She grabbed the huge white handkerchief he held out to her and blotted her eyes. “Will we be obliged to go abroad to avoid the scandal, do you think?”

  “No, I do not believe that will be necessary.” Gideon’s gut twisted. Morland had gone too far this time.

  “Thank goodness.” Harriet sniffed into the handkerchief. “I would hate to have to go abroad at this particular moment. I am so anxious to get back to Upper Biddleton so that I can continue my work. And I expect it would be rather difficult for you to supervise your family’s estates from abroad.”

  “No doubt.” Gideon gripped her shoulders firmly. “Harriet, are you quite certain he did not hurt you?”

  She shook her head impatiently and blew into the handkerchief once more. “No, no, I am fine, my lord. Except for this gown, of course, which is no doubt ruined. But I cannot blame that entirely on Mr. Morland. In truth I had already gotten it quite dirty by the time he showed up.”

  She really was all right. He had to keep reminding himself of that. Morland had not gotten his lecherous hands on her. Leave it to Harriet to save herself with some ancient fish embedded in a chunk of stone. Gideon’s hands flexed gently on her shoulders. He had failed to protect her.

  “My brave, resourceful little Harriet. I am very, very proud of you, madam.”

  She smiled tremulously. “Why, thank you, Gideon.”

  “But I am very angry with myself for having done such a poor job of caring for you,” Gideon added grimly. “You should never have been in the danger you were in today.”

  “Well, it is hardly your fault, Gideon. You could not possibly have guessed that Mr. Morland would go to Mr. Humboldt’s Museum.” Harriet paused and then continued earnestly. “It really is a most excellent museum, sir. I do not believe I have had an opportunity to tell you about it because I have been so busy explaining how I may have killed Mr. Morland. But I did not find any teeth which resembled mine.”

  Gideon smiled wryly. Trust Harriet to be more interested in her giant reptile tooth than in the close call she had had. He put his fingers on her lips, silencing her. “You may tell me all about it later. Now I think it would be best if I go find out exactly what we are dealing with here.”

  Harriet looked alarmed. “What do you mean?”

  “I am going to Mr. Humboldt’s Museum and see if Morland is dead or alive.” Gideon kissed her on the forehead. “Once I know his
present condition I can make further plans.”

  “Yes, of course.” Harriet chewed on her lower lip. “What if by some chance he is alive? Do you think he will accuse me of attempted murder?”

  “I think,” Gideon said gently, “that the very last thing Morland will do is accuse you of murder.” He will be too busy trying to save his own hide, Gideon promised himself silently.

  “I would not be too certain of that.” Harriet frowned thoughtfully. “He is not a very nice man, sir. You were quite right when you told me that he is not the angel he appears.”

  “Yes.” Gideon released her. “Go on upstairs, my dear. I shall return when I have seen to Morland.”

  Harriet touched his arm, her eyes anxious. “You will be very careful, will you not, my lord? I would not want anyone to see you near the body. Assuming he is dead, of course. And if he is alive, he might be dangerous. You must not take any chances.”

  “I will be careful.” Gideon crossed to the door and opened it “I may be gone for some time. You are not to worry about me.”

  Harriet looked doubtful. “I think I should go with you, sir. I can show you exactly where I left Mr. Morland.”

  “I will find him on my own.”

  “But if I accompanied you I could keep a watch while you attend to the body,” she said, obviously warming to her plan.

  “I will manage very well on my own. Now, if you do not mind, Harriet, I would like to be on my way.” He motioned her out into the hall.

  She walked slowly toward the door, clearly turning several notions over in her mind. “My lord, the more I think about it, the more I believe it would be best if I accompanied you.”

  “I said no, Harriet.”

  “But you know as well as I do that sometimes your plans do not always go perfectly. Bear in mind what happened that night in the cavern, and all because you did not take me into your confidence.”

  “The only time my plans go awry, madam, is when you interfere with them,” Gideon said evenly. “This evening you are going to do as you are told. I will deal with Morland. You will go straight upstairs to your room and have a bath and a cup of tea while you recover from your ordeal. And you will not leave the house until I return. Is that very clear, my dear?”

  “But Gideon—”

  “I see it is not quite clear. Very well, let me be blunt. If you do not go up those stairs this instant I will carry you up them. Now do we understand each other, madam?”

  Harriet blinked. “Well, if you are going to be that way about it—”

  “I am,” he assured her.

  Harriet walked reluctantly past him. “Very well, my lord. But please be careful.”

  “I will be careful,” Gideon said gruffly. “And Harriet?”

  She glanced back inquiringly. “Yes, my lord?”

  “You may be certain that in the future I will take better care of you.”

  “Oh, rubbish. You already take excellent care of me.”

  She was wrong, Gideon thought as he watched her climb the stairs. He had not taken good care of her at all and today she had almost paid the price of his carelessness. One thing was certain. It was time to get rid of Morland once and for all.

  Unless, of course, Harriet had already done so.

  The early evening streets were crowded as Gideon made his way on foot to Mr. Humboldt’s Museum.

  Gideon had decided he could make his way more swiftly without the encumbrance of a horse or carriage, but there was another advantage to walking. On foot it was easier to lose himself amid the clutter of vehicles and people constantly moving about London.

  The St. Justin horses were hardly inconspicuous. They were recognized by many, and Gideon did not want to call any attention to himself this evening. If he should happen to spot a familiar face, he could duck into one of the nearby alleys or lanes.

  When he reached the street where Mr. Humboldt’s Museum was located, Gideon waited in an alley until he could see no one around. Then he made his way to the front area that had been sunk into the ground to provide light for the underground story of the house. As was customary, there was an iron railing and a gate protecting the outside steps that led down from the street.

  Gideon tried the gate and found it locked. He glanced around once more to be certain no one was in sight before he vaulted over the railing and dropped down onto the stone steps.

  The steps, which were designed to serve as a servants’ and tradesman’s entrance, led down to a door which was also locked. Gideon tried to peer through the small windows which were supposed to afford light to the lower story of the house, but heavy drapes had been drawn across them.

  Gideon was wondering if he was going to have to go to the trouble of breaking a window when he saw that someone had apparently forgotten to lock it.

  He opened it and swung a leg over the sill. A second later he lowered himself into a shadowed room full of cabinets, crates, and bones. He quickly realized that this was not the chamber Harriet had told him about.

  Gideon took down a candle from a wall sconce, lit it, and made his way out of the dusty room into a short dark hall. The door of the chamber at the end of the hall stood open.

  As soon as Gideon stepped into the dark chamber he knew he was in the room where Harriet had been attacked. A cold fury burned in him as he checked each aisle of tall cabinets. She had been trapped in here by Morland. He had hunted her down as though she were a helpless doe and then he had attacked her. Only Harriet’s own cleverness had saved her.

  Gideon’s hand clenched around the candle. He was very nearly as furious with himself as he was with Morland in that moment. He should have made certain Harriet had never been in this sort of danger. He had not fulfilled his duty as her husband. He had not taken proper care of her.

  He found the aisle where Harriet had thrown the stone down on Morland. The chunk of rock lay on the floor. A section of it had broken off. Tallow dripped on the imprint of a strange spiny sea creature as Gideon knelt down to examine the site of Morland’s defeat.

  There were dark spots of dried blood on the floor. Gideon rose to his feet and did a quick survey of the rest of the chamber. There was no sign of Morland.

  Gideon found a few more dark spots in the dust as he left the room and started back down the hall. He followed them straight back to the window where he, himself, had entered. When he held the candle up he could see a bloody fingerprint on the windowsill. Morland had climbed out of the house via this route. That explained why the window was unlocked.

  So much for Harriet’s fears that she had killed the bastard. He had obviously been spry enough to sneak out of the house after he picked himself up off the floor.

  Gideon smiled coldly to himself as he snuffed the candle. He was just as glad Morland was not dead. He had other plans for him.

  Twenty minutes later, Gideon walked up the steps of Morland’s small townhouse and announced himself to the housekeeper who answered the door. She gawked at his scar as she wiped her hands on her apron.

  “He’s not at home to anyone,” the woman muttered. “Told me so himself, not more’n half an hour ago. Right after he came home. Been in an accident, he has.”

  “Thank you.” Gideon stepped forward into the hall, forcing the startled woman aside. “I shall announce myself.”

  “Now, look here, sir,” the housekeeper grumbled, “I was given my orders. Mr. Morland ain’t feelin’ at all well just at the moment. He’s restin’ in the library.”

  “He’ll be feeling a good deal worse when I’ve finished with him.” Gideon opened the first door on the left and knew he had guessed correctly. He was in the library. There was no sign of his quarry until Morland spoke from the other side of a wing-back chair that faced the hearth.

  “Get the hell out of here,” Morland growled without looking around to see who had entered the room. “Goddammit, Mrs. Heath, I left orders I was not to be disturbed.”

  “But that is precisely what I intend to do, Morland,” Gideon said very softly. “Dist
urb you. Greatly.”

  There was a stunned silence from the chair. Then Morland heaved himself out of it and spun around to confront Gideon. Brandy from the glass in his hand splashed on the carpet.

  Morland no longer looked like an archangel. His carefully styled blond hair was in disarray. There was dried blood on his forehead and a feverish expression in his eyes. He set down the brandy glass with trembling fingers.

  “St. Justin. What in the name of the devil are you doing here?”

  “Do not trouble yourself to play the gracious host, Morland. I can see that you are not feeling at all well. By the bye, that is a rather nasty gash you sustained on your forehead.” Gideon smiled. “I wonder if it will leave a scar.”

  “Get out of here, St. Justin.”

  “She was afraid she had killed you with that chunk of stone, you know. Harriet is quite strong for a female. And it was a rather large stone, was it not? I saw it on the floor in that chamber where you tried to attack her.”

  Morland’s eyes were wild. “I don’t know what in bloody hell you’re talking about and I have no wish to know. I demand that you leave at once.”

  “I shall leave just as soon as you and I have taken care of a small matter of business.”

  “What business?”

  Gideon arched a brow. “Did I not explain? I require the names of your seconds, of course. So that mine can call on them to arrange the details of our meeting.”

  Morland was speechless for a few seconds. “Seconds? Meeting? Are you mad? What are you talking about?”

  “I am challenging you, naturally. I would have thought you would be expecting it. You have, after all, insulted my wife. What else can a gentleman in my position do, but insist upon satisfaction?”

  “I did not touch your wife. I don’t know what you are talking about,” Morland said quickly. “If she says I insulted her, she is lying. Lying, do you hear me?”

  Gideon shook his head. “There you go, insulting her again. How dare you accuse my wife of lying, Morland? I shall most certainly have to have satisfaction now. I cannot let that pass.”