Daring Deeds 0f A Forbidden Duchess (Steamy Historical Regency Romance)

by Violet Hamers

  She headed straight to the ladies room, hoping to relieve herself and hopefully clear her mind somewhat so that she could enjoy the rest of her time with the Count. The main lobby of the Opera House was milling with a few workers. She seemed to be the only one heading toward the ladies room because when she turned down the short hallway, she was alone.

  Someone grabbed her hand. She gasped a little at the sudden contact before she was tugged into a pair of strong arms and a cloth over her nose.

  She grabbed at the forearms, trying to pry them away from her but it was to no avail. She was only growing weaker, the sides of her vision fading into darkness until her hands fell to her side and everything went black.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  “Where is Miss Isabel?”

  The Count was already frowning when Lady Pemperton asked him the question, as if the same words had been right on the tip of his lips. “I’m not sure, My Lady,” he said. “She excused herself a short while ago but I’m sure she should be back by now.”

  Lady Pemperton leaned back in her seat. She had seen when Miss Isabel had left her seat, but had thought nothing of it, thinking she had only gone to the ladies room. That had been a while ago and she was yet to come back. The interval was already over, the theatre shrouded in darkness with everyone’s attention on the stage.

  Worry crept through her. As if he could sense it, Lord Pemperton laid a hand on hers and said, “There’s no need to be concerned. Perhaps she only got lost on her way back. Or something caught her eye. We both know how curious she can be.”

  “I’m sure she would come back as quickly as she could so as not to miss any of the performance.”

  “It’s her first time here,” Lord Pemperton told her, his voice low and soothing. It was a pity it did nothing to ease her fears. “She simply doesn’t know how things work.”

  Lady Pemperton pulled her hand away from his, twisting her fingers together. “She isn’t a fool, Ferguson,” she whispered to him.

  Ferguson actually looked surprise at that. “I wasn’t saying that she was. I’m simply trying to let you see that there’s no need to worry.”

  “Well, it isn’t working,” Alice nearly snapped and she tried her best to rein it in. She didn’t want to cause an unnecessary rift between them when she was already distressed. “Something is wrong. I can feel it.”

  That was all she needed to say. Alice knew that Ferguson trusted her instincts, especially since it had never steered them wrong before. In fact, it was one of the things he always said he loved about her.

  “All right,” he said. “Let’s go look for her.”

  Alice nodded. She waited for Ferguson to relay the message to the Count, who was constantly looking over his shoulder looking for her. His frown deepened even further when he heard their plans to search for her and he nodded determinedly.

  Alice followed behind the two gentlemen as they led the way into the lobby. It wasn’t very full so it was easy to see that Isabel wasn’t amongst the people milling around the wide, open space.

  “I will search the ladies room for her,” Alice said. She held her voice strong, trying not to let her worry show too much. Ferguson stood close to her side, nodding. The Count was on the other side of her, clearly fretting.

  “We will search all the other common areas,” Ferguson told her. “I’m sure we’ll find her.”

  She only nodded. She wasn’t allowing any of the negative thoughts to invade her mind just yet. She simply needed to focus on the search.

  As much as she loved Miss Isabel dearly, as if she were her own daughter, she knew how easily the younger lady could get swept up with her curiosity. She wouldn’t be surprised if they found her, only to learn that she had wandered off, taken away by something that had caught her eye.

  So why do I have such an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach?

  She didn’t allow herself to focus too much on it. She hurried to the ladies room but after a quick search, Miss Isabel was nowhere to be found. She had expected as much, since she couldn’t fathom what she might have been doing in there for so long, but her heart still fell dejectedly.

  She left the ladies room behind and began to wander around the lobby area, peeping her head into small hallways, wondering if she would be inside. It was to no avail and when she spotted Ferguson and the Count heading back to her, she knew that they had no better luck.

  “You haven’t found her either, have you?” her husband asked, though she knew he wasn’t expecting an answer. She was sure that just by the look on her face, it was clear that she was no closer to knowing where Miss Isabel was than when they had parted ways.

  The look on the Count’s face showed pure anguish. Alice thought a permanent line of worry was forming in his forehead as he asked, “What do you think might have happened to her?”

  “Nothing, hopefully,” Ferguson said. “But it’s clear that she isn’t here. I don’t think we should stay here any longer.”

  “I agree,” Alice said. Again and again, she shoved the agonizing thoughts to the side to focus on their next course of action. “The Duke. He should know of this.”

  The two gentlemen nodded in agreement and they all headed toward the exit. As they left, Alice couldn’t help thinking, only briefly, about that uneasy feeling that someone had been watching Miss Isabel and her when they went to the markets.

  * * *

  When Isabel opened her eyes, for a brief second, she thought she was back at the manor. It didn’t make sense to her but she clung to the hope nonetheless, praying that being grabbed by someone from behind had all been a dream. But as she continued looking around the room, she began to notice the large differences that told her that she wasn’t where she should be.

  Slowly, she sat up, anticipating a headache. Nothing came but the sinking realization that she had been kidnapped. This wasn’t her room, nor any other room she recognized in the manor, which meant whoever had made her pass out brought her back to his place.

  She hurried out of the bed. She was still in the gown she wore to the Opera and she sent up a quick prayer of relief that she seemed to be untouched as regards to her person. As she quickly made her way to the only window in the room, she checked her arms for bruises and found none. That seemed like a good thing… for now.

  The window showed her a view of a lovely and vast garden. If the room she was in wasn’t her first indication that whoever took her was wealthy, the garden was. But Isabel stared at the lovely roses and petunias, the wonderfully arranged colors, and felt her chest cave in.

  On unsteady feet, tears pricking her eyes, she rushed over to the door. She knew it would be locked before she reached it but she tried nonetheless, hoping for a miracle.

  None came and this time, she was finding it hard to breathe.

  She banged a hand on the heavy door. “Is someone there?” she bellowed with everything she had. But the weight of her situation was pressing so heavily on her that she could hardly muster up a proper breath.

  “Is someone out there?” she screamed again, banging both her hands this time. She kept calling out to someone, hoping whoever might be passing on the other side would take pity on her when they heard the desperation in her voice. But it was a lost hope. They took her for a reason. They wouldn’t let her go just because she begged them to.

  When her voice was raw and her hands were throbbing in pain, she backed away from the door. She sank back onto the bed, not feeling the mattress beneath her. Her mind was whirring, tears streaming unhindered down her face.

  She didn’t know where she was, nor who had taken her. She didn’t know if anyone even noticed she was missing yet, or how much time had passed. She was stuck, sequestered to this room, and forced to imagine all the terrible things that would come from this ordeal.

  He'll find me. I’m sure of it.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  David was beginning to lose track of how many glasses of brandy he had. Right now, as he stared at the glass in his hand, it looked
as if he was holding two instead of one. But that didn’t scare him. It spurred him on and he threw what was left to the back of his throat.

  It was slowly becoming his routine. As the days wore on, he was forgetting about work, his duties, his responsibilities. He was less focused on the things he needed to do and more focused on the things he wanted but couldn’t have.

  He couldn’t stop thinking about Miss Isabel.

  With a grunt, he heaved himself to his feet, holding on to the arm of the chair to keep from toppling over from the sudden movement. When he thought he was stable enough, he staggered his way over to pour himself another glass. He was beginning to run low, but it didn’t stop him. When the brandy ran out, he would go to the whiskey next.

  I should stop. Or else I’ll pass out like I did last night.

  Only last night, he had every reason to drink until he passed out. He had started drinking once the Marquess and his wife left for their manor, and Miss Isabel retreated to her bedchamber. He crept out of hiding after that and went straight to the parlor, the memory of her betrothal to the Count urging him on.

  This was what he wanted and yet he couldn’t get used to the idea of it.

  No matter how much he tried to, he was stuck with the same thoughts looping over and over again. He pushed her to get married, to do what he thought was right, and now the mere thought of her being tied to another person drove him to drink himself silly. It was stupid of him, he knew that much. What other option did he have at this point?

  When he drank, he hoped to feel a little more numb, prayed that the alcohol would help overshadow the pain, jealousy, and longing that filled him constantly. It worked for a short, blissful moment, but then he would find himself heading toward her chambers.

  A foolish move because now I’ve only made things worse. For her and for me.

  The drinking did help, somewhat, but it also made his sadness deeper than ever.

  He took a sip of his new glass, staring into the fire. He was remembering when they had first kissed, the moment he realized that he couldn’t resist her no matter how much he tried. And try he did, but it always ended the same.

  He heard people coming toward the door and he sat facing the fire, tensing in anticipation. It must be the Marquess and his wife, which meant there was a chance Miss Isabel was with them as well. He wasn’t sure how to face her, if he could at all. Not after he had embarrassed himself the way he had last night.

  James was the one who let them in and in the corner of his eye, David saw the other man shoot him a worried glance before retreating out of the room. He didn’t focus on that, though. He was more upset at the fact that Miss Isabel wasn’t with them, although he wasn’t very sure he wanted to see her at all right now. Even more than that, the Count came in behind them.

  “What is it?” he asked, his voice strong and hard. He finished the rest of his glass as quickly as he did the first but he didn’t get up. He didn’t need them seeing just how drunk he was.

  “There is a problem, Your Grace,” said the Marquess.

  His tone made David perk up a bit, noting the urgency that coursed through his words. “A problem.”

  “It’s Miss Isabel,” Lady Pemperton spoke up. She sounded worried as well. “She has gone missing.”

  For a moment, David didn’t do anything. He thought he might have misheard, so he looked over his shoulder at the lot of them, waiting for them to continue so he could get a little more clarification. But they only stared back at him. The Marquess and his wife looked on edge, as if they were waiting for the moment the words sank in. The Count looked as if he wasn’t even listening, his eyes darting back and forth with a deep frown on his face.

  Slowly, David set his glass down gently on the floor. He could feel their bated breaths as he rose and turned to face them. He didn’t see Lord and Lady Pemperton any longer. He only had eyes for Lord d’Ylles.

  David’s first few steps were unthreatening, normal almost, if it wasn’t for the way he swayed to one side for a brief moment. Then he began moving a little faster, with much more urgency until he was within reach of the Count to send his fist straight into his jaw.

  “Your Grace!” Lord Pemperton bellowed in alarm. Lady Pemperton screamed and she quickly backed away from the commotion.

  David wasn’t listening. He could only hear the roar in his head, along with the soft whisper that told him that Lord d’Ylles was to blame for this. He didn’t know how, and he didn’t care.

  The Count staggered on his feet from the force of the blow, his hand shooting up to his face. “What are you doing?” he shouted.

  “You were with her!” David shouted back. The heat in his face was all-consuming, a rising pressure in his head. “You should have been the one protecting her! How could you have let something like this happen?”

  “It wasn’t my fault!”

  “Coward!”

  David lunged again and only narrowly missed the Count’s jaw this time. He suddenly wished he wasn’t drunk. If he hadn’t been, it would have been much easier for him to pommel him to the ground.

  “Your Grace, stop this!” A pair of arms grabbed him from behind, preventing him from throwing another punch. “This is no one’s fault! Let us talk about this like gentlemen!”

  “I don’t need to talk about a thing!” David shook Lord Pemperton off him with such force that the other man went backwards a few steps. He noticed Lady Pemperton holding her hand over her mouth by the door. “You are to blame as well. You lost her!”

  “No one lost her, Your Grace!” David had never seen Lord Pemperton express such anger before and it rendered him speechless for a moment. “If you would only stop to listen, then you would understand what has happened.”

  “Is she gone?” David asked. “Do you not know where she is?”

  Lord Pemperton hesitated at the question but finally he responded with, “No, we do not.”

  Anger exploded within him again and he kicked the closest thing to him. A small end table went flying, the vase that had been sitting atop it crashing to the floor. Lady Pemperton screeched in alarm.

  “Your Grace!” Suddenly, Lord Pemperton was standing before him. He grabbed David by the hand, steadying him from doing something violent again. It was a good thing that he did because Lord d’Ylles was still nearly within range and David badly wanted to take his sudden rage out on him again. “Stop it or your servants will hear.”

  “Let them.”

  “We don’t need any gossip right now,” he said softly to him. “You are clearly drunk and you’re not thinking straight. You need to calm down.”

  “I’m fine,” David grumbled. But he wasn’t fine and that was clear to everyone in the room as well as him. He didn’t know what to do. In his drunken state, he could only understand that Miss Isabel was somewhere out there, in danger perhaps, and he could do nothing.

  Not right now, at least. Why did I drink so much? I can hardly stand on my own two feet.

  “Come,” Lord Pemperton said. “Let’s take you to your room.”

  David wanted to protest. He wanted to tell them that now was not the time to baby him and he would calm down so they could sort through how to find her. But he wasn’t in the right frame of mind. He lingered on the anger, still wanting to take it out on Lord d’Ylles who watched silently from the side. He wanted to channel all his sudden worry for the lady he loved into something physical, at least for now.

  But Lord Pemperton was right. There was no use causing a scene, which would only lead to gossip. He allowed the Marquess to lead him out the room, ignoring the way Lady Pemperton stared at him as he left. He didn’t want to know what she was thinking. He didn’t want to think about anything at all.

  He only wanted to sleep, just until his drunkenness was gone and he could think clearly. He couldn’t help her in this state at all.

  James hovered near as Lord Pemperton led him. David thought the older gentleman was taking him to his bedchambers, to sleep off his clearly drunken state, but they
didn’t go up the staircase. Instead, he steered him toward a small drawing room. Once he was there, his friend helped him into the nearest chair and David sank into the chair easily, losing all the strength in his limbs as he rested his neck on the back of it. He stared up at the ceiling, seeing Miss Isabel’s smiling face.

  How can she be missing?

  Only a few hours ago he had watched from his study as she left with Lady Pemperton, smiling from ear to ear. He had thought her to be happy with this evening’s plan, even more happy that she would be sharing it with her betrothed, and it was what had led him back to the brandy.

  While he drank, he had consoled himself by saying that she was happy, that even if she may have feelings for him, her feelings for the Count were what mattered since it was he she would marry in the end. He had tried to tell himself that she was enjoying herself tonight and even if he drank himself to sleep once more, she would sleep peacefully in her bed knowing that she had a gentleman who seemed to care enough about her as she deserved.