Lizzie Tempest Ruins A Viscount (Felmont Brides Series Book 1)

by Maggie Jagger

Chapter 30

  “Whisked her off, he did.” Gladys poured tea for Bertram Felmont in her withdrawing room. “Just an hour ago. I ask you, the nerve of the man after what he’d done.” She smiled at her guest. “So kind of you to come to my aid, sir. I’m sure I don’t know what to do now, except she must be rescued.”

  Bertram Felmont raised an eyebrow at her. Of course, he didn’t know. Gladys debated with her conscience for an instant then let herself tell him all. “Dear Lady Felmont caught Lord Felmont in active passion with a whore in their bedroom at Quorr House. I should not be telling you this, but you are my only hope. Gordon will not listen to a word against him, even though he helped chain the viscount to the bed.”

  “Cousin Elizabeth chained her husband to a bed?” A ghost of a smile appeared on Bertram Felmont’s thin lips. “And Jim Thwaite? What does he say?”

  “In on the proceedings, if you ask me. How else could the viscount have escaped? After all Lady Felmont did for that family, why it is disgracefully shabby letting her be taken off in her nightclothes. It’s all my fault for not shooting him, which I might have done if I’d known he meant to take her away from the Folly.”

  Bertram Felmont sipped his tea, deep in thought.

  Gladys did the same, not wanting to interrupt his musings. At last he answered, “Our dear Quentin Seraphim must be in love with the other woman. Do you know who she is?”

  “A black-haired harlot is all the description I got. Gracious, Mr. Felmont, what makes you think he’s in love with her?”

  “He risks his marriage for her. From the sounds of it, he wanted to be found out. I have never believed him to be stupid. Making use of the marriage bed to fornicate with his whore is asking to be discovered, don’t you think?”

  “But why kidnap Lady Felmont, if he is in love with the harlot?”

  “That is what I cannot make sense of. Perhaps Lady Felmont was mistaken. Perhaps someone wanted to make her think the viscount had played false. There is nothing more likely to make her loathe and fear him. Those miserable deaths were a salutary lesson to all of us.”

  “I thought,” confided Gladys, “if he had not made an attachment while he was away, that he’d warm to her once she settled to married life.”

  “Poor cousin Elizabeth, I always thought that if she knew him better, she’d forget to hate him and simply love him.” He gave a Felmont laugh, dark and dangerous, which gave Gladys a thrill of excitement. “I can only say, you will find him with his love, wherever she is.”

  The door opened suddenly. Gladys had never entertained a man in the middle of the night before and did not relish James Thwaite’s expression of shocked disapproval. She was not doing anything wrong by asking for help. If it was up to her, she would dismiss James for the part he had played in this farce.

  “Forgive my intrusion, Miss Dyson. The viscount is demanding to speak to someone and I thought perhaps you’d better try to calm him down. Removed his chains, he has, and wrecked the room. Tried to brain me when I opened the door. Begging your pardon, Mr. Felmont.” The under-steward eyed Bertram Felmont with suspicion. “I don’t suppose you know anything about Lady Felmont’s disappearance?”

  “Nothing at all, but I am very curious to see the viscount.” Mr. Felmont rose and offered his arm to her.

  Gladys took it with pleasure. Mr. Felmont was always such a gentleman, never treated her with disdain, not like some of the female Felmonts.

  James led the way down the hallway to the west wing. Gladys called out, “This isn’t the right way! The viscount was locked in his bedroom, next to Lady Felmont’s.”

  Thuds and curses suddenly echoed up the hallway. “So I heard, Miss Dyson,” James said politely, “but there is no one in that room now. The viscount is locked in Lady Felmont’s mother’s bedroom, and Gordon says he is not to be let out. He says the viscount has gone insane and doesn’t know his own name.”

  The doors were all open the one guarded by the Thwaite twins and their brother from the stable. Blows rained on it. A torrent of threats rolled towards them.

  Gladys stopped in her tracks.

  “But if the viscount is in there, who kidnapped Lady Felmont? I swear it was him, I know it was. Oh dear, whatever am I going to do now?”

  “Do not worry, Miss Dyson. You sent for me, what else could you do? I wonder if that damned highwayman has her at last.” Bertram Felmont patted her hand. It calmed Gladys. They were a wily lot. If anyone could sort out who had kidnapped whom, it was Bertram Felmont.

  The Thwaite twins stepped aside. Gladys noticed James and his brother, the one not quite right in the head, hung back. Quite a family affair.

  “Allow me,” said Bertram Felmont. He unlocked the door and opened it.

  A Felmont appeared, bloody and bruised. He had been beaten, his face so swollen he was almost unrecognizable, except for the family nose.

  “My dear boy, what is the matter?” asked Bertram Felmont. Gladys thought his mild tone was curious.

  “Father! Thank goodness you are here. Dace has taken Lizzie and locked me in. He knocked me about, then chained me to the damned bed.”

  Gladys gave a gasp of surprise. It was Consideration Felmont! The young man tried to leave, but soon found his way blocked by the Thwaite twins.

  They moved aside at Bertram Felmont’s touch. Gladys followed the old gentleman into the bedchamber. The room was ruined.

  The new curtains littered the floor with debris from the chairs and gilt plastering from the walls. Gladys deplored the destructive nature of Bertram Felmont’s son. He had always been a wild, spoiled boy.

  Mr. Felmont moved to the window to perch on the low ledge. “You have been busy, my sweet boy.” He motioned to his son to approach him. “How you did it, I do not know, but you are going to put me to a deal of trouble. I have old fashioned notions of marriage, Quentin Seraphim.”

  Gladys almost crowed out loud. Mr. Bertram was calling his son by the wrong name! He was playing the game, though Gladys was not sure what exactly it was. Even James gave a muffled snort of relief. The Thwaite twins grinned. Even the one not right in the head seemed pleased. She didn’t know what they were all so pleased about, but she tried to look pleasantly surprised.

  Bertram Felmont gave his devilish grimace. “There are enough unhappy wives, you shall not make yours so.”

  “Are you mad, Father? It’s me, your son! Dace said he’d beat me beyond recognition. Do you think I’ll stand by and let him take her away? Tell them who I am! Tell them to release me!”

  Consideration made for the door. James and his brothers blocked the way. Con hurled a chair leg at them. Gladys edged closer to Bertram Felmont, who spoke in that vitriolic drawl he did so well. “My sweet boy, your wife has been kidnapped by a thief. Dragged off against her will. I very much fear you will learn a painful lesson from this.”

  “I am not the viscount!” Blood seeped from Consideration’s nose as he approached his father.

  “But who else can you be?” the old man asked. “If you were my son, I’d have to disown you for interfering in a marriage, without an invitation.” The words issued from his thin lips with such threat and warning in their tone that Gladys had never heard the like outside a stage.

  Gladys saw their effect on Consideration was immediate. “Father, don’t–”

  “I’m not your father, my boy.” Bertram Felmont offered his son a handkerchief. ”You are obviously suffering from madness. A few weeks of rest will find you much recovered. Quite yourself again. I shall send you a book of sermons to help pass the time.” Bertram Felmont rose and offered Gladys his arm to escort her to the door. “Or, I have some interesting essays on brewing ale, if you’d prefer those?”

  Con wiped his nose and scowled an answer.

  “By the way, my son and his gift for music are on their way north to Yorkshire. To make an effort to please Miss Ramsbottom. To play her like an instrument of beauty, to sing a duet with her that will last a lifetime.”

  “Father, you can’t
ask me to marry for money, not when I know what it means to love.”

  “You are not my son. He won’t be welcomed home until he returns with his bride,” said Bertram Felmont severely. “Of course, I might relent if he promises to never interfere in a marriage, without an invitation!”

  The old man bowed Gladys out of room and shut the door.

  “My dear Miss Dyson,” he asked, “do you suppose a brandy might be of medicinal use to restore our nerves?”

  Gladys agreed brandy was a necessity. She couldn’t wait to hear all about Miss Ramsbottom and her fortune. Mr. Felmont was better than a play for entertainment.

  She was very relieved that the viscount had kidnapped Lizzie, to make peace with her, and that Consideration Felmont was locked up so he couldn’t interfere. All was right with the world, as long as dear Lizzie didn’t catch cold outside in her nightdress. But Gladys trusted the viscount to do all that was needed to keep Lizzie safe. Love would triumph in the end, she had no doubt about that!