The Wicked Lord Rasenby

by Marguerite Kaye

  Clarissa thought it prudent to obey and sat back down without a word.

  ‘Directly, we will leave this building. My carriage is waiting, you will accompany me into it without a struggle. If you do struggle, I have the means to overpower you—thus.’ He held up a small brown vial. ‘You will not like to be unconscious, will you? No, I thought not. We are going on a short journey to one of my estates—you will be familiar with the terrain, for you have already visited my neighbour, Lord Rasenby, at Thornwood Manor.’

  ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘There’s little I don’t know, Clarissa. I know you’ve been to France with him, and I know you are lovers.’

  Her gasp of surprise and her blush confirmed this. ‘This doesn’t make sense. Wait a minute.’ Suddenly she remembered. ‘It was you, wasn’t it? You who informed the customs men that night. But I still don’t understand. What have my mother’s debts to do with all this?’

  ‘A lucky chance only, my dear. I took them in lieu of payment from a less fortunate opponent at hazard. I confess, at the time I would much rather have had the money. But when I realised what they were I decided that after all fate was smiling on me. For they brought you to me. And when Lord Rasenby knows I have you, I will have my satisfaction at last.’

  ‘So, you have some sort of grudge against Kit—Lord Rasenby—is that it? But that still doesn’t make sense. I am nothing to him, cannot influence him, you can achieve nothing by kidnapping me.’

  ‘You underestimate your charms, Clarissa. I am sure that Kit Rasenby will be extremely upset to find you have decided to keep company with me, rather than him—for that is what I shall tell him, you know. It will give me immense satisfaction, knowing I have taken something he treasures. To say nothing of the pleasure that your company will afford me too, of course.’

  The lascivious smile that accompanied this remark left Clarissa in no doubt about his ultimate intentions. She had to act quickly if she was to save herself—but how? Of a certain to be unconscious would be fatal, she could not risk it. Her best chance would be during the journey, for they must change horses at some point. He would not ravish her in a coach, surely? ‘Very well, I’ll come with you, my lord. But I warn you I am expected at home, and will be looked for soon, if I do not return.’

  ‘Yes? Now, why do I not believe you? It is of no matter—we will be gone from here and no one knows our direction. If you are ready, madam, we will leave.’

  Her knees were shaking so much she could barely stand, but Clarissa brushed Alchester’s arm away angrily. ‘I can walk, my lord, I have no need of your support.’

  Slowly, unable to quite believe what was happening, Clarissa descended the steps from the building and climbed into the waiting coach. The Marquis of Alchester followed, close enough to ensure she could not make a run for safety, pausing only to hand a sealed note to the small boy waiting with the postillion. Once inside the coach however, he took the seat opposite, making no attempt to touch her. Deciding to feign sleep, Clarissa closed her eyes and focused all her thoughts and energy on escape.

  Kit woke late. He had fallen asleep as dawn broke, having spent most of the night going over and over that final interview with Clarissa in his mind. It had all gone so horribly wrong, nothing he said had come out right. He could not believe she didn’t care. Could not believe how miserable he felt at the thought of a future without her. Could not see the attraction of a world without Clarissa by his side. The image of her as he left her house yesterday haunted him—her beautiful little face set like stone, her eyes brimming with unshed tears, her luscious mouth held in a stern line, the words she was biting back lost to him for ever.

  He had done this to her. The only person in the world whom he loved beyond words. He had been so overwrought yesterday he hadn’t even told her so. But she knew, she must know, it had been implicit in all he said. Still, the actual words had not been spoken. He would go back today to try again, do it properly this time. And if she didn’t listen today, then tomorrow. And the day after that. And every after that, if it took a lifetime to win her back. With this invigorating thought, Kit got out of bed.

  He was breaking his fast when his butler came in, looking apologetic. ‘Forgive the intrusion my lord, but there is a visitor demanding to see you urgently. A Lady Maria Warrington.’

  Assuming that she had come to berate him again, Kit rose from the table wearily. ‘Faith, Hodges, I am weary of these women and their early morning tirades. Can you not be more effective at keeping them at bay, man?’

  Kit read the reproachful look on Hodges’s face only too well. ‘Oh, very well, I take your point. It would take a platoon of the dragoon guards to dissuade the unholy triumvirate of my sister, Miss Warrington or her mother from their stated course. You had better show her in, then.’

  Lady Maria entered the room in a breathless state, her hat askew, her scarf, which had come loose, trailing on the floor, threatening to trip her over. ‘Where is she, my lord? I demand to know, what have you done with my daughter.’

  Firmly closing the door on his fascinated butler, Kit hastened over to Lady Maria. His experience of her was limited, but it was suffice to know that a fainting fit was imminent.

  ‘Won’t you sit down, madam, and take a moment to calm yourself.’ A firm hand on her back guided her to a chair, into which she tottered gratefully.

  Looking up at Kit, her mouth trembling, Lady Maria heaved a great sob and waved an accusing finger in his direction. ‘Where is she? Where is my Clarissa? Oh, say you have not murdered her, you assassin! My poor dear, she does not deserve such a fate as this.’

  Realising that there was actually something more drastically amiss with Lady Maria than a need to vent her spleen, Kit bit firmly down on his temper. ‘Madam, I can see that you are distressed, but there is no need for histrionics. I haven’t seen Clarissa since yesterday. Do you mean to tell me she has gone missing?’

  ‘Missing! Likely dead of a broken heart and hidden in your attics, if nothing else. You blackguard! I know you have her here. Let me see her. Oh, was ever a poor widow more badly treated. First it is the butcher, demanding settlement before I have even had my chocolate. Then it is Amelia, demanding money for a trousseau when she has not yet received a proposal, although I am sure that Edward will propose, for he is not the type to be leading innocent girls astray—unlike some people, my Lord Rasenby.’ A black look accompanied this remark. ‘And now my darling, my sensible, my poor ruined Clarissa has disappeared, and you stand there denying responsibility when it is all your fault, and what am I to tell Lady Constance, when I promised I would look after her?’ Breaking into sobs, Lady Maria leaned back into the chair and for some minutes cried heartily, oblivious of Kit’s attempts to revive her.

  ‘Madam, I need to understand your meaning fully. I beg of you, tell me what is wrong that I may help. Where is Clarissa?’ Kit was becoming increasingly angry, concerned and frustrated in equal measures.

  ‘You cannot fool me. I know she’s here. I’ve come to fetch her. My poor lamb, strayed from the fold under such a vile influence as you. You monster!’

  ‘For God’s sake, will you be calm and tell me what is going on.’ Looking up to see his butler had entered the room, Kit let go of Lady Maria’s hands, which he had been chafing. ‘Hodges, fetch some brandy. This lady is not well.’

  ‘Yes, my lord. This note came for you just now, my lord. I thought it may be important.’

  ‘Yes, thank you. Now go and get me some help before this—this lady becomes hysterical.’ Abandoning Lady Maria to her tears, Kit snatched the note from the salver. He broke the seal and glanced at the contents, then sat down abruptly. Robert, Marquis of Alchester, sent his compliments. He felt it only fair that Kit should be informed, in the light of his previous relationship, that Clarissa Warrington had agreed to submit to Robert’s protection. Miss Warrington wished Kit to understand that he should withdraw forthwith from any attempt at future contact with her in the light of her new circumstances. The
Marquis and Miss Warrington were leaving town for a short period away from the distractions of society in order to enjoy the fruits of their liaison.

  Kit looked at the note, completely dumbfounded. The words leapt out from the page, taunting him. His first coherent thought was that he had not known Clarissa and Robert Alchester to be acquainted. His next was closer to the truth, and he felt a cold fear clutch at him as he took in the import of what had been written. Alchester was using Clarissa in revenge against him. She would not have gone willingly. Kit’s emotions were everything that the Marquis had hoped for when he had so gleefully penned the note a few hours previously.

  Clarissa was in danger. And he didn’t know where she was. And she was in danger only because of him. My God, could he do any more damage if he tried? He was finally paying for his years of raking, that was for sure—and paying a price beyond anything he had thought possible. Kit clutched at his hair and groaned, tempted for an instant to join with Lady Maria in hysterics.

  The despair was short-lived. He would find his Clarissa, he would rescue her—he had to. The situation could not possibly be as hopeless as it appeared. He would not allow it to be.

  A racking sob reminded Kit of Lady Maria’s presence. Grabbing the tray of brandy that Hodges proffered and thrusting his butler from the room again, he decided that extreme measures were needed. Bracing himself, he administered a ringing slap to Lady Maria’s face.

  The effect was immediate. She stopped crying and gasped, staring up at him in astonishment. Forestalling any speech, he held a glass of brandy to her mouth and forced her to take two large gulps.

  ‘Before you accuse me of either assault or making you drunk, madam, listen closely,’ Kit said, as Lady Maria gasped, fish-like, in her chair. ‘This letter is from the Marquis of Alchester. He has kidnapped Clarissa. Can you think of any reason why she would have gone to meet him, for I cannot understand it? Were they acquainted in any way?’

  Subdued by the harsh treatment and stirred by the genuine concern in Kit’s voice, Lady Maria sat up. ‘Alchester, you say? Alchester? No, she has never mentioned that name before. Unless—no, it’s not possible. But stay, let me think. Alchester? Yet the name is familiar. Why—oh, I have it. Oh my goodness. But surely… No, no, he would not. But then he might—and of course, Clarissa would—’

  ‘For the love of God, madam,’ Kit said through gritted teeth, ‘speak slowly and clearly, I have no wish to strike you again. What is the connection between them?’

  ‘Well, there is no need to be so harsh, my lord.’

  ‘Madam, your daughter has been kidnapped. Do you not wish to find her?’

  ‘Well, of course I do, my lord. I am just as keen to find her this time as I was the last time she was kidnapped. By yourself, in case you need reminding.’

  ‘I can’t waste time on discussion, madam, Clarrie is in danger. Alchester is not a man to be trifled with. I need to know why she was persuaded to meet him.’

  ‘Oh dear, what have I done? If it is indeed the same Alchester, I owe him a terrible amount of money. I borrowed some money, and then the nice man I borrowed it from passed on the debt to another man at the hazard table. And he wanted to be paid much sooner. And I thought I should have to go to prison. Except Clarissa said not to worry because she would take care of it. And since she always does take care of things, I didn’t worry. Except that Constance—Clarissa’s aunt, you know—Constance told me only yesterday that the man who is dunning me is the Marquis of Alchester. So perhaps she also told Clarissa, and Clarissa has gone to meet him because of me. And, oh dear, it is all my fault—what am I to do?’

  Kit struggled to make sense of Lady Maria’s confession before dismissing it as irrelevant. ‘You should go home, madam, and await word from me. I think I know where he might have taken her. Don’t worry.’

  ‘Don’t worry? What do you intend to do?’

  ‘I am going to fetch her back and I am going to marry her, madam. But I cannot stay to discuss this with you. Every moment is precious.’ As he left the room, calling to Hodges to summon his groom, Kit heard Lady Maria give way again to tears. He made a mental note to inform Clarissa that he very much regretted her mama could not form part of their future household. He would buy her a house of her own. In the country. As far away from him as possible.

  Rapping out a stream of orders, Kit pulled on his hat and picked up his riding crop. He had no doubt as to Alchester’s destination, his estate next to Thornwood Manor being the only one within a day’s journey of London, but he had no idea how much of a head start they had. Knowing the state of Alchester’s finances, it was unlikely that they would make the journey with more than two horses, however, so Kit reckoned he had a good chance of catching them if he went on horseback. And knowing his Clarissa, he had no doubt she would do everything in her power to delay the Marquis in the hope of rescue. He would not allow himself to consider the possibility that he might be too late.

  Urging his horse into a gallop as soon as they were free from the traffic of the town, Kit reviewed Lady Maria’s revelations. That she had been so foolish as to get into debt beyond her means did not surprise him, for Clarissa’s mama was as stupid a woman as he had yet come across. She had uttered but one thing of interest, that she thought her daughter likely to die of a broken heart. Clarissa did love him. Of course she loved him.

  How very foolishly he had behaved yesterday, Kit realised. He hadn’t once said the only important thing—that he loved her. He had attempted explanations when he should have swept her into his arms and kissed her. He had assumed Clarissa knew how he felt, had been so devastated at her refusal as to leave without telling her. Promising himself he would tell her every day for the rest of their lives together if only he could reach her in time, Kit spurred his horse on, their fast pace eating up the miles from the town and south into the open countryside in record time.

  Fortunately for him, Alchester was in no hurry. As Kit had correctly deduced, his coach was driven by a team of just two horses. Inside, Clarissa continued to pretend sleep as she racked her brains for a plan to escape. She had come up with no idea other than to make a break from her abductor at the first posting inn, and had been occupying her mind this past half-hour in wondering how long it would be before Mama would miss her, and what, if anything, she would do when she did. They had been on the road about two hours when the blast of horns warned her that they were pulling up for a change.

  Clarissa yawned, as if just awakened. Alchester watched from the seat opposite, a lazy smile on his cold face.

  ‘Where are we, my lord?’

  ‘We are stopped for a change of horses. You may descend, madam, if you wish, and partake of some refreshment. But don’t, I beg of you, try to escape. The landlord is known to me, and will ensure that we are private with no interference. Any noise or fuss will lead only to embarrassment.’

  ‘I’ll be discovered eventually, my lord. You had as well stop now, before it is too late. Let me return home and I will say no more of this outrage.’

  His soft laugh made her shiver. ‘You have a deal of courage my dear; it will be a positive pleasure to tame you. I pay you the compliment, even, that I would enjoy it without the spice of knowing I am taking Rasenby’s property.’

  They descended from the coach. Alchester urged Clarissa towards the ramshackle inn and directly into a parlour at the back. The ostlers, busy with the change of horses, had their backs turned—deliberately, Clarissa could not but think—and there was no sign of anyone else. Coffee and brandy awaited them in the parlour.

  Clarissa took her time, stripping off her gloves, sitting down, pouring herself some coffee with an almost-steady hand. ‘I repeat my lord, you have mistaken your mark. I am nothing to Lord Rasenby, he cares naught for my fate. Whatever your plan is, to rouse him by kidnapping me is bound to fail.’

  Alchester kissed the tips of his fingers and bowed. ‘Bravo, my dear. Really, with every minute of your delightful company you make me happier to have found you. B
ut I know you are lying, you see. You have set far too many precedents with Rasenby for me to believe you mean nothing to him. Any fool can see that. And I am not, I assure you, a fool.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Dining alone with you in Grosvenor Square. Taking you to Thornwood Park. The trip on the Sea Wolf, of course. Your visit to him the other day. His visit to your home yesterday.’

  Alchester smiled contentedly at Clarissa’s shocked expression. ‘Yes, you have been watched every step of the way. Maybe now you will take me seriously. You see now why I cannot believe, my dear Clarissa, that the gentleman could spend so much time with you and have no feelings. You make too little of yourself. But this discussion is become tedious. Let us turn our minds to more pleasant topics.’

  ‘I have no wish for conversation, sir. You’ve kidnapped me, and my mother will be searching for me. Please, I beseech you, let me go. Let me go at once.’

  She was frightened. This couldn’t be happening. Forcing herself to calm down, thinking only to delay the moment when they had to go back into the coach, Clarissa tried a different tack. ‘Why do you hate Kit—Lord Rasenby so, my lord? How can he have so wronged you so as to drive you to such desperate acts?’

  Alchester’s voice was bitter, the venom in his words clear. ‘You wouldn’t understand. I’ve known him all my life. All my life he’s taken everything I’ve ever wanted, been everything I’ve ever wanted to be. He’s bested me at everything, at every turn. But this time I’m victorious. This time I’ve won.’

  ‘Not necessarily, Robert.’ Kit stood in the doorway, mud splattered, his hair in disarray, his riding crop clutched in one hand and a grim look of controlled fury darkening his handsome countenance.

  ‘Kit!’

  ‘Rasenby!’ Before she could move, Alchester had Clarissa in a firm grasp, one hand clasped around her waist, the other at her throat. ‘She’s mine, Rasenby. You are too late.’