PLAYED BY THE EARL

by Alyson Chase

  Sudworth would use the fresh pair. And if John needed it, he would use his. “You won’t cheat again. Robert and Sutton will ensure it.”

  Sudworth chuckled. “You think you have it all worked out. That you have me in a box.” He held up his hand, and his man dropped something into it. “I’ve survived too long to allow that. You’ll play, but you won’t play for the deed. That’s mine. You’ll play for this.” He tossed the object into the middle of the table.

  It landed with a small clink, the gold chain of the necklace glinting in the lamplight.

  John froze. It couldn’t be. She hadn’t been wearing it that night. Had she?

  He grasped the emerald pendant. The deep green stone warmed his palm, seeming to hold the warmth from Netta’s skin within it.

  Sudworth raised his hands palm up, grinning broadly. “When I said we had similar interests, I didn’t mean gambling.”

  Chapter Thirty

  The gemstone cut into John’s palm. “Where did you get this?”

  “Our pretty little friend gave it to me.” Sudworth leaned back and hooked his thumbs under his braces. “Did you know she and I were once betrothed? She did me a favor by calling it off. She is a bit on the shelf now. I will be happier with her younger sister.”

  John ground his back teeth so hard his jaw ached. One small slice at the jugular. Or one tiny nick at the femoral vein and this worthless piece of shit’s life would be over. John didn’t usually enjoy killing, but he’d make an exception for Sudworth.

  “Where. Is. She?”

  Sudworth lifted one shoulder. “Girls like that, who can tell? Without the protection of a man, a woman out on the streets at night doesn’t last long.”

  Robert stilled John’s hand. He hadn’t even realized he’d palmed his dagger until his brother stopped him from using it.

  “My men can find her,” Sudworth continued. “Whether they find her unharmed, well, that is up to you.”

  Sutton rested his fist on his hip, his hand a quick distance to the pistol John knew he kept at the small of his back. “Our men are exceptional at searching out lost people. We’ll find her. And when we do, those that have her will be made to pay.”

  “That sounds like an accusation.” Sudworth tutted. “Your men must already have my properties under observation, so where could she be?” He tapped his index finger against his lips. “For our last game, I propose a different set of stakes. You win, I’ll tell my men to deliver little Netta when they find her. I win, you deliver her sister. Her father has already signed the contract. There’s nothing you can do to stop this wedding.”

  A bead of sweat slid down his temple. It felt like his veins were filled with fire instead of blood. The absolute nerve of this man. He actually thought John would deliver up a small child if he lost. That John wouldn’t kill him where he stood once he’d found Netta.

  Sudworth must think himself invincible.

  “Of course, if you’d rather play for the deed to Robert’s estate instead of the woman, I’m open to that, as well.” Sudworth drummed his fingers on the table. “It depends on what means more to you — recovering your wealth, or Miss Agnes Evered.”

  John shook his head, trying to rid his ears of the faint ringing echoing inside. It grew louder. Netta or his steel production. How bloody ironic. He’d only come to know Netta because she was helping him save his fortunes. And now he was going to lose it all because he couldn’t live without her.

  “New deal.” His voice was raw, his words sounding like they were dragged over gravel. “I won’t play games, not for Netta.” Even with his loaded dice, he couldn’t risk it. Risk her. “But I will trade.” He swallowed, his next words sticking in his throat. “My letters patent for Netta.”

  Robert hissed in air. He knew as well as John that giving that away would truly be the end to the House of Summerset. At least for many, many years. Until John developed a new formula, discovered new products to rebuild their coffers.

  It would hurt giving away his prized discovery. Taking his income back down to nigh on nothing. But he’d have Netta. And with her by his side, he’d rebuild, get back in the laboratory as he should have done years ago.

  She had a bad licorice habit he’d need to pay for after all.

  Sudworth steepled his fingers. “Now that is an interesting proposition.” He stared at John a moment. “And one I accept.” He stood and stretched out his hand.

  John was loath to take it. He didn’t know how he’d restrain himself from yanking the man down until his nose made sharp contact with the table. But he was making a gentleman’s agreement. His stomach twisted as he shook Sudworth’s hand. Though there was nothing gentlemanly about it, the formalities needed to be observed.

  John made to release Sudworth’s hand, but the man gripped him tighter. “I didn’t think you’d make such a poor choice. Don’t you know that with money you can buy another woman?”

  John yanked his hand free. “There isn’t another woman like her.” He made eye contact with Sutton and his brother, giving them small shakes of his head. They wouldn’t be fighting it out in this room. Not when there was a chance Netta would be hurt. “The letters patent are in the vault at my bank. I will need until tomorrow to retrieve them.”

  “Of course.” Sudworth took his jacket from the back of his chair and shrugged into it. “My house, tomorrow night. I’ll have the girl brought there.”

  “Without a mark on her,” John growled.

  “Who can say what will have happened to a woman on the streets of London?” Sudworth’s men flanked him, forming a solid wall. “She will be as unharmed as possible.”

  Sutton grasped one of his arms. Robert clasped his shoulder. They obviously thought they needed to hold him back.

  They should have known him better. John’s first objective was to retrieve Netta. That required playing nice now. His vision tunneled until he saw only Sudworth’s face. But John would avenge any and every mark on her. Sudworth’s screams of agony would be the music John listened to as he made him pay, cut for cut, bruise for bruise.

  “I believe I’ll pay a call on Liverpool.” Sudworth adjusted the cuffs of his jacket. “It’s time we had a chat.” He dipped his chin to look at John. “You didn’t truly think I’d end up in prison, did you? Men like me never do.”

  John’s nails bit into his palm. Sudworth should hope he ended up in jail. The other alternative was much less pleasant. He turned in place, watching as the men filed out of the room.

  Sutton stepped to his side. “We’ll find her, John.” His words were quiet, and with as much assurance as was possible. But both Sutton and John knew. Sometimes, right didn’t win. Sometimes innocents got hurt. Killed.

  John pressed his hand against his thigh to hide its quiver. “Yes. We check all his properties again. Press all our informants. Netta is somewhere in London, and we need to find her.”

  ***

  “If he wants me, use me. Tell him you’ll give me to him if he gives us Netta.” Eleanor crossed her arms over the front of her over-large night dress and paced in front of the fireplace. It had been three hours since John had returned home, and the commotion caused by the news of Netta’s disappearance had roused the whole household. Her aggravating sister included.

  John fingered the necklace in his pocket. “I’ve already told you. If we cannot find her, I will trade my letters patent for her. You aren’t getting involved.”

  The chit scowled. “But it will be hours before the banks open. Hours when Netta is trapped with that man.” She ducked her head, her loose hair swinging to hide her face.

  John gripped the back of his neck. Comforting children wasn’t one of his many skills. But she was Netta’s sister. The person Netta loved most in the world. He inched up to her like she was a snake that could strike at any moment and patted her shoulder. “There, there. It’s all going to be fine.”

  She shoved her hair behind her ear and glared at him.

  Montague
strode into the study, Sutton a step behind. “I’ve never heard anyone sound less reassuring.” He plucked a blanket from the back of a chair and wrapped it around Eleanor’s shoulders. He chucked her chin. “But it will be all right, dear. We’ll make certain of it.”

  Eleanor gave him a tremulous smile. “Thank you, your grace.”

  Sutton chuckled. “Your scowl outdid the child’s,” he said to John.

  John turned his back and gripped the fireplace mantel. He couldn’t find Netta. He couldn’t comfort her sister. What the hell good was he? “Have you learned anything?”

  The pregnant silence behind him said everything.

  “London is a big city.” Sutton heaved a breath. “We’ll keep searching, but it might come down—”

  “—to me turning over my patent.” He was resigned to losing his crowning achievement, but he agreed with Eleanor. There was too much time between now and the appointed exchange that evening. Too much time for Netta to be alone with the blackguards.

  His knuckles went white. She was a courageous woman, but she had to be frightened. Wondering why he hadn’t come for her yet. He blinked, refusing to let the tears fall.

  “I can’t believe you’re going to give him your steel formula.”

  John turned. He hadn’t heard Robert enter. “What would you have me do? She’s worth…” Everything. He faced the wall once more. He felt as raw as an exposed wound. He wasn’t the sort of man to show his feelings, even to his friends. Wasn’t the sort of man to feel deep emotions.

  Damn Netta. She’d done this to him. And now she’d gone and gotten herself kidnapped.

  “What happened to your face?” Eleanor’s question was innocent, one only a child would ask so casually.

  John gripped the mantel tighter. He looked in the mirror to catch his brother’s tense expression.

  “Acid.”

  Eleanor cocked her head. “Did someone throw it on you?”

  Robert locked eyes with John’s reflection. “No. A miscalculation.”

  “Enough!” Rage exploded out of John. He spun and advanced on his brother. “You’re holding onto your spite now? When a woman’s life is at risk? You have a scar on your face. Who cares? It’s well past time that you moved the hell on.”

  Robert’s jaw dropped, stretching the puckered skin tight.

  “While I applaud the sentiment and feel it long overdue, there are young ears in the room,” Montague reminded him, with a nod to Eleanor. “Language.”

  John threaded his fingers in his hair and pulled until the sting helped him focus. Netta was missing and he was sure as shit that her sister wouldn’t care about his foul words. Nevertheless, he blew out a breath and nodded. “Apologies. Perhaps this is a good time for you to return to bed. I’ll wake you if we learn anything new.”

  “Which is now.” Amanda hurried in, two older women following more slowly.

  “Auntie May?” John ignored his grandmother. “What are you doing here at this hour?”

  “It seems that everyone is here at this hour.” Mary bent her finger at her nephew and raised her face. “Which means you all know about Netta.”

  Montague bent and kissed the offered cheek. “What do you know of it?”

  “Only what Catherine has told me.” Mary bobbed her head at John’s grandmother. “That a man took Netta from the backstage of my club.” She pressed her lips into a hard line. “I’m sorry. My security will be improved immediately.”

  John rushed to his grandmother. “Did he say anything? Any hints on where he was taking her?”

  She gave him the look he recognized so well, the one dripping with disappointment. “Of course he wouldn’t say such a thing. Not to his kidnap victim nor to any witnesses.”

  John’s heart twisted. Of course. It had been too much to hope for.

  His grandmother tapped her walking stick into the carpet. “Which was why I had to follow them to find out.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Netta breathed through her mouth but couldn’t escape the stench. She had thought that time would make her grow accustomed to the smells of the dairy, but after awaking several hours ago, the foul odor persisted. The smell, combined with the pounding in her head, made her stomach turn.

  She pressed her bound wrists to her abdomen. She would not cast up her accounts. The sight and stench of that would only increase her nausea and it would become an endless, horrifying cycle.

  “Is there anything to drink?” she asked the two men guarding her. She shifted on her spot on the ground and leaned back against the wall. “My mouth is quite parched.”

  Bob, as she’d found out her kidnapper was called, held up a jug of ale with a narrow-eyed smile and pressed it to his lips. He tilted it back then pulled it away with a huff.

  His friend didn’t look up from the bit of wood he was whittling. “We finished the last of it an hour ago.”

  Bob slammed the empty jug onto the small table the men sat at. “How much longer do we have to stay here? I tell you, I can ensure she won’t be getting away, with or without anyone watching over her.”

  “Patience.” The man, whose name Netta had never heard, lifted his stick to the light and examined it.

  She would call him Roger, she decided, because he and the lot of them could go roger themselves.

  “Besides,” Roger said. “The boss won’t be happy with the damage you’ve already done to her. You know he likes them untouched before he plays.”

  Netta bit back her gorge. She would save it. She wiped at the sweat rolling down her cheek with the back of her hand. When Sudworth came to her, she would be sick on him. Perhaps that would cool his ardor.

  She looked around her prison, trying to slow her racing heart. The storage shed, although large enough to hold all the equipment for the dairy, contained no windows. Just because there was only the one door past her captors was no reason to panic.

  “There is an easy solution to the problem of our collective thirst.” She tried to infuse her voice with unconcern. As though she were knocked senseless and held captive every other week. “We are at a dairy, surrounded by animals heavy with milk.”

  Roger ran his tongue along his bottom lip. “Do you know how to milk a cow?” he asked Bob.

  “Do I look like a farmer?” Bob sat back in his wooden chair and crossed his arms. “I was born and raised in London. I’ve always got my milk the sensible way. I buy it.”

  Netta sighed heavily. “It isn’t difficult. All you have to do is get a bucket—”

  “Shut up.” Bob threw the empty jug, and she flattened herself to the floor as it crashed against the wall above her. Bits of clay rained down, and she curled into a ball.

  “It’s not a bad idea,” Roger said. He looked at a stack of buckets in the corner then looked back at Bob.

  He held up his hands. “I’m not milking no damn cow. Have you seen how big those animals are?”

  Netta straightened and stretched her legs out, crossing them at the ankles. “They don’t bite.” Lord, she hoped they would bite these men. “Nor kick. Not like horses do, and you ride horses.”

  The men stared at each other.

  “You’re not frightened, are you?” She loosed a peal of laughter, trying to imbue it with every ounce of derision she could. “Two large men like you afraid to milk a cow. I suppose we’ll just go thirsty then.”

  Bob climbed to his feet. “I’m not going thirsty.” He strode over to her and grabbed the rope at her wrists, yanking her to her feet. “If you know so much about cows, you do it.”

  Netta swayed, her brain clouding from the abrupt change in position. She fought against the dizziness. This was what she’d wanted. A chance to escape. She wouldn’t miss it by losing consciousness now.

  “Of course. All I need is a bucket and a cow.” She recited a nursery rhyme she’d learned from her nurse, Dollie, as a child. There had been something about milking a cow in it. If Little Miss Muffet could milk a beast, so could s
he.

  Wait. That wasn’t the right nursery rhyme. And it was a horrid little story at that.

  Bob dragged her to the stack of buckets and shoved one at her.

  She put on a show of trying to grab it with her bound hands. Her nails scrabbled against the rim before she dropped it. Giving him her best wide-eyed innocent look, she held up her bound wrists. “I can’t hold it when my hands are tied so tight.”

  Bob kicked the bucket into her shin, and she couldn’t hold back her cry.

  She hopped up and down on one foot as the sting eased, glaring at the bastard.

  “Sodding hell.” Roger rose and tromped towards them. “We were told to watch her, not abuse her. Why do you feel the need to bully?”

  “She knows what happened to my brother.”

  Roger put his hand on Bob’s shoulder. “You don’t know that for certain. How many times have I told you that if you want to get ahead, you have to use your head?”

  “But—”

  “No buts. You are responsible for your own success.” He clasped both of Bob’s shoulders and looked into his eyes. “Now, repeat after me. I am the master of my own future.”

  Bob’s shoulders curled, but he repeated the mantra.

  “I am in control of my destiny.”

  “I am in control of my destiny,” Bob repeated.

  Netta stared at the men in horrified fascination. The absurdity of the situation made her want to laugh, or perhaps that was hysteria setting in. As abductions went, this one had to be one of the strangest.

  “Now, do you really think this tiny thing had anything to do with your brother going missing?” Roger turned Bob to face her. “It is only through logic and reason that a man will get ahead. Not by venting his spleen.”

  Bob grumbled. “I suppose not.” He bent and swiped up the bucket. “Loosen her ropes, will you? But not too much.” He curled one side of his lips. “That wouldn’t be logical.”

  Roger untied her binds then retied them leaving several inches of rope stretched between her wrists. It wasn’t what she had hoped for, but her mobility was better than before.