Love's Peril (Lord Trent Series) (17 page)

“You like her enough to risk visiting in the future?”

“It’s not a risk. Who knows our identity? Who could tattle?”

John smiled grimly. “You might be surprised. Never trust anyone, remember? You taught me that.”

“I did.”

“We should come back so you can fornicate with an Englishwoman?”

“Yes.”

“French women are prettier.”

“I’m broadening my horizons. I’m trying new things.”

John snorted at that. “Let me think on it.”

“Think hard
,
would you?”

“I will.”

Annalise strolled in. She was ensconced in the adjoining suite, in what had been Mildred’s bedchamber. It was the worst insult John could have leveled at Mildred, and Annalise was the sort of bad sport to rub Mildred’s nose in it every chance she had.

Annalise’s vanity and Mildred’s irritation were stirring trouble, and he was definitely irked that he’d given Mildred an extra thirty days to vacate. The entire affair would have been much easier if she’d left when he’d originally planned.

John hated discord and quarreling, and he especially detested women’s hysterical moods, so Annalise was the ideal mistress. She knew better than to nag, which would inflame his temper.

“Must you leave, Jean Pierre?”she asked.

“Yes, I must.”

He was departing shortly—with Sarah. He was sailing with her to France, to shield her from her despicable kin, but to seduce her, too. To claim his prize. He had no intention of ignoring what he had won.

At the moment, she was resistant, but he would charm her into changing her attitude. There would be no force involved. She was all alone in the world, without funds or friends. She needed his protection, and they enjoyed a strident physical attraction. Most relationships started with much less.

Eventually, she’d grasp the reality she faced, and he was happy to help her financially. They would get on fine.

“I’m weary of England,”Annalise said. “May I return to France with you?”

“You and Raven must keep an eye on things for me. I can’t rest until Mildred and Hedley are evicted. You serve me best by remaining behind.”

“Please?”she persisted. “I should go with you. My place is by your side.”

She snuggled herself to him, making sure he felt her breasts, her enticing hand firmly planted on his backside. Her goal was clear. She was vehemently opposed to him taking Sarah to France, because she’d begun to view his house as her own.

It was the true reason he was leaving without her. He was eager to be shed of her, though he hadn’t fully realized it until he’d considered his pending liaison with Sarah. He wanted Sarah and no longer wanted Annalise.

When he was in France, he would devise a new situation for Annalise. He would buy her an apartment in Paris, would settle an income on her. She wouldn’t like the ending, but she’d walk away as a propertied female. It was much more than she could ever have expected to receive from him, and ultimately, she’d be grateful.

“No, Annalise,”he told her. “You’re staying.”

“I won’t stay!”she venomously hurled.

“And I won’t argue about it.”

“But I don’t understand this.” Her temper flaring, she tossed her magnificent hair, looking aggrieved and livid. “It’s your English virgin, isn’t it? You’ll welcome her into my home. You’ll seduce her in my bed—while I’m not there to stop you.”

Raven calmly scolded, “It’s not your home, Annalise. Remember yourself.”

“It’s as much mine as anyone’s,”she fumed. She peered at John, her eyes pleading. “Haven’t I given you everything,
mon ami?
Haven’t I been the woman you desired? Every single second, haven’t I been all that you wished me to be?”

“I’ll see you in a month,”was John’s reply. “Help Raven with Hedley and Mildred. That is what I need from you right now.”

He set her away and went to the door, and she stamped her foot.

“Jean Pierre!”

He whipped around. “What?”

“You may not take her!”

John reined in his own burst of fury. “Don’t command me, Annalise. You can’t.”

If he was to make the tide, he couldn’t bicker with her. He was meeting Sarah in the foyer—she was probably already there—and they had to ride hard and fast.

He spun and left, and when Annalise called to him again, he kept on as Raven chided, “Let it go, girl. You’re being a nuisance.”

“How can he shame me like this? Am I to relinquish my spot for a pale, sniveling English virgin? Am I not allowed to protest this outrage?”

“Let it go!”Raven stated more sternly.

Momentarily, John heard Raven coming up from behind.

“Don’t mind her,”Raven said.

“I don’t.”

“I’ll handle her.”

“I appreciate it.”

“You’ll be back in a month?”

“Yes. You know how to contact me if there’s trouble?”

“Always. While you’re away, will you consider my request about Bramble Bay?”

“Yes, I’ll laugh about how your cock is dragging you to England.”

“There are worse reasons to return.”

“I can’t think of any.”

They rushed down the stairs, and John was actually excited at the prospect of having Sarah all to himself. There was a hidden, silly elation at the notion of showing her his castle, of letting her see how he’d prospered. He wanted her to be proud. He wanted her to be awed.

But as he marched into the foyer, he was stunned to find that she wasn’t there. He gaped around as if he was blind. There was no Sarah. There were no packed bags.

The butler loitered by the door, distinctly avoiding John’s incensed gaze. John stormed over, intimidating him with his size and presence.

“Miss Teasdale was to meet me here at three,”he snapped. “Where is she?”

“I have no idea, sir.”

“Don’t you?”

The man was obviously lying, and John stepped even nearer.

“You can tell me where she is or I will have Mr. Hook take you down to the cellar for a
chat
. You can tell him.”

The man gulped in terror. “I don’t believe I’d like to accompany him, sir.”

“I don’t believe you would either,”John agreed.

He wouldn’t torture an old man, but the butler didn’t know that. The threat worked like a charm.

“Mrs. Teasdale may have pertinent information.”

“Where is she?”

“In her room, awaiting your arrival.”

John stomped up the stairs, Raven dogging his heels, as they proceeded to Mildred’s bedroom suite. Her door was closed, and he slammed it open, acting as if he owned the bloody place, which he did.

Mildred was in a chair by the window, staring out at the road as if she was seriously wishing she was on it and heading somewhere far from Bramble Bay.

“Your stepdaughter was to meet me in the foyer at three,”John said, “but she’s not there.”

“I just heard,”Mildred glumly responded. She held out a piece of paper. “She gave a note to the housekeeper, with instructions to deliver it to me a few minutes ago.” Mildred grimaced with offense. “Can you read, Mr. Sinclair? Or must I read it to you?”

“Don’t be smart, Mrs. Teasdale,”Raven fumed. “If you’d care to match wits with John, I’m sure he’s amenable. Trust me: You’d lose.”

John ignored Mildred’s insult and Raven’s reply.

Over the years, he and his mother had lived with various artists and writers, many of whom had been kind to John. He’d been tutored by some great geniuses, including a stint with an Italian count and inventor who’d taught him several languages.

John absorbed details like a sponge. He was brilliantly analytical, able to calculate complex problems and solve intricate tasks as no other person could. He never boasted of his intellect and certainly wouldn’t bother with a dunce like Mildred.

He snatched the letter from her, quickly reading the words penned in a tidy script. There was no salutation, but evidently, it was intended for Mildred.

I can’t behave as you and Mr. Sinclair are demanding. You shouldn’t have let Hedley harm me this way. I can only wonder what my father would think if he were alive to discover the fate you arranged for me. Shame on you, Mildred. Since I can receive no help from my family, I will find it elsewhere
.

She’d signed it as
Miss Sarah Teasdale
, as if she and Mildred weren’t acquainted, as if Mildred needed to be reminded of who Sarah was.

“What does she say?”Raven asked.

“She’s left,”John seethed.

“I didn’t know about this,”Mildred hurriedly said. “I thought she was up in her room. I’m as surprised as you are.”

“Where would she go?”John tersely inquired. His rage was flaring so blatantly that Mildred eased back in her chair, anxious to be out of striking range in case he lashed out.

“If I had to guess, I’d suppose she’s off to speak with Mr. Fishburn.”

“Who is Mr. Fishburn?”

“He’s our neighbor—he was her father’s friend—but he was called away to London on business.”

“Would she go to London to locate him?”

“You could check with Mrs. Patterson. They’ve always been thick as thieves. She might have better answers.”

John’s irate glare fell on Raven, and Raven shrugged, having no idea what Caroline Patterson might confess.

John stormed out, bellowing for Mrs. Patterson, until a servant mentioned that she was on the verandah.

“She has to tell me what she knows,”John spat at Raven. “I won’t brook any nonsense.”

“She’ll tell you. I won’t permit her to refuse.”

They marched outside, and she was sitting at a table, sipping a glass of wine. As they approached, she glanced up, and she looked horridly guilty, as if she’d done wrong and had been expecting to be caught.

No doubt she and Sarah had concocted an escape. But no woman could defy John, especially not when Raven was with him. They were a formidable pair, and Mrs. Patterson didn’t stand a chance.

“Where is she?”John inquired without preamble.

“Where is who?”

She tried to sound innocent, but failed, and John slammed a fist on the table, cracking it, spilling her wine, making her jump.

“Don’t play games with me,”he hissed.

Raven rested a palm on her shoulder, and he leaned down so he was directly in her face.

“You can’t keep her secrets,”he murmured.

“I have to. I promised.”

“This is beyond you and her. You must tell me.”

She frowned, trembling. “I can’t.”

“You can. You must.”

She stared at her skirt, her mind working it over.

John glowered at Raven, not having the patience to wait as she dithered.

“Caroline,”Raven said, “look at me.”

She peeked up. “What?”

“Has Miss Teasdale gone to London?”Raven asked, and she gave an imperceptible nod.

“How did she travel?”

“On the mail coach,”Mrs. Patterson whispered. “I had a few pounds in my purse, and she used them to purchase a ticket.”

With the admission, she flinched, as if terrified John would hit her.

“Is she hoping to find Mr. Fishburn?”Raven pressed.

“Yes. He’s her friend, and she thought he might protect her from…ah…well…”

“Good girl.” Raven patted her on the knee.

Mrs. Patterson peered up at John, then at Raven again. She was shaking so badly she could barely stay in her seat.

“Will she…be all right?”she asked Raven. “He won’t hurt her, will he?”

“No, he won’t hurt her. I swear it.”

Raven faced John and inquired, “Should I ride with you?”

“No, remain here and keep things under control.”

“Are you sure?”

“Very sure. I’ll be back in a month. When I arrive, the house should be empty of the current occupants.”

“It will be.”

“Be ready to sail.”

“What about Bramble Bay? What about the plans we discussed?”

“I have business with my father. That’s what is next for us. We’ll deal with Bramble Bay later.”

John whipped away and hurried to the stables to saddle his horse and race to London like the wind. Sarah could never escape him—no matter how hard she tried.

The sooner she realized that fact, the better off she would be.

* * * *

Sarah sat at a table in the corner of the dining room. They’d stopped at a roadside inn for exactly thirty minutes, and the driver had warned that he had a strict schedule. There were six passengers, and if any of them were missing when he clicked the reins, they’d be left behind.

She’d ordered a cup of tea and a slice of bread and jam, being too anxious to eat much else.

Before dawn, she’d sneaked from Bramble Bay and hidden away in the village. The mail coach had lumbered by at eleven, and she’d climbed aboard.

They’d been traveling for seven hours, the coach slow as a snail, and she was a nervous wreck. She’d constantly peeked out the window, certain Mr. Sinclair would have learned that she’d fled, that he’d come roaring after her like a rampaging highwayman.

But there’d been no sign of him.

Three o’clock had passed without incident. She wanted to relax, to persuade herself that he didn’t care enough to chase after her, but she wouldn’t feel safe until she was locked in Sheldon’s London house.

Suddenly, she noticed someone was standing by her table. She glanced up and blanched with dismay.

“Hello, Sarah,”Mr. Sinclair said. “Fancy meeting you here.”

It took her a moment to recover from the shock. “Oh, no.”

“Don’t make a fuss. Just rise and walk out with me.”

She gaped around the room. It was filled with farmers and weary travelers. If she begged for help, would they assist her?

“Go away,”she warned, “or I’ll scream.”

“I really wish you wouldn’t make a scene.”

He put his hands on his hips in a manner that showed her he had a pistol in a holster at his waist, the weapon shielded by the hem of his coat. He was very calm, his green eyes flashing with temper so he looked capable of any murderous deed.

“What will you do if I refuse?”she asked with disgust. “Will you shoot everyone in the place?”

“Would you like to try me? Go ahead and scream. You’ll see my reaction. You won’t have to wonder about it.”

He appeared different again, like a wealthy brigand: black coat, black trousers, black boots, and a very white shirt that emphasized the ominous effect of the black clothes. The fabric was very fine, perfectly tailored. He was wearing gold jewelry, gold rings, the gold earring dangling from his ear.