No Regrets (34 page)

"Are you ready, my beautiful bride?"

She whirled around.

   One hand on his lean hip, François lounged in the doorway.

   She hated the way he appeared from nowhere on silent feet, and she hated his smile. She clenched her gloved hands. "I won't agree to an annulment, and I won't marry you."

   He glared at the maid. "Leave us."

   The maid bobbed and pattered out.

   His scowl turned on Caro, his expression implacable. "Once more, you shame me before a servant."

   He closed the gap and brushed the veil off her shoulder. She shrank from his touch. He grimaced. "We've been through all of this. We must marry. You have been living at my house without a female companion, and you no longer have a husband."

   Panic shut down her ability to think beyond the painful thunder of her heart. She had to get away. "Aunt Honoré would not want me to marry against my will."

   "Her dearest wish is for you to marry me, you know that. Would you disappoint her? I will not."

   "What if Lucas contests the annulment?"

   His face turned to granite. "He won't."

   Sadly, she feared he was right. Financial exigencies had forced her and Lucas to wed. Now that those were gone, he didn't need her any longer. Nevertheless, she refused to lose hope. "I have no feelings for you, other than as a cousin. What kind of marriage would it be?"

   "It is not about feelings. I will not let it all go to your English husband."

   "Lucas doesn't need your money."

   "Be realistic. The Valeron estate is the only reason he married you."

   Desperate denial sprang to her lips, but she couldn't speak the lie. "It is your reason also."

   "Think about your sisters."

   A bitter laugh almost choked her. She wasn't fool enough to fall for that a second time. And besides, deep in her heart, she had wanted to marry Lucas. She did not want to marry François. She thought of him as family. She had trusted his protection. Anger surged through her. "I am thinking about them." Her voice rose. "Do you think they will be helped by the scandal of an annulment?"

   He shrugged. "No one in Paris will care. Look around you, Carolyn. All this will be yours and mine. How can you refuse?"

   He sounded so reasonable, so calm, that she almost spat in his face. "I won't do it."

   "You will." He pulled out his silver flask. "I will give you just enough to make you the muddled, happy bride who imbibed too much of our fine champagne before the ceremony. And you will do just as I say."

   Her throat dried. His flat eyes said he meant every word. She backed away. "That stuff makes me feel ill."

   He shrugged and advanced on her. "It is entirely your decision."

   Decision? She felt like a rag doll being torn apart by ravenous beasts. But she didn't want her wits numbed by laudanum. She allowed her shoulders to slump. "Very well."

   "I don't trust you," he said and unstoppered the flask.

   She lowered her gaze, maintaining an air of defeat. "I give you my word."

   He stared at her long and hard before corking the flask and dropping it in his pocket.

   She tried not to let her elation show in her eyes. "Thank you."

   His gaze drifted to the window. "You haven't yet seen anything of our wonderful estate."

   Unsure what had caused this sudden change of topic, she followed his glance. "No, I haven't." Out there lay freedom.

   "I have something special to show you." The sincere tone she'd once found so charming set her teeth on edge. She remained silent.

   "I will return one half hour before we leave for the church, and we will take a tour. After that, we will see how you feel about the wedding." He gave her a hard glare. "In the meantime, you will not leave this room." He patted his pocket. "Any trouble, and I will not hesitate to ensure your cooperation."

   Her chest tightened, her lungs compressed by the weight of some unnamable fear. If only she had listened to Lucas on the day of her race and gone home to her sisters.

   Every bone, every muscle protested as Lucas raised his head. A groan forced its way through his lips and echoed around him. He attempted to put a hand to his pounding head and discovered he couldn't move a finger, let alone his arm.

   He opened his eyes. Nothing. It was as black as a coal cellar in winter. Cold damp air stirred against his cheek. The musty smell of overripe fruit mixed with acid tainted each breath. Where the hell was he? It seemed he was tied to a chair in some sort of cave. Or a tunnel? Not a glimmer of light pierced the fathomless dark, like a grave. Buried alive. He swallowed a rush of heartpounding fear.

   Caro needed him. He strained against his bonds. They cut into his wrists and ankles. A knife-edged pain sliced through his chest. Chest pains? How had that happened? Breath hissed through his teeth, and he almost succumbed to the swirling gray fog in his brain. He clawed his way back to consciousness.

   If he could see, he might find something to cut through his bonds. Where the hell was he?

   He cursed. Another minute or two, and he would have got Caro clean away. What the deuce had happened to Cedric? His gut clenched at the thought of Caro in the hands of the lunatic he'd glimpsed last night. Damn, he had to get free.

   If he tipped the chair over, he might be able to slide the ropes over the legs. Or the chair might break. Ignoring the pain in his chest, he rocked back and forth. The chair creaked.

   Slow, methodical footsteps broke the silence. The echoes came at him from every side. He stilled. Whoever it was, it wouldn't be a friend. Nor could he risk crashing the chair over and drawing attention to his only plan. Outwardly, he relaxed, waiting, hoping for his chance.

   The glow of a lantern appeared around a corner a few feet away. Before he could get any sense of his surroundings, the light shone full in his face. He blinked into the dazzle.

   "So you're awake, are you?" Cedric's disembodied voice came from behind the light.

   Lucas squeezed his eyes shut and then reopened them. Shadows danced across ghostly white walls that glistened with strange pinpricks of light. A chalk cave? Barrels lined the walls. Of course. The wine cellars below the chateau. He turned his face up to stare at Cedric standing over him and blinked again. "Blast you, Cedric. Untie me."

   Cedric's chuckle boomed off the ceiling. "Not yet."

   He set his lantern on a wooden table to Lucas's right and pulled a chair out from beneath it. He sat and hooked his left ankle over his right knee. "That's quite a shiner you have there."

   A black eye. Well, that accounted for his difficulty focusing. He kept his expression blank. If he was going to help Caro, he had to get to the bottom of Cedric's plot.

   The ropes around his chest and arms foiled his attempt at a shrug. "What is going on?"

   The shadowy light turned Cedric's grinning face into a death's head. "I thought you might like to know why you are going to die."

   Chills ran over Lucas's skin. "What the hell do you mean?"

   Cedric chuckled. "I didn't think you were such a slow-top." From the table, he picked up a long stick marked at intervals with black lines. He thwacked it against his palm. "Do you think I enjoy playing the faithful family retainer, like a humble lackey?"

   Lucas imagined the stick striking his head or his back. "I had not thought about it."

   Thwack. "Why would you? You are the heir. But after you, I am next in line."

   A wary eye on the measuring stick, Lucas managed a smile. "The old man will live to be a hundred just to spite us both."

   The stick ceased to swish. Cedric pointed it at Lucas and jabbed it under his chin, forcing his head back. "Oh, it will be much sooner than that."

   Something in the gloating tone turned the air noxious. Father. Lucas jerked his chin away. "What the deuce makes you think so?"

   Cedric placed the end of the stick against Lucas's eye, the slow pressure building a ghastly pain. Any movement, even a little more pressure, and he'd lose the eye. His heart thundered in his ears. He held still.

   The stick withdrew. "You are a quick study, Foxhaven. Did you know your father trusts me with all his investments?"

   The conversational tone, like idle chatter in a drawing room, almost drove Lucas mad. He forced out a calm reply. "I knew you handled most of his business affairs."

   "All of them. And what do you think he will do when he finds out his son is dead, and he is ruined?"

   Lucas curled his lip in disgust. "He will know you swindled him."

   Chuckles reverberated off the walls, and the stick went back to a steady slap against Cedric's palm.

   Lucas tamped down his building anger.

   Cedric leaned back. "Wrong. I will let him think you stole his money," he murmured. "I will salvage enough to make him grateful. I will remind him of the honor and the duty due to our family name. I might even leave one of your silver dueling pistols on his desk when I leave him alone. A fitting end to such an arrogant bastard, don't you think?"

   Christ. Why hadn't he seen it before? Or suspected it? He would have trusted Cedric with his life. The sense of betrayal pained him more than his physical injuries. Muscles bulged and strained in his neck and arms as he fought the ropes. Pain tore at his chest. "Face me like a man instead of a sniveling coward," he shouted with the furor of an injured beast. The echoes battered his ears.

   Cedric smiled. "I will enjoy watching you beg and plead as your life slips away inch by inch."

   "You perverted bastard. You are unnatural."

   "I'm no more a bastard than you are, Lucas. But you are not entirely wrong about my pleasures—which reminds me, I look forward to educating your wife."

   His heart shrank at the thought of Caro in this madman's hands. Pain no longer registered as he struggled. Reason slipped into unthinking rage.

   Cedric eyed him with wry amusement.

   Lucas took a slow deep breath and stilled. This got him nowhere. He needed to find his cousin's weakness. "Why, Cedric?" he bit out. "My father loves you like a son. What more could you want?"

   God, the truth of those words hurt.

   Cedric poked him in the ribs with the stick. Lucas swallowed his groan of pain.

   Cedric pressed harder, and Lucas sucked in a hiss of breath.

   "It is all wasted on a rakehell like you," Cedric said. "Even your father agrees you don't deserve it. I should have been the heir. Now I will be."

   "Then Caro has nothing to do with this."

   With a sly smile, Cedric leaned so close Lucas could smell the wine on his breath. "I needed her. I had to convince François to play along. He had no reason to help me until he thought you and your father would take the chateau. Once he marries Carolyn, he has nothing to fear. And for that to happen, we have to get rid of you." He shrugged. "Very simple, really. All I needed was everyone's trust."

   So the bastard liked to feel clever. Lucas responded, "It was a brilliant move on your part to convince Caro you had annulled our marriage."

   "I know." He frowned, no longer quite so selfsatisfied. "I thought she'd be pleased. But she's proving stubborn."

   A growl escaped Lucas. "Then let her go."

   Cedric got up and grinned down at him. "You like her more than I suspected. Good. The best part is, once Valeron is assured of the estate, he won't need her. Then she becomes mine."

   Horror clogged Lucas's throat. He forced himself to remain unmoved. "Why would he give up a beautiful wife?"

   "I congratulate you on your discernment, but once more, you can't see what is in front of your nose. The Chevalier doesn't want to marry Carolyn."

   "You lie. He paid court to Caro from the day he arrived in London."

   Cedric rapped the stick on Lucas's shin. A wave of agonizing pain shot up his leg. He gasped.

   "Pay attention, Lucas. For some reason, the grasping Mademoiselle Belle Jeunesse, a rather crass young lady in my opinion, holds the good Chevalier's heart and his balls in her hot little hand. She will make him delightfully miserable for the rest of his life. But only if he has this estate. She won't have him without it. And he can only be sure of it if he marries Carolyn first. In a year or so, I will arrange for his wife's disappearance. Actually, it is too bad both you and Valeron had to wed her first, or I could have made her my countess. On the other hand, she will make a delightful mistress."

   It all sounded insanely logical. A raging inferno of hell seemed to open a fiery maw to welcome Lucas in. Lucas cursed long and loud and fluently.

   "Impressive. You really must stop mixing with the lower orders, dear boy. You have become quite vulgar in your speech."

   "Bugger off."

   "Speaking of that, she's still a virgin, isn't she?"

   Sickened, Lucas fought for a semblance of calm. "I'll give you anything you want, if you leave Caro out of this."