Sebastian felt his heart stop. “I never sent her any note. How long has she been gone?”
By this time Aunt Alison had caught up with them, and told them, “She left several minutes ago. She received a note and I assumed it was from you.”
The men looked at each other worriedly and Sebastian knew his wife had been lured somewhere. He looked around for Dunmire. He too was missing and rage filled Sebastian. If Dunmire hurt her, he’d kill him, information be damned.
“Let’s split up,” Sebastian said. “Marisa and Aunt Alison, you check the retiring room, and any room where women may go together. Don’t separate at any stage. Hadley and I will take upstairs.”
Without waiting to see what anyone else would do, Sebastian was making for the stairs.
Dunmire captured her hands as they beat at him with little effect. Holding them with one of his giant ones, he forced her arms back over her head. She tried to buck him off but he was too strong. His body weight held her pinned and hopeless.
He is going to rape me with Sebastian, ignorant of my fate, enjoying the ball below.
She tried to rally herself to fight him. She needed time. Time to be rescued. She had every faith that Sebastian would come for her.
Pain focused her. He had her nipple in his mouth and he bit down hard. She refused to give him the satisfaction of screaming. His other hand found its way under the remains of her torn gown. She felt his sweaty palm high on her thigh, trying to tear at her silk undergarments. Bile rose in her throat.
She closed her eyes as his hand moved up her thigh, trying to reach where only Sebastian should touch. Tears leaked from her eyes even though she tried to stop them.
Beatrice couldn’t help it. She screamed, “No!” with all her might.
Her cry egged Dunmire on. His fingers fumbled in her draws and she screamed again. This time to her joy she heard an answering cry—“Beatrice!”—followed by pounding on the locked door and “I’m here!”
Dunmire cursed and rose off her body. She lay trembling with relief and said, “I told you he’d come for me.”
Her smug retort was met by a punch to her face that made her see stars. Then Dunmire was gone.
She lay dazed, her lip split and bleeding. Nausea rolling in the pit of her stomach at the thought of how far Dunmire’s indecencies could have gone had Sebastian not found her.
Just then the door splintered open and Sebastian all but fell into the room. He stumbled and his gaze fell on her, his eyes full of unmitigated wrath, his face hard, angular, like that of an avenging angel.
“I’ll kill him. I should have killed him this morning. Look at your face.” Then his eyes took in her torn dress, and the fact her skirts were bunched at her waist and she was crying.
The pain in his eyes was her undoing but she shook her head through more tears. “You got here in time. He did not rape me.”
He gathered her gently in his arms and kissed her forehead. “I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner. Why did you not find me before going anywhere on your own?”
“I thought I could handle him. I had a pistol but I lost it in the struggle.” She pointed to the corner where her pistol had fallen, but frowned when she noted it was no longer there. “He must have taken it.”
Sebastian looked round the room and noted the open window. Just then Arend arrived in the doorway and took in the scene. His face also became a mask of fury.
“He went out through the window,” Sebastian said.
“I’ll find him.” Arend simply turned and left.
Beatrice saw the restraint and need to pursue in Sebastian’s eyes. “Go. I want you to get him. When you catch him punish him for me and Lizzy.”
“I don’t want to leave you like this,” he hugged her tight.
“I’m fine. A little shook up but I’d feel better knowing you’d caught him. Go. Finish this.”
He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I love you so much. Here,” and he took off his coat and helped her slip it on over her torn gown. “Are you all right here for a few minutes? I’ll send Aunt Alison up to escort you home.”
She nodded. “Be careful. I don’t think he’s quite sane and I let slip you knew about Doogie.”
He pressed a kiss to her forehead and moved to the window. “I’ll be careful. Wait for me at home.” With that, he left through the window, following Dunmire’s trail.
She made herself stand, although her legs shook like jelly. She was cold and she moved toward the fire, trying to warm herself. She knew she was in shock, but she was safe. It was Sebastian she worried about.
Before she reached the hearth, a hand wrapped around her throat, and another covered her face with a cloth, pressing down so she could barely breathe. She didn’t see who had attacked her; fear made her struggle until blackness took over.
Arend turned his head to the right at the snap of the twig in the silent garden, signaling where his sniveling target was moving.
The dark was his friend. It allowed his other honed senses to come to the fore. He moved like a silent predator, a black panther, sleek, nimble, hunting …
Dunmire would not get away from him. Dunmire deserved to die for what he’d done to Beatrice tonight, but not before Arend got the answers he sought. Then he would gladly stand back and watch Sebastian kill him. It was Sebastian’s kill.
Arend hated the hunt. It reminded him of his family’s desperate and degrading escape from France. Even though he had been a young boy then, the memory of the despair and fear on his parents’ faces remained with him.
Dunmire wasn’t even a worthy opponent. Arend spat in disgust. The man was heading directly for the delivery lane that ran along the back of the property. He probably had a carriage waiting. Arend veered off the path and cut through the undergrowth, knowing he’d get to the gate in the back fence long before Dunmire.
His prey didn’t even sense him. Dunmire was too busy looking over his shoulder to see his enemy was ahead of him. Arend lifted his sword and in Dunmire’s haste he almost ran onto it. Arend’s sword dug into his neck, the point drawing blood.
Arend laughed in soft bitterness, his face hidden in darkness but his voice clear and deadly, like his sword. “Well met, Dunmire. Now, if you please, drop your weapons and turn round. You and I are going to have a talk on the way back to the house. If I don’t like the answers you give, I shall cut you. Cut you where no man wishes to be cut. Do you understand?”
“If I go back to the house, Coldhurst will kill me,” Dunmire said, his voice rising in desperation.
Arend pushed the tip of his sword deeper into his neck. “And you think I won’t? Do you really think Sebastian cares how you die? He cares only that you do. I’d be doing him a favor.”
Dunmire looked at him over his shoulder and the look of triumph was not what Arend expected to see. “If you kill me, you’ll never learn where Christina has taken her.”
Arend came alert then. “Taken who?” At Dunmire’s laugh, Arend drew back with his hand gripped around his sword hilt, and smashed his fist into Dunmire’s face. “Taken who?”
Dunmire crumpled to the ground. As Arend bent over him once more, he raised his hands to protect himself. “Beatrice. Christina has taken Beatrice.”
His chest heaving, Arend stepped back, wielding his sword in both hands now. “Get up, you miserable excuse for a man,” he growled. “If you’re lying, I’ll make you a eunuch myself.”
Dunmire had only just got to his feet when Sebastian appeared through the trees. The minute he saw Dunmire, he grimaced with ugly fury and charged like a rampaging bull, tackling Dunmire to the ground, punching him as if he would like to beat him to death.
It took all of Arend’s strength to pull him off Dunmire. “We need him alive, Sebastian.”
Sebastian stood back, wiping the blood off his knuckles. “He touched her. I’ll kill him.”
Arend smiled. “You can kill him once we have the information we need. He thinks he has leverage over us. He says Christina has taken
Beatrice.”
Sebastian swung to look at the man who lay a bloodied mess at his feet. Confusion warred within him. Beatrice had been fine when he’d left her. “Oh God. I left her alone. I thought she’d be safe now that we had Dunmire in our sights.”
Before he’d finished talking, Sebastian was running like the wind back toward where he’d left Beatrice unprotected. “Bring him,” he called over his shoulder.
Chapter Nineteen
After a good half an hour of searching Lady Christina’s house, it was obvious there was no one there but a few servants, who knew nothing. As Sebastian came out onto the top-floor landing, Arend and Maitland joined him, with Dunmire secured between them. They took the sniveling pig into Lady Christina’s study and threw him into the nearest chair.
Arend was at his most intimidating. He pulled out his dagger and leaned over Dunmire as he sat cowering in the chair.
“Now you are going to tell us what Christina has done with Beatrice, and how you know about her plans. We know you are H.B.”
Dunmire’s gaze flew to Sebastian. His face paled and his lips began to tremble. “I want your word as a gentleman that you’ll not kill me. I’ll leave England and never return.”
Sebastian tried to get to him but Arend stood in his way. “Why would we let you go free? We can’t trust you.” Arend placed the knife against his cheek and pressed the point in until a drop of blood showed. “We know it was you that shot Doogie, and you tried to kill Sebastian a few days ago. Coward.”
Arend continued, “We have it on good authority that you are the man who paid Clarice to entice Sebastian to her bed, and I’m assuming you sent a note to Doogie, getting him to walk in on them.”
Dunmire held up his hands and said, “I’m dead if I tell you anything.” He looked at the faces of the men around him. “I’m dead anyway.”
“Correct.” Sebastian pushed Arend out of the way, grabbing Dunmire around the throat. “But I don’t care about anything except where Christina has taken Beatrice.”
Maitland drew Sebastian back. “Let Arend work on him.”
Arend started to cut Dunmire’s cheek and he gave a cry of pain.
“I want your word first,” he said. “Only then will I tell you.”
Sebastian made another move to grab Dunmire around the throat, but Hadley and Maitland held him back.
Through gritted teeth, Sebastian said, the words pulled from him, “I give you my word I will not kill you. I’ll let you leave England, but if you ever set foot on English soil again, I will kill you.”
“Christina wants her out of the way,” Dunmire said. “She definitely wants her dead.” He looked at Sebastian with a raised eyebrow and added, “Can’t you guess why?”
Sebastian’s world went dark. Anger surged and he knew he had to hit something or he would explode. “Where is Christina?”
Dunmire shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know. This wasn’t the plan. She promised me Beatrice wouldn’t be hurt. All she was supposed to do was deliver Beatrice to me, and we would disappear on the next ship bound for the Americas. We were going to make it look as if Beatrice had drowned in the Thames so that you would think she was dead. Then I’m assuming Christina was hoping she would become your wife. I think she has something over you, because I don’t know how she would make that come about otherwise.”
Sebastian’s jaw was taut. “So this has nothing to do with whoever tried to set me up for Doogie’s death?”
Dunmire nodded. “This was purely about Beatrice and you. I have no idea who set you up to duel Doogie. I can’t help you with that.” He hung his head. “I only wanted her, it’s always been about her. She was to be mine. I loved her.”
Sebastian shoved Arend out of the way and leaned over Dunmire, his hands on either side of the chair. “Liar. This isn’t about love. You don’t love Beatrice. If you loved Beatrice, you would want her to be happy. You would never do anything that would cause her any pain.”
And as if lightning had struck him, Sebastian suddenly realized that Beatrice was right. His parents hadn’t loved each other. If they had loved each other, they would not have set about driving each other insane. Each would not have done anything that would hurt the other person, because it would cause them too much pain. If he thought Beatrice wanted to be with Dunmire, he would let her go in a flash. But she didn’t. She was his and he was never going to let her go.
Sebastian was living his worst nightmare. His heart dropped from his chest as he pictured what could be happening to Beatrice. He stood rooted to the spot as if his boots were filled with sand.
“You must know where Christina has taken her.” Sebastian said to Dunmire. “If you don’t tell me, and tell me now, I can’t vouch for what Arend will do to you.”
“You promised.” Dunmire’s eyes pleaded, but Sebastian hardened his heart.
“I promised, but Arend didn’t.”
“The original plan was to take her down to the docks. I would take her on a ship leaving for the Americas, while Christina would leave clothes and other personal belongings near the water’s edge to make it look as if she had drowned. If I know anything about Christina, she is probably sticking as close to the plan as possible. I would suspect she is taking Beatrice down to the docks to drown her in the Thames.”
Maitland stepped forward. “Logically, the only place Christina can take her is to where your ship, the Seductress, is berthed, Sebastian. Why else would Beatrice be down near the docks? There would be too many questions asked unless it looked as if she were going onto your ship.”
Sebastian had already started walking toward the door. “Come on, there is no time to waste. Let’s bring Dunmire with us. He could be of further use. If we can’t get Beatrice safely away from Christina, then we can send Dunmire in.”
Arend didn’t step back from Dunmire. He just kept looking at him. “We need Dunmire. He’s H.B. This is the first lead we’ve had and I’m not about to let him slip through our noose. I’ll keep him here, with me, safe.”
Sebastian could have hit his friend. “He will come with us,” he said, steel and menace evident in his words. “I will do nothing that puts Beatrice in further danger.”
Maitland came to his rescue. “He is right, Arend. At this stage Beatrice needs Dunmire more. Don’t worry, there is no way he is going to escape us.”
Arend cursed but said nothing further. He tied a rope around Dunmire’s neck and led him from the house.
During the carriage ride down to the docks, Sebastian asked Dunmire, “Why? Why did you set me up?”
“I was blackmailed.”
“What was it they could blackmail you with?” Hadley asked.
But Sebastian knew. It had been Lizzy. “How our past sins come back to haunt us. It was Lizzy, wasn’t it?”
Dunmire’s eyes opened wide. “How did you know?”
“Beatrice.”
“I knew that Lizzy had told her what I did. That is why she refused me,” Dunmire said between clenched teeth. “For some reason the blackmailer knew what I had done to Lizzy and threatened to tell everyone. If Beatrice came forward too, society would believe the tale.”
Hadley looked between them in confusion. “Who on earth is Lizzy?”
Sebastian didn’t take his eyes off Dunmire. “She is—was—a friend of Beatrice’s. Lizandra Weatherby. Dunmire raped her in Lord Skye’s garden one night and got her with child. She died shortly after childbirth and Beatrice has been looking after her son ever since.”
The men looked at each other in shock. “You are a bigger bastard than I ever thought,” was Arend’s only response.
“I didn’t just do it because of the blackmail. I did it because I knew there was a chance you’d kill Doogie, and with Doogie out of the way, I thought Beatrice would have no option but to marry me. I knew the family’s financial situation. But it didn’t work. She was clever. You bloody got in the way.”
Sebastian gave a tight smile. “You underestimated her. Beatrice is an amazing woman. She
is very intelligent, and even though she thought I’d killed Doogie, she still saw me as a better option than you. What does that tell you about what she thinks of you, Dunmire? She would never have married you.”
Sebastian sat back on the squab with fists clenched, praying that he’d get to Beatrice before Christina killed her. His wife was an extraordinary woman. She had helped out her best friend and not abandoned her in the face of society’s scorn. She had taken on Lizzy’s son when her own family had no money to even keep themselves, and she’d worked out a way to ensure she didn’t marry a rapist. He prayed that he would not be too late and that he’d have a chance to tell her how much he admired her and what she meant to him.
Chapter Twenty
Beatrice heard the rumble of the carriage wheels over stone as she began to come to. She kept her eyes closed, wanting to sense where she was and who might be with her before she let anyone know she was awake. She was obviously being taken somewhere, but she didn’t know by whom. All she could remember was someone coming up behind her in the bedroom and then blackness.
She quickly realized the carriage was a private, well-appointed one. It wasn’t a plain old hackney. Its seats were comfortable; it had a clean, well-kept smell, with a hint of lavender in the air, indicating it was likely a woman’s carriage.
Her mind immediately went to Christina. She had money and influence, and was a snake.
She didn’t know how long she had been unconscious, so she had no idea of the time. She didn’t want to open her eyes to see whether it was still dark in case it alerted her abductor to the fact she was conscious.
After what seemed like an eternity, but was probably only five or ten minutes later, the carriage came to a halt and she knew where she was.
She could hear the seagulls, she smelled the water, and she could hear the creaks and groans of the ships tied up at the dock. Her body went ice cold. Was she going to be sent away? If she left England on a ship, how would Sebastian ever find her? For the first time in her life, she felt real fear.
The Disgraced Lords Series 3-Book Bundle Page 55
