Anita Mills

by Scandal Bound

  The search party combed the entire drive, the lane into town, the fields on either side of the road, and finally the village itself. Gerald was becoming frantic. Alex had left the girl in his care. He stomped into the local pub, scattering people and chairs before him.

  “The devil’s loose—look at ’im!”

  “Naw, ’tis the Cap’n—th’ Devil’s in Lunnon.”

  The red glow of the fire and the cheap tallow candles gave an eerie aspect to Gerald Deveratix’ face as he demanded the attention of the assembled drinkers.

  “My cousin, Miss Deveraux, is missing!” he shouted above the crowd to be heard. “I need your help.” He lofted a purse that clinked with coins. “This to the man who finds her.”

  They all looked at one another. Quality missing? Whoever heard of a missing lady? Something bad must’ve happened to her, but it was going to be hard to find anyone in the chill darkness. Gerald lofted the bag of gold higher. Well, for the size of the purse, they’d give it a try. The men began casting about for wood to use as torches and then moved out into the deserted lane to start the search.

  Only the blacksmith hung back for a word with Gerald. Almost diffidently the burly man approached until he caught Gerry’s attention by calling out, “Sor—yer pardon, sor, but ’appen a gent arst fer ’er just t’day.”

  “Who?”

  “Dunno. A fat’un, qualitylike, but queer.”

  “Queer? How?”

  “Niver seen none t’ wear nuthin’ like hit.”

  Gerald racked his brain for anyone who could have resembled the big fellow’s description and came up empty. None knew her whereabouts to ask about her. They’d been too careful to keep her sheltered at the Meadows. But someone had given her a start in the village that very morning. What was the name she’d murmured—Leach? Damn! He should never have chanced taking her out of the house. He hesitated and then tossed the bag of coins at the smithy. “Here.”

  “Here yersel’, Cap’n.” The fellow threw it back neatly. “Don’t like fer nothin’ ter ’appen t’ a lady.”

  Gerald’s heart sank with the cold realization that Ellen had met no accident. There could be only one person who would find it necessary to abduct her from Trent’s protection. “Brockhaven,” he half-whispered to himself. “Damn his impudent eyes,” he yelled aloud as he broke his riding whip over the nearest chairback. “If Alex doesn’t kill him over this, then by God, I shall!”

  Within the hour, he was riding hell-bent for London, accompanied’ by the still-mending Timms and two manservants. That it was November and cold did not seem to be a consideration for the captain or Timms, and the others had the good sense not to grumble openly. By carriage, they were some six hours from London, but the ride could be cut to less than four on a swift horse. And both Trent and his brother kept horses at post houses on the way.

  By three in the morning, they were rousting out the household at Trent’s town house in St. James’s. The affronted butler was about to turn them away when he caught sight of Gerald Deveraux in the lantern light.

  “Captain! A fine time to be calling, sir. Thought you was at the Meadows.”

  “I was, Crabtree. Where’s Trent?” Gerald demanded brusquely.

  “He’s out, sir.”

  “Where?”

  “I am sure I do not know, Captain.”

  “Damn! I have to find him! Now!”

  Crawfurd, still clad in his nightshirt, with a wrapper clutched to his chest, appeared over-the stair railing to see to the commotion. “Sir, thought you was at home!”

  “Where is he, Crawfurd? I have to reach Trent. Ellie’s missing!”

  The valet came down the stairs two at a time. “Miss Ellen? His lordship’ll have a fit.” He caught Gerald’s impatient expression and hastened to answer, “I should look to the Mantini, sir.”

  “Lud, is that still going on? No matter. Her direction, man, out with it!”

  “Half Moon. Down by the end.” Crawfurd nodded. “But wait, I am going with you.”

  “You’re a valet, man.”

  “And I can carry a cudgel with the best of them, sir, if the need be. Besides, if anything has happened to Miss Ellen, there’ll be the devil to pay where my lord is concerned.” Without waiting for Gerald to refuse him, Crawfurd disappeared back into his chamber.

  “Devil a bit!” Gerald muttered. “I have not the time to wait. Timms! Have you the Mantini’s direction?”

  “Aye, sir!” Trent’s driver limped up behind him.

  “Leg still paining you, Timms?”

  “Don’t mind it, sir.”

  “We’ll take the second coach. You can drive better than you can ride, I daresay. Come on.”

  “I am ready, Captain,” Crawfurd announced from the stairs above with as much dignity as he could muster while still tucking his shirttail into his pants.

  “Captain Gerry,” the butler remonstrated, “you cannot mean to intrude on his lordship!”

  Without answering, Gerald, Timms, and Crawfurd pushed past the scandalized Crabtree and back out into the night.

  “Gor!” a footman breathed behind them, “they mean to roust the Devil!”

  14

  SOPHIA MANTINI STUDIED the magnificent ruby necklace before raising her eyes to the marquess. At first, the high-tempered beauty had been unable to believe that she held his parting gift to her. Her mercenary mind debated whether to make a scene or to accept the fact that their liaison was at an end. He’d been different since he returned to London the week before—inattentive, distant, and preoccupied—so much so, in fact, that he’d shown no interest in sharing her bed. No, it was over and it was time to admit it. Besides, something in his expression told her it would be useless to plead. Well, he’d been generous enough with his money that she had no complaint. She stared a long moment at the handsome, impassive face and sighed.

  “There’s someone else?”

  “Yes.”

  “She must be very beautiful, Alex.”

  “Not in the usual way, Sophie, but I find her attractive.”

  “And so the dashing Marquess of Trent mounts another mistress,” the singer managed through twisted lips.

  “No, Sophie …” He hesitated, picking his words carefully. “You cannot pretend that you expected it to last, my dear. You are no more constant in your affections than I have been.” He gave her a brief, wry smile. “My salad days are over.”

  “Am I to wish you happy, then?”

  “No. I would it were so simple, but it is not. Goodbye, Sophie.”

  He bent to kiss her one last time, brushing his lips chastely against the artfully rouged cheek. Behind him, the door burst open to admit Gerald, Timms, and Crawfurd. Trent spun around, his hand instinctively reaching for the rapier he’d left in his coach.

  “What the devil—Gerry!”

  “Madame, I tried,” Sophia Mantini’s butler explained from behind the captain, “but they would not listen!”

  “Signor! I demand an explanation,” she flashed indignantly. “You have invaded my house!”

  Ignoring everyone but Alex, Gerald blurted out, “It’s Ellie—she’s been abducted.”

  The color drained from Trent’s face and the room spun around him crazily. Time stood still until he exhaled slowly to master the rush of emotion he felt. “When?” he demanded tersely.

  “Before dinner, but we did not miss her until we sat down. I set up a hue and cry, but ’twas too late. The smithy said someone had asked about her in the village earlier and she saw someone called Leach when we walked down to Button’s.”

  “Brockhaven,” Trent muttered succinctly. “Damn! I should have known. He asked about her the other night. I should have sent warning.” The color flooded back into his face and his blue eyes blazed. “I’ll kill him—I’ll kill the bloody beast! I swear if he has touched her, I’ll carve him like a fat pig,” he shouted as he brushed past the stunned Mantini.

  The night air was like a cold bath when it hit him. Gerald caught up with him befor
e he reached his carriage and told him, “I brought the other coach, Alex, and the horses are ready. Do we roust Brockhaven at his house and see if he dared bring her here? He could have taken her to the country, you know.”

  “Either way, his servants will know his direction.”

  “Are you armed? I brought pistols in the coach.”

  “When am I ever not? Aye, I’ve got my pistol, and the rapier’s in my carriage—it discourages impertinences.” He turned and barked to Dobbs, “Hand me my sword and take home the carriage. Alert the household that we must be ready to travel. Crawfurd, go with him and see that all is packed in case I have to flee. And, Crawfurd …”

  “Aye, my lord?”

  “See that we have enough money to support us in France.” Turning back to Gerald, he was all business now, and his anger had cooled to that deadly calm that inspired awe and fear in his fellows. “I mean to take her away this time, Gerry, and be damned with the consequences. Are you with me in this?”

  “You know I am.”

  “Then let’s go. Timms, do you remember Brockhaven’s address?”

  “Aye, yer lor’ship.”

  Trent swung up into the carriage and Gerald followed. Settling himself opposite, Gerry shook his head. “There’ll be a devil of a dust over this, Alex. You cannot kill him to get his wife.”

  “She’s not his wife!” For a moment, his temper flared again.

  “The ton won’t see it that way.”

  “She cannot go to that fat toad, Gerry. I cannot let her!”

  “Aye.” Gerald nodded in the darkness. “You promised her.”

  “I love her, Gerry—I cannot deny it. I have but come to my senses and realized that I don’t want to live without her. I mean to have her if I have to kill Brockhaven to get her, and then live out of the country for the rest of my life.” Trent’s anger had faded, replaced by a sober determination. “But I will not tell her until I can get her free of him. I have to offer her more than a slip of the shoulder.”

  “The scandalmongers won’t know the difference.”

  “I will. Gerry, if I don’t have to kill him to gain her freedom, I mean to stay here until I can make the arrangements to marry her. If I do, if for some reason I have to make her a widow, I’ll be coming with you. Otherwise, I leave it to you to see that her arrival in Paris is unremarked.”

  “I’d tell her, Alex. I’d tell her what you mean to do.”

  “No. She must be free when I make my offer.”

  The coach came to a jarring halt in front of the darkened Brockhaven residence. There was no sign of life without or within, but Trent was not to be denied. He leapt down from his coach and began pounding on the baron’s door.

  “Open up! Open up! ’Tis the watch,” he shouted.

  In a matter of several minutes, lights began flickering at windows as people stirred inside. Finally, the thick panes by the door lightened and grumbling servants could be heard muttering oaths inside before the door swung open.

  “Here—here! The watch, you say?”

  The still-dressing butler peered out at Alex. Trent pushed past him into the foyer and waited for Gerald and Timms to follow.

  “You are not the watch!”

  “How very observant you are,” Trent murmured almost apologetically as he leveled his pistol to point it at the man. “But then, I could scarce expect you to open the door if I used my name, could I?” He gestured with his other hand toward the maids and footmen who peered cautiously around corners. “Fetch Sir Basil!” His mouth curved in that strange smile of anticipation, chilling the cowering servants. “Tell him Trent is come to settle accounts.”

  “At this time of the morning, my lord?” the fellow protested incredulously. “Can it not wait? Besides, his lordship is not at home.’

  “Where is he, then?” Trent tapped the toe of his dress shoe impatiently. “Out with it—where?”

  “I believe him to be at his club, sir.”

  Trent cocked his pistol and waited while the man squirmed under his cold-eyed stare. “I don’t believe you.”

  “I-I am t-telling the truth, I swear! He and Lady Brockhaven had a row and he left some three hours ago! For the love of God, sir, do not point that at me!”

  “She is here, then? Where?”

  “She is asleep, my lord. But if you were wishful of waiting for his lordship, I will procure some Madeira for you, and you may wait in the book room.”

  “Not this morning, I am afraid. No, I have a rather more entertaining reception planned for him.” Turning again to Gerald, his exhilaration at having found Ellen was obvious. “Gerry, you and Timms escort the servants to the cellar and lock them up. And see that the lights in the front of the house are doused in case he should return before I am ready.”

  “The cellar?” a maid squeaked in alarm. “There’s rats down there.”

  “Then take candles,” Trent snapped. “Come on, there’s little time.”

  “You heard him,” Gerald prompted, his’ own pistol trained on a nearby footman. “Move! Alex?”

  “I am going after Ellen.”

  As he mounted the steps two at a time, he could hear the protests of Brockhaven’s servants behind him. It was pitch-dark in the upper hall, so much so that he could not see the last few treads. Gaining the hallway, he found it so dark that he couldn’t make out the doors. With a curse muttered under his breath, he groped his way around a corner and stumbled against some sort of bench or table. A candlestick fell of and the candle rolled against his foot. He bent, felt around on the floor, and found it. Fumbling in his pocket for his flint, he drew it out and sparked the wick of the taper several times until it caught at last. Then he held the flickering flame up to faintly illuminate the hall and moved slowly from door to door trying to remember the approximate location of where she’d jumped. He picked one that he judged to be in the right area and nudged it open to reveal an empty bedchamber. A glance into the shadows told him what he wanted to know: the valet stand draped with a man’s coat gave proof he’d found Brockhaven’s chamber. He edged over to the window and looked down to the bushes below, marveling at the courage it must have taken for her to have even attempted such a jump. He tried the doors that led off the main bedchamber, discovering an assortment of closets and a dressing room, until he found one locked. Carefully setting the candle in a holder, he turned his shoulder and threw his weight against the door with such force that the casing splintered and the lock gave way, sending him staggering into the tiny room. He righted himself against a bedpost and looked down where a sliver of light from the broken door fell narrowly across the bed.

  Ellen turned over at the sound and then readjusted her position in her sleep. Her dark, hair spilled over the pillowcase and into the shadows, and her closed lashes lay like black fringe against white cheek while her bared arm cradled her head. He stared reverently for a moment before reaching to touch her face lightly and trace its contour with his fingertip. “Sleepyhead,” he murmured affectionately. “Ellie.”

  Instead of opening her eyes beneath his touch, she recoiled and shut them tighter, screaming out, “Aiiieee, aiiiieeee!”

  “Shhhh, Ellie, it’s me! It’s Alex! You are safe!” He shook her awake and dropped down beside her to cradle her against him. “You are all right, Ellie. I’ve come for you.”

  Her eyes opened wide to stare in disbelief before she let out a sob and turned her head into his shoulder. It was no dream. She could feel the heavy wool of his cloak against her cheek and the pressure of his strong arms about her. He was there in the flesh, cradling her, rocking her gently, and making soothing sounds into her hair. She began to cry with relief.

  “Ellie, Ellie, it’s all right, love.” He smoothed her hair against her head and held her close. “Gad, girl, but you gave us a fright. I should have stayed at the Meadows with you and he’d not have dared to be so bold.” Slowly, her shaking subsided, but she made no move to push away from him. “He didn’t hurt you—I mean, he didn’t …” He could not br
ing himself to ask outright if Brockhaven had forced his attentions on her.

  She shook her head against his shoulder and gave a watery chuckle. “No. He said he wanted to be sure I was not increasing first. He thought I—that I have been your mistress.”

  “Filthy swine!” He ruffled her hair to hide the intense emotion he felt for her. “Listen, Ellie, I am taking you to a safer place.”

  “I cannot stand him, Alex.”

  “I know, I know.” He was loathe to release her, but time was short. “Come on.” He eased off the bed and pulled her up with him. “You’ve a long way to go before you are missed again. Here …” He pulled out his handkerchief and began dabbing at the tear streaks.

  Her eyes filled again and she threw herself against his chest again. “Oh, Alex, I am so very glad you came for me. I cannot repay—you cannot know—”

  “Shhhhh, Ellie, I understand,” he murmured low. “It’s

  all right. I have you safe.” He gently disengaged her arms and tilted her chin up to look at him. “I’ll not let him have you, I promise—word of a Deveraux.” He frowned slightly and dropped his hand. “You know, don’t you, that I’ll do what I can to stop the scandal, but things may get unpleasant. I can take you away, but I may not be able to stop the gossip.”

  “I can bear it,” she sniffed. “Brockhaven thinks I am your mistress anyway.”

  “Well, we know differently, and that’s what really matters, isn’t it?”

  “I see you have found her,” Gerald observed as he walked in with a branch of candles, “and by the looks of it, you’ve turned her into a watering pot.” Ellen moved self-consciously away from Trent and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand as Gerald drew closer. “Hallo, Ellie. A devil of a time you’ve given me, my dear. I have not yet had my dinner.”

  “Oh, Gerry, thank you!” Heedless of her nightdress, she hugged him gratefully. Trent watched with an arrested expression as his brother’s arms closed around her tightly.