“No, no.” He held up a hand to stop her from progressing toward the stairs. “It’s not an actual thing I’ve forgotten.”
She stood like a statue, blinking up at him, so he went on.
“You see, I forgot to tell Hannah…that is, I forgot to remind her that…” Damn, why couldn’t he find the right words? “I need to see Hannah,” he finished, deciding that the young duchess didn’t really need an explanation from him as to why he wanted to see his fiancée.
He started for the stairs, but she ran in front of him. “You can’t!” she said, and now it was clear she was in a panic. But why?
“I beg your pardon?”
“That is, she’s sleeping,” she giggled, trying to shrug off her odd behavior. “I promised her I wouldn’t let anyone interrupt.”
Graham narrowed his eyes on her. She was lying, but why? What the devil was going on? “Stand aside, Your Grace.”
At this, she drew herself up to her full height and shoved her nose into the air. “How dare you? This is my home, and I’ll not be treated with such disrespect.”
“Let him go,” came another voice from behind. And older, wiser voice, that was.
“Mother! You know I can’t,” the duchess replied, breathless with outrage.
“He will find out one way or the other,” the dowager insisted. “Let him go.”
The younger woman looked as if she were going to cry as she finally stepped aside and allowed Graham to climb the stairs. He took them two at a time and then raced down the corridor until he reached Hannah’s door. He didn’t knock or even hesitate before he burst in to find…
Nothing? The bed was neatly made, the curtains closed. And no sign of Hannah.
“Hannah!” he called as he made his way back down the corridor. “Hannah!”
“She’s not here,” the dowager said as he emerged at the top of the staircase.
“Then where is she?” he demanded.
Her Grace stepped out of the drawing room again, a piece of foolscap in her hand. “Here,” she said, holding it out. “You will find her here.”
“Veronica?” Hannah had tried her best to slow her heart’s pace as she carefully limped up the stairs of Veronica’s home. Lord only knew what she’d find up here—she prayed she would merely find her new friend fast asleep in her bed.
There were three doors at the top of the landing, and Hannah had no idea what lay behind any of them. So, she chose at random, starting with the door on her left. With a trembling hand, she turned the handle and pushed the door open. Before her was a tiny room with one window and a small desk. Veronica’s study, apparently. And completely empty.
She closed the door again and stared at the next one. The one in the middle. It was eerily quiet up here. The sounds of the city were muted, and Hannah’s heart thumped loudly in her ears. But other than that, strange, unnerving silence.
Reluctance and curiosity warring within her, she moved to the middle door, placed her hand on the handle and then flung it open. A gasp forced itself out of her as she stared into the pleading eyes of her friend, who sat tied to a chair, her mouth gagged.
“Veronica!” she exclaimed, but the woman shook her head frantically, clearly trying to tell her something, but it was too late.
A strong arm grabbed her from behind and the sharp tip of a blade poked into her neck. Beeston.
“I knew this lying whore would lead you to me,” Beeston spat in her ear. “And here you are, mine again, and this time…forever.”
“I will nev—”
“Hush!” The knife pushed a little further into her skin. Much more and he’d draw blood. So Hannah was inclined to do as he said. “Now, you’re coming with me.”
“But what about Veronica?” Hannah blurted out before he could stop her.
Beeston gave a sinister laugh. “No one cares what happens to whores.”
Oh, God. He planned to leave her there for dead. If only Hannah could get a message to Grace, or even John. He knew where she was. But would he dare to come looking for her?
As Beeston shoved her down the stairs, her leg began to burn. “I can’t keep up this pace,” she winced. “You shot me, remember?”
“You will be quiet and do as I say,” he said, tightening his grip around her waist to emphasize his point.
He pushed her down the last few steps and then turned her toward the back door—the one that let out in the alleyway. There sat an unmarked carriage, black curtains drawn, and a large brute of a man sitting in the driver’s seat.
Hannah stared at the coach, wide-eyed. This was it. The end. She’d never get to see Graham again to tell him how much she loved him. To tell him she was sorry and that she ought to have let him and Evan handle Beeston. That she heard every word he said to her as she lay there, pretending to be drugged and asleep.
Her heart twisted so painfully, it was almost too much to bear.
“Move!” Beeston yelled, shoving her forward and causing her to stumble over the cobblestones. Then, with the knife pressed against her back, he ushered her into the darkness, and shoved a foul-smelling cloth over her nose.
Chapter 25
Graham grabbed the paper from the duchess and scanned the address. “This isn’t a very nice part of town,” he remarked.
Her Grace shook her head. “No, it isn’t.” The young woman always had an heir of naiveté to her—the type of girl who brushed everything aside with an “Everything will turn out in the end,” kind of attitude. But not now. He’d never seen her quite so serious. So frightened.
“Then why the devil is Hannah there?” He didn’t mean to growl, or curse, but he was infuriated. With Hannah, with the duchess… He turned to the dowager. “Did you know about this?”
The older woman’s nostrils flared just slightly as she pressed her thin lips together. “Wouldn’t it be more efficient for you to question us in the carriage?”
“You’re not coming with me.”
“Like Hell we’re not,” the dowager bit back.
Graham reared back as the duchess gasped.
“There is no time for pleasantries in a situation such as this.”
The woman had a point, much as he hated to admit it. But he really didn’t want to be responsible for all these women in a questionable part of town.
“We should leave at once.”
“Leave for where?”
“Oh, thank God,” Graham said as Somerset marched into the foyer.
“What’s going on?” he asked, clearly taking note of the pall that had befallen the room.
“Hannah’s in trouble,” Grace offered.
“I thought Hannah was asleep in her room.”
“As did I.” Graham handed over the piece of foolscap with the address on it. “Turns out, she’s here, at this address.”
The duke stared at the paper for a moment and then crumpled it in his hand. “Dammit.”
“My thoughts exactly,” said Graham.
Within minutes, they had all piled into one of the Somerset carriages and set off for the west end of town.
“You both have a great deal of explaining to do,” Somerset said as they raced through the streets of London. “What is Bunny doing in Seven Dials?”
“It’s not exactly Seven Dials,” Grace said, trying to make things seem less dire than they actually were.
“Grace,” the duke warned.
“Fine,” she said, folding her arms across her chest with a huff. “She has been meeting with all of Beeston’s former…” She shifted beside the duke and her cheeks flushed a bright pink.
“Lovers,” the dowager finished for her with a roll of her eyes.
“Lovers?” Graham repeated, certain he’d heard her wrong.
“For what purpose?” asked Somerset.
The two women looked at each other and shared some kind of unspoken communication.
“We can’t tell you,” the duchess finally supplied.
“Like hell you can’t!” Somerset was seething now. “I command you b
oth to tell us what is going on.”
The dowager waved her hand lazily in the air. “Stand down, Somerset,” she said. “You cannot command us to do anything. Hannah made us swear to secrecy. Only she can tell you her plan…if she so chooses.”
Graham sought to be the calm and sensible one in this situation, so he leaned forward, elbows on knees, and made his plea. “I respect your oath to Hannah,” he said, keeping his tone even. “But now her life is in danger, could you not make an exception?”
The dowager turned her beady eyes on him. “We don’t yet know that her life is in danger. Once we have confirmed that, we will consider if you need to know the plan.”
Damned infuriating woman. Somerset looked as if he wanted to toss her from the carriage window. Graham was of a similar mind. And then he’d deliver a proper scolding to his intended when they found her.
If they found her.
They rode in silence the rest of the way, Somerset brooding, the women looking properly terrified, and Graham, praying to whatever deity might be willing to help him in this moment. He just wanted his Hannah to be safe.
The carriage pulled to a stop what seemed like hours later on a side street in Covent Garden, indeed on the edge of Seven Dials. What the devil was Hannah thinking coming here?
Graham and Somerset hopped down from the carriage, and then the duchess attempted to step down as well, but Somerset halted her mid-step.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he bit out.
One would have to be an idiot not to see the fire and determination in the woman’s eyes. “To find my sister-in-law.”
“You and Mother will stay in the carriage.”
“I don’t think so.” The dowager was on the sidewalk beside them, and both Graham and Somerset stared at her, agape. “There is a door on the other side, you know? Now let her down. We’re all going together.”
“It’s bad enough Hannah has been deceiving and defying us, must you insist on doing the same?”
The dowager stared at her son for a long moment, and Graham almost wondered if she’d had a change of heart, until she said simply, “Yes. Now let her down.”
Somerset hesitated.
“There are no locks on these doors. Even if we stay now, we will only get out in a few minutes’ time.”
That was true. They had no real way of keeping them inside.
“Fine.” Somerset flipped his hand over and helped his wife from the carriage. “But you will do as we say, is that understood?”
“Perfectly,” the duchess replied haughtily.
And then they all walked to the door belonging to one Ms. Veronica Delaney.
Chapter 26
Hannah blinked her eyes open, but all she could see was black. Oh, God. Where was she? What had happened to her? Panic settled in her breast as the memories came flooding back. Veronica, bound and gagged. The cold steel of a knife against her throat.
Beeston.
She couldn’t remember anything after that. Was she still in Veronica’s townhome? And what did Beeston plan to do with her now that he’d captured her?
Hannah swallowed down the tears that threatened to overtake her. She had to keep her wits about her, keep her mind sharp.
Oh, yes. There were stairs, and a carriage. But nothing after that.
She blinked some more as her eyes adjusted to the darkness, and she tried to sit up, but her head hurt too much. It was a similar feeling to what she felt after too much laudanum. She wanted to sleep forever. But she couldn’t. Not with Beeston near. Who knew what he’d do to her in her sleep. Perhaps he’d already done it.
That thought made her stomach churn. She had to figure a way out of this. But first, she had to figure out where she was in the first place.
As painful as it was, she pushed herself up to a sitting position. She was on some kind of feather bed that sat on the floor, and the ends of the feathers poked through the rough cotton, making it decidedly uncomfortable. Though she supposed he could have just left her on the cold, hard floor, so there was that.
“Ah, you’re awake,” came the baneful voice of her husband. The sound alone made her want to toss up her breakfast.
“Ah, you’re alive,” she replied in the same tone of voice.
“Surprise!” He giggled with maniacal glee.
“Where are you?” Hannah demanded, hating that she was rendered helpless in the darkness.
“You would love to know, wouldn’t you?” Beeston hissed, his tone changing suddenly.
“I only—” But before she could finish, a pair of foul-tasting lips pressed against hers, followed by a pair of hands that sought to take liberties with her person.
He was strong, always had been, and no matter how she struggled, she couldn’t get him off her. She hated the panic that fluttered in her chest. The tears that sprung from her eyes. Those things would only embolden him, the sick bastard. If only she could get enough leverage to kick him where it would truly hurt him. But alas, there was no such leverage from her position beneath him on the feathered bed.
“Did you miss me?” he hissed, pulling away, his breath hot and foul on her face.
“Like one misses a toothache,” Hannah spat back. She ought to have held her tongue, but if he planned to kill her, being kind probably wouldn’t make a difference.
He pressed himself against her again, grinding his manhood against her leg—the one he’d shot. She winced against the pain, willing herself not to cry, telling herself she’d been through worse, clinging to the hope that Grace would eventually let the others know that she’d been gone too long. That something was wrong.
“Why?” she whimpered, and she hadn’t even realized she’d said it out loud until Beeston paused.
“What’s that, love?”
She hated when he called her that, as if he’d ever loved her.
“Why did you come back?” she finished. She wanted to know what his plans were for her. For them.
“Ah, well…my reasons are two-fold, actually. Your brother was kind enough to give me quite a sum to go away the first time—I figure he’ll give me even more this time in hopes that I’ll stay away for good.”
“And will you?” Hannah wondered.
His hand gently caressed her face—a gesture in stark contrast to his words. “It won’t matter to you, my lady,” he whispered. Then he pressed himself upon her again, and Hannah understood. Her end was near.
Chapter 27
The door was unlocked, the modest townhome completely silent. Graham hated the feeling he had as the four of them searched each room, looking for a sign, anything that would tell them Hannah had been there.
“Nothing,” Somerset said as they met in the first floor foyer again, then he gestured up the staircase before them. “Shall we?”
Graham nodded and started up first, leading the way to the top of the stairs. Only as he stood on the landing could he hear the faintest of sounds. A whimper, a cry…hope fluttered in his breast, and he burst into the room from whence the sound came.
“Hannah!” he cried, flinging the door wide, but then he stopped when he realized the woman bound to the overturned chair wasn’t Hannah.
The duchess pushed past him. “Miss Delaney!” she cried, kneeling at the woman’s side and pulling the gag from her mouth. “Oh, you poor thing.”
Graham and Somerset sprang into action, untying the coarse ropes from her hands and feet and then helping her to the bed. She was a sturdy woman with dark hair and eyes that belied her young age. She’d seen far too much in her years, Graham suspected.
The dowager put herself to good use, dampening a cloth and bringing it to Miss Delaney. She pressed it against her mouth and then her forehead, sweeping her cheeks and finally her neck, where she let the cloth rest, while Somerset began to question her.
“Who did this to you?”
The woman’s lip trembled as she spoke. “Lord Beeston.”
Graham had hoped that wasn’t the case, but of course deep down he’d known it w
as. “Tell us exactly what happened.”
“He surprised me,” she whimpered. “I didn’t know he was here. And then all of a sudden, he had me pinned down, tying ropes around my wrists. Swore he’d kill me if I screamed.”
“Did he hurt you?” Graham asked, picking up her wrists to examine the burns, praying he’d otherwise left her alone.
She shook her dark curls. “No. It wasn’t me he was after.”
Graham’s heart stopped for what felt like far too long before it sped to a gallop. “Where is she?” he growled, unable to control the fury that was building inside of him.
The woman trembled and tears leaked from her eyes. “I don’t know,” she whispered. “He knocked me unconscious before he took her—that must be how I ended up on the floor.”
“Dammit,” Somerset hissed.
“Did he hurt her?” Graham asked.
Miss Delaney swallowed over a lump in her throat as she stared into Graham’s eyes. “I don’t know,” she said. “But he had a knife to her throat.”
The whole room fell silent and still. Graham clenched his fists at his side.
“Dr. Alcott?” the duchess said, tentatively.
“If he touches one hair on her head, I swear I’ll kill him,” Graham growled.
“Not if I get to him first,” Somerset said.
“The two of you must calm down if you wish to rescue Hannah from the likes of Beeston.”
“Calm down?” Somerset gaped at his mother.
“Think,” she continued. “Someone spotted him in Spitalfields, didn’t you say?”
“Yes,” Graham confirmed, trying to steady his breathing. “But that’s all we have. A small apartment in Spitalfields. We don’t even know if it’s his.”
“Isn’t it worth a try?” the duchess chimed in. “I will stay here with Miss Delaney—”
“No!”
All eyes turned to Miss Delaney.
“That is, I wish to go with you.”
Somerset held up a hand. “You’ve been through quite a trauma. I don’t think it’s such a good idea.”
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