Drake questioned one of the gentlemen who was at the hotel. The man told him the earl's signet ring was found on his burnt body. Drake hated to admit it, but a part of him reveled at the man's death. Now that Wendover was gone, Drake would travel back to the Boxing Boar Inn and find out exactly what had transpired between Nightham and Victoria.
Had they truly been married? No vows had been recorded at the church. Something was definitely askew. There had been no witnesses, and the local vicar had denied servicing any such ceremony.
Drake wanted to marry Victoria as soon as possible, but he wanted to clear her name first, and if that meant going back to the Boxing Boar Inn, he would do so without Victoria the wiser.
He felt a grin stretching across his face. Heaven help him. He loved her.
Chapter Twenty
"Vicki! Do you want to go with Mrs. Dorling and me?"
Victoria felt every bounce of William's feet as he jumped on her bed. It was early morning and she was barely awake.
It had been three days since she had seen the marquess, and he was still avoiding her, even though she had received a dozen roses and a written apology about his behavior with the ring.
But the misery of that last meeting still plagued her mind. By apologizing, she knew he was dissolving any ties to their relationship in a gentlemanly manner. Yet in the letter, he begged her to trust him.
Her heart ached, but it mattered not, because this morning she was going to take a ride to see her solicitor. Whatever information he had gathered, she would take the news back to Aunt Phoebe and tell her the whole of it, from the flight with Nightham to Wendover's threats. Wendover was dead and a scandal seemed far less dangerous now than the thought of Wendover killing William.
"So, my little pirate, where are you going?" she finally asked her cousin when he stopped jumping.
"A drive in Hyde Park. Old Georgie's going to let us use his fancy phaeton when he comes for breakfast. We can all take turns."
With a roar of triumph, William leapt off her bed, his sword whipping excitedly about his head. "One of his drivers will be at the reins, and I might be able to have a go at the horses. Four white horses, Vicki!"
His voice was so ecstatic that Victoria could not hold back her chuckle of delight. "William, you should not call His Grace, Old Georgie. He will be your stepfather in a few weeks, you know."
William looked away, then put one hand on his hip and let out a weary sigh. "Listen, we are leaving in a few minutes. There will not be anyone at the park this early. We can have it all to ourselves. Do you want to go with us? It will be a tight squeeze, but I am rather small, and you can ride beside us and then Mrs. Dorling can switch places with you."
Victoria felt a grin tug at her lips at the thought of Mrs. Dorling riding her horse. "Not today, William."
"Awwww, Vicki."
Victoria sighed as he jumped on her bed again and continued his bouncing. She quickly moved to her sitting table, pulling a brush through her hair. Her mind ran over the past few days, including the facts about Wendover's death. She felt sinful, but she was glad that he was dead. It was only Lord Drakefield and Nightham who haunted her dreams now.
William jumped off the bed. "Vicki! Look at how your hair flies in the air and crackles like those bugs I step on every summer." He took the brush from her hands and pulled it through her mane of mahogany curls and squealed in delight. "It makes snapping noises like guts squishing on the rocks in the hot sun."
Victoria grinned at her reflection in the looking glass. William had her hair standing on end like some madwoman. She frowned suddenly. Was she mad for loving someone who would never love her back?
"You best get going, William. Save a ride for me another day.
"Oh, very well, me princess. But I will not always have four white horses to take along." He slapped her brush on the table and made a sinister face in the looking glass. "I will look for tiny, tiny creatures. An entire hat full." He ran to the door and laughed. "So beware!"
"William!"
He glanced over his shoulders and quirked a blond brow. "Don't worry. This time they are for Sarah."
She heard him giggle as he closed the door, and she thought she heard the word guts. She would have to warn Sarah about checking her bed before she turned in for the night.
A half-hour later, the duke and James showed for breakfast. Stanby personally delivered another bouquet of roses for Victoria from the marquess. Of course, the giant was deflated when he heard that Mrs. Dorling was out riding with William.
The duke glanced up from the breakfast table and chuckled at Stanby's frown. "Mrs. Dorling went along to watch over the boy. By now William is gallivanting about Hyde Park with my new phaeton. Hopefully, they will have the place all to themselves. If you wish, Stanby, stay here and wait for them."
Stanby gave a stiff upper lip and nodded. "Thank you, Your Grace. I believe I will."
Phoebe smiled at the giant. "Mrs. Dorling would enjoy seeing you when she returns. Why do you not wait for her in the blue salon?"
"Thank you, my lady." Stanby hovered by the door.
Phoebe noted his tight expression and frowned. "What is it, Stanby?"
"If you will forgive my rudeness, my lady. I feel quite ill at ease about Mrs. Dorling and William going out by themselves."
"Ah," Phoebe sighed. "McGraw is driving. So you see they are not alone."
James let out an amused snort and turned toward his father. "Are you saying it is only McGraw and Mrs. Dorling with that boy? You truly believe they can handle the situation?"
The duke cast his son a stem glare. James adjusted his neckcloth. Sarah giggled and Victoria pretended not to hear.
"My dear," Phoebe grinned at the duke. "William is a handful. I can see James was only concerned about the boy." She inclined her head toward James. "But depend upon it, Mrs. Dorling can handle him."
Stanby cleared his throat, and all heads turned in his direction.
The duke looked on, his brow furrowed. "What is it, Stanby?"
Stanby looked over the table. "I do beg your pardon, but Mrs. Dorling can usually handle the boy, however, I cannot put it out of my mind that Lord Wendover is still in the area. The man seemed quite unstable."
Phoebe's face paled.
"The man is dead," Victoria said with a frown. "The paper said so."
"If you pardon my bluntness, Lady Victoria," Stanby said, "the earl's body was not recognizable. They only assumed it was him because of his ring."
Victoria’s stomach sank.
"What Stanby says is quite true," James said as he cut into his kippers. "The thing is, the body was assumed to be Wendover's, but it could be someone else. However, the investigators were almost positive it was the earl's remains. Since the man has not shown his face at all the last few days, and his death has been in all the papers, I fail to see how it could be otherwise."
"Nevertheless," Stanby said with a grimace. "Something don't seem right."
Victoria felt herself grow warm as Stanby excused himself and moved to the hall toward the blue salon, his face showing every wary emotion he felt.
After a stunned silence, the duke tried to change the subject. Nothing from the weather to Prinny's latest escapade seemed to help the icy feeling that flowed through Victoria's veins.
After breakfast, Phoebe, the duke, James, Sarah, and Victoria gathered in the drawing room.
Sick about the possibility of Wendover being alive, Victoria put on a calm face as she prepared to leave for her solicitor's. She glanced out the window when a stylish phaeton whipped into view. She almost laughed when she saw the harried driver conduct the four magnificent white horses to a halt in front of the townhouse. William must have driven the poor man daft. The amusement died on her lips the second she realized that the crazy driver was not McGraw, but her very own Mrs. Dorling with the driver slouched over the lady's lap.
Panic burned a path straight to her heart. "William!"
All heads snapped in her direction when
she shouted the boy's name. She picked up her skirts and hurried toward the door.
"William?" Phoebe sent an alarmed look the duke's way. "Is he hurt? Oh, my baby!"
The duke shot from his chair. James followed him toward the hall.
"McGraw's hurt!" Victoria cried to the two men behind her.
A sobbing Mrs. Dorling helped lower the man to James and the duke. The lady slipped Victoria a sealed letter, her entire body shaking. "Oh, my lady! It was someone with a mask. I was to give this only to you. That ogre took William. McGraw tried to defend us, but—" The housekeeper let out a deep sob. "The blood. Oh, the blood."
"He'll make it," the duke said grimly, looking over McGraw's wounds.
"Alice!" Stanby came bounding out the door and ran toward Mrs. Dorling, his face almost as white as hers. The large man cursed as he gently brought the older woman up the stairs and into the townhouse.
Victoria felt ill as she clutched the letter to her pounding chest. Wendover was alive! The man had taken William. Her throat tightened with dread. Dear, precious William. All that mattered was William. She had to concentrate on William.
The doctor was called to attend to the driver, and by that time Phoebe had taken ill on the sofa in the drawing room. Sarah hovered over her aunt, tapping her face with a cool cloth. The duke sat at his fiancée's side.
"Everything will be quite all right Phoebe, dearest. William will be returned." The duke's voice was calm, but Victoria knew he was anything but tranquil. His face was hard. His gaze the same. She recognized the lethal glint harboring in those dark eyes. They were a different color from Drake's, but they gave off the same surge of power and determination.
However, it seemed in all the confusion, no one had seen Mrs. Dorling hand Victoria the letter. Victoria moved to the hearth and broke open the seal, her heart beating madly.
James quickly moved beside her. "It would be best if I read that first, Victoria. I saw Mrs. Dorling slip it to you. The others may not have seen, but I did."
"The letter is for me, not you."
"That does not mean a thing. Give it to me." He shoved out his hand. "This is William's life that hangs in the balance. Do not keep your secrets from us any longer."
The fire flickered beside her and her mouth went dry. William. Think of William.
"After I have read it, you may have it." She said the lie as smooth as silk. At this point she did not care. No one else would be hurt because of that horrid man. No one.
"Very well." James waited impatiently, his gaze hardening with every passing second.
Victoria turned her back to him. Her shoulders slumped forward as she read the letter. Wendover wanted her to meet him one block from the townhouse at noon. He had William and would kill the boy if she were but a minute late. No one was to come in her place and she was not to share the contents of the letter with anyone. He would be watching closely.
Dear merciful heaven! What was she to do? She glanced at James. She could not let him read it. Her stomach turned with indecision. He would hate her for what she was about to do, but she had to do it and do it quick.
He took a threatening step toward her. "Victoria, I will have that letter now."
"Goodness, has Sarah fainted, too?" As James abruptly turned his head toward the doors, Victoria took the moment to crumple the letter into a ball and send it flying into the fire.
"Why, there's nothing wrong—"
As James turned back, his face filled with rage the moment he realized what she had done. He pushed her aside and grabbed the poker to fish the remains of the paper out of the fire. There was nothing left but black cinders. If looks could kill, Victoria thought she was about to die. She held her breath.
"Lord Wendover has William," she replied softly. "We are to wait until he sends another note."
She lied, of course, but she had told some of the truth. By the time they guessed the whole of it, William would be home and she would be long gone. But she could not dwell on the horrid notion of being with Wendover. She had to focus her thoughts on her sweet little William. She would welcome any little creature he put in her bed, if only he would be returned.
Less than a half-hour later, Drake blew into the house like a storm wreaking havoc with anything in its path. "Where is she?" His loud voice bounced off the crimson wallpaper in the front hall. Winston had sent a message, telling him about the sordid happenings and the marquess was fit to be tied.
"You may find her in the dining room," James replied coolly, suddenly appearing in the hall. "We made a call to Bow Street."
Drake fisted his hands at his sides. "Victoria!"
A shudder shot through Victoria's body. Her teacup rattled, and she spilled the hot liquid on her skirt. Sarah peeked up, her eyes puffy from crying. Phoebe rested her head on George's shoulder.
Victoria blinked. The pirate appeared in the doorway. Two long, muscular legs were planted firmly on the floor as if they were holding up the entire room with his hovering stance. His neckcloth was askew and his hands were clenched at his sides. Inky black hair hung loosely around his shoulders and over one eye. His fitted brown jacket made his shoulders look wide and powerful. But it was those piercing gray eyes that froze Victoria to her seat.
"Yes?" She made an extreme effort to hold her chin steady.
He strode toward her and lifted her firmly from her seat. "I wish to speak to you. Now."
She did not fight him, but followed him to the library where he settled her in a wing chair, hovering over her like some dangerous pirate.
"What the devil is going on in that little mind of yours?"
"Nothing," she said, her guilty gaze sweeping the floor.
He leaned over her, straddling her with his arms. "Do not lie to me. You received a letter from Wendover. What did it say?"
"H-he has W-William." She could not keep the shakiness from her voice.
His voice instantly softened. "What else, sweetheart? What did Wendover say?"
Sweetheart.
She peered up at him and saw the lines of strain across his face. She did love him so.
"What else, Victoria? What else was in the letter?"
She bit her bottom lip. "I cannot tell you."
"This is no game, Victoria." His nostrils flared. "You will tell me the contents of the letter or else."
Her gaze narrowed. "Or else what?"
"Can you not trust me for once?" He glared back.
But she did trust him now. She just didn't want him hurt.
A numbing silence blanketed the room. The standoff continued. Drake threatened to have her watched day and night until she told him what he wanted. To Victoria's surprise, she ended in her bedchambers, treated like a prisoner at Newgate, with one of the duke's barrelchested footmen guarding her door.
Frustrated, Drake slapped the wing chair with such force, it went careening on its back. He checked his timepiece, then snapped it back into his pocket. His mind raced with fear, because as sure as the ocean was blue, he knew that Victoria had some little scheme that she was not sharing with anybody but herself. No doubt, she would act on it if given half the chance.
Drat! Victoria paced the floor of her bedchamber. The nerve of that man posting a guard! She had bested him once, and she could do it again.
She glanced at the window and pursed her lips. Of course! With a jerk, she started pulling the sheets off her bed.
It was twelve o'clock when she stood on the street corner, the hood of her dark blue cloak hiding her face. Her heart picked up speed as the clip-clopping sound of a carriage touched her ears. She glanced up at the glossy black door that stopped in front of her. The steps were let down by an ugly-looking footman. She took one last glance over her shoulder before she hitched up her skirts and climbed inside.
"Good afternoon, Lady Victoria. So nice you could make our little rendezvous."
Chapter Twenty-One
"What do you mean she has left the premises?" Drake bellowed. "Gone is more like it!”
He grab
bed the sizeable footman who stood guard outside Victoria's bedchambers and shoved him aside. James came bounding up the stairs just as Drake plowed past the door.
Drake's eyes widened in alarm as he took in the sight of her naked mattress. He spun toward the open window where a light breeze whispered against the curtains.
He stood there gaping. She had done it to him again. He looked at the sky as light ribbons of pink fell against the sinking sun. When he found that woman he would shackle her to his leg and never let her go. They would be married before she knew what happened to her.
At the Boxing Boar Inn, he had discovered that Victoria and Nightham had never been married. Some drunk pretended to be a vicar, only wanting Nightham's coin, but Drake suspected someone else was involved because the man's wife had found the phony vicar dead the very next day. The imposter had two witnesses who had gone along with the jest, as he called it, for a very old friend. But it had not been a jest at all, it was a hoax, and stupid Nightham had never caught on.
The possibility that Wendover had something to do with the fake vicar’s death was not far from Drake's thoughts. However, it mattered not. All that mattered was retrieving Victoria and William safe and sound.
James peered out the window, an incredulous look blanketing his face. "Hell's bells! She tied the sheets together."
Drake slapped his hand against the frame of the bed. He cursed a blue streak as he stalked from the room and hurried downstairs.
News of Victoria's disappearance spread through the house in no time.
Drake turned to leave.
James stood beside him. "Let me go with you. Father has no need of me here. You do."
"Get your things and let's go."
Victoria trained her gaze on William's slumped shoulders. Dark golden lashes swept across the boys pale cheeks as he slept. How she hated Wendover. Her eyes slowly lifted across the leather seat to meet the man's sinister smile.
To Marry A Marquess (A Regency Romance) Page 20
