‘Ramsden, I’d heard you’d got yourself entangled in this little mess.’ He sniffed, sneezed, and gave a satisfied sigh. ‘I think it’s Ramsden’s perfidy we should be discussing, not mine, Lockhart, and we would have that discussion if I didn’t have distressing news to share, which is the reason I’ve come by. There was word today down on the docks that the ship, Bluehawk, has foundered at sea off the coast between France and Spain. The Bluehawk is your son’s ship, is it not? I thought you should hear the news from a friend first.’
Aunt Sara swooned.
Julia jumped to her feet. ‘You lie!’ She turned to her uncle. ‘Don’t believe him. He could tell you anything. There’s no way to verify it.’
Mortimer laughed, a hoarse, evil sound that sent shivers through Julia. ‘Whatever Ramsden has been teaching you, it hasn’t been manners.’ He stepped towards her and Julia flinched involuntarily. Paine rose beside her, lending her the strength of his presence.
‘So you like them wild, Ramsden? All those savages you bedded from your time abroad, no doubt. Well, I’ll make a lady of you yet, Julia. Have no worries on that account.’
Julia’s skin crawled. ‘We’ll be going.’ She had to get out of this room. Oswalt radiated malevolence.
‘Not so fast, my pet.’ Oswalt said, motioning for his henchmen to approach. ‘I think, under the circumstances, I’ll ask permission to keep my bride-to-be under lock and key until the ceremony, which will be very soon and very quiet out of deference for the family during their mourning.’
‘I don’t know…’ Uncle Barnaby sputtered.
‘Yes, you do,’ Oswalt sneered, all veneer of friendship gone from his face. ‘You know Julia’s marriage to me is the only thing that will keep your family financially viable.’
‘I won’t go with you,’ Julia protested.
‘Wants are of no consequence. That’s what my men are for. Men, help Miss Prentiss to my carriage. You three, handle the arrogant Mr Ramsden for me. You know what to do. I believe you have a score to settle from the Cotswold road with the gent.’
Julia screamed and grabbed up the nearest vase, hurling it at the closest attacker. Various parts of the tea set followed in quick succession. All to no avail. In the end, there were more men than tea sets and thin china shards were no deterrent to men used to knives in London’s dark alleys. The men seized her roughly by the arms and hauled her towards the door.
She dragged her heels and screamed for Paine, but Paine was fully engaged with three burly men, warding off snaggle-bladed knives with a delicate chair. He was doing well, having survived thus far with only a streak of blood showing on his arm. Then, suddenly, for no explicable reason he collapsed on the floor in a dead heap.
A man stood over Paine, knife ready to deal a final blow. Julia screamed again, fear for Paine giving her more strength. Oswalt called him off. ‘Let’s go. He can’t follow us if he’s dead. We want him to live a while longer.’
‘Uncle! Help me, stop him,’ Julia cried a desperate plea, swivelling her head around to the corner where Uncle Barnaby had retreated during the fight. Surely, now at the last, when all the masks had been pulled from the vileness of Mortimer’s scheme, her uncle would do something! But the shock of losing Gray had numbed him completely. He huddled in the corner, helpless and ineffectual.
‘Uncle!’ she cried once more, thrashing in the grasp of her captors. But she knew, even as she called for him, she was entirely on her own.
Oswalt was not amenable to her pleas. ‘I’ll silence the bitch myself.’ He advanced on her. Julia anticipated a blow to the head. Instead, she saw it coming too late. He grabbed her hand and scratched it with the ring he wore. The sensation rendered her senseless, no matter how she tried to fight the descending darkness in her mind.
Sam Brown didn’t like the way events were developing one bit. He dutifully deposited the unconscious girl in the small chamber on the top floor that Oswalt had set aside, but he didn’t like it. Swindling a weak viscount was one thing. They’d done that often enough in the past. But involving an innocent girl was beyond the pale in his book.
He sought out Oswalt, finding him in the large office on the second floor.
‘Is it done?’ Oswalt barked when Sam Brown came to the door.
‘About that, boss…’ Sam Brown began. He did not make a habit of questioning Oswalt. ‘What are we doing with her?’
‘We’re not doing anything with her. I’m marrying her tonight.’ Oswalt stopped long enough to cough, a harsh racking sound. He spit into a brass spittoon. ‘Once I marry her, all my problems will be over.’ He coughed again.
Sam noticed the papery quality to Oswalt’s sallow skin. He had not realised how frail the man had become. ‘You’ve got Lockhart ruined. You don’t need her.’
Oswalt eyed him curiously. ‘Is a pretty face all it takes to turn your head these days, Sam? Time was when you were immune to that.’
Sam shifted from foot to foot. ‘Time was, I only dealt with the coves you were culling and it was good sport,’ he dared bravely.
‘Today’s not the day to get squeamish. I need her to secure the knighthood and, more importantly, I need her for my cure so I can live long enough to receive that title.’
‘Your cure? You can’t believe all that Druid nonsense about restoring your potency,’ Sam blurted out.
‘Druid nonsense?’ Oswalt snarled. ‘It’s hardly nonsense. It’s the reason I’ve lived so long as it is in spite of my affliction.’
Affliction, hah. Oswalt’s ailment was more than a minor affliction. It was pox at best, syphilis at worst, Sam Brown mused, and it would kill the young girl upstairs in a slow torturous death that was unworthy of her.
Oswalt waved him away. ‘Back to work, Brown. There’s plenty to be done before tonight. Send my physician in on the way out.’
Sam Brown grunted. He’d been lucky Oswalt hadn’t taken his head off. What had he expected to accomplish? He hadn’t really expected to dissuade Oswalt. He knew the man was intractable once he had made his plans.
He found the forest crone Oswalt loosely titled as ‘physician’ and went outside to the lawn where workers were erecting a large slab. He didn’t like to think what it was going to be used for. Oswalt had taken great relish in outlining what would be done to purify his bride on that slab. The description had turned Brown’s stomach.
No, he didn’t like the direction Oswalt’s plot had taken. He was a straightforward man who liked direct action. He didn’t mind ruining the viscount, who was most likely ruined already by the hand of his own stupidity. Brown didn’t mind picking a fight with coves like Ramsden, who knew the rules and the consequences for living in the stews and hells. He hadn’t liked ‘cheating’ with the poisoned blades and he certainly didn’t approve of what was being done to the girl.
Sam Brown glanced at the sky, tracking the sun’s descent. He had a few hours left in which to do some thinking.
Chapter Seventeen
Paine woke slowly, struggling against the intense fog that swamped his brain. He could hear Peyton and Crispin. Peyton was angry. He could hear his brother’s cold ‘earl’ voice berating some unfortunate soul. Why would that be the case? Where was he? Wherever he was, it was hard and felt like a floor.
‘Paine?’ That was Crispin. ‘Are you coming around now?’
Paine found the strength to push his eyes open and then wished he hadn’t. The room swam. Crispin’s face appeared in his line of sight like a mirage on the desert. Was he ill? He didn’t recall being sick earlier. ‘Help me sit up.’ His tongue felt thick.
Crispin supported him on one side to hoist him up. Paine gave an involuntary groan at the motion and tried to push with his arm on the other side. His hand made contact with a sharp shard of something. It felt like china.
‘Julia!’ Full cognisance flooded back. Paine forced his eyes to stay open in spite of the dizziness. He grabbed at Crispin’s coat. ‘Julia’s gone. Oswalt’s taken her. There were men, too many of them.’ He was babb
ling, letting the last moments of consciousness tumble out in no particular order.
‘Hush, Paine. It’s all right.’ Crispin soothed him like he had when Paine had fallen out of a tree in their youth.
Paine pushed at his brother. ‘No, it’s not all right.’ The dizziness was slowing, less crippling now. They were still in the viscount’s drawing room. He could make out Peyton with Lockhart in another corner. So that was who Peyton was giving a tongue-lashing to. He didn’t pity the man at all. Whatever Peyton did or said to the man wouldn’t be any less than he deserved. The coward had let Oswalt forcibly remove Julia from the house.
Peyton spied him and abruptly left the trembling viscount to come to his side. ‘Peyton, tell me everything. How did you know to come?’ Paine pressed, sparing his body no discomfort as he fought to recover.
‘Your tiger came for us when he saw the men go into the house. He counted up numbers and realised he’d be of more use coming to us.’
‘They’ve taken Julia. Oswalt has her. He means to marry her,’ Paine said. ‘I have to find her.’
‘I know.’ Peyton paused.
‘Tell him everything.’ Crispin urged when it seemed Peyton wouldn’t say anything more.
‘What?’ Paine swivelled his head between his brothers as they shared a silent communication. He paid for the effort with a sharp bout of dizziness.
Peyton went on. ‘Julia fought them. She didn’t go easily. The viscount says they had to drug her, too, before they reached the carriage.’
‘The bastards!’ Paine wanted to explode with anger; anger at the men who did Oswalt’s bidding, anger at the viscount for putting them all in this situation, anger at himself for having failed Julia.
‘Calm down, Paine. You can’t help Julia if you aren’t thinking clearly or if you make yourself sick. The drug will wear off shortly. It’s already been an hour.’
Paine touched his arm where one of the men had nicked him. The ugly blade had slipped through Paine’s chair-shield only briefly. At the time, Paine had thought he’d been clever to avoid a larger slice from the wicked blade. But a larger slice had not been necessary.
‘The blade was poisoned?’ Paine asked.
‘It seems to be the case,’ Peyton concurred. ‘The viscount said you collapsed suddenly and without reason. Oswalt probably had the blades rubbed with a topical poison.
Paine nodded. That made sense. He’d encountered several types of poisons in the East that could be used in that manner and bring about the desired result. As a merchant with far-reaching trade interests, Oswalt would have knowledge of and access to such a commodity.
‘Have some tea. It will help settle your head and your stomach.’ Crispin handed him a mug, probably wrested from the kitchen staff. It was thick and large, not at all like the dainty teacups Julia had thrown at Oswalt’s men.
The thought of her brought the guilt back in full force. ‘We have to get to her fast.’ The words were inadequate to express the fears rioting through him. It brought him physical pain to think of Julia suffering the effects of the drug while being alone in the hands of her enemy. Julia, I am coming.
‘Do you know where they might have taken her?’ Crispin asked after he’d had a chance to drink some of the strong tea.
‘I have an idea,’ Paine confirmed, calling over to Lockhart. ‘Lockhart, does Oswalt still have his property in Richmond?’
‘Y-y-yes. I believe so.’ Lockhart was rooted to his chair across the room, looking utterly immobile except for the movement of his mouth.
‘That’s where they went,’ Paine said confidently.
‘B-b-but he’s got a house in London. It’s closer. Are you sure?’ Lockhart took that unfortunate moment to speak up.
Paine lashed out. ‘Yes, I am goddamned sure of that. I was unaware I had asked for your opinion or that you were even capable of formulating one of your own.’ He pushed to his feet, spoiling for a fight now that the tea had quelled the last of his ill effects.
‘Paine,’ Crispin warned sotto voce at his elbow, a gentle hand on his arm. Paine was unsure if the gesture was meant to restrain him or offer balance if he wobbled. ‘The man’s lost his son and his livelihood all in one day. He’s in shock.’
Paine shook off Crispin’s touch and sat back down. ‘Get him a drink and get him out of here, then. His valet can see to him,’ he growled.
Peyton barked an order and the valet came to fetch the viscount.
‘I love her, you know,’ Paine said as the viscount neared the door. ‘I mean to marry her when all is settled, if she’ll have me.’ He had the special licence in his pocket to prove it. He’d interrupted the archbishop’s breakfast for it just this morning.
But he didn’t think the archbishop minded too much by the time their business transaction was done. Paine had his paper and Lambeth Palace had a new illuminated map of India from Paine’s own collection of atlases. It was one of his favourites, acquired from a Hindu map-maker in Calcutta. The Archbishop was thrilled at the prospect of sending missionaries to all the secret, heathen kingdoms on the map. Paine could care less what the Archbishop did with the map. The only soul he wanted to save was Julia’s and he would have given anything in his possession to do it.
‘It’s been two hours since they took her,’ Paine said restlessly.
‘You’re sure it’s Richmond?’ Peyton queried.
‘Yes. Oswalt could have had me finished off during the fight—a lethal blade or a stronger poison would have done it. He meant for me to live and he means for me to find Julia. He knows I’ll guess he went to Richmond.’
‘All right, we ride and then we wait,’ Peyton said. ‘We wait for the cover of darkness and make our move then, unless there is good reason to move sooner. We’ll stop at Dursley House and collect my footmen. They’ll be useful in a fight, but we’ll still need every advantage the darkness can provide.’
Paine nodded. Peyton was right, but it was six hours until dark and it seemed an eternity to wait. Foolish bravery would earn Julia nothing.
They collected Peyton’s footmen and set out the short distance to Richmond. Paine rode with grim determination, the sound of his horse’s hooves pounding out the litany that rang through his mind: Julia, I am coming.
Paine would come. He would. Julia paced the confines of the tiny attic room she’d been stuffed in. It was windowless and eight feet wide—not that she could pace the whole eight feet, given that the slope of the roof line prohibited anyone over three feet tall to access the last few feet.
She sat on the little cot, the room’s only furnishing, and sighed. She was glad for the privacy she’d been afforded so far. She’d been terribly ill when she’d woken up. She much preferred panicking alone than in the company of her captors.
Now that she felt better, she could take stock of the situation. It was probably an intended side effect of the drug that one couldn’t think clearly for quite some time after waking up.
Once her head had cleared, her first thought had been for Paine. He was alive. She knew that much. Oswalt had spared him for that purpose. That worried her. Oswalt wanted Paine to find her. That meant Paine knew where she’d be even though he’d been unconscious and unable to follow them. She wondered if they’d gone to Richmond. Paine had mentioned Richmond as the site of his first encounter with Oswalt.
Paine would come. Oswalt would use her to trap him. How convenient it must be for Oswalt to play two games at once—the game with the Lockharts and whatever lingering end play he thought he had with Paine over the old quarrel.
Maybe he wouldn’t come, her devil-side argued. Why would he? Perhaps right now, he was cursing her for bringing him into such a mess. Sex was one thing. Dying for it was quite another. He’d promised her pleasure. He’d promised nothing else. He might decide he’d done enough for her. And he’d be right in that conclusion. He’d rescued her from Oswalt once already. He knew how Oswalt thought. He would know this was a trap simply because Oswalt had left him alive. He would know Oswalt wanted
him to come. Paine was a stubborn man. He wouldn’t come just because someone wanted him to.
Julia stood up and resumed pacing. There it was—for all his manipulations, Paine was the one person Oswalt couldn’t manipulate. He could not ensure Paine would come, only that he had all the information to come if he chose to. She smiled at that. It would gall Oswalt no end if Paine didn’t come. She would remember to take comfort in that little prod when the time came.
At least that was settled. He wouldn’t come. Paine was too smart. She’d better stop counting on him to join in her rescue and start thinking of how best to rescue herself.
Unfortunately, she had none of the traditional escape routes at her disposal. All the captured heroines in the Minerva Press novels had secret passageways hidden in their fireplaces or bedsheets for ropes. Hah! That made her snort. Bedsheets were the least of her worries, not that she had any on the bare cot. She needed a window to start with.
For good measure, Julia went to the wood door and tried the handle. It was locked and a guard shouted back at her. Well, that was to be expected. Oswalt knew she wouldn’t sit by passively and let her fate play out on its own.
The handle turned and Julia retreated to the cot. She should have spent her time looking for something to craft into a weapon. She recognised the guard as one of the men from her uncle’s house.
‘Good, you’re up and around. The boss will be glad to know it.’ He held out the long box he carried. ‘The boss says for you to put this on.’
Julia didn’t move to take the box. ‘What is it?’
The man sneered. ‘It’s a wedding gown. You have a half-hour to dress. Boss wants the ceremony to take place at sunset.’
‘And if I don’t?’ She gave a haughty toss of her head. This man would know that she was not cowed by his bulk or brashness.
‘Then you can attend your wedding naked.’ He threw the box on the cot next to her.
Bronwyn Scott's Sexy Regency Bundle Page 51
