A wicked smile stretched across Lord Wentworth's mouth, as he steepled his fingers together and placed them under his chin. “I think I am. I think Lord Bridgerton's supposed mistress may very well be the girl whom we were seeking information about. She looks to be about the right age. It's as if fate is in our favor tonight.”
Lord Grayson went and half-sat on the edge of his desk. “Did you notice how uncomfortable the chit was around your wife? She could hardly look her in the eye.”
“And vice versa. My wife was not amused with the girl's presence either. You must promise not to utter a word of this to anyone.”
“Who would I tell?” Lord Grayson asked, irritably.
“One never knows. Now listen carefully while I tell you what you need to do next.” Lord Grayson walked to the cupboard and poured himself a glass of brandy, not bothering to offer Lord Wentworth a drink before he sat in the chair behind his desk. He had a feeling he wasn't going to like what Lord Wentworth was about to say.
“I am going to have you go to Surrey to my brother-in-law's estate and kidnap the girl.”
“What?” Lord Grayson nearly spewed his drink across his desk. “That's illegal. I refuse to be party to that.”
Lord Wentworth made to stand. “Very well. I'll just waltz right into the parlor and inform your wife about your mistress. She seemed in an especially good mood tonight. I think she'll handle the news quite well.”
Lord Grayson growled. “I'm sick of you holding this over my head. I've spent months doing your bidding, and I think it's fair to say that I've earned your silence by now.”
“I'm the one who decides the terms of our agreement, not you. Besides, maybe it's best if your wife finds out the truth already. Are you really that afraid of her shrewish ways? Or are you more worried that her father will find out and there will be hell to pay?”
Lord Grayson gritted his teeth. It was true. Though he dreaded his wife finding out about his unfaithfulness, it was her father he truly feared. The man had the power to utterly destroy his life and had promised to do so on multiple occasions if he ever caused his daughter distress. It was no secret to him that she was unhappy in their marriage, as was he, but he made it a point to keep her somewhat pacified, at least enough to keep her father at bay. Her father had been financially supporting them since their marriage, and without his assistance, Lord Grayson would be left penniless, a fate he dreaded worse than almost anything.
After a pregnant pause, he finally asked, “What do you hope to gain by taking the girl?”
“Revenge, of course.”
“Isn't there possibly some other legal way to go about getting what you seek?”
“This is what I want, and this is what you'll do. Stop doubting my decisions. I'm quickly growing impatient with your reluctance to do my bidding. Once you've captured the girl, we will send a missive to Lord Brattondale demanding a hefty ransom, a sum so large it will bankrupt him to pay it. We'll see how devoted he really is to his insufferable sister.”
“He'll never agree to pay it. It would be his undoing.”
“Well if not, then perhaps I'll give him another option, an option that will destroy both him and my wife.” Lord Grayson watched as Lord Wentworth's eyes glazed over as if he was deep in a wicked thought so sinful that only he could find it enjoyable. A chill coursed through Lord Grayson's body, and he cursed the day he had ever met the man.
***
Elenore must have fallen asleep because the next thing she remembered was being nudged awake by Devon. She came to, rubbing her eyes to focus them in the dark confines of the carriage.
“We've arrived at Westbrooke Hall, and as much as I'd love to carry you in, the staff would not be amused, nor would my father when he found out you weren't really sick in bed all day. You'll have to sneak around the side of the house where you can enter through the dining room.”
Devon made to open the door, and Elenore reached out and stopped him. “Wait, there something I must tell you.”
Devon looked at her expectantly. “I've seen your aunt, Lady Wentworth at Westbrooke Hall before.”
“And you are telling me this why? It's rare that she pays a visit, but it's not completely unheard of.”
“I'm telling you this because I overheard a strange conversation she had with your father. She told him that she grew worried when he didn't meet her as planned, as he had every month for the past ten and eight years. She said that she was worried that something had happened to him.”
“Look, none of that is highly unusual. He's always been close to her. She's his only sister. Now let's hurry and get going. I'm rather exhausted.”
“Devon, let me finish. She told your father that she was also concerned that something may have happened to the girl. Then she handed him an envelope. He offered to let her see the girl but she refused.”
“What girl?”
“I have no idea. That's all I heard. At the time I didn't know it was your aunt. In fact, I didn't make the connection until tonight. Don't you find it odd?”
“Yes,” he said thoughtfully. “But I'm not entirely sure what it means.”
“Me either. I just wanted to let you know.”
“Thank you. I owe you my deepest gratitude for all the help you have given me.” The look he was giving her was so tender she wanted him to reach out and touch her or to press his lips gently to hers, but he did neither. “I truthfully do not know what I would have done without you.”
She wanted to scream at him that she didn't know what she was going to do without him, now that she had realized how much she wanted him in her life, but she knew she couldn't. He needed to marry someone with a large dowry, and she, unfortunately, had none. Instead, she tried to sound casual as she said, “As much as I hate to admit it, my motives were not entirely selfless. I'm still very much anticipating you arranging my voyage to America, and I need you to do it soon. I can't stay here much longer. Please understand.”
“I understand. I will be returning to London immediately to retrieve Calvin and promise you that I will arrange your passage immediately. You have my word.”
Though she knew he would honor his word, she felt a sad emptiness at the thought of their impending goodbye. She wondered if she should bid him a final farewell or if she would see him one last time. She decided to ask him. “Will you be returning to tell me in person once you have made my arrangements for me, or will this be goodbye?” Before he could answer she remembered the necklace hanging from her throat. She reached up and unclasped it, then thrust it at him. “I almost forgot. You promised you'd sell this for me. It's critical that I have the money.”
Devon reluctantly took the necklace. “Then we will save our goodbyes for when I return with your money.”
Elenore felt relieved knowing that this would not be their final farewell, then silently slipped from the carriage. She hurried as fast as she could to the French doors that would lead her inside, anxious to get out of the cold air and safely to her room. The house was silent, as she entered, and she knew that everyone would be in bed at this late hour. She was glad that she knew the house so well as she crept along the dark halls and corridors, unwilling to light a candle to guide her path.
When she reached her room, she slipped inside and sighed in relief, before going to the window and parting the drapes to allow the light of the moon to illuminate her room enough for her to undress. She removed the delicate pink gown and sighed. It was probably the last time that she would ever wear such finery. She had heard how rugged America was in comparison to England and doubted she'd have many occasions to dress up, let alone have the funds to afford to do so. Reluctantly, she went and hung the dress in the wardrobe figuring Devon would have to return it to his sister's belongings at a later date.
Retrieving her nightclothes from the dresser, she slipped the white gown over her head and sat down to remove the pins from her hair. She reached for her comb and began methodically brushing her hair, counting the strokes in a habitual manner. The repetit
ive soothing motion had almost lulled her to sleep, as she felt her hand fall and her chin begin to lower against her chest. A slow creaking sound startled her as she turned to see her door slowly opening. She clutched her brush to her chest, her heart beating frantically in her chest. She hoped the intruder was Devon coming to tell her something but gasped when she looked up into the somber face of Lord Grayson.
She froze in terror, as the brush she had been clutching fell from her hands and landed with a thump on the ground. Lord Grayson advanced towards her, shutting the door behind him. She scurried from her chair, backing towards the wall but unsure of where she would go. “What are you doing here?” she asked nervously, not liking the way his dark eyes looked at her, as if she was an animal to be hunted.
Lord Grayson's didn't answer her but continued to take pointed steps in her direction. She finally hit the wall, having retreated as far as she could and began looking around for something, anything that she could possibly use to defend herself, but she found nothing. She wished she hadn't dropped her brush, knowing it wouldn't be much as way of a defense, but at least she could have used it to hit him.
Finally, he stood in front of her. He reached in his pocket and pulled out a long strip of cloth, leaned forward and spoke. “You can make this easy on yourself, or we can do this the hard way. I want you to remain silent.”
He reached forth and grabbed her shoulders painfully, spinning her around so he could tie the rag around her head and gag her. She wished she had taken the time to scream for help while she could, but she doubted anybody would have heard her and come to her aide. Lord Grayson pulled a second strip of cloth from his pocket and wound it around he wrists, tying them painfully together behind her back. She groaned in response but the sound came out all muffled.
When he was finished binding her hands, Lord Grayson leaned forward and hissed in her ear, “Do as I say or you will regret it.”
Jerking her backwards he turned her around and began forcing her towards the door. She had no choice but to follow as he dragged her painfully along. Down the hall they went. She almost tripped numerous times on the stairs, as he half jogged down them making it hard for her to keep up. He showed no concern whatsoever for her safety or comfort, as he led her forcefully along the same path she had just taken up to her room. As he headed for the dining room, she realized that he must have seen her entering the house in order to know the most secretive way to escape. It made her feel violated to know that he had been watching and following her the entire time.
The cold air assaulted her as soon as they left the house. Her thin gown provided little warmth to her body and she shivered in response. Lord Grayson continued to pull her along, the cold grass causing her feet to grow extremely uncomfortable, almost painful, but she had no choice but to continue moving. They kept walking for what felt like a long time, and Elenore wondered where he was taking her, what he planned to do.
When the abandoned cottage Devon used to aid him in keeping his Black Lightening disguise came into view, she wanted to rejoice. At least he wasn't taking her far from the main house. He opened the door and pushed her inside. Her first awareness was that there was somebody else in the house sitting in a chair in the corner, holding a flickering candle.
When her eyes met his, Lord Wentworth spoke, “It's so good to see you. I assume you know why I've brought you here.”
Elenore shook her head back and forth violently, since she couldn't speak beyond the gag in her mouth. She wished they would release it but wasn't the least bit surprised when neither of them made to do so.
“Maybe they've never told you about your true identity as daughter of a marchioness. I wonder what they have told you. Maybe nothing. Maybe they've just kept you and made you to be servant to their every whim. Maybe there's more truth to your being my nephew's mistress than I originally imagined.”
Elenore wanted to interrupt his ramblings and yell at him to tell her what he was talking about, but again, all she could do was remain quiet.
“Well, regardless what they've done with you these past ten and eight years, I'm the one in control now, I'll decide what your future will be. Lord Grayson, tie her to the bed. I have a feeling this could be a long night.”
Chapter 26
Wednesday, June, 29, 1814
Devon walked along the docks, enjoying the feel of the sunshine on his face. It had taken him a few days, but he had finally managed to successfully arrange Sister Genevieve's passage to America. Her ship was set to sail in a fortnight. He reached inside his overcoat pocket and fingered the necklace she had entrusted to his care. He knew he had promised to sell it for her, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Instead, he had decided that he would return it to her possession and give her money for her journey. Heaven knows, she deserved it after all she had done for him.
He took his time walking back to his townhouse, thinking of what he could scrimp on in order to come up with the money to give her. He had already been slowly cutting back on the household staff at both his townhouse and the country estate and wasn't quite sure where else he could squeeze the money from, but no matter, he would find a way.
His mind was fraught with conflicting emotions. Part of him was excited to return and report to Sister Genevieve that he had kept his word to her, to see the excitement that would overcome her face when she realized her dreams of going to America were becoming a reality. But on the other hand, he was dreading the thought of her leaving, of having to say goodbye to her. If he had to measure and weigh which option he feared the most, it was definitely the latter, and that's exactly why he chose not to think about it more than he had to.
Walking the final stretch to his home, he noticed his father's coach parked in front of the house. His immediate response was to be angry; his father had promised that he would stay away from London indefinitely. Though Devon knew it was unrealistic to expect him to stay away from the city forever, he had been hopeful that he'd at least stay away long enough to give Devon a chance to figure out how to replenish their coffers.
Walking into the house he barked, “Where's my father?”
Before the butler had a chance to answer, Lord Brattondale appeared, a nervous expression on his face. Good, thought Devon, he should be nervous.
“What are you doing in London?” he asked brusquely, knowing whatever excuse his father had was not going to be good enough to satisfy him.
He was wrong. “Sister Genevieve is gone.”
“Where did she go?” He was having a hard time processing the information he had just received.
“I don't know. If I knew, I wouldn't be here. I haven't seen her for the past three days, ever since she became ill. I was a patient man waiting for her to recover from her malady, but when I still hadn't heard from her after two days, I finally had Charlotte go check on her, and she wasn't there.”
A sick anxiety mixed with fear seized Devon's heart. “Were her things gone?”
“No, none of it. It appears as if she just up and left her room in the middle of the night.”
“Have you searched for her,” Devon asked, taking his father's shoulders into his hands.
“Of course, I instructed the servants to look over the estate, but their search turned up nothing.”
Devon wanted to curse. Instead he turned on his heel and made to leave.
“Where are you going?” His father asked, struggling to keep up with him as he made his way to the coach.
“I'm going to go recruit Pierce to help me look for her. I'll need an able bodied man to assist me on my search.”
“What are you implying?”
“Don't be so quick to get offended. You haven't been feeling well, and I'm afraid it would not be a good idea to have you tag along.”
“I feel fine. I'm going wherever you are. That girl has been in my care for the last several months, and I feel a measure of responsibility towards her.”
Devon looked at his father, not amused, but not having the desire to argue with him. They ro
ad in silence to Grosvenor Square where the Duke of Kerrington's townhouse was located. The coach had barely rolled to a stop, when Devon dashed out and ran up to the door and desperately began banging the brass door knocker against the heavy wood.
The butler opened the door, an irritated look on his face and began reprimanding Devon instantly. “My lord, I insist you keep the noise down. The mistress has just gotten the babies to sleep.”
Devon and Lord Brattondale looked at each other in confusion. Lord Brattondale turned to the butler and said impatiently, “Whatever are you talking about?”
“I had assumed you had heard the good news and that's why you were here. Your daughter delivered healthy twin girls in the wee hours of the morning.”
A huge and uncommon grin broke out on Lord Brattondale's face. “I'm a grandfather!” he exclaimed, clearly delighted. Forgetting the reason they were there, he asked, “Can I go see the babes?”
“As I said, my lord, they just barely fell asleep. I'm sure that the duchess would not be pleased to have them woken. I will send for his grace and let you share in the good news with him.”
As soon as the butler left, Lord Brattondale turned to Devon, “Were you aware of this?”
“I had no idea. It sounds as if it was a recent development.”
Lord Brattondale's eyes took on a faraway look, “Twins, just like Hope and Noelle were supposed to be.”
“Are...just like Hope and Noelle are,” Devon corrected, irritably.
Strong footsteps were heard thudding down the hall followed shortly by the appearance of Pierce. His hair was unusually unkempt and he looked tired, but his smile was so wide it threatened to consume the whole of his face. “I hear that you have already been informed of the good news. Isn't it amazing? I sent a missive to you just this morning but obviously you hadn't received it yet.”
Ladies of Deception 03 - Betraying the Highwayman Page 19