Darkest Death, page 18
part #2 of Darkest Series
“I’m proud of you, son,” Father said, clasping him on the shoulder. “You are handling your job well, last I heard. Even been assigned to everyone’s favorite mentor, from what I was told.”
Father’s eyes glittered a separate message. His own sharp look probably telegraphing his newfound feelings for the traitorous duke. “I have split from that…assignment,” he said cryptically.
“Good. Now, we must talk. Come by the townhouse in the morning, and we can speak. Congratulations again, son.”
“You be sure to have the servants fetch me as well, when you arrive,” Mother added with a nod.
Lord Archer stared after his parents. Well. Things had taken an interesting turn. A couple hours went by. Dinner had been a bore, although he’d whispered inappropriate things to her about the guests, some funny, some information he was sure she’d be shocked at. She laughed and nudged him with her knee.
He enjoyed his dances with his affianced and causing Lady Sarah to blush as they whirled around the ballroom floor. Watching her dance with others had given him a sort of proud feeling to know that of all her suitors, she’d chosen him.
The night was waning, at that point, so he cut in on the next person and took her out for a scandalous fourth dance of the night.
“People will talk, my lord,” she said, her smile brilliant.
“As they should,” he said. “At least it is a change from the usual gossip and war and politics and opium. Etcetera, etcetera. You are too beautiful to not be noticed.”
“Bah, and you, sir, are a flatterer. Is that all that I am, then, a pretty thing on your arm?” Her tone was flippant, but he sobered up and replied with great care and from his heart.
“You, my darling, are beautiful. It is fact. Your goodness within radiates out with your smile, but more than that. You are intelligent, loyal—how many times have you come to the rescue of my wayward sister?”
She gasped and spluttered a half denial which she couldn’t do.
“Even now, your duty and loyalty to me is warring with yours for her. You don’t want to lie, but you don’t want to break her trust. Yes, I saw or learned of some of the things that happened, but by then, you’d taken the problem by the horns and extracted her out of the much. I even knew about the Marquess of Oxford because he’d bragged at one of the clubs.”
Now her face went white. He drew her in closer. The matrons of society would be all a twitter at their luncheons tomorrow. “I took care of it. Your cover story will hold water. I’ll see to it. But my point is, I know without you having to break her confidence. I love you. I’ve loved you as a friend for a long time, but these recent weeks with you has awoken a demon who wants to be one with you, wants to show you physical pleasures beyond your understandings. This man wants more than an insipid, beautiful wife. He wants a passionate one who shares his interest, one intelligent enough to speak about my day with. Sarah, you are not just anything. You are everything to me.”
As he’d spoken, her face had flushed redder, her eyes brighter than the chandeliers with tears of happiness. She’d pressed herself into him as if she couldn’t get enough of him. The heat of her drew him, and he wished she didn’t have the damnable gloves. The lace about her chest drew his—and every man’s—attention, the rosy color divine on her.
“Archie,” she whispered, her lips parted, her eyes heavy and dark with lust.
“Sarah,” he whispered back, keeping their faces close but not crossing that line. He’d have her in as strong a state of lust as he by their wedding night.
The dance ended, and they parted reluctantly. He bowed and kissed her hand. “Until next time, Countess.”
He’d left her while he still could glad his breeches were not tight fitting and that his coat would help hide his current state of want.
A half hour later, Hermione came to him. “Where’s Sarah?”
“I haven’t seen her since our dance. Why?”
“That’s just it. No one can recall seeing her. I’ve been searching all over for her. It’s hard to see anyone in this crush, but as she is the guest of honor, surely someone should have remembered seeing her.”
He set his glass down on the tray of the waiter walking by and strode straight to the Duke of Canterbury. “Your Grace, if I may have a moment of your time.”
Duke Clarence turned that intense stare on him, and not for the first time, Lord Archer had the unsettling sensation of being glad he was not on the wrong side of the duke’s friendship. It also made it easy to see how The Dark Duke rumors stuck.
“Of course, Lord Archer. Let’s see if I can find us a quiet space.”
Hermione followed close on his heels, and he stifled a sigh. When had his sister become so forceful in speaking up? Probably about the time she was abandoned by a lord after being misused and then having her outspoken friend be the one to pick up the pieces.
Lord Archer quickly briefed the duke on the situation. Before he finished, the duchess had joined them. He gave up the idea that he would be able to keep Sarah’s disappearance quiet. If she’d simply gone to a powder room to get away for a breath of fresh air, she would have his hide for making such a stink. Well, maybe not. She’d probably understand his reasons.
“George,” the duke bellowed.
His favorite servant popped into the room as if he’d been waiting for them. Then Lord Archer’s gaze narrowed on him. “You are armed, George.”
George stared him down impassively.
“He is a bodyguard and friend as much as servant,” the duke finally said.
“Any other servants armed who might be able to help?”
“Jacob is. Janice is here as well, and she has been learning how to fight, but is not comfortable with guns. After Lillian’s plight with her, we’ve been training all the servants in self-defense. But there hasn’t been much time. A few weeks is not even close to enough time.”
“No, but it’s a start. I’m grateful for your help.”
“As am I,” Lady Lillian said, slipping her hand into her husband’s. “Now, let’s find Lady Sarah before Hermione starts practicing her fencing skills on the lot of us.” Her gentle smile showed compassion as she stared at his sister.
He walked over to Hermione. It wasn’t just his fiancé missing, but Lady Lillian and Hermione’s best friend. “We’ll find her. She’s probably taking a breather and this is all just from the stress. It’s not likely they would pull anything tonight.”
“Or maybe the perfect time, even if they didn’t have time to plan anything,” Clarence said mildly. “There’s a crush of people. People coming and going without anyone able to keep track.”
His mild worry just escalated. “Let’s go,” he said around a dry throat. “We need to find her.”
But an hour later, with the crowd much thinned, they’d still not seen her. Neither had the servants or the dowager or his parents. Now he began to panic in earnestness.
“Ask about Lord Downing, please, Your Grace,” he said to the Duke of Canterbury. “I will question the servants, if you could do your thing amongst the ton and ask discreet question. You and your wife.”
“What can I do?”
“Stay with me, sis. I do not want you left alone.”
A frown crossed her face as her glance skittered elsewhere, but he let it go since she nodded and followed him. Another forty-five minutes, and still no sign of Lord Downing or Lady Sarah. He’d sent George to get a policeman and another servant to her townhouse to check for her there, but in his heart, he knew the truth.
She was gone.
And he’d bet his title that Lord Downing was behind it. They’d lost precious time searching for her. Now they’d have to try to figure out where they could have gone.
Chapter Twenty Two
Lady Sarah
The gun pressed into her side was the only thing keeping her from fighting Lord Downing. Even if she bumped his arm wrong or the carriage wheel dipped too low or bumped too high on a broken cobblestone, he could squeeze the trigger. It didn’t stop her rage from building. First chance she had, she’d hurt the egotistical, tyrannical bastard.
“Where, precisely, are you taking me?” She refused to use his title or give him any respect.
“To marry you before you disgrace yourself with that Lord Archer. Your behavior on the dance floor was positively disgraceful and unworthy of a woman of your stature.”
“I will never marry you. I am engaged to Lord Archer. The announcements went out in the Times.” She seethed inside. How could she have allowed him to trick her into leaving the party? Once out of sight of the others, he’d pulled his pistol and forced her out the back through the gardens to the alley where this carriage awaited them.
Ever since the marquess had entered their circle and focused on Hermione, their lives had not gone as smoothly as one might hope. In fact, they’d been outright annoying in how many awful things happened. Almost as if he’d been the first of a bad omen. She scowled. And now? How long before they discovered she no longer danced away amongst the throng? In a crush that big, it could take hours. Then they’d have to search.
His continued silence had her giving him a sidelong glance. The small lamp threw heavy shadows on one side of his face, but the other showed clear amusement. “The retraction is going in tomorrow’s edition, along with the correction that it was meant to say Lord Downing, as well as announcing our marriage.”
Her breathing came in hard earned gasps as anxiety rushed in. He was a duke. He could do it. She kept quiet for a while, but she had to know.
“You’re the one who sent that awful card, aren’t you? You’ve been following me or something?”
“What awful card? And I have my ways. I have been tracking all of Lady Lillian’s friends,” he said mildly.
“The Valentine’s card with the raven’s feather and spider and animal parts,” she snapped.
“I would never do something so distasteful,” he sneered.
“Because it is so much more refined to kidnap a woman,” she sneered back.
“I am not so mundane as to use such contrivances as Valentine’s Day cards. I find them quite plebian. True love is shown by security. Money, jewels, position.”
“You speak of true love as if you have any understanding of it. You are not even worried about having kidnapped me. I shan’t marry you willingly, so how are you going to convince someone to marry us?” Fear traveled through her at his continued nonchalance.
“We are taking a train to Gretna Green. By this time tomorrow, you will be my wife in every way.”
She retched and leaned over. He jerked her back. “None of that,” he said sharply. “I almost shot you.” He sounded outright enraged about the idea.
A semi hysterical laugh left her. “If you are so concerned for my safety, might I suggest you put the damn thing away from whence you drew it. Or better yet, put it somewhere that only God has ever seen.”
He backhanded her, and her head hit the side of the carriage. “Ow! Do not touch me again!” she said haughtily as if fear didn’t hold her throat in its grip.
He slapped her again. The worst part, he did it so dispassionately that she hardly believed he’d done it except for the stinging of her cheek. And still, he hadn’t said a word. “You will pay for that,” she said, rapidly blinking as tears tracked down her cheeks despite her best efforts.
He backhanded her on the other cheek, then slapped her again. She sobbed, but said, “I will personally cut off your hands,” she threatened, “if you touch me again.”
He fisted his hand and punched her. Still no words, just passively waiting for…what?
She opened her mouth to tell him off again, but this time, he spoke first. “Be very careful what your next words prove to be. I have a knife for those who don’t learn their lesson with my fists. I would, of course, not hurt your beautiful face as I would not want to be embarrassed by your disfigurement when foreign dignitaries visited, but there are many places which wouldn’t show. I would be able to see them. It would be a reminder of my power,” he mused. “Perhaps I shall use it anyway. Or save it for a time you have forgotten tonight’s lesson. I would prefer to have your skin pure the first time I have you, but your blood will also sanctify our union.”
She stared aghast. She didn’t say a word for the rest of the journey, though. He was crazy. An absolute egomaniac and delusional. But how was she to escape? Surely no one at Gretna Green would force her to marry against her will. Surely… Then a terrible thought hit her. What if he hurt someone else because of her?
Her whole body shook as fear caused coldness to invade deep, even in the carriage. Her wrap, a thing gauzy material to wrap her dress, was not meant for keeping warm. She turned and stared at the curtain covering the window, tears tracking down her cheeks unchecked.
God, Archie, I’m so sorry. So sorry. Please, please find me before it’s too late.
***
Everything in her had gone numb. He’d locked her into a sleeper car on the train. Stood outside waiting when the maid come to clean the chamber pot, threatening to kill the maid if she so much as hinted at being under duress.
He seemed to know anything she could have tried to get away. Almost as if he’d done it before. Almost as if he’d done it before. How many women had he kidnapped and forced himself on? They now sat in a carriage nearing their destination. Disheartened, she sat with her eyes closed and head bowed, no tears left. Just an emptiness.
“It could be worse, you know. As you were instrumental in the death of Lady Amber, I could just have you killed like I am the Duke and Duchess of Canterbury.”
“What? No one killed Lady Amber,” she scoffed. “Lord knows she would have deserved it. Besides, who is she to you? What does she have to do with anything?” Had he gone off the deep end?
“She was my wife,” he snapped, showing more emotion than at any other time that she’d known him.
“Was? She has died in jail then?” she frowned. Jarvis had died as well. Way too many people dying. What sort of trickery is this?
“She died at the mansion,” he said, his voice rising. “Why do you persist in denying this?”
Odd how now with his anger directed at her, she suddenly had more courage. “All the rest of this aside, why would I pretend she was alive? Until two minutes ago, I had no idea you had a connection other than the usual societal one, much less a marriage? What motive?”
“I do not know, but I will find out.”
Now she was also annoyed. “Whatever will make you feel better. Blame me. But I can tell you in no uncertain terms, she and Jarvis were alive as far as anyone knew when we left to Scotland. Turns out even that rat faced Robert lived. One of the reasons the Duke and Duchess of Canterbury cut their honeymoon short was because they were worried her father would buy Jarvis’s way out of jail..”
She rolled her eyes and sat back with her arms crossed. She didn’t know why she bothered. Maybe because it was one thing she could argue about without him hitting her. He was definitely less scary as he lost his temper than when he hit her with no emotion. His emotions gave him some humanity, some vulnerability, which in turn gave her hope she could escape. The cold-hearted, emotionless man from yesterday scared her more than anyone ever had.
A long ten minutes passed. “So Jarvis did not run away in cowardice while she was killed in cold blood by the Duke of Canterbury?”
She turned to him in shock, just blinking. Unable to even formulate a thought. Had they begun to believe their own theatrics regarding The Dark Duke? “I do not even know where to address this first. Maybe with the fact that the atrocities attributed to The Dark Duke, came from rumors and deeds done by Lady Amber herself. Or, maybe with the fact that Lady Amber was holding Lady Lillian and her maid Janice prisoner. No one killed her, much less murdered her.”
She looked at him to see if he believed her and saw tears on his face which he wiped away with dignity. She squirmed uncomfortably, not wanting to feel pity for him. He’d effectively kidnapped her and was forcing her to marry him. Why was he crying anyway? “You loved her,” she blurted out.
“I said she was my wife,” he replied gruffly.
She waved that away. “You and I both know that means nothing for people in our class. But the two of you loved each other. Look, if you really were married, you can’t marry me now, don’t you see? She was alive when we left the mansion where she held my friend. She may be alive now.”
A sob escaped him, and she really had no idea what to do. He still held his pistol, but it lay across his lap, all but forgotten. “She is not alive. I saw her body with my own eyes.”
“That makes no sense. Who told you the duke killed her?”
Suddenly, Lord Downing stopped crying and looked at her. “You may have just solved a riddle for me. I never understood why they killed her and not Jarvis. But maybe…” His eyes held a softer look. “For that, I shall forgive you and buy you a gift when we are back in London. One worthy of your nobility. Did you know you are a descendant of Queen Elizabeth?”
Was he insane? Like, really insane? Was she supposed to say thank you? “Of Queen Elizabeth? No, our family goes back farther than that.”
“No, it’s true. I had my people check. See, you are countess, but did you know that a duchy was denied you, stolen from you?”
“Really?” She shook her head. “I’m not worried.”
“I could restore it to your family.”
“In exchange for what?”
“For you marrying me without fighting it.”
She laughed maniacally. The carriage slowed to a stop, and she alighted before answering him. “You will give me back a title that is mine if I marry you, effectively making it yours, in true male fashion. And if I married you, I would be a duchess anyway.”
His face became impassively calm. Fear etched into her at that, so she looked away and crossed her arms not saying anymore or moving.
She felt the pistol in her side again.
“Time to be wed, my lady,” he said, his tone oh so reasonable as to make her stomach churn.
