He couldn’t help wanting to blame the Count for what happened. It probably wasn’t his fault but David couldn’t make himself think rationally whenever the other gentleman was within his vicinity.
The effect of his punch stood stark on the Count’s face, a bright purple bruise that must feel as badly as it looked. He felt no remorse even when he looked into the Count’s angry eyes and said, “Lord d’Ylles, I must apologize to you for my erratic behavior last night. I allowed my drunkenness to get the better of me and I took out fear and frustrations on you, which I should not have.”
“You’re right, Your Grace,” Lord d’Ylles grumbled. “You shouldn’t have. I understand she is your ward but I am as worried for her as you are. If not more.”
“And I should have taken that into consideration at the time, My Lord. Forgive me.”
Lord d’Ylles glared at him for a moment longer before he finally nodded and muttered, “It makes no sense for us to fight with each other if it’s only going to hinder us from finding her.”
With that said, he claimed a seat on the other end of the room. David tossed his annoyance with the other gentleman aside and focused on the situation at hand. “My Lord,” he said to Lord Pemperton. “You were about to explain what happened?”
“Well, as I explained before, it’s all pretty simple and went by quickly,” Lord Pemperton explained. “She was with us all throughout the first half of the performance, but then she excused herself. We assumed she was going to the ladies room but when I noticed that quite some time had gone by and she hadn’t come back, we grew alarmed.”
The same thoughts that had sprang into his mind when he first heard that, came once again.
How could they have allowed so much time to go by? And why did Lady Pemperton let her go on her own?
“We went in search of her after that,” Lady Pemperton picked up. “And we searched the Opera House from top to bottom and saw no sign of her. We came straight here afterwards.”
“You saw no one that might have been suspicious?” David asked. “No clue that might have indicated something?”
“We need to decipher a motive,” Lord Pemperton spoke. “We need to see what might have pushed someone to do something like this in order to figure out who might have done it.”
“A jealous Lord, perhaps?” Lord d’Ylles spoke up. “I know for a fact that Miss Isabel was a well sought after lady. Many gentlemen were hoping to court her. Someone who was spurned may have taken her out of jealousy.”
“That’s believable,” Lady Pemperton said with a nod of her head, her face grim. “But that’s quite broad. At the last ball she attended, she danced with many gentlemen. It would be difficult to sift through all of them to find the culprit.”
Then, David remembered something. “Lady Pemperton, do you recall what you told me after you two went to the markets not too long ago?”’
She only blinked once at that. “Yes, I have been thinking about it as well. Which is why I’m not sure it might be a jealous Lord, if it’s the same person who had been watching us that day.”
“Watching you?” Lord d’Ylles asked, sitting up a little straighter.
“Yes. We were walking through the markets after buying fabric and Miss Isabel told me that she had an overwhelming feeling that she was being watched. I was feeling that way as well and so we left quickly.”
“And you thought nothing of it since then?” he demanded.
Lady Pemperton merely looked over at him calmly. “There was little to think about, My Lord. Miss Isabel was incredibly distressed about the entire ordeal so I thought it best that we just ignore it. Especially since there was no way of knowing who it was.”
“I reckon it was the same person who handed her the note.”
Everyone looked at Lord Pemperton, the Count with his eyebrows dipping with confusion. “What note?” he asked.
David was the one who responded. “During her debut ball, someone handed Miss Isabel a note saying that they would tell her about the truth of her parents if she met with them in Hyde Park. She didn’t go, but I believe it’s the same person, as well.”
“Why am I only just now hearing about this?” Lord d’Ylles demanded strongly. It surprised everyone in the room.
“We didn’t see who it was,” Lord Pemperton said. “We don’t know who gave it to her and merely dismissed it as a rival family of some sort who was jealous of her wonderful debut.”
“And now here she is, taken.” Lord d’Ylles shot to his feet. He was thrumming with anger, hands curling into fists. “As her betrothed, I should have been informed of any threat to her. I could have protected her better that way, had I known that there might be someone out there with bad intentions toward her.”
“For now,” David said slowly, trying to be patient. “We can’t let our pride get the best of us. We need to find her.”
That only served to make the Count angrier. Now, his hands were clenching and unclenching. “You must excuse me, everyone.”
David watched Lord d’Ylles cross over to the other side of the room. Lord and Lady Pemperton watched him as well and no one said anything to stop him as he left.
“Oh, heavens,” Lady Pemperton sighed. “I didn’t expect him to get so upset.”
“He really cares for Miss Isabel,” Lord Pemperton said. “I suppose we should have expected that much.”
Lady Pemperton only nodded, her eyes steady on David. He didn’t understand why but he didn’t give anything away, even though those words made him want to start throwing things again.
“The person who handed her the note is likely to be the culprit,” he said to them. “It’s time we started searching again. Better this time.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
The wonderful room with the lovely view of the garden felt worse than a prison cell. Isabel sat on the chair by the window, staring out at the sight knowing that in another situation, she would have enjoyed it greatly. Right now, however, she could only lament on the freedom she used to have, the ability to come and go as she wished.
She’d only been here for one night and a piece of her was already broken. Isabel didn’t know if that had anything to do with the fact that she had no escape—unless she planned to jump through the window—or the fact that she had been kidnapped. The latter was much more traumatizing, but they had put her in this room that was comfortable despite everything else that was going on.
Her palms were still stinging badly from slamming against the door, her throat raw from her shouting for help. As expected, no one came to her aid but she would try again. And again and again until she got a result.
She heard the door unlock. Isabel shot to her feet, whirling just in time to see a small woman slip into the room holding a tray.
“Don’t run,” she said, her fine voice matching her tiny frame. “There are two men standing on the other side of the door who will catch you if you attempt to escape.”
Isabel was rooted to the spot. She was so happy to be seeing someone else—even though it was just a servant who probably held little influence over the master of the house. She studied the maid as she came closer and laid the tray on the bed. Her curling red hair was tucked under a cap and though she was small, her bright blue eyes were direct.
“Please,” Isabel rasped, stepping closer. “Please, let me go. I don’t know what I did to deserve this but please…”
The maid hesitated. “You will be fine, Miss,” she said. “You’ll be safe here. No one will hurt you.”
She began to turn away. Isabel blurted something else out, not wanting her to leave and keep Isabel in the dark. “Who did this?” she asked.
“It will be revealed to you soon, Miss.”
“Please,” she begged, inching closer. The nearer she came, the more the maid’s defenses rose. “Why am I here? I should at least know that much, don’t you think?”
“As I said, Miss, it will all be revealed soon.” The maid pointed a finger at the food she brought in. “That is breakfast.
I will bring you dinner in the evening. There is enough water there to last for the rest of the day.”
“Please!” Isabel cried out again, knowing the maid was about to leave.
She paused at the door and looked over her shoulder. “You’ll be all right, Miss. Everything will be fine. And when you are safe, Miss, you will be released.”
Isabel picked up her skirts and rushed toward her. She knew she would be too late. She knew she wouldn’t make it in time, especially seeing how casually the maid left the room as if she knew that as well. But she did it nonetheless and the door slammed shut in her face. She made a grab for the handle and tugged a split second after it was locked.
“No!” She banged her hand against the wood again. This wasn’t ladylike, she knew. This wasn’t what someone of her stature should do—begging, screaming, crying. But she was scared. And she didn’t want to be hurt. And she was growing more and more hysterical as the seconds clocked by. She wasn’t thinking about manners right now.
If there was still anyone on the other side, they ignored her brilliantly. She was no longer calling for help. The fear overcame her once more and she sank to the floor in tears. She wasn’t loud, but she could be heard.
It has only been a few hours. I should give them time. I should give him time.
They were probably all looking for her right now. Isabel knew that much. Lord and Lady Pemperton wouldn’t allow her to be taken like that without going to the ends of the earth to get her back.
The Duke wouldn’t either. His feelings aside, his cowardice forgotten, he would do whatever he had to do to find her. Isabel clung to that belief, letting it strengthen her. It was the only thing she could do right now.
The maid’s last words ran through her mind as she picked herself up and made her way over to the bed. Without stopping to think, she began to eat, tasting none of it. She needed her strength so she kept putting food in her mouth even though she had no appetite. The maid’s final words before she left kept replaying.
When I’m safe I’ll be released? What does that mean?
Did her kidnapper think he was protecting her from someone or something? Was he not the one she needed protection from? What exactly was his motive for all of this?
She would get none of the answers in here and Isabel hoped that when the maid came later this evening, she would explain a little more so she could understand. She doubted it, but she could only hope.
In a place like this, it was all she had.
* * *
David was pacing a hole into the floor when a thought occurred to him. He turned to Lord and Lady Pemperton, who were still seated in the same spots they had been in since morning. They’d been at it for nearly an hour, trying to go over the list of people who had attended the debut ball in case they missed something the first time.
“I think we’re deliberating on this in too shallow a manner,” he told them. “We keep thinking it’s someone who is motivated by jealousy, whether it be a lord who wants her for himself or a lady who is envious of the attention she receives. But it doesn’t fit very well with the context of the note Miss Isabel was given.”
“What do you mean?” Lord Pemperton asked, looking up from the papers in his hand.
“We have to take it literally,” David said. “Whoever handed her that note truly knows the history of her family.”
Lady Pemperton frowned. “If that’s the case, then it would have to be someone who knew them personally. That isn’t common knowledge in England.”
David nodded. His mind was whirring, trying to sort through faces and names he thought might fit the bill. “Which will narrow down the search for us even more. Instead of looking for someone who was acting out of jealousy, we should be looking for someone who had a connection to France or her family and is currently in England.”
“Wise thinking, Your Grace,” Lord Pemperton said. “That should make looking for this person much easier, if your theory is correct.”
“Let’s just hope that it is,” he said. He was searching through his own set of papers, looking for names that stood out to him. The debut ball had been large and the guests there were many. It would take them a while and several tries to find something that stood out to them, if anything did at all.
Silence descended over the three of them. David focused on searching. He wouldn’t allow himself to grow weak with worry, because that was the last thing Miss Isabel needed. She needed the Duke that she knew, the one who took care of his own and worked hard to do what needed to be done.
Briefly, though, he wondered where the Count might have gone. He had expected him to return, after cooling down some, in order to be a part of the search effort. But he never came back and David wondered if his pride was much bigger than he thought it was. Or perhaps he was doing his own searching.
He half-hoped it was the latter, simply because the more people that were looking for Miss Isabel only heightened the chances of finding her. And he wouldn’t rest until she was found. No matter what.
Lady Pemperton kept staring at him now and again. He caught her looking a few times and she hadn’t looked away, as if she wanted him to see that she was noticing something about him.
Does she know how I feel about Miss Isabel?
He tried not to focus too much on that, either. He continued to skim through the papers, hoping to see a familiar name of someone who had been in the Chenieux family inner circle. He also prayed he wasn’t following another dead end.
“Wait a moment,” Lord Pemperton broke through the silence. “Do you recognize this name, Your Grace? Christian Velaroix, the Count of Xander.”
David frowned. The name did ring a bell, but he couldn’t be sure if it had anything to do with the Chenieuxs, even though it was quite obviously French. Then he remembered. He had met the Count when he had attended the funeral held for Miss Isabel’s parents in France. He had been distraught about the death and even though the Count hadn’t stood out much in comparison to the other grief-stricken guests, the fact that he was here in England and had attended the debut ball must mean something.
“I remember him,” he said. And he recounted what he remembered about the gentleman. “If I recall correctly, he was a close friend of the Chenieuxs. If he not only attended the debut ball but stayed in England afterwards, then he has to be who we’re looking for. He would definitely know enough to be able to write that note in the first place.”
“We should pay him a visit then,” Lord Pemperton said.
“That we should,” David said with a nod, feeling jumpy. He wanted to get moving now, because the more time they wasted, the more danger Miss Isabel could be in. He rose. “Let’s go.”
“Wait,” Lady Pemperton said. She didn’t stand, because it was clear that she wouldn’t be coming along. “I think Lord d’Ylles needs to be informed of this first.”
David tried not to get too irritated too quickly. And when that failed, he tried not to show it. “He left. If he wanted to be a part of this search, he would have stayed.”
“He was merely upset at not knowing such important things about his own betrothed,” Lady Pemperton said, her eyes steady on him. He got the distinct feeling she was trying to read him. “Anyone would have done the same, don’t you think?”
“No,” David said stubbornly.
Lady Pemperton only cocked her head to the side. “Do you not like Lord d’Ylles, Your Grace?”
He contemplated saying the polite thing, but at this point, David didn’t care about being the respectable young gentleman they all knew him to be. “If he cares for Miss Isabel, then I can learn to tolerate him. But I cannot lie to myself or you, My Lady, and say that I like him in the slightest.”
“I wonder why that is,” she said thoughtfully.
Lord Pemperton thought that it was best to jump in. “Whether you like him or not, Your Grace, I agree with my wife. He should be informed before we go in search of the Count of Xander.”
David tried not to sigh in annoyance. “All righ
t, if you wish.”
He called for the butler who, after receiving the order, rushed off to do as he was told. David didn’t like the idea of waiting around for Lord d’Ylles to arrive. He wanted to act now. Every second lost was a second that Miss Isabel would not get back.
“We will get her back safely, Your Grace,” Lady Pemperton said softly.
They had to. Otherwise, he didn’t know what he would do with himself.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Paul stood as still as a statue, his mind running in a dozen different directions. He never moved when he was thinking hard, trying to sort through his next step. Moving distracted him and here in this very intense moment, he needed to come to a decision about his next move and fast.
Daring Deeds 0f A Forbidden Duchess (Steamy Historical Regency Romance) Page 21
