“You . . . you want Lady Gray and me to die because of love?” Katherine could scarcely believe the absurdity of the question, though it did bring another one to mind. “Who on earth are you doing this for?”
“Once again, I’ve no intention of telling you that,” Lady Trapleigh said as the carriage jerked to one side.
“Will you at least tell me where we are going?” Katherine asked, needing to distract herself with conversation.
“To a lovely little apartment where I can keep an eye on you until further notice.”
Katherine didn’t like the sound of that one bit, but she also knew that the only thing that might save her was the ability to keep calm and rational. She could not allow her fear to take control. Thoughts racing, she grasped hold of one and addressed the widow with purpose. “You lied to us about Donovan, didn’t you?”
Lady Trapleigh laughed. “Yes, I thought that a rather clever ploy, really. You and Lord Roxberry are remarkably naïve to even consider that what I told you was true after I deliberately tried to kill you.” The weight of her gaze swept over Katherine. “I daresay you would have been very well suited for each other, but unfortunately it’s too late for that now.”
“What about your son?” Katherine asked. “Does he even exist?”
Lady Trapleigh nodded. “Tobias is just as real as you and I. He’s also perfectly safe.”
Well, at least that was something, Katherine mused. She wasn’t particularly fond of Lady Trapleigh at the moment, but she was happy to hear that her two-year-old son was unharmed. Setting her mind to figuring out Lady Trapleigh’s motive, she considered a possible connection between herself and Patricia, for although she didn’t think the widow had any plans of killing Lucien’s sister, she clearly didn’t mind if she happened to die by other means. The more Katherine thought about it, the only link she could think of between herself and Patricia was Lucien, but that was insane. Still, she had to ask. “Does Roxberry have something to do with this?”
“You’re obviously very clever,” Lady Trapleigh said, the edge of her mouth tilting ever so slightly.
“How is he involved?”
“Now, now . . . let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I’d hate to deprive you of the chance to work it all out on your own.”
Katherine opened her mouth to argue the point but thought better of it. Lady Trapleigh was determined not to say a word on the matter, and Katherine was swiftly beginning to realize that her best hope of survival would be to start contemplating a means of escape. Hopefully an opportunity to flee would arrive soon enough.
But when they finally reached their destination and Katherine was ushered inside a narrow stairwell, her heart sank. Wherever they were, she very much doubted that any of the people close by would care overly much about her welfare. This was not the sort of neighborhood where gentry ventured, and the scornful look of displeasure that briefly greeted her from a woman carrying a pail of water filled her with despair. She’d get no help from that quarter.
“That’s far enough,” Lady Trapleigh muttered when they reached the first door on the right. Keeping her pistol on Katherine, she handed a key to her accomplice and asked him to unlock the door.
It squeaked open on rusty hinges to reveal an opulently decorated space in complete contrast to the building’s exterior appearance and setting. Oriental rugs dressed the floor of the hallway, leading them toward a spacious room where a comfortable seating arrangement took up one corner, while a generously sized four-poster bed hung with silk veil curtains occupied the other. Katherine took it all in with wide-eyed dismay. “This . . .” Good heavens. She’d heard of such places but had never imagined ever setting foot inside one, for there could be no mistaking what it was—Lady Trapleigh’s love nest.
“Do you approve?” the widow asked in a sultry tone.
“It’s very . . . err . . . lavish,” was all Katherine could think to say. She’d barely finished her appraisal when she felt her arms being dragged behind her back by rough fingers. In the next instant, a cord of some sort was being bound tightly around her wrists.
Lady Trapleigh chuckled as she gave Katherine a nudge. “Have a seat on that chair over there,” she said.
Stepping forward, Katherine contemplated the possibility of making a dash for it. If she leapt to one side, she might be able to catch Lady Trapleigh by surprise. However, Katherine had no weapon with which to defend herself, her wrists were now tied, and with a pistol pressed against her back, she doubted she’d avoid getting shot in the process. And that was without considering that Lady Trapleigh was not acting alone—there would still be a man Katherine would have to somehow overpower. Still, she didn’t move forward immediately but glanced around, her eyes settling on a cluster of perfume bottles that stood not too far away on a spindly table.
“I suggest ye do as her ladyship asks,” the burly man said as he gave Katherine a hard shove.
The gesture sent Katherine forward with a jolt. Her foot caught against the hem of her gown and she tripped, falling against the table with the perfume bottles on it and sending the entire display crashing to the floor. With a loud thud, Katherine landed on top of the shards of glass and instinctively rolled sideways in an attempt to prevent getting cut, while a pungent smell of roses mingling with jasmine, lavender and an assortment of other scents filled the air.
“Get up,” Lady Trapleigh snapped, her pistol trained on Katherine as she spoke.
Katherine made an honest attempt to do so, but it was difficult, restrained as she was and with her long skirts wound about her legs.
With increased exasperation, Lady Trapleigh nodded toward her accomplice. “Hoist her up and help her to the chair.”
The man did as he was asked without question, his fingers digging against Katherine’s flesh as he yanked her up by her arm and hauled her over to the chair, where he unceremoniously pushed her down onto the seat with a loud grunt.
“Our situations have finally been reversed,” Lady Trapleigh said. Handing the pistol to her accomplice, she ordered him to keep it trained on Katherine, then sashayed across to what looked like a jewelry box and flipped open the lid.
Heart pounding in her chest, Katherine watched as Lady Trapleigh removed a folded piece of paper from her reticule and placed it carefully inside the box before closing it again. Whatever was written on the paper, it seemed important—at least to Lady Trapleigh. Katherine closed her eyes, willing her heart rate to drop and for the panic that gripped her body to abate. She had to stay calm for the sake of her daughter. Sophia needed her and could not be left motherless.
And then there was Lucien, the man who’d helped her overcome her fears by making her see in herself the woman that he loved—a woman who was no longer pained by her own reflection. She loved him so terribly much and wanted desperately to share the rest of her life with him.
No, whatever her dismal fate might be, Katherine refused to meet it without a fight. The mere thought of not seeing her daughter or Lucien again was enough to bring tears to her eyes. Stubbornly, she pushed them back.
“I have a few things to see to,” Lady Trapleigh said, “but I will return shortly. Keep an eye on her ladyship until then and you will receive the reward we discussed.”
The man nodded. “I’ll make sure she stays exactly where she is,” he promised.
Seating himself opposite Katherine, he stared at her while Lady Trapleigh took her leave, the sound of the front door opening and closing signifying her absence. “If you’re good and don’t give me any trouble, I’ll promise to make it swift when her ladyship gives the order. But if ye try anything funny, I’ll shoot ye in the belly and let ye bleed.”
Katherine blinked. Her mouth had long since gone dry, and she was finding it difficult to breathe. “Whatever she’s offering, I can pay you more,” she said as her fingers clasped the large shard of glass she’d managed to grab from the f
loor when she’d pretended to fall. Turning it carefully around, she wedged it between her wrists and the cord and moved it carefully back and forth in a cutting motion.
The man grinned. “I would never betray Lady Trapleigh,” he said. “Least of all when she is acting in his lordship’s interest.”
Katherine frowned. “Who are you referring to?”
“I don’t believe her ladyship would approve of me telling ye that,” he said.
Continuing to work at her restraints, Katherine considered every nobleman of her acquaintance. There weren’t many she’d had much to do with since her husband’s death. But despite her efforts, she couldn’t for the life of her think of anyone she’d displeased to such a degree that he would actually want her dead. Perhaps if she could work out why someone would want to kill her and whom it might benefit? She still failed to arrive at an answer.
Nodding with understanding, she said, “No, I suppose not.” The glass in her hand punctured her skin, and she did her best not to wince in response to the stinging sensation that crept through her palm. With limited movement to avoid attracting attention, she sliced at the cord, praying that it was beginning to fray. “Will you kill me here?” she asked, hoping to distract her assailant. “Or will you be taking me to a different location?”
“Ye sure do ask a lot of questions, don’t ye?”
“It just occurred to me that Lady Trapleigh might not enjoy getting her apartment messy, not to mention that it’s so much harder to transport a dead body than it is to transport a live one.”
“Not if ye keep on yapping it won’t,” the man grumbled.
Blessedly, Katherine began to feel the cording slip. It was getting looser.
“Stop squirming,” the man said a moment later.
Taking a deep breath, Katherine steeled herself. Her eyes shifted toward the jewelry box. If Lady Trapleigh or the man in front of her were of the opinion that she would just sit in this chair and await her execution, then they were entirely mistaken. “I’m sorry, but I’m not very comfortable,” she said. “In fact, if you don’t mind, I’d be very obliged if I could have some water.”
The man scoffed. “You’re a long way from Mayfair, and I ain’t yer servant.”
“I didn’t say that you were,” Katherine said, scrambling for an idea to get him out of the room. “So I will buy it from you.”
He guffawed, showing off a toothless grin. “With what, pray tell? You’ve nothing on ye that I couldn’t just as easily take without offering ye anything in return.”
“True, but I can sign over to you one of the investments Lady Trapleigh didn’t try to burn, thereby providing you with a handsome income of two thousand pounds per year.”
The pistol wavered slightly as he gaped at her. “How bloody thirsty are ye?”
Oh dear. Perhaps she’d overdone it a notch? “I’m parched,” Katherine said as she met his steely gaze.
Silence settled between them for a lengthy moment while Katherine quietly begged him to take her offer. Thankfully, greed eventually won and the man nodded as he rose to his feet. “I’ll be right back,” he said.
No sooner was he out of sight than Katherine went back to work on her restraints. With increased vigor, she cut away at them while blood from the cut in her palm started trickling down her fingers. The shard grew slippery, but at least she could feel that the cord binding her wrists was giving way. Knowing that time was of the essence, she gave it a hard tug, successfully snapping it and freeing herself in the process.
Footsteps sounded, and Katherine leapt to her feet. She needed a weapon.
Rushing forward, she grabbed a crystal vase, emptied its contents on the floor and hurried across to the doorway through which her captor would soon be arriving. Clutching the vase by its base, she raised it with both hands, her back pressed flat against the wall. Blood rushed through her veins, but she tried to ignore it and focus on what she had to do. It was either them or her, so the instant she saw the man’s profile emerge through the doorway, she tried not to think too much about her actions as she swung the vase directly at his forehead. A groan sounded, followed by the thud that he made as he hit the floor.
Stepping forward on quaking legs, Katherine tried to get a better look. The man was lying facedown and motionless. Close to him, a glass was lying on its side, the water inside it spilling across the carpet. The pistol was there too and Katherine didn’t waste a single minute grabbing it, but before she took to her heels, she crossed the floor to the jewelry box. Opening it, she snatched up the piece of paper that Lady Trapleigh had placed there and quickly ran for the door. She was finally free, but in order to remain so, she would have to get out of there before Lady Trapleigh returned.
Chapter 18
Lucien was beside himself with worry as he jumped out of the carriage, which was moving frustratingly slow due to traffic, and continued toward his sister’s house on foot. In fact, he ran, ignoring the stares and frowns that attached themselves to him like glue. He was in a hurry, for he knew that Gray would not have sent a footman to fetch him before the baby’s arrival unless the situation was critical.
Racing up the front steps of Gray House, Lucien thought of Katherine. Surely she would be all right until he returned, especially with Starkly going to check on her. He winced, knowing how uncomfortable she’d probably be with the earl’s company. She would understand Lucien’s reasoning though. If Patricia’s life was in immediate jeopardy, Katherine would not begrudge his going to her—indeed, she would encourage him to do so.
“How is she faring?” Lucien asked the butler as soon as the door opened in response to his third knock.
“She’s very weak, my lord,” the butler said, his mouth curved downward and his eyes reflecting a great deal of concern.
“And his lordship?”
“He is beside himself with anxiety. I’d best take you through to him at once—he’s in the study.”
The moment Lucien caught a glimpse of his brother-in-law, he became painfully aware of just how serious the situation was. “She still lives, doesn’t she?” he asked, his voice cracking as he forced out the words. The butler had told him Patricia was weak, but one could never be sure just how much a butler would divulge.
Gray nodded as he took a sip from the glass he held between his hands—brandy, judging from the color. He looked exhausted. “Thank God you came,” he said. “I was beginning to think you might not—you’re usually home in the mornings, so I couldn’t understand what was taking you so long. Even your grandmother arrived before you did.”
Lucien looked around, surprised that he’d missed her.
“She’s upstairs,” Gray explained. “Barged right past Jefferson and myself.”
Lucien could well imagine. “Forgive me,” he said, “but I went to meet with Donovan, the man I thought to be involved in Lady Crossby’s attacks. I’m afraid it took a while for the footman to find me.” He took a shaky breath. “Is it possible for me to see her as well?”
An anguished scream filled the air. Gray winced. “She’s having the baby—there’s also a doctor and a midwife with her.”
“But . . . I didn’t think she was due for another month.” The pitter-patter of feet on the stairs drew Lucien’s gaze to the door, beyond which he saw a maid hurrying by.
“Apparently our child has grown impatient,” Gray said, smiling bravely as he raised a glass of brandy to his lips and took a sip.
“What does the doctor say?” Lucien asked, fearing the worst. It wasn’t uncommon for a woman to die in childbirth, but after suffering the loss of his brother, he wasn’t sure if he would survive losing his sister too.
“There’s a complication,” Gray said, averting his gaze. Crossing to the window, he looked out. “The baby’s turned the wrong way.”
“But Patricia will survive?”
There was another heart-wrenching
scream, and Gray’s body tensed. “I don’t know,” he said as he dropped his head into his hands, taking on a defeated look that Lucien didn’t care for in the least. “I just wish there was something I could do for her. I feel so helpless.”
Failing to find the right words, Lucien decided to toss propriety and do the unthinkable. Crossing the floor, he embraced his brother-in-law. “She’s a strong woman, Gray, and she’s been through this before. I’m sure she’ll pull through along with the baby,” he said as Gray hugged him back, clearly needing whatever strength and compassion Lucien could offer.
Half an hour passed—the longest of Lucien’s life—before the doctor finally arrived in the study, announcing that although Lady Gray had lost a great deal of blood and was still at risk, she and the baby had both survived the ordeal. “You may go up and greet your new son,” the doctor said. “Just be aware that your wife is very weak. She requires a great deal of rest, so you mustn’t stay too long.”
“Come along, Roxberry,” Gray said as he set his glass on his desk. “You should accompany me, as I’m sure she’s eager to see you.”
Lucien nodded, accepting the invitation, but when he saw his sister and how pale she looked, he had to struggle to fight back the tears. Nestled in the crook of her arm, peacefully asleep, lay a tiny being with a wrinkled brow. Patricia’s eyes opened at the sound of their arrival, and when she saw them both, she offered them a weak smile that almost broke Lucien’s heart. “How are you feeling?” Gray asked as he seated himself by her bedside and reached for her hand, his face filled with paternal pride.
“Not at my best, but I daresay it was worth every effort,” Patricia said.
Eyeing his grandmother, who stood silently to one side, Lucien was struck by how shaken she looked. There was no denying that the birth had almost ended in disaster.
“Isn’t he handsome?” Patricia asked, drawing Lucien’s attention back to her.
“He certainly is,” Lucien whispered.
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