by Jenna Brandt
“I know your sister, who is the Countess of Renwick and the fiancée of the Marquis de Badour. She told me she was looking for you, but I wanted to see for myself if you could be her brother before I informed her that you had been located.”
Not wanting to reveal that she was actually his sister until she was certain he would believe her, she kept the information to herself. She was afraid it might cause more problems than good. And there was always the possibility that he would reject everything she said. If that happened, it would be much easier to deal with if she was detached, and this was the only way she could guarantee that.
Margaret stared at him for a few moments, taking in the sight she never thought she would see again. It was incredible to see him after all these years. Of course, he had changed from the boy he had been at ten, but his overall features remained the same. His black hair was longer than before and hung to just above his shoulders. He did not seem to care to keep it neat any longer, as it was slicked back with grease. His body had filled out and matured into a man’s physique. But his dark violet eyes and mannerisms were still so much like her own.
She wondered why he did not recognize her even on some deeper level or why he could not see the resemblance between them. Then she realized he was probably too drunk to even recognize himself.
“If I am to believe what you are saying, who am I, then?”
“Randall Thomas Wellesley, the Earl of Renwick.”
“My, that is a mouthful.”
“I think you should come back to my residence so that you can sleep off your inebriated state. Then in the morning, we will discuss your future.”
He laughed and shook his head. “I would not mind going back to your place, but sleeping will be the last thing I want to do,” Randall slurred as he winked at her.
Despite her anger, she refrained from making a sharp retort that he was acting like a complete imbecile. Her brother was in no condition to be reprimanded, and she did not want to make things more difficult than they were already turning out to be. Instead, she replied, “I think sleep is exactly what you need at the moment.”
“Lady, what I plan to do is play a few more hands of poker, get even more drunk, then find me a woman and take full advantage of both.”
He stood up, wobbling a bit in the process, and slurred out a list of explicit words after he stumbled backwards.
“But first, I need to go to my room so I can relieve myself.” He pulled down on the edge of his tattered jacket and started to stagger towards the stairs.
Mulchere leaned forward and whispered, “Perhaps we should come back tomorrow and try this again.”
Margaret watched the retreating figure of her brother and felt despair, realizing he really was lost to her. It hurt. It hurt more than when he had been presumably lost at sea because he was choosing to walk away. It might have been better if she had believed the sea had claimed her brother rather than see him this way.
Feeling faint, she started to sway. Then, all of a sudden, the ground started to give beneath her and she was falling backwards.
Luckily, Mulchere was directly behind her. He caught her and said, “Lady Margaret, are you all right?”
Her brother stopped as he was ascending the stairs. He pivoted around, almost falling down them in the process, and stared at them for several seconds before half stumbling over to where they were.
Margaret regained her composure and stood up as Randall narrowed his eyes at her. She lifted her chin as he watched her for several seconds before saying, “I do not know why, but when he called you by your name, it triggered something.” He furrowed his eyebrows. “It was as if a fleeting image raced across my mind just for a moment.”
She tightened her lips, a habit she did without even thinking about it, and his eyes grew round with shock.
“Either the drink has really gotten to me this time or I swear that I do recognize you.”
A wave of happiness flooded her as she realized that perhaps it was not too late to bring her brother back from his memory loss.
“Truly?” she said hopefully. “You know who I am?”
Puzzled, he shook his head and slurred out, “No, I do not know who you are, but I do know that somehow I recognize you.”
Margaret’s shoulders visibly slumped forward but she pushed them back, reminding herself that at least it was a start. “I am glad that I seem familiar. It encourages me, enough in fact to ask you again if you will come as a guest to my home.”
Frowning, he weighed his decisions, and for a fraction of a moment, Margaret feared she was going to have to face his rejection again. But instead, he shrugged and said casually, “I suppose I have nothing keeping me here…. And you say that I am rich?”
She nodded. Whatever it took to keep him interested.
“Just allow me to go upstairs and grab my belongings.”
Looking him up and down, she doubted he had anything upstairs that he would need once he was reinstated as the Earl of Renwick. But that was selfish of her to discount the last eight years of his life.
“I will wait outside in my carriage. But hurry. It is time for you to leave this part of your life behind.”
He raised an eyebrow at her and said, “I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into.”
She smiled. “I am willing to take on the challenge.”
Randall tilted his head to the side. “You know, that sounds a lot like something I would say. I think we might just get along, Lady Margaret.” With that, Randall turned around and headed up the stairs to his room.
Margaret quickly headed towards the exit. She could not wait to get away from the detestable place that reeked of so many repugnant things. She hoped her brother could leave all of this behind him. Part of her worried that he had gotten used to living this way, that he would prefer it to the life he had been born to live. What if he did not want to live a life of a nobleman?
As she left the tavern, Margaret was lost in thought of how she was going to go about helping her brother regain his memories. But as she approached her carriage, she felt a shiver climb up her back. Something was not right with her surroundings, but she could not quite discern what was out of place. She slowly scanned the area around her, trying to pinpoint what was making her feel uneasy.
From behind her, she heard an odd noise, almost like feet shuffling and a loud thud. Margaret swiftly turned around and gasped when she saw Mulchere slumped in a pile by the tavern wall. He was not moving, and she started to rush to his side, but an arm quickly wrapped around her waist while another hand covered her mouth. The stranger roughly yanked her harshly against his steely frame.
She tried to scream, but the hand over her mouth muffled her efforts, and no amount of struggle was helping her escape her captor.
Margaret heard her carriage driver yell from behind her, “Unhand Lady Margaret at once.”
As she was being dragged away from her carriage, she saw her driver knocked out by two additional accomplices and left on the side of the street.
Suddenly, something dark draped over her eyes, and she realized a bag had been placed over her head. Margaret began to panic. She had no idea what was happening, but she knew that if she did not get away somehow, she was never going to see her son again.
She began to thrash even more, frantic to free herself, but to no avail. In an instant, she felt herself being lifted into what she could only assume was another carriage. Then a second set of hands grabbed her and pulled her close.
“Don’t fight me, girl. If you do, it will go much harder for you.” The voice was deep, scratchy, and thick with an accent from the poorest area of the city. Margaret acknowledged the ominous tone in his voice and went absolutely still.
“That’s better. You don’t want to make me angry.”
She felt the carriage shudder, and hastily they lurched forward. Margaret tried to keep track of the turns they made and keep a count between them, but the disorientation from being blind from the bag over her head made it impo
ssible for her to do so. She realized that there was no way she would be able to know where she was once she arrived wherever they were taking her.
Focusing on fighting down the fear that was continuously building inside her, Margaret tried to remain calm. She had to get her emotions under control if she was going to survive whatever was happening to her.
After some time passed, she felt the carriage come to a halt. Then she was lifted down and passed to another stranger who roughly placed her over his shoulder. She heard a door open, and as they entered, she felt an abrupt burst of heat and could smell the faint scent of hot metal and ash.
Callously, Margaret was dropped into a chair, and she could hear heavy breathing very close. Seconds ticked by with only the stranger’s breathing to keep her company.
Margaret sat motionless with her hands clenched in her lap, afraid that any movement on her part might make the stranger think she was trying to escape.
And though the idea had crossed her mind to try to make a break for it, she knew the stranger was probably faster and most definitely knew the layout of where she was being held. He would no doubt be able to catch her before she could make it to the door. If she bolted, all she would succeed in doing was making the stranger exceptionally livid. Her only choice was to wait and hope she found a better opportunity to get away.
She heard what sounded like a chair scraping the ground, and the heavy breathing came even closer. It penetrated the bag over her head and she inhaled sharply, waiting to see what the stranger had planned for her.
Unexpectedly, the bag was ripped from Margaret’s head and bright light assaulted her eyes from the nearby fire. She squinted and tried to establish her surrounding, but it took several moments for her eyes to be able to focus. She took a deep breath and held it when she found herself only inches from a man with dark skin and intense black eyes. He was bent down so he could look directly into her eyes. She wanted to flinch and turn away from his gaze, but something made her stare right back at him.
“I don’t want to tie you to the chair, but if you do anything besides sit there, I will make you very uncomfortable.”
Margaret immediately recognized the voice as the stranger from the carriage.
“Do you understand me, girl.”
From his tone, she could tell he was making a statement, not asking a question, but she found herself nodding to affirm that she did indeed understand the implication from being made “very uncomfortable.”
“You’re probably wondering why you were brought here.”
Margaret nodded again, still too afraid to do anything more than that.
“I was commissioned to find a young woman fitting your description. My employer wants something from you. Do you know what I’m talking about?”
Margaret licked her lips and slowly shook her head.
The man stood up and slowly walked behind her, placing his hands on both of her shoulders. He tightened his grip, just enough pressure to make Margaret feel a sharp pain shoot through her body.
“I think you should rethink your last answer. It took a great deal of work to find you, but I’m under the notion that you’re the girl my employer is looking for. The only reason I haven’t delivered you to my employer yet is that he doesn’t take kindly to having his time wasted, and if you aren’t who I think you are, I’m not willing to risk his wrath by delivering the wrong girl.”
The man continued to walk around Margaret until he came full circle to stand in front of her again. He reached behind him and pulled the chair to him, then sat down, never taking his eyes off Margaret.
He leaned forward and whispered in a hard voice, “So, we’re going to stay here until I’m absolutely certain that you are who I think you are.”
The panic Margaret had been pushing down was beginning to bubble up. She knew the employer he talked about must be Witherton, since only he would be despicable enough to hire someone capable of kidnapping and threatening her. He had it done to her before back in England, and it was exactly the type of move he would make again.
With a shaky voice, Margaret asked, “What is it that your employer wants exactly? I have nothing of any value as my family was destitute before I came to France.”
“What my employer wants does not have a monetary worth.”
“What do you mean? What is he after?”
“He wants what belongs to him.”
“I do not know what you mean. I have nothing. I think you are ill-advised in who you think I am.”
The stranger lunged forward, slamming his hands down on either side of the chair Margaret sat in.
He spat out, “Don’t lie to me, girl. We both know what I’m talking about, and I’ll do whatever it takes to make you confirm what I know to be the truth.”
That time, Margaret could not keep herself from flinching. She quickly turned away from the stranger to conceal her distress.
She insisted, “I am sorry, but you have the wrong person. I know it is not what you want to hear, but it is the truth.”
With only inches between them, he forcefully grabbed Margaret’s face and made her look at him. “Everyone has been advised that you left France, but I had a hunch that it might not be true. So, I stayed around and continued to search here while everyone else moved on to other areas. I was about to give up myself when I received information that a young English noblewoman fitting the description of the girl I was hired to find was living amongst the aristocrats here in France. So, I started to watch you. I’ve been watching you for days now, your comings and goings, and I am very, very good at my job.”
“Please, I have not done anything to deserve this.”
The stranger leaned back in his chair and shrugged. “Not my problem. I don’t involve myself in the personal aspects of a situation. I just do what I’m paid to do.”
“You have to let me go. I have a family, a child who depends on me.”
He narrowed his eyes and stated with a hint of veiled implication, “I am aware of your son. It’s one of the main reasons I believe you to be the girl I’m searching for.”
Margaret blanched at the remark. Was this stranger interested in her son because Catherine found her through a proxy? Or did Witherton find out she had a child?
Adamantly, she stated, “You are mistaken.”
“I don’t make mistakes.”
The stranger stood up and crossed his arms. He stared at her for several moments before saying, “I’m going to let you think on what we’ve talked about. When I come back, you better hope your answers satisfy me.”
With that, the man turned away and left the room through a side door.
Margaret looked at her surroundings for the first time. The room’s walls were made of old grey rock, and the only door she could see was the one the stranger had just walked through. There was a fire in a round pit in the center of the room, which made Margaret think that the place may have been a blacksmith shop at one time. But besides the two chairs, it seemed that the room had been stripped of anything else. Apparently, the stranger had prepared the area by making sure to leave nothing that would aid in her escape.
What was she going to do? Her worst fear was coming true. Someone had found her, and she was at their mercy.
Hearing a faint noise from behind her, she jumped up and spun around but saw nothing at first. But as she looked more closely, she could make out a distant shape in the shadows. Margaret whispered, “Who’s there?”
From out of the shadows, her brother emerged with one finger raised to his mouth, silencing her reaction. Quickly, he grabbed her around the shoulders and guided her towards a door that she had not been aware was behind her.
“You have to be careful. There is a man in the other room who is holding me captive. I think he has an accomplice as well.”
“I took care of the accomplice. The man who was in here with you did not lock the back door good enough to keep me out.”
“How did you find me?”
“When I came outside to go with
you, I found the man who came into the tavern with you, as well as your driver, knocked out. I was lucky enough to see the abductor’s carriage pull away and followed at a distance, using your carriage. But I had to wait for the right time to be able to come in here and get you. I am sorry it took me so long.”
“I am just glad that you found me.”
Margaret marveled at how capable her brother appeared to be in this situation, especially after how inebriated he had been at the tavern. She assumed he must have had practice functioning in dangerous circumstances while intoxicated, given his way of life over the past several years.
“I do not know why, but I have this deep desire to want to protect you. I have never felt that way about anyone that I can remember.”
She smiled at her brother. “There’s a good reason for that, Randall. It is because—”
But before Margaret could reveal that they were twins, the stranger burst into the room.
“What do you think you’re doing with her?”
Randall whispered to Margaret, “Get behind me.”
Margaret quickly complied.
“You made the wrong choice getting involved in this, boy.”
“I think you made the wrong choice by taking this woman against her will.”
“Well, since I have this”—the stranger lifted his pistol and pointed it at Randall—“I think that makes any choice I make the right one.”
Margaret was pressed against Randall’s back, and she felt something hard and metallic against her hands. Quietly, she pulled free the pistol that Randall had hidden in his waistband. She gently placed the gun behind her back, gripping it tightly.
“Boy, I want you to move towards me. I don’t want to accidently hurt the girl.”
“Do not do it, Randall.”
“It is all right, Margaret.” Gently, Randall started to push Margaret away as he looked at her. It was as if they were children again, and she knew without either of them having to say a word what she was supposed to do.
Without warning, Randall dove onto the ground and away from Margaret as she quickly leveled the pistol at the stranger and pulled the trigger.