“It is as I feared.” She handed the letter to Forbes, but she could have recited it by heart already.
Lady Lambert,
If you do not know by now, Annabel is missing and will never return unless my demands are met. Your estate is grand and rumors of the wealth within the walls of Scarlett Hall is great. My request is simple. You will pay me the sum of ten thousand pounds in exchange for the safe return of your niece.
I realize that the sum I am requesting is great and will take time to collect. Therefore, I will give you thirty days from the receipt of this letter to collect the money. At the end of the thirty days, I will contact you with instructions on how to deliver the funds.
Do not doubt that, if you fail in this, your niece will be killed. I know many secrets, one in particular concerning this girl. You know the one of which I speak, for there were far too many witnesses on that particular day. What I know will ruin you and your children.
It was not signed, not that Eleanor had expected it to be. Sickness washed over her as Forbes handed the letter back to her, a grim expression on his face.
“Eight people knew what happened that day,” he said. “One is dead. Two could not be possibly involved. Which leaves four. The vicar…”
“Enough!” Eleanor hissed. “I do not need reminding of that day!”
The man bowed his head in acquiesce as Eleanor attempted to bring her emotions under control. “I do not have the funds that are required. I just put the estate back in order this past year. What will I do?”
“I have a small savings,” Forbes said. “It is not nearly enough, but perhaps it can be of some help.”
Eleanor sighed. “No, I cannot ask such a thing of you.” When the butler attempted to argue, she pursed her lips. “I said no.”
She walked to the bottom of the stairs. Uncertain exactly who sent the letter, Eleanor knew it had to be one of the four Forbes had attempted to mention.
“The deeds of my husband know no end,” she whispered. “I have spent my marriage paying for his actions.”
“I am sorry,” Forbes said as he walked to stand beside her.
She looked up at him. “It is not for myself I feel sorrow, but for his children. They have no idea of how evil he was. I find myself fighting to protect his name in order to protect them.” A tear escaped her eye, and Forbes offered her a handkerchief.
“And the money?” he asked. “What will you do?”
“It will take too long to sell anything of value. No one, save Laurence, has access to that amount of money, and I will not ask him again. No, there is only one place I can go, and I have not returned there in more than twenty years. It is worse than a dagger in my stomach to think I will be forced to humble myself, but if that is what it takes to see Annabel returned to me safely, then let it be so.”
“And what place is this?”
Eleanor sighed. “Chatterly Estate,” she replied with a heavy heart. “Today we leave for my childhood home.”
Chapter Eleven
Lord Edward Wolcott, 5th Viscount Wolcott, had played many roles in life, yet the one of Don Ricardo Sánchez Ramírez was perhaps his finest. Not only had he fooled Annabel but her aunt and a vast number of the aristocracy, as well, with his false Spanish accent and ridiculous garb. What a bunch of blubbering idiots they all were. Had he known how easily they would have accepted such a persona, he would have used it sooner.
It had been a long shot that the lovely young Annabel would agree to meet him alone, and he could not have been more pleased at how easy it had been to convince her to sneak out into the night under the guise of looking at the stars. Why had it taken him so long to devise such a plan? He should have thought of it before.
He was not new to the idea of kidnapping, for he had considered it on more than one occasion as a means to earn a good amount of money in a short amount of time. However, despite its meaning, he did not like the idea of taking children or women, which was the reason he had only taken part in kidnapping once. Men, as the managers of the estates, would pay anything to have wives and children returned, but on the same note, men were more difficult to control if they were the ones taken. It was all a messy business regardless, and too many other means of making money quickly existed.
It was not the kidnapping exactly that had him concerned at the moment, however. The fact that he had been instructed to kill the girl set his hair to standing. Kidnapping was one thing; murder was quite another.
Annabel was an astute woman indeed, for, after his response to her question, she had let out a small sob and quickly turned away. It was strange, but although Edward cared for no one, and certainly not a woman he did not know beyond a few conversations, he experienced a twinge of guilt.
They had stopped to rest earlier, and after eating a portion of stale bread and cheese, they continued their journey to the place his benefactor had indicated during their meeting. The driver, a man provided by said benefactor, spoke no more than a few words, for which Edward was grateful. The less the man asked about him and his circumstances the better, for Edward wanted no one to learn his true identity.
“Is Edward your real name?” Annabel asked without turning her gaze from the window. “Or is that yet another lie you have told?” She no longer wept. In fact, they could have been on an outing together she was so composed.
“It is my Christian name. I can assure you that is true.”
She turned and studied him. “You do not speak like a common criminal. Were you educated or do you come from a titled family?”
Edward smiled as the carriage slowed and made a turn. He suspected that soon they would arrive at their destination. “It does not matter who I once was. What matters is that you continue to do as I request.”
She nodded. “I have some savings,” she said. “It is not much, but you may have it. I also have jewelry and other items of value. I promise that if you let me go, I will send it all to you.” The look of desperation in her eyes belied her attempt at a calm demeanor, and he suspected she did not understand the situation fully.
“I am sorry, but I cannot do that.” Annabel nodded. A single tear rolled down her cheek, and anger flared in Edward. “You must stop that crying. Your life has changed, and trust me, feeling sorry for yourself will not help in the least.” With a sigh, he removed his flask and took a drink.
“May I have a sip?”
Edward could not have hidden his surprise even if he had tried. For a moment, he studied her face. As Don Ricardo, he had told this woman how beautiful she was, but in truth, he had meant it. He had never seen a woman so innocent. Nor so flawless.
He handed her the flask, and she brought it to her lips, pulled her head back, and took a rather large swallow before returning it. For a moment, he could say nothing, his surprise was so strong.
“Your eyes do not even water from the drink,” he said. “Brandy is no stranger to your lips.”
“No, I suppose it is not,” she replied. “My cousin Juliet was often found with her own bottle hidden away. We shared it many times.”
He studied her as the carriage came to a stop. What he had first thought would be a simple task was proving to be much more interesting than he had expected. Or rather the woman was much more interesting. Perhaps it would not be as boring as he had first thought.
The driver opened the door, and Edward gave Annabel a stern look. “Remember, if you try anything, your aunt will perish.”
Annabel nodded.
Satisfied that she truly did understand, he alighted from the carriage, offering Annabel a hand that she frowned at before refusing it. He did not blame her.
He glanced around them. The cottage was small, much smaller than where he lived now, and it sat amongst a cluster of other cottages all situated within sight of one another.
The driver placed two bags beside Edward and leaned in to whisper, “The supplies you requested are inside the house. You’ll be contacted within thirty days with further instructions.”
“Excell
ent,” Edward said.
The driver nodded and was soon driving away, leaving a trail of dust in his wake.
Edward made a point of looking to his right. He raised his right hand and opened and closed his fist three times. “There you are, my friend,” he called out. “I know you see me.” He then looked behind him and did the same, this time saying, “Yes, we are here. I see it.”
“To whom are you speaking?” Annabel asked as she squinted at a group of hedges that separated this cottage from its neighbor. “I see no one.”
“Associates. Those who work for me and are keeping watch.”
She frowned and squinted her eyes further. “I do not understand.”
He ignored her inquiry. “Take my bags and follow me.”
Annabel nodded and did as he bade. Good. She would not be a problem. He was not being paid enough to deal with a sniveling fool or an incessant complainer. At least that meant he would not be forced to tie her up.
“My associates guard the perimeter so no one can enter or escape,” Edward explained as they made their way to the front door of the cottage. “Do you understand what I mean?”
“Yes,” she replied with a nod. “If I try to run away, they will capture me.”
“That they will,” he said with a broad grin. Then he shot her a glare. “They are not decent men like me and will not hesitate to hurt you.” Although her eyes widened in clear fear, he added, “When I say hurt, I do mean that they enjoy the company of women and will take more than a kiss.”
If she had been fearful before, now she appeared terrified. Perfect.
She swallowed visibly and whispered, “I understand. I promise not to go anywhere.”
“Good,” he replied. He opened the front door and stepped directly into the sitting room. To the right was a kitchen area with a counter with shelves beneath, a cookstove, and a small round table and two chairs. The living area had a short sofa, tan in color and well-warn, a bookcase with a half-dozen books, a chair covered in red cloth, and a small side table flanked by simple wooden chairs beneath one of the windows. A large round rug lay on the wood floor. With so much furniture, the room seemed smaller than it was.
On the opposite side of the room from the kitchen was a door, and upon inspection, he encountered a bedroom with a small bed pushed against the far wall, a chair, a small square table, and a chest of drawers. Several pegs lined one wall and a window looking out to the back of the house adorned another. On the chair lay several dresses, and a mismatched bowl and pitcher sat on the table.
He glanced back at Annabel, who stood just inside the door. “Leave the bags and come here. “When she stood at the door to the bedroom, he said, “Go to the bed.”
Her eyes widened. “Please, I beg of you…”
He raised a hand as if to strike her, and she immediately closed her mouth. If there was one thing he could not endure, it was the sound of a woman complaining.
With her head low, she made her way to the bed and sat upon it. He sat in the chair.
“I will explain what is required of you,” he said. When she let out a sob and buried her face in her hands, he glared at her. So much for not enduring a woman’s blubbering! “Why are you crying?”
She looked up at him, tears flowing down her face. “I had thought the men who kissed me without my permission were evil, but now I know you are the worst. You may force yourself on me, and I will be unable to stop you. But know that your actions are disgusting, and I hope the devil himself comes for you!” He almost pushed himself further into the chair in response to her clear anger. She even held her hands in fists at her side. This woman had a fire inside her he had not expected.
When he realized what she thought he had intended, he barked a laugh. “I am many things,” he said, “but a man who would force himself on a woman I am not.”
Annabel looked at him for a moment as if to study him, sniffled, and then replied, “I believe you.”
“I do not care what you believe,” he snapped as he pushed himself from the chair. “This room is where you will sleep. That was all I was going to say. Those dresses are yours to wear. You are required to behave yourself and do as I say. Do this, and your stay will be pleasant. Do not ask what will happen if you cause trouble.”
She nodded, and to his relief, wiped away the remaining tears. Women and their tendency to theatrics! Bah!
“Now, I shall ready us something to eat. You may change if you wish.”
He turned to leave, but she said, “If you are not the evil man I thought you were, then who are you?”
The question caused a stirring in his heart, and it was a struggle to push away the thoughts that surfaced. “I am the man who holds your life in his hands. That is who I am.”
***
Per his instructions the house was equipped with enough brandy to last Edward for months. Pouring himself another glass, he dropped into the red chair and glanced around the tiny cottage. He had come from a long line of proud viscounts, and his family home, though nowhere near the size of Scarlett Hall, was one of which he had been quite proud. He could have fit a dozen—no, two dozen or more!— cottages into Vinerose Manor.
Grand thoughts of finding a suitable bride and spawning an heir had been cut short in the matter of a few months, all without his knowledge. What a fool he had been! It had been a great embarrassment when the servants were released from their duties, all walking away with their meager possessions in hand with Edward walking at their side.
How quickly the rumors had spread throughout the ton, and many arrived in order to see that fateful procession, gawking and pointing as if he were some sort of exhibition at the circus. He had left with his head hanging low, but then he turned to look…
“Do not think about it!” he mumbled before downing his brandy in one fiery gulp. “That was the past. A new future awaits.”
Sighing, he walked to a window and stared out at the overgrown back garden. The moon was as full and bright as it had been the previous night when he had spirited Annabel away from her home. Thus far, the woman was obedient and he doubted he would have any trouble from her. What he earned from this task was proving to be easier than he expected it to be.
However, her earlier question still plagued his mind. Who was he?
Once, in the distant past, he had been a viscount who cared for those around him. Yet, it was that caring that led to his demise. Now, at the age of thirty, he was a drunk, a kidnapper, and if he wanted full payment for his role in all this, a murderer. He had yet to come to terms with the idea of killing the woman, and he suspected that deep down he would be unable to complete the task.
His only option was to devise a plan where he could rid himself of the woman without killing her, convince his benefactor that she was indeed dead, and collect the money promised him. What he would do with the woman, he had yet to decide, but killing her was not an option no matter what he had told the man who hired him.
I am no murderer! he told himself, not for the first time since accepting the commission. It was imperative that he remind himself of this fact as often as possible or the chances of him doing something he would regret later would rise. He had never been a thief before either, yet a thief he had become. As a matter of fact, he could say the same for being a kidnapper.
He glanced at the closed bedroom door behind which Annabel slept. The room had a window large enough for her to crawl through. Would she attempt an escape? Surely not.
He approached the room with silent steps, pleased the flooring did not creak as it did in his cottage. The door was ajar, and he peeked inside, surprised to see the bed empty. He glanced at the window, expecting it to be open, but instead he found Annabel staring outside. Although her words were not audible, her lips moved, and he grew curious as to what she might be saying.
“Have you gone mad?” he asked as he pushed the door open. Her startlement pleased him for some reason. “What are you doing?”
She jutted her chin forward. “I am many things, but mad is
not one of them.”
With the moon highlighting her features, she was a beautiful creature, exquisite, in fact. He had never seen a woman so lovely in all his life.
“I often look out my window when I am home. Sometimes for hours at a time.”
Beautiful she may be, but mad she certainly was. “Whyever for?” The thought of staring out a window for long periods seemed a silly waste of time.
She gave a heavy sigh. “It does not matter.” She turned and gave him a flat stare. “I will never leave this place, will I?”
He did not respond. What could he say? He had yet to come up with a plan to be rid of her, but he certainly could not say what was expected of him.
“I admit I am afraid, but when I think of the heartache I have caused those around me, I come to the conclusion that perhaps it is best for those around me that I never return.”
Edward shook his head. “You have no idea of what you speak,” he said, irritated and uncertain as to why. “I shall see you in the morning.”
He closed the door to her melancholy and went to the sofa on which he would sleep for the foreseeable future. As he pulled the blanket over himself, he thought of her words. It was not that she understood she would not be leaving but an acceptance of that fact. What had she done that she felt she deserved this punishment?
The man who hired Edward had a disdain for the girl, that much was clear. Did a menacing woman live beneath the kind exterior? It would not be the first time he had met one such as she. Had he not fallen victim to such a woman himself?
With a sigh, he closed his eyes and prayed for sleep to come quickly. However, just like countless other nights, his prayers remained unanswered, for sleep did not come until much later.
Chapter Twelve
Edward had retired to bed an hour earlier, and Annabel paced the tiny bedroom reviewing her choices. Although the man had said he would not hurt her and Annabel had said she believed him, the truth was she had only said as much in order to gain his trust. Indeed, he had kidnapped her; however, he had yet to do her any harm beyond a few well-placed hurtful words, and even those had been milder than she would have expected from someone of his ilk.
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