With Leo somewhere far across the sea, without her.
In the back of the carriage, curled up on the musty seat, Alicia began to weep.
The future, which had been so wondrous, was suddenly so very dark.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
ACTION IS TAKEN
ACTION IS TAKEN
The bedchamber at Wilding was dark, the only brightness in the room leaking through the curtains, reflecting softly off the coverlet of the vast bed. The room was silent, the fire burned to a glowing redness in the grate. The only sound was the soft rise and fall of breathing as the person in the bed slept quietly on.
“Ernst!”
Valeria, coming to the bedchamber in her night-gown, gold hair loose, suddenly shook her husband to wakefulness.
“Uh...”
Ernst, dark hair tousled from sleep, looked up at his wife and smiled. “Did you have a bad dream, dear?”
“I can't sleep,” she whispered. “It's Alicia. I am sick with worry.”
She sat down on the bed, shoulders shivering under the nightgown.
“It will be well,” Ernst said softly and leaned over to hold his wife in a gentle embrace, hugging her to his chest. “I know she seems young, but we were almost as young when you went all the way to Bavaria to rescue Henry.”
“I know,” Valeria sighed, and leaned back, kissing him. “But it is not her youth that worries me. It is that this elopement seems most unlike her.”
Ernst sighed. Alicia had disappeared almost a week ago, leaving only a short, rudimentary note. Almost two days after her disappearance, they had received word from Newgrange Park that Roderick, the heir to the earldom, had gone missing also. It seemed obvious that the two had decided they could wait no longer and had eloped together, probably to Scotland.
Valeria settled down beside Ernst, expression sad. “I know it is the obvious explanation, but there is something wrong, here.” She sighed. “We did not even know she cared for Roderick! And now she has run off with him.”
“It is odd, I agree,” Ernst said softly. “I mean, Alicia was never secretive! Not with us. And Roderick is sensible. I would not have expected this.”
Valeria put an arm around his shoulders tenderly. Ernst had never liked Roderick, and had remarked that Alicia did not, or had not seemed to, before her birthday. Alicia's indifference had persuaded him, more than once, to call off the betrothal, and Valeria had a hard time persuading him to approve. As Roderick matured, Ernst had come to admit the young man was level-headed and came to terms with the agreement.
“I would not have expected this of him. Nor of her. It is odd,” Valeria agreed. “I am not happy about it,” she sighed.
“We shall have to come to terms with this, my dear,” Ernst said peaceably. “Alicia will return to us, I am sure of it, and we will welcome her and her new husband as if they had not rushed into things.”
They had decided to pretend it had not happened. The elopement would have caused a scandal, had word of it escaped. Valeria and Ernst had met with Roderick's father, and they had all agreed to keep the matter secret until the couple returned as husband and wife. It was not wholly uncommon for a couple to forestall their vows, and they expected them to return after remedying their transgression with marriage.
It was not the scandal, then, that upset Valeria, since she and Ernst had averted it, but the sudden inexplicable change in her daughter. They had always been close, and she could not quite believe Alicia would betray her trust.
“I know we will accept it,” Valeria sighed, “but I cannot feel content with this. There is more to this story. I know Alicia. That note she left me was... strange. It is not like her not to tell me anything.”
“She was in a hurry,” Ernst said, smiling.
“True,” Valeria agreed, then leaned back, a frown creasing her delicate brow. “I just cannot sleep, for worry about her.”
They sat quietly a while, Ernst holding her in his careful embrace.
“I can ask the maid to bring you something warm,” Ernst suggested, “and I am sure I can distract you from your worries.”
He was already stroking her hair, his lips warm against the crown of her head. Valeria sighed, and allowed him to soothe her.
“Yes, dear,” she mused at last. “I think perhaps a warm drink would be nice. Maybe one each?” She smiled. “And then I promise I shall try to relax.”
“Very well,” Ernst said.
He slid out from between the sheets and padded to the bell-rope, summoning the maid.
“A posset for us both, if you could, Hannah?” he asked quietly. “And perhaps stoke the fire?”
“Very good, milord,” the maid said softly, and set about warming the room. She disappeared to fetch the drinks.
Half an hour later, Valeria leaned back on the pillows and tried to close her eyes. Her husband was a warm, constant presence, his hand gentle on her wrist, the other arm behind her head.
Though Ernst was loving and attentive, and did make her forget her worries, it did not help after he fell asleep. She still could not find rest and, as she lay there, a plan began to form in her mind: she would go to town, to discover the truth.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
FEARS IN THE DARK
FEARS IN THE DARK
Alicia awoke, blinking. It was dark. So dark, in fact, that she could not see her hand before her. She was cold.
Straining her eyes, she sat up. Where was Leo? Then she remembered. Leo was on the ship.
She was... wherever this was. Where the frightening men who had captured her had left her.
Crawling back under the blanket she had been given, she curled up. The blanket was patched in a few places, but was warm, and seemed clean. She was grateful for it in the bitter, aching cold of the stone-walled room. She thought carefully through the events of the previous day.
Yesterday, she had arrived here after an indeterminably long ride in the carriage. It must have not truly been more than half an hour, for it had remained light for several hours after her arrival. She remembered pitch darkness when they arrived, the carriage drawn into a cellar to mask the fact that she was within, she guessed.
After that, she recalled being carried upstairs, and then down a narrow corridor. Even with the sack obscuring her vision, she could sense the change in light that meant she was carried past windows, and hear the echoes of the feet, which meant the walls were close. Those who had carried her had been none too careful, and she had been terrified, unable to imagine what was happening.
She had heard a door open, and been deposited here. A man removed the sack and another cut the ropes. The men had both retreated before she had a chance to glance at them, though she noticed they were both wearing dark clothing.
Huddled beneath the blanket they had brought her, Alicia tried to make sense of it.
The Duke of Lennox! It had to be he who had abducted her. Alicia could imagine no other man who would have had the cause to kidnap her. And even to him, she could not really ascribe a motive. Why would he take her? The duke had met her, once. Roderick had introduced her to him as his betrothed, at that ball, those weeks ago. In the time between then and this moment, she had heard that Roderick and he were connected by a love of gambling. If the duke had seen her, Roderick's affianced wife, on the street with another man. She remembered the look on the duke's face as he had recognized her, that day when he pursued them in the woods. If he saw me with Leo, and knows me betrothed to Roderick, then...
There could be only one reason he had taken her. To bargain with Roderick. Whether it would work or not, she did not know. Roderick's opinion of her had always been hidden, distantly courteous and polite. It was difficult to gauge what his response might be to any blackmail regarding her.
Alicia shook her head, huddled under her blanket. It seemed wholly unbelievable. Would the duke really capture her, with the intent of trading her to Roderick?
“It cannot be that,” she mused.
It seemed far more likely
that she had been taken in order to lure Leo to this place, so that the duke could gain his revenge. Alicia thought about that possibility.
“But Leo does not know where I am,” she whispered. The duke had no way of letting Leo know where she had gone!
Alicia closed her eyes. None of this made sense. Neither possibility – that she was a bargaining tool for use against Roderick, or a lure for Leo – made sense. Perhaps it was not the duke who had taken her, but someone else entirely. But who? She thought about half-remembered warnings about the London streets. She shuddered.
I have to escape. Whatever fate awaited her, it seemed unpleasant. Either she was at the mercy of the duke, a man they knew to be cruel and unstable, or she had been captured by someone unknown. Alicia was not sure which was more frightening.
She stood shakily and went to examine the door. Though she had tried every way she could to budge it the previous day, she half-hoped some solution would come to her now.
She rattled the handle. It was locked, as she had expected and she sat back on her heels. The only window was more than three times her height from the floor. She had considered scaling the wall, but all her efforts had proved futile.
“How else might I escape?” she asked aloud. She ran through all the possibilities she could think of: feigning illness so that they brought her out of this cold room, distracting the guard and escaping, screaming until someone passing heard her. There were certainly things she could try, though all seemed dangerous, and few seemed likely to work. I wish someone knew where I was. No one did. The one thought that allowed her some hope was that Leo had seen her taken. He might, if luck would have it, recognize who had taken her. But if he comes here, he will be in danger, too. Even were it not the duke who captured her, whoever it was would not take kindly to her rescue. And how could she wish Leo any harm?
Miserable, afraid, and exhausted, Alicia fell into a restless, weary sleep.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
LIES AND TRUTH
LIES AND TRUTH
There were two areas of London where the wealthy chose to live. The first was Kensington: old stone and prestige, the very air seemed scented with old money. The second was Chelsea: new and sophisticated, the apartments smaller, but light and airy. This was the modern part of town.
In Chelsea, a dark-painted carriage rolled slowly up the street. It parked outside the apartment of Roderick Drosty, and a man alighted from it and was admitted. Ten minutes later, the sound of arguing drifted out through the window.
“And I caught her, behaving like a wharf-side doxy in the street—”
“Enough, please! I beg you!”
Roderick, his back to the Duke of Lennox, lifted a hand to his brow, his face twisted as if in pain. His mulberry-velvet coat stretched over his shoulders as he clenched a fist in anger.
Behind him, the swarthy duke blinked. “I only tell the truth,” he said quietly.
“You tell what you perceived!” Roderick said, louder than he intended. “I do not care to hear it.”
“Very well,” the duke said icily. “Then I would do wrong, to return your property?”
“She is not my...” Roderick turned. His face was white, his brow furrowed as if he struggled with immense pain. “I am sorry, my friend,” he finished. “I am grateful for your assistance in this, as always.”
“I should hope so,” the duke said smoothly.
“I simply do not wish to know of the lady's infidelities. She was, after all, my betrothed, and I cannot bear to hear of it.”
“Of course,” the duke said, and turned away, looking out of the long bay windows overlooking the finer end of the city. “I shall speak no more of it. I merely wished to bring her here. It is for you to punish her as she merits.”
“I...” Roderick looked at the silhouette of the duke as if he had suddenly turned green, or sprouted an extra set of limbs. “Punish her?”
“Of course,” the duke said. “She has whored herself, when she was yours. It is your duty to punish such a wayward woman.”
“It is out of my hands,” Roderick said, bleakly. “I will not stoop to harm another person. If Alicia has chosen otherwise, I shall simply turn my back on the arrangement.”
“I am afraid that will not be easy,” the duke cautioned.
Roderick swallowed. He knew very well that such matters were not sidestepped lightly. He would need to secure the consent of both their sets of parents, though he was sure that in the circumstances his own parents would agree. As it happened, since he met Henriette Longford, he had broached the subject with his father, though he had received no answer yet.
“I know it will not be easy,” Roderick said.
“Well, then,” the duke said quietly. “I suggest that you take her to court, as an adulteress. That way, you will be free of such a creature.” He shuddered. “You would also receive recompense from the family. And I know, personally, that you could do with ten thousand pounds or so.”
Roderick blinked. So, there was some gain involved! The fact that Roderick could claim as recompense the exact sum to cancel his gambling debts to the duke – ten thousand pounds – must have been what caught his interest! The duke would come into some moderate wealth quite quickly, were Roderick to pay him back overnight. That would free the man to do whatever he wished: buy another apartment, or a set of shops to rent, or maybe an investment in the East India Company. Roderick, thinking about it, had heard him discuss all these possibilities as a way to re-establish his own fortune. No wonder the man had seen fit to kidnap Alicia!
For a while, he said nothing.
“I shall need time to ponder these matters,” he said slowly.
“Then I shall leave you to your thinking,” the duke said quietly. “When you have decided, find me in the Whitlaw Club.”
“Indeed,” Roderick said quietly.
The two men shook hands. The duke left.
Roderick stayed by the door, looking out of the long window to the distant Thames. His heart ached.
“I do not understand myself,” he said at length.
He was truly devastated by the news of Alicia's elopement with some unknown dark-haired man. Why that upset him so, he was not certain. He himself had wished their betrothal could be ended.
At least Alicia’s misconduct would give him ample reason to end the betrothal. But, could he do that to her?
Announcement of her conduct would mean Alicia was forever shunned. Even if the man she had been seen with were to be honorable, and marry her, the tale of what she had done to him – Roderick Drosty, heir to the Earl of Darbyshire – would ensure she was never accepted.
He could not do that to her.
It was, otherwise, a tempting offer. If he could claim monetary recompense, he would settle at once his vast gambling debt to the duke... a problem that kept him awake if he chose to recall it. And, if he were to tell people of Alicia's conduct, he would easily be able to justify ending their betrothal. Which would mean he could marry Henriette without the hint of scandal.
At that thought, his face softened. Standing at the window, looking out at the gray sky and gray rooftops beyond, he wished that he could see her.
Henriette would know what to do.
But could he tell her?
If he caused Alicia pain, Henriette would probably hate him for it. It did not take much to notice that Henriette was fiercely loyal to her friends. Roderick paced along the silken carpets, his footsteps almost inaudible in the vast, silk-papered space.
Roderick sat down, holding his head in his hands. His fingers tangled in his dark auburn hair.
There was only one thing he could do, he decided. He could not harm Alicia, but he could not afford to anger the duke. He would have to ask her to help him settle the debts. If he saved her from scandal, Alicia would surely agree to that.
“I do not wish to cause her pain,” he said aloud. Alicia had been a family friend since his earliest memories, and she was a kind, good-hearted girl.
But
this idea was the only way. He would have to speak with her.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
A DIFFICULT MEETING
A DIFFICULT MEETING
It was afternoon, though Alicia, locked in the lonely turret room, would not have known it. Time could have stopped there, except for the sounds from the street: the hiss of wheels on the cobblestones, the shout of a vendor, the clop of boot-heels on the stone pavements.
Alicia looked at herself in the surface of a pail of water. Her long red hair was disheveled, her face dirty, her cheeks already sunken from days without adequate nourishment. She hardly recognized herself. The worst was her eyes – darkly-underlined with lack of sleep, blank with sadness. The image distressed her, and she pushed away the water.
She huddled against the wall.
“I wonder where Leo is?” she said aloud.
As she said it, the turret echoed back. Leo, Leo...
“Leo. Leo.”
Alicia said the name repeatedly. His image would not leave her, his smile ingrained on the surface of her heart.
“Leo...” She clasped her arms about her knees and rocked, back and forth, keening.
A sound from the street disturbed her. It sounded like a door, slamming.
She sat up, looking about her as if she had only just awoken. She looked down at her hands, clasped tight.
“I am losing my grip on sanity,” she said, frightened. Had she really been keening, rocking back and forth?
She stood and walked to the corner, looking up at the filtered light. It distracted her, brought her back from the sense of isolation, the edge of sanity.
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