Darrington 01 - Marriage Minded Lord

by Sandra Sookoo

  She snorted. “Would I? If Lady Drummond is there ahead of me, don’t expect me to hold my tongue. I’ve had enough of being proper or subservient. I want no more of this sort of life or of her beatings.”

  “Dear God, please say she’s not laid a hand on you.” He looked into her face but could see nothing except flawless skin.

  “I wish I could, but that would be an outright lie.”

  “Damnation!” His chest tightened. “I will kill her.”

  “No, please don’t land yourself into more trouble than you are already in because of me.” She stayed him with a hand on his arm. “Let the matter drop. I will handle her myself, keep her at bay with a fireplace poker if need be until I can make other arrangements.”

  “For the moment and only for the sake of manners I’ll honor your wishes, but if you cannot handle it yourself, you run out into the night and come straight to my home.” He needed a distraction for he only wanted to haul her over his shoulder and take her away from all of this. Plus, it would help him from thinking about how good she’d feel in his arms and what he could do to ease her worries. Undoubtedly, though, such an action would land him in the drink with her yet again. He wanted to blurt out everything in his heart, but he panicked at the last second and took refuge in the uncouth. “I took great pains to wrangle you and Olivia an invitation to this party. The least you could do would appear a tiny bit grateful or engage the man in conversation.” Botheration. That wasn’t what he’d meant to say at all.

  She stared up at him with a mixture of exhaustion and defeat in her expression. “I am grateful, and I accomplished what I’ve wanted to do ever since my mother died. I met my father.”

  “And?” Surely that couldn’t be everything she had to share when she’d taken him to task for far less.

  “I have nothing else to say to him.” She struggled to her feet. “After everything I’ve seen, heard and experienced tonight, I believe the Duke of Amherst is everything a man should never be. I don’t wish my name associated with his. I’d be proud to claim my French heritage if anyone should care.”

  “What the bloody hell does that mean?” Every moment they spent in this house slipped by as wasted time. If they weren’t here, he could take her into his arms and soothe her doubts with kisses, tell her everything would work out as it should in due course and pledge his protection.

  “Lord Amherst isn’t like you, Felix. Don’t you see?” Her eyes widened and her lips parted. Her expression shifted into happiness. A tiny shrug lifted her shoulders. “You are the ideal and everything men should be. You’re strong, determined, a man of duty and passion. You’re loyal and fair. The duke is not, and he’ll never be that.”

  Ah, so she’s spent time thinking of me. That was all to the good. Felix grabbed one of her hands. He peered into her eyes and fell deep into the brown depths. It was time. “Clarice, I need to say—”

  “No.” She pulled her hand from his. “Whatever it is, you must keep it to yourself.” She shook her head. “No matter what else you might think, a relationship of any kind between us isn’t possible.” She bit her bottom lip. “You’ve already done too much damage to your reputation because of me. I cannot allow you to destroy what’s left.”

  “Don’t you understand? I don’t care about any of that.” How could he get through to her?

  Clarice shook her head. Tears sparkled in her eyes. Her trembling chin almost brought him to his knees. “Oh Felix, you must let me go. It’ll be hard at first, but without the temptation, the parting will grow easier.” Then she fisted her hands in her skirts and fled.

  When he came to London, he hadn’t thought he’d need to practice his skills at the hunt, but in order to secure Clarice’s hand or her promise, he do whatever it took. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. How lovely it would be to finally catch her and convince her to be his in name, and everything else, for he would accept nothing less.

  “I hope you’re satisfied with yourself, Felix,” his mother complained as she entered the townhouse with Charlotte in her wake. “You embarrassed me tonight and flaunted your affair in front of people who can further your career. Not to mention you insulted them.”

  “My words were nothing but the truth this evening. Well, except the affair. Quite honestly, nothing untoward has occurred between Clarice and me as of yet outside of a few very lovely kisses.” He closed the door behind them then turned to Samuel, who hovered not far away. “I will see to the ladies tonight, my good man. Please, seek out your bed early this evening.”

  “Very good, my lord.”

  Once the man moved off, Felix divested himself of his greatcoat, hat and gloves. He glanced at his mother. “You look like a thundercloud. Berate me if you must, but my mind is quite firm on this matter. I intend to make Clarice an offer.”

  Roberta let Charlotte help her off with her spencer. “It is folly to pursue this woman. Did you and she make plans when you left the dining room tonight?”

  “No, we did not. In fact, she fled shortly before I came and collected you and Charlotte.”

  “At least one of you understands propriety.” How she managed to convey disappointment and annoyance at the same time, Felix would never know. “I cannot fix this mess tonight so I’m going upstairs. In the morning, we shall all sit down and plan out a strategy to recover your position.”

  He held his tongue while his parent swept up the staircase with her chin held high. Once the door to her rooms closed, he let his shoulders sag. “Sometimes I like to think of Mother on the battlefield somewhere, commanding troop movements, ordering men about. She’d be quite fearsome.”

  “She’s concerned for you,” Charlotte rejoined. Once she’d removed her spencer and gloves, she sighed. “I really wish the two of you could find common ground. I hate to hear you argue all the time.”

  “We wouldn’t need to argue if she would deign to look at the situation from my viewpoint.” Felix strode down the hall and into his study. “If you want to join me, fine. But don’t think I’ll discuss the night’s events with you either.” He dropped into his chair and let out a sigh of relief. He couldn’t remember a time when he’d been so exhausted.

  Charlotte perched on the same chair she’d occupied the last time they’d talked. “Why are you annoyed at me? I’ve been nothing but helpful to your plight.”

  “More like you’ve been butting in and pushing me into the direction you wished for me to go.” He poured out a measure of brandy and took a sip. The liquor warmed his throat when he swallowed. “Why did you loan her the gown and the choker?” For that matter, when had she made Clarice’s acquaintance, and why hadn’t either of them told him?

  “Because Miss Delacroix is in love with you, you nodcock. She wanted to look beautiful.”

  How could she know that? Had they talked? Still, his chest swelled with pride. “I rather doubt that. She all but wished me to the devil earlier.”

  “For your own good, most likely, or perhaps you weren’t listening carefully enough.”

  “I heard what she said quite clearly.” At times, conversing with females was beyond aggravating. Why couldn’t they say what they meant?

  “No, dearest brother. You heard what she said, not what she felt.” She pleated a section of skirting. “If you’d stop being so bacon-brained, you would realize you return her regard. I merely set the wheel in motion and presented her in the best light possible.”

  “She did look lovely in that gown. It suited her coloring much better than would yours, not that you don’t appear spectacular in that hue.” He swallowed the remainder of the liquor in one gulp. He poured another measure of brandy into his glass. “I meant what I told Mother earlier. I want to make Clarice an offer.”

  She launched to her feet. “How wonderful! I’m happy to hear it. You two will suit admirably for you are both the most stubborn people I’ve ever met.”

  Felix shook his head. “I suspect she’ll refuse my suit if her objections before she left me tonight are any indication.�
�

  “That is because she’s probably terrified of what will happen if she does accept, especially while she’s still in Lady Drummond’s employ.”

  “Out with it, Charlotte. I’m beyond tired tonight.”

  “Just this. I believe Lady Drummond beats Clarice. I’ve seen the bruises on the dear girl’s back myself, but your lady didn’t come right out and say who’d given them to her.”

  “Dear God, then it’s true.” He downed his second glass of brandy. “She made reference to beatings but never expanded the thought. And stupid me, I should have carried her off right then instead of letting her go back there regardless of her pleading.” What kind of man was he that he hadn’t demanded she accept his help?

  “Knowing Clarice, she was too proud. We should both pray that she knows enough to stay out of Lady Drummond’s sight tonight and that she locks her door. As much as I would think it quite romantic of you to bash in the Drummond door and spirit Clarice away, even I know that would be looked at with dim frowns. Life isn’t a Gothic novel.” With a sniff reminiscent of their mother, Charlotte quit the room.

  Once her footfalls faded, he loosened his cravat then ran a hand through his hair. Waiting for morning would be insufferable. All he wanted was to protect Clarice from the world at large. Why wouldn’t she let him do this one little thing?

  When his feet slid off the desktop, Felix awoke with a start. He’d been dozing fitfully since Charlotte left him, but the rest hadn’t brought peace. If anything, the knots tightening in his belly left him more uneasy than when he’d begun.

  “Lord Swandon.” Samuel rapped at the still-open study door. “There is a matter of some urgency you need to attend to.”

  He stared, blurry-eyed, at the butler. Clad in a long night shirt with what appeared to be a hastily donned dressing gown and slippers, he resembled a ghost. “Out with it, man.” Standing, Felix slowly stretched his stiff, aching limbs.

  “There’s a young boy in the parlor, my lord. Apparently, he’d been pounding on the door for some time before one of the footmen let him in then roused me.”

  “How exceedingly odd. Why would a boy come here?” Felix followed Samuel down the hall and into the parlor.

  “He said he had your card and would only speak with you.” Samuel cleared his throat at the door. “Master Malcolm, Lord Swandon has arrived.” He remained at the door.

  Felix narrowed his eyes. The urchin was probably no older than nine or ten. His clothes were dirty but not ragged. Dark smudges marred his hands and face. “I was told you need to speak with me.”

  “Morning, milord.” The young man briefly touched the brim of his cap. Shaggy blond hair stuck out beneath it. “I was on me route delivering bundles of the Times to them who sell the papers when I sees something suspicious.” The boy’s rough accent authenticated his story.

  Ah, newspaper ink. That would explain the smudges. “Go on.” Felix nodded in encouragement.

  “Well, just as I was about to finish me route through St. James Square, I spies a big burly man shoot out of a townhouse with a woman over his shoulder. Looked like she was playing dead, she did.”

  “While that is interesting, I fail to understand what any of this has to do with me.” Yes, the boy’s story was mildly intriguing, but crime in London wasn’t his concern.

  The boy rolled his eyes. “You gents ain’t got no patience for a good yarn.” He dug around in a pocket of his natty tweed jacket and finally pulled out a creased calling card. “The lady dropped her reticule. Must have been cold-cocked by the man, you see. Well, I picks up the purse, my lord, and roots around inside. Not to steal, mind you.”

  “Of course,” Felix murmured, wishing the lad would get to the point.

  “I gots me pride after all.” Malcolm straightened his spine. “There weren’t no coin inside anyway. I tucked the frippery in me bag if you want it.”

  “That won’t be necessary. By the by, what color was it?” Knots tightened in his stomach.

  The boy shrugged. “Black, maybe some sort of blue, and it was real soft.”

  Felix forced himself to remain calm. That sort of reticule could belong to anyone.

  “I found this inside.” He handed the card to Felix.

  “This is one of mine.” He lifted the card and sniffed. A faint scent of lavender met his nose, immediately putting him in mind of Clarice.

  “I tucked it away. I had to finish me route, after all, but I kept remembering what I seen, you see, and since your name was on that card, I came here straightaway once I finished.”

  “How long does it take you to walk your route?”

  “’Bout two hours, sir. St. James Square is me first stretch.”

  The Drummond residence also sat in St. James Square. “And you say a man was carrying an unresponsive woman?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Did you notice what she wore, what color her hair was, anything else pertinent?”

  Malcolm wrinkled his nose. “Too dark to tell. Might have caught a flash of some pretty blue or green, but the man met up with another man. Said something about a Frenchie woman who clawed at his face before he knocked her out.”

  Felix’s gut ached as if he’d been kicked. Clarice? Was she in danger? “Did they mention where they were headed?” Why the hell would anyone wish to kidnap a lady’s companion? Certainty not for ransom.

  “I heard Wapping, but then they turned the opposite way of me route.” The boy shifted his weight from foot to foot. “I should be on me way, sir. School is in a few hours and the headmaster will take a rod to me if I fall asleep at me desk again.”

  “I quite understand. If the headmaster disciplines you this morning, give him my direction. I shall set him straight.”

  “Thank you kindly, sir!” Malcolm beamed.

  “And, Malcolm?” Felix fished a sovereign from his pocket. He tossed it the boy’s way. “I appreciate your information and your forthright attitude. Go along.”

  “Well ain’t you a real ripper, sir? Thank you!”

  “Samuel?” Felix gestured to his butler. “Take our friend here to the kitchens. Have Cook give him as much food as he can eat plus some to take away for the fine service he’s provided.”

  “Very good, my lord.”

  “And Samuel, round up a footman. Advise him to have the town coach brought around. I needs must be off as soon as he can manage it.”

  “I’ll see to it immediately, Lord Swandon.”

  Once the butler left with Malcolm, Felix stared at his calling card. Creased and dog-eared, it appeared to have been well-used… or perhaps battered while tucked away in her reticule or a pocket. He sniffed the vellum once more and smiled at the familiar perfume. Or perhaps she’d kept it near her bosom as a small reminder.

  The thugs had a good two hours on him. Should he risk stopping by the Drummond house? Chances were high that if Clarice had been abducted, Olivia wouldn’t admit to it or worse, she’d attempt to detain him, especially if she’d been behind the nefarious deed. After Clarice had hinted about beatings, he wouldn’t be surprised.

  …Wynesford built his fortune on human trafficking…

  The words bounced through his mind like a child’s ball. Where would the kidnappers have taken her, and in Wapping no less? Cold dread coursed down his spine. Stuff and bother.

  …he’s into shipping…

  Of course. The London Docks. If Clarice hadn’t told him about the secret to the Drummond funds, it would never have occurred to him.

  “Devil take it.” He slammed out of the study. If she came away from this incident with even a scratch on her delicate skin, he’d pummel the stuffing out of everyone who had a hand in the kidnapping. Taking Wynesford to task would be a bit trickier, but he would, even if it cost him the rest of his reputation and his position within Society.

  Chapter Ten

  Felix alighted from his town coach and swept his gaze over the darkened buildings crowding the piers. Dawn was a couple of hours off. The rhythmic slap of the Th
ames against the wharves and banks filled the air. Here, on the west side near the West India Docks, the shadows seemed thicker as buildings leaned close to each other, lining the narrow streets. Steel rang against steel in the distance. The dull thud of iron into wood echoed softly. Occasionally, voices drifted to his position but the owners of said voices never materialized from the gloom.

  “Where are we headed, my lord? If we linger, the constable will be along soon,” his carriage driver advised.

  Where indeed. Felix wrinkled his nose against the aromas of human piss, rubbish and the brackish grime that clung to the water and hulls of the ships. If Lady Drummond intended to sell Clarice into slavery, chances were high she couldn’t do it here on English soil. Plus, European women would command a higher price in the islands or perhaps farther off in India or the Orient.

  “Let’s get closer to the export dock. Barring that, I’ll have to investigate each wharf by foot. Have a care to pull off into the shadows. It won’t due to announce our presence too soon.” He regained his seat just as the carriage lurched forward.

  Of course, all of this was speculation. Clarice could have been killed and the thugs who’d taken her might have already dumped her body into the river. His stomach roiled. He clenched his jaw. I refuse to think along those lines. Despite the mental reassurance, his chest was tight with frustration and fear. He had no idea people he actually knew could commit such a loathsome act, or had no respect for human life at all.

  The carriage rocked to a halt. Felix threw open the door and tumbled out, glad for the chance at action. His brain didn’t do well marinating on things that may not have happened. A long row of warehouses crowded the dock. Darkened doorways yawned at even intervals. Coils of ropes appeared like dangerous snakes in the shadows. Then the pools of black shifted. Two men materialized out of the gloom near the farthest doorway, so slowly his eyes might have been playing tricks on him—one tall and thin where the other was shorter and solidly built.