An Unlikely Duchess

by Nadine Millard

  “You will not have a choice, Princess. Not when I’ve taken you so that no other man will have you.”

  His other hand ran down her body and Rebecca did her best not to scream. The bastard would enjoy hearing her fear and she would not give him the satisfaction.

  She closed her eyes and prayed that he would stop and mercifully, he did.

  He moved away from her and went to a tray that she had failed to notice before.

  “Sit up and eat,” he demanded, then added with a leer that caused her skin to crawl, “You will need to keep your strength up.”

  He set the tray on the bed beside her and Rebecca saw her chance.

  “George,” she called softly as he made to leave the room, “I cannot eat with my hands tied.”

  He narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

  “Please,” she fought to keep her voice calm, “just untie me for a few moments, you can come back and retie the ropes when I am done.”

  He seemed to consider it for a moment then moved slowly back to her and pulled out a hunting knife.

  Rebecca swallowed as it glinted in the dim sunlight.

  “If you try to leave,” he said quietly as he sawed at the ropes tying her hands together, “I will kill you.”

  Rebecca nodded her understanding and rubbed her wrists that tingled painfully with the blood rushing back into them.

  Without another word, he turned and left the room slamming the door behind him.

  Rebecca immediately began to pull at the ropes on her legs. She did not have the benefit of a knife and after ten minutes of trying, was sweating and exhausted. The pain in her head was worsened by dehydration but she dare not drink anything lest it was drugged.

  She almost gave way to the fear threatening to overwhelm her but told herself not to give up. Rebecca fully believed him when he said he would kill her if he caught her trying to escape but really, what awaited her if she did not try? A fate worse than death.

  Finally, when it seemed impossible that she would be able to release her ankles, she managed to half-slip one of her feet out. Pulling and tugging with all her might until the foot was free, she almost cried out in pain as the blood rushed back to the area, and the loosening of the tie on the left foot had tightened the rope almost unbearably on the right. Already her foot was beginning to swell and become discoloured.

  But it did not matter. She could use her feet now. Stepping silently off the bed Rebecca stood up. Her head swam alarmingly and she gripped the poster for support until the sensation passed.

  She looked round the room for something to use as a weapon should she need one. Her eyes fell on a sturdy looking candlestick and she crept over to the sideboard to retrieve it. Now, all that was left was to try to get out of the house undetected by the mad man and try to find her way back to London with no money, no help and absolutely no idea where she actually was…

  ****

  Edward hammered at the front door of Lady Sarah’s townhouse. It took what seemed like hours but in reality was only a few moments for a footman to open the door. Edward barged past the man without uttering a single word. When the footman made to step after him, Tom reached out and grabbed the servant by the arm.

  “If you have a preference for your limbs to be attached to your body,” he said cordially, “I suggest you do nothing save call for the mistress of the house. Tell her the Duke of Hartridge is here to see her. And he is not happy.”

  The footman’s eyes widened in fear, whether of the threat or of the stature of the man who’d come through the door as if the hounds of hell were after him, Tom did not know. Nor did he care.

  The sooner they could speak to Sarah, the sooner they would find Rebecca. He looked to his cousin’s tense back as he roared for Sarah to come down at once. He was hanging on to his sanity by a mere thread, thought Tom. If anything happened to Rebecca it would destroy him. They had to get her back.

  The butler had made an appearance at this stage and was doing his best to calm Edward down but Edward was in no mood to be told anything and was seconds from punching the man just to shut him up.

  The noise level rose with Edward still bellowing for Sarah, the butler still begging Edward to quiet down and Tom shouting suggestions of threats for Edward to deliver to the butler.

  Lady Sarah’s appearance at the top of the stairs brought a sudden halt to the cacophony of sounds.

  “Good heavens Edward, you will wake the dead with that racket,” Sarah exclaimed as she moved slowly down the stairs. She was not yet dressed for the day and merely wore a robe over her nightrail. The robe was tied loosely and did nothing to cover the body underneath.

  Ever the exhibitionist, thought Edward cynically.

  “Where is she?” Edward asked without preamble.

  “Good morning to you too,” Sarah quipped flippantly.

  “Damnation Sarah I am not in the mood. Tell me where she is or I will ruin you.” His words were made all the more powerful by the cold stone-like expression on his face and the glacial tone he used. Had he shouted and raved, she would have believed him less.

  “Where who is?” she asked innocently.

  “Where IS she?” This time his shout was loud enough to shake the chandelier hanging from the vaulted ceiling of the hallway in which they stood.

  Lady Sarah took an involuntary step backwards and Edward noticed for the first time some subtle changes about the lady.

  For one, her face was paler than ever he’d seen it before. For another, her voice, far from the husky confident tone it usually had was brittle and shaky.

  “You told Tom and Caroline that I had sent a message to you and told you I was taking her home. You and I both know that is a complete lie. So I suggest you start talking and talking quickly.”

  Edward was surprised when Sarah, usually so confident and arrogant, crumpled into a mess before his very eyes.

  “I am sorry,” she managed to say through the tears, “I am so very sorry Edward. It was only supposed to be a little trick. Something to put a spot on her reputation. T-to hurt her popularity in the ton. But he — I believe he is quite mad and I do not know what he has planned, I swear it. He threatened me. Told me that I must help him. That I must not tell anyone. Oh God, would that I had never listened to his insane plan. But I swear, on my life, Edward he was only supposed to leave her somewhere so that she would spend the night alone. But I think — I think he must have something more sinister in mind. I am sorry.”

  At this point her sobbing became so hysterical that she could not utter another word. The butler and a maid who had appeared from upstairs rushed to her side to lead her away.

  “Stop,” demanded Edward hoarsely. “Unhand her at once, I am not done.”

  “Please, your grace. She is overcome.”

  “Let her go or I will put a bullet in your head,” he answered coldly.

  The butler let go of Lady Sarah and instructed the frightened maid to do the same.

  “You will calm down and tell me exactly what happened, Sarah,” said Edward fighting his anxiety. He sent the butler to retrieve the earl’s brandy before turning back to Sarah.

  “Now,” he said in as reasoned a tone as he could muster. He dreaded asking the next question because he knew the answer. He had failed to protect her from the one person of whom he should have been more wary. “Who is he? The man who took her?”

  “I had not met him before the day she and I argued in the park.” Sarah’s words were coming between gut wrenching sobs.

  “His name, Sarah,” Edward did not relent.

  “George Simons,” she gasped.

  Edward knew it. And his fear increased ten-fold.

  The butler returned with a snifter of brandy and Edward shoved it into Sarah’s hand.

  “Tell me everything, Sarah. And make it quick.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Rebecca’s heart pounded furiously as she slowly opened the door to the bedroom in which George had deposited her. Praying to the heavens that the door wou
ld not creak she opened it just wide enough to slip outside.

  She found herself at the end of a long corridor with a staircase halfway down. Rebecca felt a moment’s indecision as she wondered what the best course of action would be. She had looked out the window before exiting the room to see if perhaps there was a tree outside or anything that could be used to climb down. But there was nothing but a sheer drop to the ground. Nor could she see any path or trail. Just fields for miles.

  Now she wondered if she should check the rooms toward the front of the house or risk moving downstairs. Having no idea where Simons was there was only a second to decide. Finally, she judged it best to just make her way downstairs and try to get out the door. Then she would run flat out and hope to God there would be something or someone to help her.

  She slipped down the stairs as slowly as she could, listening intently for any sound or sign of Simons. But so far, she heard and saw nothing.

  Her tension had reached fever pitch by the time she made it to the foot of the stairs. She could not quite believe she had gotten so far without incident. The candlestick was slippery in her sweaty palm but she gripped it with all her strength.

  Her right foot was throbbing along with her head and she felt altogether more ill than ever before in her life. But she would not give up.

  The front door came into view down a long, darkened hallway. There had been a change in the light and Rebecca could only guess that there was a heavy rain coming, if it was not already upon them.

  Gradually, she made her way down the hallway to the door. Every room was closed making it nearly impossible to see but at least giving her a small chance of remaining undetected.

  She made it to the door and took a deep breath. This was it. His attention was sure to be drawn the second the door opened. She would have to make a run for it.

  Simons had removed her shoes at some point during the night or the morning and Rebecca had not stopped to try to find them. Sending up a quick prayer and keeping Edward’s face firmly in her head, she wrenched the door open and ran outside.

  She had no clue which way she should go but ran as fast as her legs could carry her. Not too far from the front of the house there seemed to be a wood of some sort and she headed for that, hoping that the trees would provide at least some shelter for her.

  Her guess about the darkening sky had been right. There were dark heavy rainclouds racing about her and before she had even cleared the small front garden of the lodge they opened up and emptied onto the ground below.

  Within seconds Rebecca was soaked. The material of her dress became incredibly heavy and the gravel of the pathway tore her silk stockings to shreds. And still she ran.

  She did not dare to look behind as she sprinted for the trees. She had just made it through the first of them when her heart sank as a shot rang out followed by her name. He had discovered her escape and he was shooting at her.

  ****

  Edward and Tom left Sarah crying miserably and headed as fast as their mounts could carry them to a set of rooms in a seedy part of town that George Simons had taken on his arrival to London. It was not sheer luck that they knew of this place. Sarah told them, with some pride, that she had him followed after their first meeting. She liked to know whom exactly she was dealing with at all times.

  Sarah’s information had been scant but there was enough to know that a clue was awaiting them at Simons’ lodgings. He had told Sarah he would take Rebecca to a hunting lodge on the outskirts of Town and that he would leave her there to find her own way back.

  “By the time Rebecca returned,” Sarah explained miserably, “everyone would know she was gone and she would be ruined.”

  “And did you not wonder why such a man would merely dump her in the middle of nowhere and then leave her untouched?” Edward demanded, a hot fury burning inside of him.

  “No, I did not,” wailed Sarah and he could tell that it was the truth. Sarah was malicious of that there was no doubt, but she would not sink to the depths of depravity that her partner in crime did.

  “Why, Sarah? Why would you do such a thing?”

  Sarah’s eyes had filled with tears again.

  “I do not know. Jealousy, I suppose. The girl had the whole of London at her feet. Men adored her, women wanted to befriend her. She had the life I so desperately wanted. The life I should have had. And you. She had you, Edward.”

  Edward had been shocked at this confession. He and Sarah had never shared any sort of attachment. Yes there’d been a kiss or two some years ago but that had been it and then the scandal of her very public affair had blown up and she’d scarpered back to the country, only returning as a married countess.

  “Sarah, there was never anything between you and I,” Edward now said harshly. “Though I suspect you told Rebecca something different. That is why she was so upset last night, was it not? Why she thought that my feelings for her were insincere?”

  His only answer was another tearful apology. But Edward had heard enough.

  He moved to the door to leave but stopped just before exiting and turned back to the lady crying into her hands.

  “I cannot think what to do with you until I have her back safe and well, but I will deal with you then. And, Sarah, I swear if he touches a hair on her head I will use everything in my power to make sure your life is completely destroyed.”

  Sarah knew that he meant it, too and she prayed to God that he would find Lady Rebecca safe. For all their sakes.

  Now the men had arrived outside the filthy tenement in the East End where George Simons had his rooms. It did not take more than a guinea to gain admittance to his room by the wizened and toothless landlord that led them up the narrow staircase.

  The man had no key for the door but Edward soon had it opened using brute force.

  The room was filthy, covered in empty whiskey bottles and ash and it smelled as if something had died in it. But the thing that froze the blood in Edward’s veins was discovered by Tom who was rifling through the lone desk in the room.

  “Edward, I think you need to see this,” Tom’s voice called Edward from his task of searching under the bed.

  Edward made his way over to the desk and stared in horror at what Tom held up to show him. There were pictures of Rebecca. Hundreds it seemed to be. Of her face, her walking by her father’s house, one, sickeningly, in the window of what Edward could only guess was her bedchamber at home at Ranford. It seemed that Simons had committed his watching to memory and had drawn it all. There were pictures everywhere, some had spilled onto the floor and as Edward bent to retrieve them, he noticed a small leather-bound diary.

  He opened it on a random page and scanned the poor writing, so poor that some parts were illegible. Perhaps Simons was self-taught in the art of writing for the words were badly written and grossly misspelled. But their meaning was clear and it put the fear of God into Edward.

  It was about her, all about her. Notes of when he’d clearly been following her. Rebecca had been right to be concerned about him. Edward flipped hurriedly to the front and saw that the first entry was on the first day he’d ever seen her. And every single entry since had been about her. He had no time to study it intently but one thing was clear — the more it went on, the darker and more twisted the writing became. His unhealthy obsession fairly jumped off the page.

  Edward flipped back to the last entry to see if they could garner any clues. He read for a short while before a feeling of nausea mixed with murderous rage had him dropping to the rickety wooden chair that sat at the desk.

  “My God,” he choked.

  Tom reached over and plucked the diary from Edward’s hand, scanning the contents quickly.

  He swore and glanced in disgust at Edward.

  “Edward I—”

  “Do not,” Edward interrupted him. “Just help me find her.”

  He did not want to talk about what he’d read. He wanted to forget it but it was burned into his mind and he knew he would have nightmares about it for year
s to come. A detailed account of the sick man’s fantasies, his plans for what he meant to do when he had Rebecca alone. Edward felt the bile rise in his throat but shoved the thought ruthlessly from his mind. He would find her.

  “Edward,” Tom’s shout broke through Edward’s disturbed thoughts. “I know where he is.”

  Edward whipped around and saw Tom holding what appeared to be property deeds in his hand.

  “The hunting lodge,” said Tom with a grim sort of satisfaction, “these must be the deeds he won.”

  Edward snatched the parchment from Tom’s hands and scanned it, his heart leaping when he saw the name of the property. Without another word the two gentlemen rushed from the room and to their waiting horses outside.

  The sky was beginning to darken with black rainclouds and Edward knew there was a storm on its way.

  He hoped it was not an omen.

  “Please,” he begged, “please let me reach her in time.”

  ****

  Rebecca crouched behind the trunk of a towering tree and stifled the sobs threatening to wrack her body. Never had she been so afraid.

  The shots had stopped now and she knew that Simons was in close pursuit.

  A paralyzing fear gripped her that made her afraid to move but afraid to stay where she was.

  Think, Rebecca, think! Her mind whirled frantically. If she stayed where she was he would find her eventually. Her only chance was to keep running and hope she could find help from somewhere before he caught up to her. Or shoot her. She stood on shaking legs, her whole body soaking wet and shivering, and prepared to start running again.

  Her feet were in agony and were bleeding and bruised beyond recognition but she must run. She must!

  Before she could take a step, however, her stomach lurched as she heard Simons’ voice ring out through the woods.

  “Rebecca,” he called, the wind taking the call and throwing it to the skies, “where are you?”