For Desire Alone (27 page)

John shook his head. “He owns some of my guards?” he whispered, his anger at his brother, his grief at his part in his friend’s death, fading in the face of this news.

His brother nodded. “Including the one who I believe is with Mariah today. And…and that may be why she is late to the wedding, John.”

For a moment, everything in John’s world froze. He no longer heard the bustling of the vicar and his people, the echoes in the church, he no longer saw the scene around him…even his brother. All he could think about was Mariah, caught in a web his father had designed. His father who had resorted to murder once. And a horrible murder at that.

There was no doubt he would do so again, if he thought it would lead to control over John…or even just as a punishment to him for refusing to bend to his father’s will.

“John—” His brother began, reaching for him.

John jerked away. “Don’t touch me. I have nothing to say to you. Not now. Now I must focus on her. I must get to her,” he gasped as he began to run for the doors.

“Then I’m coming with you,” Adam said, following on his heels even though John could hardly bring himself to look at him.

“Vicar Mosley, please call for the Watch to be sent to my home.”

The vicar was asking questions, but John ignored him. At the back of the church, he found his servants gathered, staring at him with gazes of concern, even though they had not overheard any of his conversation with his brother.

“Ladies, you must stay here, I fear the house is not safe,” he said with a quick glance over them. “And I realize, gentleman, that your duty is not to put yourselves in harm’s way for me, but I believe there is a credible threat against Miss Mariah and the other servants who stayed behind to assist her. If any of you would be willing to follow me to the household and investigate, I would truly appreciate it. Though I cannot guarantee what we will walk into there.”

There was a moment where the servants glanced at each other, then several of the footmen and grooms moved forward.

“We’ll help, sir,” the first footman, Lysinrig, said. “We came in one of the lower carriages and will follow in it straightaway.”

John did not wait for more answer than that, but rushed outside. The wedding carriage was to escort Mariah from the house here, so his horse was waiting for him outside rather than a rig. Just as well, for he was faster. John did not address the man holding its reins, but swung up and took off without even waiting for Adam to mount and do the same.

All he could think about was Mariah. And pray that she had not come to harm at the hands of the devil disguised as his father.

Chapter Twenty-Two

John brought his horse to a short stop on the drive at his home and he threw himself down. He raced for the door without any thought of anything but Mariah. Her name had been a part of his heartbeat all the way here and his mind had been bombarded with so many images of her that he could hardly think now. But think he must, for the danger to her…the danger to them all…was now at its peak.

He reached the door and stepped to the side, drawing in a breath before he reached for the handle and turned. It swung inward and he hesitated, uncertain if he would be greeted by a shot from a pistol, a billy club to the head or just a scene of carnage that included the woman he—

Well, the woman he intended to marry.

And of course he was unarmed no matter what awaited him. He did not normally carry a weapon on his person, as some men did. Something he intended to remedy if he survived this awful day.

But no sound broke the silence of his foyer and slowly John peered into the quiet house. What he saw made the blood drain from his face. Broken glass littered the foyer carpet and the picture that had once hung there was cockeyed and torn from a struggle of some kind. There were a few drops of blood staining the floor and a streak on the wall.

His heart sank.

“John,” his brother panted as he skidded inside the foyer with him. Adam looked around. “Dear God.”

“Yes,” John murmured as he eased inside. “We can only hope there
is
a God and that He has been kind to us today.”

He motioned his brother to the other side of the door and looked back. The servants with their carriage had likely been slowed by the traffic on the London streets this sunny Saturday morning, but John couldn’t wait for their assistance. He had to know what was awaiting him inside.

He moved inside the foyer and peered into the first parlor, but it was empty. Adam did the same on the other side of the hallway, with much the same results.

“Some broken items,” he said softly. “But no one in residence.”

“Damn this,” John said and then called out. “Who is here? I demand you show yourself at once.”

There were creaks and sounds from the short set of stairs that led down into the kitchens and public servant areas and then the door opened. John steadied himself, but it wasn’t an attacker who greeted him.

It was Vivien Manning, with a pistol pointed at his heart. When she saw it was him, the pistol lowered and her pale face, complete with a large bruise and dried blood caked on her forehead, relaxed.

“Thank God you called out,” she said as she held out the pistol to him with a shaking head. “If you had come downstairs without warning, I might have shot you.”

“Vivien?” he cried as he snatched the pistol from her and shoved it into his waistband. “What in the world?”

She shrugged. “I came to retrieve Mariah and ride with her to the church as arranged. What I found instead was a madman bent on removing her.”

“Our father,” Adam said and John flinched at his voice. Adam, who could have prevented all this if not for his cowardice.

Vivien nodded as her gaze darted from one brother to the other. “I’m afraid that is so. We struggled in the foyer and he struck me in the head with the butt of a pistol. When I woke a few moments later, he was gone with her.”

John dipped his head. “Jesus. But she was living, still?”

“She was,” Vivien said. “And willing to fight in order to escape, but with his men and his size outweighing hers, she had no hope of that, I fear. As to where he took her, I am not sure, but before we sort that out, I think you had best come down to the servant area.”

John hesitated. His first reaction was to burst from the house and out into the street to find his father and Mariah. But that was not logical. He had no place to begin that search. And he owed it to his servants, who were as innocent victims of this madness as anyone, to check in on them.

He followed Vivien into the lower rooms of the house and as he entered the kitchen, he drew back. Swanson’s arm was bound to his side by a sling fashioned from someone’s torn shirt. Still, he tended to Mariah’s lady’s maid, wiping blood from her swollen lip with a dishcloth. On the floor, covered with a sheet, was a body.

“Dear God,” he murmured. “Who is that?”

Swanson looked up at his voice and relief came to his expression. “Thank God you are all right, sir. That, I fear, is Mr. Westinghouse, one of Miss Mariah’s guards. He died trying to protect her from the other one…the blackguard who was in league with your father. He did fight valiantly.”

“Something that will be of little comfort to his family,” John said with a shake of his head. “Now I must ask you, did any of you have any idea where my father might have taken Mariah? Anything the other guard said or my father himself, or any of his other men?”

Swanson shook his head. “I made those inquiries already, sir. No one heard or saw anything that I think could be of help in your search.”

“I might know something. Something I wish I didn’t,” Vivien said, her tone shaken and more emotional than anything John had ever heard from her.

He turned on her. “What is it?”

“Your father…I have sometimes heard his name associated with…the sale of women into sexual servitude to important men in foreign lands. Sultans, princes and the like. It is whispered in our circles that it is a side business of his that brings him money and prestige.” She wrinkled her nose in disgust. “I—I never told you, John. I should have, God, I should have.”

John shook his head. “It seems everyone’s attempts to protect me from the true nature of my father have only resulted in more trouble for us all. He—he murdered Owen.”

Vivien collapsed into the nearest chair and stared up at him. “No.”

“Yes, I am afraid he did,” Adam said, his voice choked. “And this
side business
, as Miss Manning puts it, is very true. Though I think he does it for pleasure as much as business. Controlling others, as you well know, brother, is a bit of a hobby of our father’s.”

“Why would he do that, though? Why not just kill Mariah?” John said, almost unable to voice that final question.

“Come, John,” Adam said, and he looked John in the eye for the first time since he had admitted his part in this scheme. “He wants you under his thumb. If she is dead, he cannot use her as a pawn. Send her off to be raped by some slaver and you would hold out hope that you could still save her. He will spend years giving you false hope of finding her, all while using your love for her to keep you in line.”

John swallowed. His love for her. Something he had been denying almost since the first moment he clapped eyes on her three years before. And yet there it was, stated so simply by a brother who had betrayed him.

“You are very correct, I think,” he choked out. “But these arrangements must take time. Even if he had already intended to sell Mariah out from under me, she would have to be taken to a ship and loaded. How long ago did they leave, Vivien?”

She glanced at the clock. “Within the hour. No more than that.”

“Then we have time.” He turned on Adam. “Which docks does Father use for most of his transactions?”

Adam shook his head. “They won’t let you pass. But they will allow me. You must take me with you.”

John stared. “And how could I trust
you
after everything you have confessed today?”

His brother pursed his lips. “You cannot. But if you wish to find Mariah, I may be your only hope. I will either redeem myself or I could die trying. At least we would have tried to save Mariah, at least you will know that I tried to help.”

John blinked. “I suppose you are right. Then let us obtain some weapons from my offices and go. Mariah’s life hangs in the balance. We have no time to lose.”

Mariah perched on the very edge of the uncomfortable wooden chair in the reeking hold of a ship, listening as her fate was bartered over like she was cattle.

“Her red hair alone will be worth a great deal to some foreigner,” Vaughn Rycroft said. “I’ve had inquiries from one sultan in the last week alone. To give me less than ten thousand is a mockery.”

The ship captain shrugged. “I might be able to get ten thousand for her, yes. But I can’t give you the full amount. I’ve never given you more than half as a finder’s fee, Rycroft, so let’s not be foolish.”

Rycroft sighed, utterly put upon. “Fine. Send it along to me tomorrow. Oh, and, Captain, do tell your men to go easy on her on the way across. If there’s nothing left, no one will buy her.”

The captain showed a toothless grin and leaned over to smell Mariah’s hair. She shut her eyes and tried to make her mind blank. She was not this body. Whatever happened to it was not happening to her.

It didn’t really work, but somehow she kept herself from screaming as she had in John’s home and continued to do when Rycroft struck Vivien down. She could only pray her friend was all right.

Otherwise, she doubted any of her other prayers would be answered.

“I don’t know, Rycroft,” the captain said. “This one will be hard not to use up. But we’ll do our best.”

He got up and laughed his way from the room. When he was gone, Mariah opened her eyes and stared evenly at Rycroft.

“I thought you looked like John when I first saw you,” she said quietly. “But you are nothing like him. The fact that you could sire such an honorable and good man is nothing sort of a miracle.”

Rycroft shrugged. “We all have our weaknesses. But John will come under my control soon enough.”

“How can you assume that?” she scoffed, wishing she could rub where the ropes were cutting into her wrists. It was highly uncomfortable.

“If he believes someday he might be able to get you back, he will do anything.”

Mariah shook her head and tried not to picture John’s desperation.

“Why would he want to find me? After all, as you have reminded me the entire way to these docks and through your negotiations, I am nothing more than a whore. His marriage to me was a whim at best. If I am not his responsibility, he will soon forget me.”

She didn’t believe those words for a moment, but she would not give Rycroft the reward of her heartbreak. Or her fear.

“Hm, perhaps that is the way it should be, but you see, I believe he fancies himself in love with you. Either way, he isn’t the sort of man to leave you to your fate, is he?” Rycroft smiled. “And if he won’t turn to me, I will have punished him thoroughly for his refusal. He will at least think twice before he does such a thing again.”

Mariah swallowed back a swell of bile that rose to her throat. “Are we finished here, Mr. Rycroft?” she asked. “I would very much like you to leave.”