What You Desire (Anything for Love, Book 1) (29 page)

Dudley raised a brow and gave Sebastian a sanctimonious grin. “It would make sense,” he nodded. “He could not take your wife to Labelles,” he continued, stressing the matrimonial connection. But then he paused. “Wait, there is a house.”

Sebastian jumped up from the chair as Dudley rushed over to the desk and rifled through some papers. “Here it is,” Dudley said scribbling the directions. “It’s in Burr Street.”

“Burr Street,” Sebastian repeated. “Near the docks?” If he was correct in his assumption and Dampierre was using his ship to transport women, then he would have planned to ship out at the earliest convenience. The tide would be high for another few hours. But Sebastian could not assume he would wait until the afternoon, let alone another day.

“Give me a minute and I shall come with you,” Dudley said.

Sebastian placed his hand on Dudley’s shoulder. “Stay here. Charlotte needs you. Besides, Delmont will assist me, won’t you Delmont.”

“Of course,” Delmont inclined his head. “It is the least I can do.”

Dudley examined Sebastian’s domino. “Well, at least let me get you a coat.”

As his carriage rattled along the narrow streets, Sebastian removed the mahogany box from under his seat and began loading the pistol.

“I take it you have some sort of plan?” Delmont said, sounding a little more at ease than he had done previously.

“Of course,” Sebastian glanced up and smiled. “I’m going to kill him.”

“I meant something a little more structured,” Delmont replied with a shake of the head. “You can’t shoot a man in a street, someone will call a constable.”

“Who said anything about shooting him,” Sebastian countered, reaching down into his left boot and pulling the hunting knife from its sheath. “I’m going to use this.” He turned it around in his hand and it glinted in the lamplight.

Delmont appeared alarmed and swallowed deeply.

“What?” Sebastian said. “Are you telling me you would not do the same for the woman you love?”

Delmont shrugged. “I have never been in love. Well, perhaps once, a long time ago,” he said, his tone melancholic.

And there it was, Sebastian thought, the reason behind Delmont’s disreputable conduct. “Do you know why you’re sitting there? Why I have not strung you up from a tree somewhere?”

Delmont simply shook his head.

“Well, other than the fact you’re the only one who can identify Dampierre. I speak from experience when I say, sometimes good people do bad things, and more often than not for justifiable reasons.”

Delmont sneered. “And you have decided I fall into such a category.”

“We shall see,” Sebastian said placing the knife back in its sheath. “Now, as to my structured plan,” he mocked. “As we have to ride past Burr Street, we’ll check the house first. I’ll wait in the carriage on the corner of Nightingale while you knock the front door. If they’re there, you are to say you do not believe the marker to be genuine and you wish to discuss the matter with Dampierre.” Sebastian considered his companion. “Can you do that?”

“Of course,” Delmont replied with a hint of arrogance.

The moment they pulled up on the corner of Burr and Nightingale, Sebastian was almost certain Dampierre had not brought Sophie to the house. Despite the hour, there were still a few men lying on the floor outside the King’s Arms Tavern. The street was also home to a vast number of sailors, some of whom were only just making their way home to their lodging houses.

Delmont confirmed his theory when he returned to the carriage. “The house is empty,” he said slightly breathless. “I knocked twice, then the woman next door lifted up the window, poked her head out and shouted
sling yur hook
. That was until she noticed the quality of my clothes and then she asked if I could spare a few shillings. She is probably rousing her husband as we speak in the hope of stealing my handkerchief.”

Sebastian almost smiled. Delmont could be quite humorous, but his mind was occupied with more important things. He opened the carriage door but did not get out; instead he used it to lean on so he could speak to Haines, perched upon his box seat.

As Sebastian closed the door and sat back in his seat, he relayed the arrangements he had made with Haines. “The warehouse is off Green Bank. Once we’re certain they’re inside and have made an assessment of the situation, we will proceed as before … with you providing the distraction.”

Delmont shrugged. “Well, I am regarded as rather adept when it comes to creating amusing diversions.”

Chapter 27

Sophie had been taken to a small warehouse somewhere near the docks, a damp brick building containing numerous stacks of wooden crates, a makeshift bed with tatty blankets and a few old chairs scattered about. Both windows had been boarded up and the only light came from oil lamps which hung from metal chains flung over the rafters. The air was pungent with the smell of tobacco, mingled with the sickly smell of sugar and the fumes from rum.

Having made numerous attempts to flee, Sophie had been dragged into the warehouse and forced to sit on a chair in the middle of the room, while Marie paced back and forth, hugging her stomach.

“Forgive me,” Dampierre said as his lackey, a rather cold, hard looking man with a protruding forehead who went by the name of Morgan, tied her hands to the back of the chair with rope. “But you will insist on struggling.” He inclined his head to the side as he studied her, his gaze slithering over her like a snake.

She would rather kill herself or throw herself overboard than submit to him.

She wondered what Dane was doing. Was he tearing Delmont’s mansion house apart looking for her? Sophie’s heart went out to him, for he would blame himself. He would find some way to punish everyone and everything — which was why she needed to escape. There was no point crying and pleading. Dampierre was a callous, cold-hearted man and so she would need to find another way to be free of him.

“Please, Victor,” Marie cried, “is all this necessary?” She walked over to him and placed her hand on his arm. “Take the necklace, but let Miss Beaufort go home. I will come away with you,” she pleaded as she caressed his arms. “We could go to Jamaica.” She touched his cheek.

Dampierre pushed her away and she tumbled backwards, hitting her head on the floor. “My sons cannot be born to a whore.”

Sophie held her breath, waiting for a sign that Marie was not hurt. Even Morgan stood up straight and took a few hesitant steps towards the limp body.

“Get up, Marie,” Dampierre shouted. When she moved her arms he repeated his instruction as if she were a child merely seeking attention.

Morgan walked over to one of the other chairs and brought it into the middle of the room. He strode over to Marie, placed his hands under her arms, lifted her off the floor and dumped her onto the chair.

“Do you see what I must endure, Miss Beaufort,” Dampierre said with a languid flick of the wrist. “Such weakness, such whining and whimpering after a gentleman, it is … degrading.” He walked over to Sophie, ran his finger slowly down her cheek and across her bottom lip. “How is one supposed to feel like a man when it is all offered so … so freely?”

As Dampierre stepped away, Sophie glanced across at Marie, who appeared to have recovered from her injury. Marie looked up at her, held her gaze and silently mouthed, “I’m sorry.”

“No,” Dampierre continued as he paced the floor, his hands clasped behind his back. “It is the fire burning deep within that I find so … so alluring
.”

In this meditative mood, Dampierre appeared far more egotistical. Yet his movements, his manner, his words felt contrived and calculated, as though driven by some strange deep-rooted obsession. It went beyond a simple carnal craving or a depraved appetite. It had something to do with proving his worth as a man. But could she use it against him, Sophie wondered? Could she weaken his position enough for him to make a mistake? It was worth a try. Perhaps he had been repressed or intimidated by a woman. Perhaps that’s where his hunger for power and control came from.

“I have decided to call you Victor,” Sophie said firmly, surprising everyone in the room for she had said very little until now. “You will have no objection?” It was both a question and a statement depending upon how one perceived it.

“No, no objection,” he replied, albeit somewhat hesitant as he considered her request. “We are to be married, after all.”

She heard the apprehension in his tone, noticed he used the word marriage in order to intimidate. “Well, as to that, Victor,” Sophie replied arrogantly. “I have decided not to accept.”

Dampierre sniggered and was about to offer what she suspected would be a peremptory reply.

“I do not want to hear what you have to say on the matter,” Sophie continued, raising her chin. “Your opinion is not important, not to me, not to anyone.”

The Comte de Dampierre stood in the middle of the room, his mouth slightly open as he stared at her. “We will be married,” he repeated, anger brimming beneath the surface.

Sophie glanced at Marie, who was watching her intently, before focusing her attention directly at Dampierre. “How can you say that when you know your lineage is lacking. Who was your mother?” Sophie was guessing this was the root cause of his vile obsession. When he did not answer, she raised her voice. “Well, who was she?”

He appeared visibly shaken and then stuttered and stumbled over his words. “My father was a gentleman. He was the son of —”

“I did not ask about your father.”

Just when Sophie thought she was making some progress in unsettling the comte, someone banged loudly on the iron door. Dampierre froze and when it became apparent the person was not about to leave, he gestured for his man to deal with it.

“If you call out, Miss Beaufort,” Dampierre warned, regaining his vitality, “I shall be forced to hurt Marie.”

But Sophie did not have the opportunity to do anything, for the person barged into the warehouse determined to cause a scene
.
It was not until Morgan retreated further into the room, that Sophie identified the caller as being Lord Delmont, brandishing a pistol.

“Forgive me for intruding on this little party,” Delmont said, examining his surroundings with a look of disdain. “But as you went to so much trouble to spoil mine, I thought it only fair.”

Delmont glanced in Sophie’s direction but did not reveal any identifiable emotion. He appeared taller than she remembered, his golden hair much darker, and he looked vastly more sinister in such crude surroundings.

“What do you want?” Dampierre asked, his words cutting through the air like a knife.

“Has anyone ever told you it is preferable to invite more ladies to a party than gentlemen?” Delmont replied giving Dampierre a smug grin. He pushed his free hand through his golden locks. “The numbers have been evened somewhat, as the two men you posted outside have decided to take a swim. Still, I believe I stand a better chance with these ladies than you two miscreants.”

Sophie sat in stupefied silence, wondering what on earth Lord Delmont was up to. Why had he raised his voice when they were all just a few feet away? She noticed Dampierre glance back over his shoulder, to the walking cane he’d left on top of a crate.

“You have your marker,” Dampierre said with contempt. “You will get nothing more from me.”

Delmont laughed. “I would agree, if the marker was authentic.”

So his only reason for following them, his only reason for storming into the warehouse and waving his pistol about, was money. And when satisfied, was he just going to walk right out again and leave her tied to the chair?

Dampierre took a step towards Delmont. “Are you questioning my honour?”

“I am,” Delmont nodded confidently, pointing his pistol a little straighter. “And as I appear to be the only man who is armed,” he boomed as if to exaggerate his point. “I do not suppose there is much you can do about it.”

There was a faint rustling sound in the far corner of the room. Dampierre heard it too and narrowed his gaze, peering beyond Lord Delmont’s shoulder.

Sophie noticed the flicker of a shadow and watched helplessly as Delmont lost focus and made the foolish mistake of turning to look. Sensing it was his prime opportunity to alter the turn of events, Dampierre lunged forward and knocked the pistol from Delmont’s hand. Morgan hurled himself at Delmont, grabbing him around the neck, pulling him to the floor and pounding him with his fists until he was practically unconscious.

“No,” Sophie yelled. Not because she gave a hoot what happened to Lord Delmont, but because it meant Dampierre would have a weapon and another means with which to threaten.

Like a man possessed, Dane charged out of the darkness in an attempt to reach the pistol before Dampierre could get his hands on it. But he was too late. And, once again, they found themselves in the precarious hands of the Comte de Dampierre.

“You will stay where you are,” Dampierre shouted, his arm shaking from exertion as he pointed the pistol at Dane. When Dane ignored his threat and took another step forward, Dampierre switched direction and aimed at Sophie’s head.

Her heart skipped a beat, but she did not believe Dampierre would pull the trigger. Somewhere in his warped mind he believed he needed her, else why would he have gone to so much trouble. Dane, on the other hand, must have believed him capable of carrying out his threat and so stared at her, his face ashen, his eyes wide and fearful.