Ducal Encounters 01 - At the Duke's Discretion (28 page)

“You cowardly blaggard!” Chesney struggled against his bonds. “Leave her here and take me instead.”

Reece laughed. “You cannot give me the things I need.” He grabbed Crista’s arm and pushed her towards the stairs. “Come along, my dear. Time is a’wasting.”

“What I have to say will make me seem like a most disobliging neighbour.” Lady St. John’s eyes sparkled as she shared a glance between Amos and Zach. “However, if you require a temporary home for Mrs. Brooke and her younger daughter on another occasion, please look elsewhere.”

“Ah, so you have met your match.” Zach elevated one brow in idle amusement and sent their guest a teasing smile. “I apologise if you have been inconvenienced.”

“I thought I had met my share of social climbers in my time, to say nothing of self-obsessed young ladies with inflated opinions of their own worth, but my guests have proven themselves to be in a class of their own. Oh, excuse me, Lord Amos.” Lady St. John covered her mouth with one hand, her eyes still brimming with infectious mirth. “There I go again, speaking without thinking. Please be assured, I do not include the elder Miss Brooke in my criticism. She is a delight, and I am very glad to know her.”

Amos, who doubted whether Lady St. John had uttered an indiscrete word in her life, merely smiled. “I am sorry about Mrs. Brooke. Another two days should see you rid of them.”

“Oh, I don’t mind for myself. I can easily find an occupation that keeps me out of their way. It is you gentlemen I fear for.”

“Us?” Zach flexed both brows this time. “Why should we be in danger?”

“If you had spent the past day listening to Mrs. Brooke singing her younger daughter’s praises, you would not have asked that question. You see, no one is prettier, kinder, better read, more accomplished, or would make a better wife…need I go on?”

“Most assuredly not,” Zach replied, shuddering.

“Mrs. Brooke is quite determined to meet you all, because naturally you will be charmed by her Amelia. She sweeps aside all my objections as though I don’t not what I am talking about. Really, if there is something that woman does not wish to hear, she is blind to all reason.” Amos nodded, and avoided looking at Zach for fear of laughing. Lady St. John’s account of Mrs. Brooke’s determination perfectly coincided with Crista’s description of her mother’s ambitions, so there was really nothing to laugh about. “Honestly, were the distance between here and Farrington House shorter, I would not put it past them to cover it on foot.”

“Thankfully that is not possible,” Amos said, finally giving way to laughter.

“It will not surprise you, I’m sure, to learn Mrs. Brooke has not once asked about Crista’s situation,” Lady St. John said, her smile abruptly fading. “She knows she is in danger, but as I have already remarked, she has a happy knack for ignoring anything she doesn’t care to think about.”

Amos ground his jaw. “No, that does not surprise.”

“I, on the other hand, called this evening with the express purpose of asking how it went. I have been concerned for Miss Brooke’s welfare. She is being so very brave.”

“We understand the stones were swapped without difficulty,” Zach replied.

“We don’t actually know if there were difficulties,” Amos pointed out, “since we have not been permitted to−”

The door flew open, causing Amos’s words to stall and for fear to grip him like a vice when he saw Nate standing there, looking uncharacteristically flustered.

“What is it?” he and Zach asked together.

“Zach, You won’t believe what…oh, good evening, Lady St. John.” Nate offered their guest a brief, a very brief, bow. “It’s Reece,” he said breathlessly, returning his attention to Zach and Amos. “He’s disappeared.”

“How the devil did that happen?” Amos asked, springing to his feet. “You were supposed to doctor his ale.”

“I did.” Nate threw up his hands, as though warding up a physical attack. “One minute he was in the taproom, brooding over his ale, the next he lumbered from the room. I assumed, excuse me, Lady St. John, but I assumed he had gone to answer a call of nature. When he didn’t return after ten minutes, I became anxious and went in search of him. He was nowhere to be found so I ran up the stairs to his room and found it stripped of all his possessions.”

“Crista,” Amos said, clenching his fists. “He will go after her.”

“Romsey has someone watching her place,” Zach replied calmly. “Let’s hear what else Nate has to tell us before we go charging off on a wild goose chase.”

“I deduced he must have run off before his masters come back and put the blame on him. To do that he would need a horse, so I checked the livery stable. Sure enough, he hired a saddle horse ten minutes before I got there and rode off in the direction of the Winchester Road, having agreed to leave the horse at the first posting inn.”

“He’s for London then,” Zach said.

“I don’t trust him,” Amos said, his voice tight with barely controlled anger. “I’ve had a bad feeling about this whole business since Romsey took himself off to London himself, blithely assuring us everyone would sit tight at his convenience.”

“What of the man Romsey left in the taproom to keep an eye on Reece?” Zach asked.

“Hmm, funny you should ask, because he was nowhere to be seen,” Nate replied, rubbing his chin. “I looked for him when I couldn’t find Reece, which is when it occurred to me I hadn’t seen him all the evening. I assume he was called off because I was there.”

“Come on,” Amos said, his gut churning with worry. “If that man had been recalled, we cannot be sure the rest of them have not been as well. We need to ride to Shawford and ensure Miss Brooke is safe and well.”

Zach sprang into action, issuing orders that saw footmen scurrying to obey them, making things happen as only a duke could. In short order, he had men sent to the Winchester Road to look out for Reece and two burly footmen detailed to accompany them to Shawford. “The next coach will not leave until the morning,” he assured Amos. “If he is there, we will catch him before he boards it.”

“He isn’t there. He won’t leave Shawford until he has had his revenge,” Amos replied with firm assurance. “Come, Zach, we’re wasting time.”

“I shall come with you,” Lady St. John said. “Don’t worry. I won’t slow you down and might be of some help.”

The three brothers shared a brief look and then nodded. Zach took Lady St. John’s arm and the party headed for the stables. It would only have taken the grooms a minute to saddle all the horses, but Amos couldn’t wait that long. He threw Warrior’s bridle on himself, leapt onto him bareback and cantered from the yard. The others would catch up with him, or they would not. Amos didn’t have time to wait.

***

Crista received a sharp shove in the small of the back that sent her tumbling off balance in the direction of the stairs. She had no choice but to walk down them, otherwise Reece would probably push her. It was awkward progress with bound hands and a head full of worry for her uncle. Reece, the snivelling coward, had hit Uncle Charles very hard and the wound bled copiously. Unless he could manage to untie his hands and call for help, she did not care to think about the consequences. Dear lord, where was Kate? Crista had only just remembered their maid. Presumably Reece had overpowered her before he tackled them. She offered up a silent prayer for the girl to be unharmed. If she was not, it would be another tragedy to burden Crista’s conscience.

She was more angry than afraid when they reached the ground floor and Reece forced her to unlock the back door to the shop.

“Show me where the best items are kept,” he said abruptly. “I want small, valuable things, easy to carry and to hock. Nothing that’s recognisable, but don’t try palming me off with no rubbish.”

As though he will know the difference
. Crista showed him a display cabinet with some of their best work inside. She didn’t care if he took the lot. All she cared about was getting out of this situation and saving her poor uncle. She took some satisfaction from the fact Reece had virtually no use of the fingers on the hand she had struck with the poker. Crista regretted not hitting him harder, or managing a second blow before he disarmed her.

Having stuffed a sack full of jewellery, Reece jerked his thumb towards the back door.

“Come along, Miss Brooke,” he said with a sneering grin. “It’s time you and I became better acquainted.”

Crista greedily eyed the various tools she used to make her jewellery, a lot of them small and exceedingly sharp, neatly lined up on her workbench. If she could just pick one of them up. But with her hands tied and Reece watching her so closely, it was impossible. Finally, fear kicked in as the seriousness of her situation came home to her. Crista dragged her feet, but Reece kept a vicelike grip on her upper arm with his good hand as they left the shop, and he pulled her along at a cracking pace. She almost had to run to keep up with him, or risk being tugged from her feet.

They soon left the village behind them, and it was obvious he had a particular destination in mind. But where? Dear God, surely not a barn or a field. She needed to be near people if she was to have a chance of attracting attention to her plight.

“Cry out or try to alert anyone, and it’s your uncle who will suffer,” Reece said, appearing to read her mind when she opened her mouth to call for help from a passer-by who gave them an odd look.

Crista recalled Reece admitting he was desperate, and knew he meant what he said. She didn’t give him the satisfaction of an answer, instead, turning her mind to the best method of escape. She had absolutely no intention of submitting to Reece’s vile advances, but she had no weapon, and even with an injured hand he was still far stronger than she was. If only she could untie the rope that bound her hands, then she would feel more in control. At least, she was still wearing boy’s clothing, which would make it that much harder for Reece to take liberties. She swallowed as she mulled that tiny advantage over in her head. If he wanted to undress her, he would find it awkward with his injured hand. She could see the fingers had swollen, and he was having trouble carrying the sack stuffed with the stolen jewellery. Good! She hope it hurt like the devil.

So, she reasoned, if he couldn’t disrobe her himself, he would have to untie her hands so she could do it herself. Hmm, what would Amos do in this situation? No, don’t think about him now. He wasn’t here, and she most likely would never see him again, even if she did survive this ordeal. She was on her own and there was no one to fight this particular battle for her. Even so, thoughts of the bliss she had experienced beneath Amos’s skilled hands spurred her on. She would never allow another man to lay so much as one finger on her and spoil that recollection. Never! She would bide her time and find a way out of this for herself, and for her uncle.

She absolutely would.

They reached a large house on the outskirts of the village, set on its own grounds. Surely, he wasn’t taking her in there. Well, if he was, he was exceedingly foolish because there must be servants, someone who would help her. Hope flared, only to be dashed when he let himself in by a side door that led directly to the kitchen. A maid and a cook sat at the table, drinking tea. Both looked surprised to see Reece with a captive woman in his grasp.

“Hey,” the maid said, standing. “What’s all this?”

“Stay where you are,” Reece replied in a calmly authoritative tone. “I am about your master’s business.”

“Hmm, well he didn’t say anything to me about letting you in.”

“Be quiet, Mary!”

The maid sent Crista an odd look. Crista replied with an expressively eloquent expression of her own; one that begged for help, but it quickly became apparent that none would be forthcoming. Reece was clearly no stranger to this house. Presumably, it was the property of his master, the person he colluded with in the theft of the jewellery. The man would have gone to London to consult with people there about the fake diamond, leaving this house vacant.

Damnation!

The maid and cook stared, open-mouthed, as Reece marched through the kitchen, still tugging Crista behind him, and into the hallway. Once there, he shot the bolt across, effectively trapping the servants in the kitchen. Apparently, there were no other live-in staff, and even if there were, judging by the reaction of the two in the kitchen, the chances of them defying Reece and coming to her aid were practically none.

She was on her own.

Once again, she was confronted by stairs that Reece pulled her up. She had lost all feeling in her upper arm where he gripped it so tightly, but there was nothing wrong with her cognitive powers. Her mind continued to whirl with ever more fanciful ways of extricating herself from this farrago, disabling Reece, and rushing back to her uncle’s aid before it was too late for him.

Reece opened several doors along the upper corridor, grunting with the effort it took him with his damaged hand, the added burden of the sack full of stolen jewellery clutched awkwardly in it. Then he had the bright idea of having her open the doors for him.

“This one,” he said, pointing to the door at the end of the corridor.

She had no choice but to open it. Her heart sank when she found herself in what had to be the master bedroom, dominated by a huge, curtained bed. It was now full dark outside, but it was mid-summer, and a full moon cast plenty of light through the windows. Reece grunted with satisfaction and kicked the door shut behind them.

“I would not wish you to do this in anything other than style,” he said sarcastically, giving her a hefty shove that saw her tumble backwards onto the bed.

***

Amos slid from Warrior’s back, his heart sinking when he saw the back door to Chesney’s premises swinging wide open. He bounded up the stairs to the living accommodation and found Chesney, semi-conscious, tied to a chair, blood pouring from a wound on his head. Amos ran across to him.

“Crista!” Chesney said in a breathless whisper. “He has her.”

“Let me help you out of these bonds.”

“No, don’t mind me. You must get her back.”

By the time Amos untied the ropes, the rest of the party had spilled into the room. Lady St. John calmly took charge of Chesney, asking one of the footmen to fetch her water and a cloth.