Pursued By The Viscount (13 page)

Which was when he realized he had not withdrawn the second time he released. He had been so carried away by the liberated Rachel, so aroused by her, the thought of withdrawal had not entered his head. Or his cock.

Lucien carried the rinsed cloth back through and handed it to Rachel, his thoughts distracted as he sat on the side of the bed and began to pull his clothes back on. If anything transpired from his lack of control, he doubted Rachel would forgive him easily.

Rachel had not missed the way Lucien’s gaze had avoided meeting hers when he returned from the dressing room. Nor the stiff line of his muscled back and shoulders before he pulled his shirt on over his head and those muscles were hidden from her view.

Because he was starting to regret what had happened between them?

Lucien asking to see her again this evening had not implied that was the case, but there was no mistaking his distraction now. Or his haste in dressing. As if he could not leave quickly enough.

She—

Rachel turned to the door in alarm as she heard the sound of raised voices somewhere in the house, followed by the wailing cry of a woman.

What on earth…?

Lucien was also aware of the uproar somewhere outside the bedchamber. An uproar that seemed to be fast approaching Rachel’s bedchamber. He stood up to move quickly to the other side of the room as a knock sounded on the door. He had not had time to put on his waistcoat or superfine as yet, but was otherwise respectable.

“I must speak with you immediately, my lady.” The butler rapped another knock on the door from outside in the hallway.

Lucien stood ill at ease in front of the window as Rachel got hurriedly out of bed to pull on and fasten her robe before quickly crossing the room to throw open the door.

“My lady—”

“Oh, my lady!” A bonneted figure threw herself at Rachel’s feet, clutching the bottom of Rachel’s robe as she began to wail. “It wasn’t my fault. Honest it wasn’t. One minute Master William was playing ball in the park with the other boys and then—and then—”

“And then…?” Rachel’s face had gone deathly pale.

“And then he was gone.” The young nursemaid began to sob in earnest.

Chapter 12

“We have no proof Stanforth has him.”

“He does,” Rachel answered Lucien woodenly. “He—he commented yesterday on how much William looks like James. Afterward, he warned me not to see you again, demanded it when he made me write you that note, and I—I disobeyed him by going to the theatre with you last night.”

“He does not have the right to dictate your actions—”

“He has my son!”

All had been fraught with tears and emotion since the nursemaid revealed young William Shaw’s disappearance. Rachel had collapsed to the floor, and the two women had cried in each other’s arms.

It had been left to Lucien to take charge of the situation.

He had first lifted Rachel in his arms and carried her to the bed, laying her down against the pillows. Then he instructed the butler to bring up tea and brandy, before questioning the distraught nursemaid in more depth.

It seemed that William really had simply disappeared, one minute playing with his friends, the next simply not there. None of the other boys or their nursemaids had seen him go.
 

When the butler returned, Lucien had instructed him to take the young nursemaid down to the kitchen and ply her with a reviving brandy too. He had also instructed that two of the footmen be sent to search the park again, in case William had merely wandered off and was now lost.

The two men had returned only minutes ago. Without William.

Rachel had remained ashen faced throughout, but had now ceased crying in favor of pacing the bedchamber. “I have to find him, Lucien. He—he will be so afraid. He does not know Stanforth. He is only four!” She bit her bottom lip in an obvious attempt to stop the tears from falling.

Lucien strode to her side to take both her hands in his, instantly able to feel the way they were trembling. “I promise you we will get him back—”

“You cannot promise any such thing.” She wrenched her hands free of his. “He may already—already—”

“I do not believe jumping to extreme conclusions to be of any help in this situation.”

“Nor is making me promises you cannot keep.” She glared her anger, her body tense. “I should never have gone to the theatre with you, let alone—let alone—I think you should leave, Lucien.” She held herself stiffly.

Lucien was aware that when the person with whom you were angry was not available, it was not unusual to take that anger out on the nearest person to hand. In this case, that was him.

Rachel was not slowly slipping away from him. She had removed herself in seconds and no longer bore any resemblance to the woman who had made love with him so enthusiastically such a short time ago. Her eyes were glacial, her expression cold, her bearing one of stiff dignity, despite still being dressed only in her robe.

She seemed to become aware of that lack of clothing at the same time he did. “I need to dress now and then go down to see if there is anything Becky—William’s nursemaid,” she supplied in answer to Lucien’s frown, “forgot to mention. You found your way in, so I am sure you can find your way out again.” She strode into the adjoining dressing room and closed the door behind her.

Letting Lucien know he was well and truly dismissed.

An occurrence that had not happened too many times in his life, he acknowledged ruefully.

But to be expected when Rachel loved her son so deeply, she had for years willingly withstood any amount of Shaw’s abuse in order to ensure her son’s continued happiness.

Lucien’s own mother’s love for him had been, and continued to be, so offhand, Lucien could only admire Rachel all the more for loving her son so much that nothing and no one else mattered.

In the meantime, he
was
dismissed.

He also had a promise to keep.

Rachel felt as if the world had gone mad and she stood at its center, her emotions as numb as her body as everything swirled about her too fast for her to comprehend.

William had been missing for three hours now, and she was no further forward in knowing where he had gone or if Stanforth really had taken him. There had been no note delivered, making demands. Only silence.

“Brooketon and Blackmoor will find him.” Thea reached out to give Rachel’s hand a comforting squeeze.

The other woman had arrived an hour or so ago. Apparently, Lucien had called at Blackmoor House and explained the situation, and then asked her to go and sit with Rachel.

Rachel felt grateful to him for his thoughtfulness, and Thea’s presence was welcome, as was the assistance of her husband the duke in the search for William. But Rachel would not feel complete again until she had William back in her arms. Something no one, not Thea or even the arrogant Brooketon and Blackmoor, could guarantee.

She stood restlessly. “I should be doing something. Out looking for William myself.
Something
,” she cried out in her anguish.

“I am sure we will hear word soon.”

Thea’s soothing tone had little or no effect on Rachel’s agitation. “Did Lucien tell you of Stanforth’s…connection to this family?”

“He felt he must, in order to explain the situation properly.” Thea frowned. “I am sorry for how you must have suffered all these years.”

“I am not concerned for myself,” Rachel dismissed. “I truly believe that Stanforth’s grief over the death of his lover has addled his brain.” She wrung her hands together. “He was so pleased at how much William resembled James. Looked at him as if he were
his
son. Stanforth has been missing since yesterday. What if he has been making arrangements to take William out of the country? If he disappears to the Continent with him?” She voiced her worst fear.

“Then Brooketon and my husband will find out where he has gone and follow him there,” Thea said simply. “There is nowhere he can go with William that they will not find him.”

Rachel wished she had Thea’s confidence. Oh, not in Lucien and Blackmoor’s ability to find William. Eventually. But that might take weeks, months, if Stanforth had the means to avoid detection. She did not like to think of how poor William might have suffered by then. How he might come to believe, no doubt with Stanforth’s assistance, that she had abandoned him to the guardianship of that monster.

If enough time elapsed, William might be persuaded into forgetting about her completely.

She turned to the doorway as a knock preceded Alder’s appearance. He held a familiar silver tray in his hand, a letter sitting on top of it.

Rachel hurried over to snatch up the letter, quickly breaking the seal to read its content before informing Thea, “Lucien says Stanforth is traveling to Dover.”

“What is Lady Shaw to you, Brooke?”

Lucien scowled across Blackmoor’s carriage at the other man seated opposite him as the two of them traveled to the seaport where one of Lucien’s men had learned Stanforth kept his own private yacht.

“Rachel is my lover.” Lucien could see no point in prevaricating, even in a belated attempt to protect Rachel’s reputation. His involvement in the search for William Shaw was clear indication the two of them were not merely acquaintances.

The other man nodded. “Thea told me earlier today she thought as much.”

“You disapprove?”

Blackmoor’s brows rose. “It is not for me to approve or disapprove of anything you do. Or Lady Shaw either, for that matter.”

Lucien’s mouth twisted wryly. “That does not prevent you from doing so.”

“As it happens, I do not disapprove.” Blackmoor settled more comfortably into his seat. “My own behavior toward Thea before our marriage was less than proper. Besides, I never liked Shaw, or the manner in which he talked down to his young wife in public. It was indication that his treatment of her in private would be far worse.”

“It was,” Lucien confirmed grimly. “Much worse.”

“Disgusting behavior.” Blackmoor’s mouth thinned. “Thea enjoys a little…firm handling, but I would never do anything to hurt her. She is my life. Any man who hurts a woman is not deserving of a wife, let alone one as lovely as Lady Shaw.” He raised his brows as Lucien failed to hold back a fond smile of remembrance. “I do not recall saying anything— Ah.” He gave a rueful smile. “Lady Shaw is also fond of…firm handling.”

“But not the brutality she received from her husband.” Lucien scowled.

Blackmoor’s expression softened. “It is telling that, despite her unhappy marriage, she feels comfortable enough with you to allow such liberties.”

Rachel’s trust in him not to harm her was one of the things that gave Lucien hope their affair was not over. Rachel’s demeanor had been so very chilling earlier, and this business of Stanforth kidnapping her beloved son had truly shaken her. As it was meant to do.

Perhaps if he could return William to Rachel quickly and unharmed, not too much damage would have been done and she would not choose to once again retreat from the world. From him.
 

Try as he might, Lucien could not rid himself of his last image of Rachel. Ashen faced, and yet possessed of a regal dignity. A thin façade that would surely crumble, as Rachel herself would crumble, if anything happened to her beloved son.

It was his responsibility to ensure that did not happen.

Whatever happened after that in regard to Rachel and himself would be Rachel’s decision and not Lucien’s. She had already known too much pain and suffering in her life. He could not add to it if she decided she did not wish to see him again.

But first he had to find William and see him safely returned to his mother.

And deal with Stanforth once and for all.

“You do not think, once they have found Stanforth, they would do anything…silly, do you?” Rachel frowned across at Thea, the other woman having announced she would be remaining at Shaw House until the gentlemen returned. A bedchamber had already been prepared for her.

“Personally, I hope one or both of them gives him a good thrashing,” Thea answered calmly.

“Thea!”

“I am a gentle soul, as you know Rachel, but Stanforth’s behavior is deserving of that thrashing and more. To take your child from you…” She shuddered. “Blackmoor will be feeling particularly sensitive in that direction at the moment. As am I. I am with child,” she confided gently at Rachel’s questioning glance.

“Oh, Thea, that is marvelous news!” Rachel was truly pleased for her friend. Thea had been married before, but there had been no children in that marriage, and Blackmoor’s daughter was fully grown. “You must both be so pleased.” She stood up to cross the room and hug the other woman.

“We are. I-It does not seem right for us to be so happy when… I am so sorry about William, Rachel.” Tears glistened in Thea’s eyes.

“The two are not related, Thea,” Rachel assured her. “You are hoping for a boy? An heir for the dukedom?”

“We are hoping only for a healthy child. It does not matter if it is a boy or a girl. I am sure there will be many more children, and no doubt one of them will be a boy,” she added ruefully.

Rachel gave a gurgle of laughter—something she would not have believed possible, in the circumstances—at the bashful expression on Thea’s face. “You deserve your happiness with Blackmoor, Thea.”