Innocence Lost (23 page)

"The Duchess of Claremont. She wouldn't believe that Nicky—the Duke—has a mistress in residence."

"First of all, Phyllis, the Duke of Claremont's personal life is none of your business,” Jeremy began. “And secondly, Nick no longer has a mistress. He was allowing Angela Cooper the use of the house until she found somewhere else to live."

"I-I swear, I didn't know,” Phyllis whispered as tears filled her eyes. Then she looked down at her clasped hands.

From the corner of his eye, Julian watched his father nod to Thomas Porter.

"Do you know where the Duchess of Claremont is, my lady?” Thomas asked.

Phyllis lifted her head, surprise shining in her teary eyes. “She isn't at Kenbrook?"

"No, she isn't,” Thomas answered. “Do you know a man named Stuart Williams?"

The area around her mouth tightened and her brows drew together. “No,” she answered, “I don't know anyone by that name."

Julian closed his eyes. A dead end.

After leaving Jeremy's house, Julian rode to Bond Street with his father and the investigator. They halted at the address Nick gave them. A plump housekeeper opened the door, surveying them with cautious eyes. “Can I help you?"

"We must be permitted to speak with Angela Cooper immediately,” Julian said.

She shook her head. “I-I'm sorry, milord. She left days ago."

As a string of oaths rent the air, the woman gasped. She attempted to slam the door shut, but Thomas held it open with his hand. “You gentlemen must leave. There is no business for you here,” she squeaked, trying without success to get the door closed.

"I am Joseph Westland, the Duke of Kenbrook. I understand that my daughter, Megan, was here and conversed with Miss Cooper. We are here because my daughter was abducted two days ago."

The woman blanched. “Oh, no. Please come in, Your Grace. I do so apologize, I didn't know who you were. Please, follow me.” She turned and led them into the parlor. “Can I get you some tea, Your Grace, my lords?” she asked when they were seated.

"No, just some answers. Sit,” his father said.

The woman looked as if he'd just requested her execution. She perched on the edge of a nearby chair and waited for him to begin.

"I understand that my daughter came here twelve days ago and spoke to Angela Cooper."

The housekeeper's nervousness evaporated. “Indeed she did, Your Grace. Your daughter had that she-devil out on her ear within an hour."

In spite of his worry, Julian's lips twitched at the visual picture of his petite sister, a duchess, evicting her husband's so-called mistress out of the woman's own provided house. “Were you in the room? Did you hear what was said between them?"

Her shoulders slumped forward and she shook her head. “No, sir. I was told to leave. And my hearing ain't what it used to be. But I do know that there was no shouting and somehow Her Grace got that witch to leave. A miracle, indeed, I tell you."

"How long have you, ah, known Miss Cooper?” Julian asked.

"Oh, eight or nine years. If you don't mind my asking, my lord, where is the Duke of Claremont?"

"Nicholas is at the Kenbrook estate, recuperating from a gunshot wound he received when Megan was accosted,” Julian answered.

"Oh, thank God he's all right,” she mumbled. Drawing her brows together, she asked, “Do you expect Miss Cooper is involved in Her Grace's abduction?"

"We don't know. That is why we have come,” Julian answered. “When Nicholas dismissed Miss Cooper in March, do you know where she traveled?"

"I assume she went to her father's."

"And do you know who he is or where he lives?” he asked, resisting the urge to rub his sweaty palms over his riding breeches.

Her face fell. “I'm truly sorry, I don't. The only time she spoke to me was in the form of an order or reprimand."

"Nicholas told us that you were to send the remainder of her things after he'd dismissed her. What location did she give?"

"She didn't, my lord. She had a young lad fetch them."

"Do you know this boy? His name or where he lives?” Julian asked.

"I haven't a clue, my lord."

"Has Ms. Cooper had any other visitors recently?” Thomas asked.

"No. No visitors. But she did receive a message just before she left."

"Do you know what the message said?” Julian asked.

"Sorry, my lord. But I do know the message came from the dock. The lad who delivered it said so."

Complete darkness surrounded Megan, enveloping her like a death shroud. The silence rang throughout the room. The smell of burnt candle wax hung heavily in the hot air, almost too thick to inhale.

Megan forced herself to wait another five minutes before she moved.

After talking with Emily the day before, she had been brought back to the small bedroom. She'd fallen asleep and couldn't tell how many hours had passed before the old butler came in with a tray of food. That had been a long time ago. She guessed it was night. The house was too still and silent for it to be otherwise.

She shimmied into a sitting position on the bed. Damn Stuart Williams for retying her ankles. She brought her wrists to her mouth and began to gnaw at the rope that bound them.

While eating dining earlier, she studied the knot and found it to be one of the complicated ties her brother had shown her. She loosened the twine and it slid down her arms. She rubbed her chafed wrists to restore the circulation in her hands. Pain shot clear up to her elbows. Swallowing hard, she kept the useless appendages resting in her lap until she could use them again.

When the ache lessened to a tolerable level, she loosened the knot around her ankles. Her riding boots had protected them so that she felt only a faint discomfort in her feet.

Megan rose from the bed and shuffled toward the door. She prayed there wouldn't be a guard on the other side. Her body shook all over. She had to escape. Every second away from Nicholas was torture. And what if they never intended to return her?

When her seeking fingers found the door, she slid them slowly down to the knob. She twisted and eased the door open. A quick glance in the hall confirmed it to be empty. A low-burning lamp stood on an old, scarred table.

She crept down the hall, her magnified shadow slinking along at her side like a black specter. Her heart pounded. As she moved away from the lamp, she slid further into the blackness before her. Her palms grew moist and she halted. Holding her breath, she listened and heard only the thudding of her heart. She took a step forward, then another. An open entryway stood to her left. She could just make out the windows at the far end of the room.

Footsteps sounded and a door opened. Megan flew into the room, looking for a place to hide. The footsteps grew louder. Seeing the shadowy form of the sofa, she crouched behind it just as someone halted in the doorway. Her pulse hammered. When the footsteps moved away, she peeked around the corner of the sofa.

The door across the hall swung closed. She exhaled in relief. Then she realized that someone could find her missing.

She scrambled to her feet. With trembling legs, she located the front door and slipped from the house.

She gulped down several deep breaths of cool night air as she scanned her dark surroundings. A dilapidated stable stood a few yards away. She crept toward it.

A shuffle and nicker within told her that a horse resided inside. She stepped inside and murmured to the skittish animal. The mare snorted and flattened its ears but Megan comforted it with a soothing murmur. Within seconds, it calmed enough to be bridled.

Without bothering to saddle it, Megan led the horse outside and mounted.

Which way? No matter. She'd get directions at the first safe-looking inn. She glanced up at the sky, recalling something Julian had taught her. The North Star had a fixed location in the sky. There! She snapped the reins.

An hour later, she halted the horse and frowned. The trail broke off into two different directions. She spied a roof rising above the trees to her right. Faint with exhaustion and apprehension, she jabbed the horse with her heels and trotted in that direction.

She reached a rustic cabin and pounded on the door.

The door flew open. Her mouth parted in readiness to plead for help, but when she recognized Nicholas's uncle, she flew into his arms and began to sob.

"What's this all about?” he asked as his arms closed around her.

"Oh, Lord Charles!” she cried.

"Come inside, darling, and tell me what has happened,” he soothed. He showed her to the sofa and retrieved some water from a little kitchen off the main room.

She threaded her fingers together to keep them from shaking and forced herself to be calm. She was safe now. Charles would take her home.

Taking the water with a grateful smile, she gulped it down. She hadn't realized how hungry and thirsty she was.

An understanding smile crept across his lips and he turned back to the kitchen. Charles returned a few minutes later with a delightful fare of bread, cheese and strong tea. She devoured the meal, thankful to him for refraining from his questions until after she finished.

"Megan, what has happened?"

She took a deep breath. “I've been abducted. I'm not sure how long it's been, I think a couple of days. Oh please, Charles, take me home now,” she begged. Tears slipped down her cheeks. A sob escaped and she pressed her face into her hands. Now that this terrible ordeal had ended, she would be returned to Nicholas. Oh, God, she had almost believed she would never see him again. She sobbed harder.

"Of course I shall take you home, darling. But first, rest a while. You are exhausted. Just an hour,” he said.

Megan lifted her head and dashed the tears away. What must Nicholas be going through? Was he pacing the floor with her parents at Kenbrook? His face filled her mind. She closed her eyes, remembering every detail.

Voices brought her sluggishly awake. But the attempt to open her eyes proved unsuccessful. Dismay filled her. She tried to rise.

Footsteps clacked on the wooden floor as Charles moved around the tiny structure. The noise stopped directly in front of her.

"It's only been a few minutes. Are you sure she's asleep?"

Again, Megan tried to open her eyes, but lethargy dragged at her. With alarm, she recognized the effects of laudanum.

"I just checked, she's asleep. How much did you give her?"

Her heart skipped a beat when she recognized the second male voice. Stuart.

"Enough. She'll be out for hours. How in the bloody hell did you allow her to escape?” Charles growled.

Surely they could hear how hard her heart was beating? It sounded like a drum in her ears. She tried to move, only to find her arms and legs bound with rope. Her fear intensified, making her dizzy and weak.

"I have no idea how she managed to loosen the rope,” Stuart replied. “I don't like this, Charles. Too many things have gone wrong. Maybe we should forget—"

"You owe me, Stuart. If I hadn't arrived at the cottage when I did, Emily would not be alive today.” Charles's voice held a bitter edge that Megan had never heard before.

After a few seconds of silence, Charles continued in a kinder tone. “And must I remind you what Julian did to her?"

The room grew quiet. She continued to fight sleep. The drug pulsed through her body and pulled her under. With despair, she realized that Charles and Stuart would never be considered suspects.

[Back to Table of Contents]

The clank of dishes against a tray woke Megan. She opened gritty eyes and struggled to remember what had happened. Her blurry vision sharpened on the dirty smoke rising from a nearby candle. Someone shuffled forward and poured water into a glass. She heard the sound of the liquid and scraped her dry tongue from the roof of her mouth. The person placed the glass on the table beside her, then left the room. A rotten-egg stench wafted to her. When she saw the glass of murky water, her thirst evaporated.

She was back in the drab little cottage. Hopelessness engulfed her. She blinked away fresh tears and commanded herself not to weep like a weak, foolish child. Her family would find her, and she had to stay strong until they arrived.

Her left ankle was shackled with an iron band and a short chain to the bedpost. Her new sapphire-blue riding habit had been replaced with a clean but plain green dress. Someone had removed her clothing
and
given her a bath. Her thoughts shifted to her attempted escape the previous night. Once she was returned to her family, Charles would pay dearly for this ransom.

Someone cleared his throat.

She snapped her head up and found Mr. Williams in the doorway. She rose with her hands balled at her sides. “I demand to be released or there will be hell to pay."

He smiled and shook his head. “Damn, if you aren't lovely when you're mad.” When she started to tell him how her husband would track him down, he held up a hand. “Emily bathed you. And a lady ought not to swear,” he said lightly.

"You sound like Julian.” She plopped her hands onto her hips. “What would your employer say about you holding his sister against her will?"

His smile vanished. “What would your brother have done if what happened to Emily, had happened to you?” he countered.

Her hands slid down her sides. She knew exactly what Julian would have done.

"That's right,” he replied. He squashed a thick, black roach with the tip of his boot. Icebergs radiated more heat than his expression.

Her heart nearly stopped. Oh, God, they were going to kill Julian!

She moved to him and placed a trembling hand upon the bare arms he had crossed over his chest. His long shirtsleeves were rolled up to his elbows and his muscles leaped as soon as she touched him. She resisted the urge to snatch her hand away. “Please, Mr. Williams, you can ransom me if you must, but do not harm Julian,” she implored. Tears blurred her vision.

When he remained stubbornly mute, she felt her legs grow weak. Nausea threatened. She walked back to the bed, the chain scraping the wooden floor, and sat on the hay mattress. She welcomed the numbness that swallowed her. “I understand your motive, erroneous as it is, but why is Lord Charles involved?"