The Sweetest Revenge (3 page)

Her patronizing tone made him clench his fists behind him. Overwhelmed by fury, his body trembled from toes to crown. Whoever these females were, he would kill them when this was over. He would relish watching their limp bodies hang from a rope. He would have his revenge.

The gentle sloshing noise of water came from the floor, and a damp cloth swiped over his lip. He wrenched his head away.

The lady spoke yet again. “Now, Leo, do be good for me. Your nose is a touch swollen, but you will be happy to hear that it is not broken. You are a bit untidy, however. There is some dried blood just here.”

The soft material stroked his lip. Allowing her to touch him felt akin to admitting defeat, but given the ache in his nose and the gush of blood last night, he imagined he looked like hell. Vanity kept him immobile as she gently swiped the cloth over his skin.

“I am afraid your greatcoat and tailcoat were complete losses. We thought we should replace them, but we know you are as fastidious a dandy as Beau Brummell himself, and I doubt our choice would be acceptable to you.”

He grunted, thinking her statement likely accurate.

“Allow us to formally introduce ourselves,” she continued conversationally. “Of course, you shall never know our true names, but you ought to have a way to discern the three of us.”

He did not give any indication that he could already discern them.
The voice, the leader, and the frightened mouse
. The mouse still stood at his feet. He felt her eyes on him, boring into him. Unnerving him.

The lady who served as the voice of the trio continued. “My name is Mistress Jane. Do you understand, Leo?”

What a ridiculous pretense. Of course that was not her name. He would have laughed under any other circumstance. Mistress Jane, indeed.

Fingernails dug into his shoulder, biting into his skin, but her voice stayed gentle. “Nod your head if you understand, Leo.”

He nodded through his contempt. She was lucky he wore a gag; otherwise, he could not have held back the caustic comment on the tip of his tongue.

“Good. You will address the lady to my left as ‘my lady,’ or, if you prefer, Lady M.”

He inclined his head toward Lady M. Though he couldn’t see her, he could
feel
her. He knew exactly where she stood. The title didn’t come as any surprise. She was their leader, so she’d naturally demand a respectful designation.

Lady M spoke for the first time. “Good morning, Leo.”

The voice was familiar but low and rough for a woman, somehow masked, changed for his benefit.

He knew her. He must know her, otherwise why would she disguise her voice? If he could coerce her to speak more, he might identify her, and if that happened, he would most certainly gain the upper hand.

Triumph surged through him, and he fought the compulsion to laugh. His first small taste of victory since this ordeal began. He would find her out, and she would suffer for it.

Biting down on his gag, he waited for his introduction to the timid mouse.

“The third of us, the lady to my right, you shall know as Miss Juliette.”

He nodded again and turned to face Miss Juliette. She was silent. Why didn’t she speak? He wanted to hear the soft whisper of her voice again. Maybe he could grasp the thrill he’d experienced when she’d spoken earlier. Maybe he could identify her as well.

“Do you know why you’re here, Leo?” Jane asked.
Mistress
Jane.

He shook his head.

She lowered herself onto the chaise close beside him, far closer than would have been proper.

“It will all become clear to you in time. For now, rest. I know you must have a terrible headache. We will give you plenty of water to counter it. No rich foods, I’m afraid.”

Mistress Jane’s fingers drew small circles across his back. The warmth of her touch penetrated his shirt, somehow familiar, as if she’d caressed him like this before. Had he been intimate with this woman? His treacherous body seemed to think so, from the way it reacted to her touch. He gritted his teeth, tautened his muscles, and tried to squash the unwelcome arousal that sifted through him.

“Now, then. You needn’t be so stiff. We’re not going to torture you.” She paused, laughed, then amended her statement. “Well, not in the way you might expect.”

He didn’t recognize her voice, but that didn’t mean anything. He had an excellent memory, but he’d also bedded many women. He might have forgotten one or two of them. Or perhaps this one never spoke. Perhaps her body had spoken for her.

All his senses attuned, he listened closely when she spoke again.

“Now if you remain very still,” she murmured, “I will remove the cloth from your mouth.”

He nodded to give the pretense of consent. Ever so slowly, she reached behind his head, sifting her fingers through his hair before flicking the ties to his gag. As it loosened, he spat it out.

“Release me at once,” he barked, his voice cracking from lack of use.

“Oh no, my dear lord,” Mistress Jane said, her hand firmly upon his shoulder. He could not rise unless he tossed her off—something he wasn’t certain would be the right thing to do.

She spoke soothingly. “We will release you when we are ready, not sooner. And we’re not quite ready yet.”

***

Isabelle couldn’t take her eyes off him. She had expected his righteous anger and confusion, but hadn’t anticipated his bare feet, broad shoulders, or the hint of the hard planes of chest exposed by the neckline of his shirt.

He was larger than she remembered, and far more imposing. His face was rougher than it had been in his youth. His mouth was tight, his lips pressed into a flat line, the morning beard growth a russet scruff over his jaw.

Bombarded by memories of their summer together, Isabelle could do little more than stand by dumbly as Anna proceeded with her one-sided banter. Both Anna and Susan seemed relaxed, almost as if they were having fun. Rugged, handsome, and powerful—not to mention nearly naked—this man clearly had no effect on either of her friends.

Irrational jealousy flared somewhere deep within Isabelle as she watched Anna’s fingers trail across Leo’s torso. Then Susan leaned forward and smoothed a lock of reddish-brown hair behind his ear.

If they could touch him, so could she. Couldn’t she?

She bent down and reached a tentative hand out to the body part closest to her, his foot, and stroked its bottom. Chains clanked as he jerked away.

She jumped backward, heat washing through her cheeks. Perhaps she had tickled him.

“What is your price?” Leo said stiffly. The bare stone walls echoed his deep voice back at them. That voice—she remembered it so well, remembered the harsh whispers in her ear as he pushed himself into her… He’d whispered that he loved her, that he wanted to be with her forever. Empty promises, spoken in the heat of passion. She’d later learned that it wasn’t uncommon for men to make false promises during their seductions. She’d been so naïve.

“We have no price.” Susan masked her tone as planned. The concealment, a scratchy, low-toned whisper, hid her real voice quite well.

“What is it, then? Why am I here? What do you want?”

“Now those are complicated questions.” Anna’s hand stroked gently across Leo’s chest, then she patted his shoulder. “And we think you might be too tired to listen today. But we would like one thing from you. After we leave, we would like you to think on why three representatives of the gentler sex might feel inclined to imprison you in a cold cellar.”

“There is no bloody reason in hell three women should want to imprison me anywhere!”

Isabelle cringed, wrapping her arms around her body to defend herself against the harshness of his words. Never had he spoken harshly in her presence; never had he shouted or railed at her or anyone else in anger.

But what had she expected? A simpering apology? Any man would be enraged by what they had done.

Susan and Anna exchanged an arch look.

“There is no need to become belligerent. Give it time,” Anna cooed, turning back to him. “Think on it. We will revisit it at a later time.”

Susan gave a brief nod, and Anna’s hand traveled between Lord Leothaid’s legs.

Isabelle couldn’t move, couldn’t tear her eyes away. She froze, watching Anna’s fingers touch, stroke, and caress.

Lord Leothaid’s lips flattened into a grim line. “What do you think you are doing?”

“Are you thinking of last night’s revelries, Leo?” Anna murmured. “Are you sorry you missed them?”

“Take your bedeviled hands off me,” he growled. His body quivered with contained fury. Isabelle took another step backward, but Anna seemed unaffected. Instead, she pressed herself closer, and her hand tightened over his groin.

“Why, Leo, have you already forgotten my name?”

“Get off me, Mistress Jane.” Leo pushed the words from between his teeth.

“That’s better.” Anna stood abruptly, brushing her hands as if touching him had soiled them, and joined Susan at the door.

Despite his chains and bound wrists, Leo rose to his feet in one smooth movement and took one menacing step toward Isabelle as if he could see her—or at least sense exactly where she stood. She scuttled backward until she was out of his range.

“My friends will have missed me. They will be searching. All of London will be searching.”

Susan made a clucking noise with her tongue, and Anna laughed. “We shall see about that. I would suggest, though, that you consider showing us a bit more respect. We aren’t sweet society misses packed with fluff between the ears. You would be wise to remember it.”

Pierre opened the door for Anna, and she swiveled about and strode out of the cellar. Susan caught Isabelle’s eye. They were finished. For now.

“Wait!” Leo barked. “Loosen the bonds around my wrists, for God’s sake, unless you want my hands to drop off for lack of circulation.”

“Someone will take care of that for you,” Susan said.

“Tell me why I am here! When will I be freed?”

“Not yet,” Susan said.

“Don’t leave me like this!” Leo lunged forward, dragging the chains over the rough flagstone floor. “Damn you!”

Isabelle resisted covering her ears at the slew of insults and curses that followed. She hurried after Susan, taking a deep breath of relief when the door thudded shut behind them, muffling the earl’s irate bellows. Passing Pierre, they walked up the narrow stone steps and through another door to the kitchen, where the cook and a girl, busily skinning a chicken, studiously ignored them.

A tight-lipped and pale-faced Anna informed them that she needed to be alone for a while—that she needed to think. Without giving either Susan or Isabelle time to respond, she hurried off, leaving them in the ground-floor corridor staring after her.

“Let her go.” Susan grasped Isabelle’s arm as Isabelle lifted her skirts to go after Anna. “She will manage this in her own way.”

Not for the first time, Isabelle wondered at the nature of Anna’s relationship with Leo.

“Perhaps you would like to take a turn around the square, Isabelle?” Susan asked, unruffled as ever.

How could Susan be so calm? Isabelle stared at her friend for a long moment, then released a deep, pent-up breath and nodded. The fresh air might do her some good, and she and Susan needed to talk.

They donned their cloaks, bonnets, and gloves, then went outside, heading toward Berkeley Square.

It was a windy day. The wind whipped multicolored leaves from the branches of the maple trees and swirled them in clusters around the women’s feet. Dense traffic—carts and carriages and men on horseback—crowded the street, and people strode busily past them, hunched against the wind and intent upon their business.

Susan linked arms with Isabelle and set a leisurely pace. “We ought to talk about what happened. You appear to be shocked by Anna’s actions.”

“A little shocked perhaps. Forgive me, Susan, but I am not sure what she expects to gain by…doing that. Touching him in that way…” Isabelle swallowed hard, not liking the bitter, twisting feeling that rose in her chest when she thought about the wickedly erotic nature of Anna’s touches.

“In order to understand Anna, I believe one requires an understanding of what he did to her.”

Isabelle focused on the path ahead, trying to hide her blazing curiosity. “That certainly might help.”

They crossed the street into the square. Here the trees were stripped of their leaves, and their naked branches arched over them on either side.

They lowered themselves on a bench, smoothing their gowns. This area of the square appeared bedraggled and windblown, and loose leaves and twigs scattered across the grass, giving the landscape an unkempt look. A thick cloud cover now veiled the sun completely. Not many people walked the square at leisure this morning, whether because of the early hour or the grim weather, Isabelle was not certain. She watched a solitary leaf trip down the path in the same direction from which she and Susan had just come.

Laying her hand on Isabelle’s arm, Susan said, “Anna is not my cousin.”

Isabelle’s gaze riveted to her friend. “She isn’t?”

“No. She is not a relation of mine at all. It has been an ongoing charade for the past year.” Regarding her with inscrutable dark eyes, Susan tightened her fingers over Isabelle’s arm. “Very few know the truth, Isabelle. We have agreed to tell you because we believe we can trust you. Can we?”

“Aye, of course. I’ve no reason to divulge your secret to anyone.”

“You must never repeat what I am about to tell you. It would ruin her.”

With instant certainty, Isabelle knew that the tenuous state of Anna’s reputation must have something to do with Lord Leothaid. Had Leo debauched Anna like he had debauched her? Had he whispered in Anna’s ear how much he loved her and then, after they were exposed and the world had condemned her, disappeared?

Isabelle felt warm despite the autumn chill. She shifted uncomfortably on the bench. “I’d never willfully cause a lady’s ruination. You must know that.”

Susan’s lips turned upward in the barest hint of a smile. “I do know it, Isabelle. And I do trust you, dearest, because I truly believe you will understand.”