A tortoiseshell comb, studded with diamonds.
Hal swore, certain now that she had been abducted by someone acting for the murderer. But why? Hal pocketed the comb and strode back to the house, the answer obvious. He’d only danced once the entire evening, with Leah. The murderer probably mistook his interest in her for something more than it actually was and intended to use her to somehow get to Jean-Philippe. A murderous rage enveloped him as he tried to assure himself that they wouldn’t harm Leah. They needed her alive.
The first person he saw when he reentered the house was Rob.
“What’s amiss?” he asked. “You look demented.”
“Leah’s missing,” he said tersely.
“Missing? How can you be so sure in this throng?”
Hal pulled the comb from his pocket and showed it to Rob. “I found this on the terrace.”
“She could have dropped it and not realised it.”
Hal clung to that thought. “Possibly, but somehow I doubt it.”
“Perhaps her sister will know where she is?”
Hal glanced in Beth’s direction. She was still sitting alone with Gabriel, their heads almost touching. “I don’t want to distress her. She knows nothing of our true purpose tonight.” Hal shrugged. “Leah might simply have visited the ladies’ withdrawing room, but if she has she’s been in there a damned long time.”
“Why not send a maid to look for her?”
“Yes, perhaps I’ll do that.”
“You don’t think she’s done anything reckless, do you?” Rob asked. “Taken matters into her own hands in an effort to impress you? I told you not to involve her in this.”
“She rather involved herself. This ball was her idea.”
Rob shook his head. “I know you’ve taken a liking to her, but you never should have let her aboard The Celandine.”
“It’s a bit late for recriminations.” Hal pinched the bridge of his nose, mentally upbraiding himself for not having taken better care of her. In spite of Rob’s voice of reason, he knew something bad had happened to Leah.
“Ah, Lord Denby, there you are.”
Hal only just refrained from rolling his eyes. Lady Bentley distracting him was the last thing he needed.
“Your servant, ma’am,” he said, inclining his head, as did Rob.
“What a splendid gathering. It will be the talk of the district for decades.” As long as that’s all they talk about. “I was just saying to my daughter that I was sure you wouldn’t mind helping her to—” She glanced around, looking vexed when her daughter failed to materialise. “Where is the wretched girl? She never can be found when she’s needed.”
Thankfully, Lady Bentley moved away.
“You search down here,” Hal said to Rob as soon as she was out of earshot. “I’ll start on the upper floors. She might simply have retired to her room for a respite.”
“On my way.”
Hal conducted a systematic search of his enormous house, currently filled to capacity with over three hundred people, in the vain hope of finding one redheaded siren in a lovely turquoise gown. With each minute that passed, his anxiety grew. What the devil had become of her? Females didn’t just disappear in the middle of balls. He ran up to the room that had been allocated to her for the night—as far away from his as it was possible to be situated—but the only sign of her was a bonnet he recognized that the maid hadn’t tidied away.
Hal’s heart lurched. Something wasn’t right. Leah knew the dangerous game they were playing here tonight and wouldn’t voluntarily have hidden herself from public view.
Would she?
* * *
The hand remained clasped over Leah’s mouth, forcing the smelly sacking into her mouth whenever she attempted to open it. She was unable to bite the hand for the same reason. There were at least two of them, one on her left gagging her mouth, another holding her right arm and forcing her to walk forward at so rapid a pace that she almost fell over her skirts. She wanted to tell these people that they’d captured the wrong lady—she had nothing they could possibly want. She tried to slow down but they literally dragged her along, scraping the toes of her thin dance slippers along the ground until the fabric tore.
The fear occasioned by the original attack transmuted to anger. Just what did these ruffians think they were doing? How could they have got into the estate with all the extra guards Hal had in place? Questions without answers whirled through her head. Perhaps they had mistaken her for a lady of quality and hoped for financial gain from her abduction. She’d been alone on that terrace. If they’d been lying in wait for an opportunity to pounce, they might have noticed the diamond combs in her hair and thought her a worthy prize.
“Take the damned combs,” she would have shouted if she could. “I have nothing more to offer you.”
A chill passed down Leah’s spine. Perhaps abduction wasn’t their goal after all, in which case she could well imagine what they required of her. It was one thing offering her virginity to Hal, but entirely another to have it forcibly taken from her by these ne’er-do-wells.
Leah, struggling to breathe inside the vile sack, forced herself to think rationally. This was clearly a case of mistaken identity, and so she would tell her abductors when she was in a position to speak. In the meantime she ought to concentrate. Try to discover who these rogues were and where they were taking her. Neither of them had uttered a word since snatching her from the terrace what seemed like hours—but was actually probably only minutes—ago. No help there.
They were still on the terrace. She knew because she could feel the flagstones beneath her damaged slippers. Reason told her that they must be walking away from the ballroom. The house was illuminated with the light from a thousand candles. Even though the guests would now be concentrating on their supper, the terrace was lit by flambeaux, and anyone glancing out the window couldn’t fail to notice a woman with a sack over her head being dragged along by two men.
The terrace wound round three sides of the house. On the opposite side to which she’d been apprehended were the stables. They would be overflowing with coachmen and the conveyances used to transport the guests here. Her abductors couldn’t risk taking her that way.
Leah quelled her fear by reasoning it through. She had taken the opportunity to acquaint herself with the estate’s geography whilst walking in the grounds during brief breaks from overseeing the arrangements for the ball. She ought to use that knowledge to her advantage. If her captors were here under false pretences they wouldn’t risk being seen. So, the only place they could safely take her was to the woodland beyond the gardens on the side of the house she’d been snatched from.
Except Hal had men patrolling the perimeter, precisely to stop anyone sneaking in through the woods. Perhaps he’d withdrawn some of those men. Since his suspects and their minions were attending the ball, they had no need to arrive by less conventional means. Even if he hadn’t, the perimeter was vast, providing endless spots through which intruders could pass. If anyone was determined to get in undetected, they could almost certainly manage it. Leah had heard Hal say as much to Rob.
Her upper arm hurt where the man on her left was holding it in a vicelike grip. She would be bruised but suspected that would soon become the least of her concerns. The other man had removed his hand from her mouth, presumably because even if she attempted to scream they were beyond the rage of any likely rescuer. Grateful for that small freedom she opened her mouth wide anyway, only for it to fill with the putrid sacking as she breathed in. She spit it out, gagging, and heard a faint laugh from one of her captors.
Without warning she was lifted from her feet, each captor grasping one arm. Steps. She could hear their booted feet descending the steps at the end of the terrace. This impression was confirmed when they placed her back on her feet and she felt damp from the grass seeping between the torn toes of her slippers. When, still holding her arms securely, the men dragged her onto a gravel path, Leah felt a surge of optimism. This path led to
the dower house. She’d never been inside it, but that must be where they were heading. There were no other buildings close to the main house in this part of the estate.
She heard a door opening and was pushed inside, which is when her optimism abruptly faded. They could only want her indoors for one purpose. A dim light filtered through the sacking that covered her face. She was being propelled backwards and tried to resist. It made not the slightest difference. Her legs collided with a seat, which she was pushed into. Then the sack was pulled off her head and she could see again. Cautiously she blinked several times, getting accustomed to the light from the single candle burning in the room.
Leah was furious. She was also afraid but was damned if she’d let it show. If these thugs thought she was a helpless young miss who’d never had to lift a finger to help herself, then they were about to discover that they’d abducted the wrong person. She had been brought up in a part of London where life was cheap, survival a constant struggle. Since the death of her parents she’d had to grow up quickly in order to support herself and her sister. She’d learned a few tricks along the way and wasn’t above putting them into practise now given the least opportunity.
She slowly looked up at the man standing directly in front of her. He wasn’t dressed like a common criminal, nor in the style of a gentleman. She had no idea who he was. Then her gaze rested upon the second figure and she expelled a long, relieved breath.
“Jean-Philippe!” she cried. “Thank goodness. How did you know I was here?”
* * *
Hal was about go downstairs again to see if Rob had been more successful when inspiration struck. Jean-Philippe! It would be just like her to go and visit him in his lair. Hal was about to ascend the stairs when a footman intercepted him.
“This was just left for you, my lord. It’s apparently urgent.”
“Thank you.”
Hal took the note from the footman’s hand, his stomach lurching when he recognized Leah’s handwriting. He’d seen it on enough of those damned invitation cards to know it at a glance.
“Who left it?” he asked sharply.
“It was delivered to the men on the gate, my lord, by an urchin. He said he’d been given a shilling by a cove to deliver it at once.”
Hal’s fear intensified. Any lingering doubts that Leah was lurking in some quiet corner of the house, lost in a book, were now well and truly scotched. He dismissed the footman, barely in control of his anger and fear.
Why in the world would Leah write to him at such a time?
Before Hal could read Leah’s note, Rob came thundering down the stairs from the nursery.
“They’re gone!”
“What!”
“Jean-Philippe and Martell. Their room’s empty.”
“The guards?”
“Knocked out cold. They’re coming to now but don’t remember a thing.”
Hal ground his jaw, furious that he’d been so easily outwitted. “This was a damned stupid idea,” he said, pacing the corridor in a futile attempt to relieve his anger. And his worry for Leah’s safety. “I never should have done it.”
“What’s that you’re holding?”
“A note from Leah.”
“Ah, so she’s okay.” Rob frowned. “But why is she writing to you?”
“I’ve no idea but presumably she isn’t safe, otherwise there would be no occasion to write to me in the middle of a ball.”
“I suppose not.”
“I’m assuming that she and Jean-Philippe both disappearing at the same time is no coincidence, but I’m damned if I can think of a connection between them.”
“It’s deuced odd.” Rob scratched his head, sending thick locks of hair cascading across his brow. “Best see what she has to say for herself.”
Hal opened the note and quickly scanned it, swearing aloud at its contents.
My dear lover, he read. I am instructed to inform you that I’m well and unharmed, at present. “What the devil?”
“What is it?” Rob peered over his shoulder, grinning in spite of the seriousness of the situation. “Lover, eh?”
Hal didn’t answer, but instead carried on reading.
If you wish to see Jean-Philippe again you are to meet my captors in the boathouse when the fireworks start at midnight. Come alone and keep your boots dry as you make your way there. The note was sighed, Your loving mistress, Leah.
“That doesn’t help much,” Rob said with a frustrated sigh. “Why are they so interested in you when they already have Jean-Philippe?”
“I’ve no idea, but here’s another question for you. Why is Leah pretending that we’re lovers when we’re not?”
“Presumably because that’s what her captors think. You did only dance once this evening, with her.”
Hal nodded. “True, but—”
“There was a lot of gossip doing the rounds about that dance. That she might be your mistress, people can accept. That you would invite her to this ball and slight other women by dancing only with her scandalized the matrons.”
“You know why I didn’t dance with anyone else.”
“Hal, if I hadn’t known better, I would have shared the common opinion about your attachment to Leah. You’ve been vigilant all night, but when you danced with her, Jean-Philippe could have been snatched from beneath your very nose and you wouldn’t have noticed.” Rob lifted his shoulders. “Come to that, he probably was.”
Hal smothered a curse, aware that his brother was right. He never should have allowed himself that dance with Leah. Nor would he have, had he been aware that it would place her in danger.
Chapter Eighteen
Jean-Philippe’s gaze clashed with that of his companion. The satisfaction that communicated itself between the two men caused Leah’s fledgling hopes of rescue to evaporate and for the truth to come crashing in on her.
“It was you.” Leah pointed an accusing finger at Jean-Philippe. “You killed your own father.”
He offered her a mocking bow. “I can claim some of the credit, although I didn’t act alone. My faithful tutor here helped me to carry out the plan. Oh, excuse me, where are my manners. You two haven’t been introduced. Miss Elliott, allow me to present Monsieur Martell.”
Leah stared in bald disbelief as Martell executed an elegant bow, almost as though they were in a social setting. Older and stronger than Jean-Philippe, he was obviously the one who’d inflicted so much damage on Leah’s upper arm.
“At your service, mademoiselle.”
“How very daring of you both,” she said scathingly. “But what is all this to me? Why have you brought me here?”
“We need the attention of your lover.”
“My lover?” Leah shook her head, still able to smell that dreadful sacking on her hair and shoulders as she did so. Her lovely dress would be ruined and she hadn’t even paid for it yet. Quelling such inconsequential thoughts, she hastened to make her position plain. “I fear you’ve miscalculated. Much as I dislike ruining your plans when you’ve gone to such trouble, I don’t have a lover.”
Jean-Philippe smirked. “Come, come, there’s no need to be coy. The marquess brought you to his precious boat. He’s never taken any other woman there whilst I’ve been on board, or before that, either. I heard the crew remarking about how unusual it was.”
Leah shrugged. “That means nothing.”
“If more proof was needed, I watched from the balcony when he danced with you tonight. You, and no one else.” Jean-Philippe’s laugh was cruel, insulting. His eyes ranged over her body, clearly not impressed with what he saw.
“You are allowing your imagination to run away with you. You have drawn ridiculous conclusions from one innocent dance, merely because they are what you wish to believe.”
“His lordship enjoys creating a stir by flouting his lowly born lover in front of society’s elite. They might, perhaps, have overlooked your presence, but showing you such decided partiality truly scandalized them.” The young man’s face glowed with malice,
and very evident dislike for Hal, as he warmed to his theme. “Perhaps he has French blood in his veins.”
Leah was about to repeat her denials regarding her relationship with Hal, but at the last minute she held her tongue. They thought it was the case and anything she said to the contrary was unlikely to dissuade them. Besides, whatever it was they wanted, Hal’s imaginary affections were pivotal to their achieving it. Best play along and see if she could discover precisely what they were about.
“Your intention is to escape Lord Denby and return to France, is it not? Although I don’t quite see why, unless someone else who is now here in England saw you commit the murder.” Leah wrinkled her brow, sure she was missing something important. Keeping this young man talking, encouraging him to boast about his achievements, might shake the missing ingredient free. “Anyway, I can see that Hal keeping you securely locked up on his boat whilst he awaited the appearance of a murderer only you could identify—”
“I thought that a rather clever touch,” Jean-Philippe said smugly. “They consider me a mere boy, a dutiful son incapable of patricide, and so no one doubted my account.”
“But you didn’t expect to be detained afloat for quite so long?”
“No, that was irksome, I grant you. The marquess was a more vigilant protector than I’d bargained for, but I knew he would get tired of confining me there eventually and relax his guard.”
“Again I ask the question, now that you’ve escaped, why not just disappear? Why bring me here?”
“Oh, I’m sorry, didn’t I explain?” He folded his arms across his thin chest, very aware that he’d withheld that vital explanation. “I need you to write a note to your lover.”
“And why would I oblige you in that respect?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” He shared a complicit smile with his companion. “I intend for you to lure him into a trap so that I can kill him, of course.”
* * *
Compromising the Marquess Page 22