Lady of Scandal

by Tina Gabrielle

  I regret to inform you that your brother is seriously ill and has been asking for you. The physicians are not hopeful. Please return to your father’s home at once so that you may sit at Spencer’s bedside.

  Devotedly yours,

  Jacob Hobbs

  Spencer was gravely ill? What mysterious ailment was Jacob speaking of?

  Had Spencer been trapped in Slayer’s web once more?

  Enough time had been wasted. Grabbing her skirts, she ran for the back entrance into the house. She had already conveniently packed most of her belongings.

  The time to return home had come.

  Chapter 32

  Victoria pounded on her father’s front door. She no longer had a key. There had been no need to take one when she rode away in Blake’s coach months ago.

  The door swung open; a dour-faced butler glared down at her. Victoria wasn’t surprised at the man’s complete lack of recognition of her. Servants had never lasted long in her father’s employ.

  She pushed past the new butler and was already halfway up the staircase before he could call out, “Miss, wait!”

  Hurrying down the hall, she headed straight for Spencer’s bedchamber. Not bothering to knock, she pushed open the door and rushed inside. Her eyes immediately swept to the four poster, expecting to see her brother lying deathly still and pale beneath the sheets. It took her a moment to realize the bed was empty, neatly made.

  A rustle of movement in the corner of the room drew her attention. She strained to see in the dimness, the heavy velvet curtains drawn against the daylight.

  “Spencer?” she called out.

  Charles Ashton stepped forward, his stocky frame half-hidden by the shadows. Behind him, Victoria could make out the shorter figure of Jacob Hobbs. He reminded her of a circus monkey at her father’s shoulder, always eager to please his master.

  “What a loyal sister you are to come so quickly,” Charles said. “I only had Jacob send the message an hour ago.”

  Victoria was puzzled and more than a little nervous at her father’s and Jacob’s presence in Spencer’s chamber.

  “Where’s Spencer? I was told he was ill.”

  “Oh, your brother is sick,” Charles said, a cold edge of irony in his voice. “But not in the sense that you were led to believe. I gave the boy twenty pounds. He’s probably in Cheapside at the gaming hells as we speak. An illness, to be sure.”

  Jacob chuckled in amusement, drawing Victoria’s attention to his pinched face.

  A primitive warning sounded in her brain. She had already learned the hard way not to trust the pair. What were they up to now?

  “Why send a message scaring me to death, leading me to believe Spencer was…dying?”

  “To get you to leave Ravenspear quickly, of course.” Charles turned around and pulled on the tasseled cords of the velvet curtains. They sprang open, and Victoria was momentarily blinded by the brightness of the afternoon sun.

  “I don’t understand.” Victoria said. “I’ve done everything you have asked. I even helped Jacob into the warehouse. Had I known the true reason behind your insistence to gain entry into the building, I never would have agreed.”

  “I regret deceiving you, my dear,” Charles said. “But the truth is, we have taken risks trying to obtain the funds to pay Ravenspear off.”

  “What kind of risks?”

  Charles waved his hand in the air. “As one of the Lords Commissioners of the Treasury, I took the liberty of borrowing money from the Crown in order to pay off the dreaded loans. I had every intention of replacing the funds, of course, but I fear my actions have been discovered before I can do so. Fortunately, Robert Jenkinson, the First Lord of the Treasury, told me one of the Lords Commissioners is under suspicion for theft of government monies, and that the authorities will soon issue a warrant for an arrest. I fear Jenkinson knows I’m the culprit, and as a professional courtesy, he gave me notice.”

  Victoria stared at her father in shock. She couldn’t believe her parent was so bold and unscrupulous as to steal from the country’s Treasury.

  “After everything that has occurred,” she whispered, “you have still managed to destroy yourself. But I still don’t understand why I am here. You committed treason, embezzlement from the Crown. There is nowhere to run; you have doomed us all.”

  “Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong, daughter. I’ll be damned if I’m going to allow Ravenspear to ruin my life, deprive me of my freedom and my power, and not harm him in return.” His mouth twisted into a thin-lipped smile. “You may not be certain of Ravenspear’s feelings for you, but I am. The moment he failed to reveal you to society as his mistress, I knew. You silly chit, a man wouldn’t protect the daughter of his enemy unless he fell in love with her. I’m going to use that love to lure him into a trap, and when he comes, I’m going to kill him.”

  Spittle flew from Charles’s hard lips and sprayed her face. She cringed and backed away until she bumped into the bedpost.

  Her father was insane. With a warrant for his arrest imminent, his mind had snapped. Charles Ashton had always been intensely focused and rigidly self-disciplined to achieve his goals of amassing wealth and status. He had never been an affectionate parent to either her or Spencer, and by exercising strict control of and obedience from them as children, the less time he had to spend dealing with them.

  But his obsessiveness had turned into insanity, and only a crazed and desperate man would commit treason and then plot murder.

  When had things spun out of control?

  Her father discussed luring and killing Blake, an earl of the realm, as if the plan made perfect sense. Charles didn’t seem to comprehend the fact that the Bow Street Runners would be pounding on his front door at any moment.

  Victoria mentally retraced her steps. One, two, three paces until she could reach the door…

  Predicting her thoughts, Jacob stepped forward and grabbed her.

  “Not this time, Victoria,” he said, twisting her arm painfully. “You may have escaped me in the warehouse, but I’m quick to learn a lesson. You’re coming with us. I prefer if you were willing, but if not, I’m prepared to use force.”

  His breath smelled of onions, and she crinkled her nose.

  Jacob’s face went grim, and he pushed her out of the room and down the hallway. Charles followed, muttering under his breath.

  They passed the morose butler, who stood rigidly against the wall and who had obviously overheard the conversation in the room. She knew better than to ask him for aid. A prerequisite to working for her father was a cold-heartedness and willingness to turn a blind eye to unsavory dealings. This man was obviously no exception. Having just learned that his master would soon be a fugitive, the servant would think only to save himself.

  Victoria found herself hoisted into her father’s private carriage. With Jacob sitting beside her and Charles on the opposite bench, she was trapped. Her mind raced furiously, and she knew she must appear calm so that she could learn precisely what was planned.

  Jacob struck the roof of the coach with his fist and barked at the driver.

  The conveyance jolted forward, and Victoria banged her head against the side of the coach. The horses traveled at a high speed, reckless among the city streets.

  “Where are we going?” she demanded.

  “Del Rey.” Charles gazed at her with a bland half smile.

  “Del Rey!”

  The hunting lodge was two hours from London, a remote cabin in the middle of the forest, named after the Spaniard who was the original owner. Charles had taken over the foreigner’s company and seized the lodge as part of the Spaniard’s debts. Del Rey had been her father’s favorite escape when she was a child, and often he had returned home with unpleasant stories of bloody hunts that had given her nightmares.

  “Surely you don’t believe Ravenspear will travel the journey to Del Rey,” she said.

  “Of course I do,” Charles said. “I predict it will take him less time than us.”

&nb
sp; Victoria prayed not. She thought about her confrontation with Blake in the gardens this morning. He had looked at her with disgust—but also with unwanted hunger, clearly resenting her for feeling such emotion after her betrayal. She had been devastated, but now she felt grateful. Perhaps if Blake truly hated her as much as she still believed he did, he would not come for her, and so he would not be in any danger.

  Glancing at her father, she noted his brittle mouth and fixed eyes. “It’s true, then. Everything Ravenspear claims you did to his family is true.”

  Charles drew his lips in thoughtfully, then shot her a twisted smile. “Old man Ravenspear was a fool. I needed to borrow money for several investments, but he deemed them too risky and refused me. So I arranged to export guns and ammunition to France despite our country’s embargo. I was desperate, you see. As tensions grew with France, lucrative trade became nonexistent, and I needed money. When our company came under suspicion, I cried ignorance and blamed Blake’s father. I had no choice. It was his neck or mine. What happened to young Blake, his mother and sister was an unfortunate circumstance.”

  “An unfortunate circumstance!” she cried out incredulously. She sat forward and gripped the edge of her seat so as not to slap the grin off her father’s face. “Because of your actions, the earl committed suicide and his family was thrown to the wolves in the workhouse. Blake’s mother died from the filthy conditions and his sister…Do you know what became of her?”

  “She became a whore.”

  Victoria gasped. “Have you no conscience?”

  Charles rolled his eyes, as if dealing with a temperamental child. “Old man Ravenspear was titled, and I was not. I was the brains behind our partnership. I made him rich. He owed me, and when the time came that I needed to borrow money, he turned his back. They all got what they deserved.”

  Her father’s eyes were bright with fervor, and focused on a spot behind her head. He was reliving the moment, savoring his enemy’s destruction. His madness was clearly written in his eyes, and when he turned his attention back to her, it took all her willpower not to cringe.

  “You knew the truth all along, and you sent me into Ravenspear’s home unsuspecting and naïve.”

  Her father shrugged dismissively. “I needed you to delay the loans.”

  She jerked as if he had slapped her. She had hoped that her father had loved her all along. But his love of money and power dominated.

  She lowered her gaze, swallowing the lump in her throat. It was then that she noticed the bag at his feet. Without a doubt, she knew it was full of money. With an outstanding warrant for his arrest he could never return to London. He would use the money to flee the country and leave her and Spencer behind to deal with the scandal.

  “What will happen to Mother?”

  “I sent her to France to stay with your aunt. When all goes as planned, I will join her there. I do not intend to return to England.” He bent down, opened a corner of the bag and pulled out a pistol.

  Victoria instantly recognized the gun, and her eyes widened at its deadly double-barrels. The pistol was from her father’s private collection, a coveted prize from his entrepreneurial importing days. She’d vividly recalled the gleam in her father’s eye when he had explained that the weapon had been invented by Gribeauval, Napoleon’s gunsmith, and produced later in 1806 in St. Etienne, France. Even though that was over six years ago, the pistol was still difficult to find, and its side-by-side double-barrels gave its user a distinct advantage over an opponent wielding a single-barreled gun.

  Charles noted her interest. “Ah, I see you recognize the weapon.”

  “It’s a bit unnecessary, don’t you think?”

  Charles lovingly stroked the two triggers, one for each barrel. “No, my dear. One shot for in between Ravenspear’s eyes and the other for his black heart.” He handed the pistol to Jacob. “Hold this for me, Hobbs, until Ravenspear pays us a visit.”

  Jacob placed the weapon on his lap, and a satanic smile spread across his thin lips.

  Their plans tore at her insides, but she forced herself to remain silent for the remainder of the journey. She knew that her anxiety would serve only to amuse them and upset her already-tenuous position. By the time the horses pulled up before Del Rey, Victoria knew she had to keep her wits about her and seek out every opportunity for escape.

  One thing she knew for certain: Blake must not die. If he did come after her, then she had to save him.

  Chapter 33

  Blake was in the library, nursing his wounded pride with a fine glass of brandy, when Justin knocked on the door.

  “Perfect timing, Woodward,” Blake said, raising an empty decanter. “I’m afraid the library’s out of brandy. Be a good fellow and have Mr. Kent bring me more.”

  Justin closed the door behind him and walked forward. Ignoring the decanter in Blake’s outstretched hand, Justin handed him a sealed envelope.

  “This just arrived. I took the liberty of taking it from Mr. Kent so that I may deliver it to you. I recognized the messenger as one of Charles Ashton’s.” Justin frowned, his eyes level under drawn brows.

  Blake looked at the envelope, his dark face set in a vicious expression. “What could the blackguard have to say? Maybe he stole enough from the Crown to pay off my loans.”

  Slamming down the crystal decanter on his desk, he ripped open the message and began to read. His expression stilled and grew serious.

  Ravenspear,

  By the time you read this letter, Jacob Hobbs and I will have left London. After some persuasion, Victoria has decided to travel with us. I’m sure you realize we have no intention of returning to England. My daughter is stubborn and does not agree with our plans, but we have managed not to harm her as of yet. If you wish to see Victoria again, then I strongly suggest you meet us at my hunting lodge outside of London. I assume you are intelligent enough to locate Del Rey. Come alone.

  Charles Ashton

  “Well? What does he say?” Justin asked.

  Blake shot out of his chair. A thread of panic formed in the pit of his stomach. “Where’s Victoria?”

  Justin shrugged. “Probably in the dining room for luncheon. I think we should join her.”

  “No. Charles Ashton claims he has her.”

  Blake threw Justin the note, then ran from the library. He swept up the grand staircase, three stairs at a time, and pushed open Victoria’s bedroom door.

  Empty. The bed was neatly made, the top of the bureau bare, save for a lace runner and a washbasin. Rushing to the wardrobe, he yanked open the doors to find it empty. Not one gown or dressing robe hung within.

  He felt as if a hand had closed around his throat. She was gone. She had left without a word, not even a note.

  His mind turned to the morning. He had been cold and cruel, wounding her with words. His pride had been stung, and he had taken out his rage on a vulnerable young woman.

  Good God, he had called her a whore, had led her to believe he wanted to use her as Judith had been used.

  The memory of his punishing kiss came back. Her face haunted him, shocked and hurt.

  What had he done? He had refuted her story, hadn’t believed her when she told him her father and Jacob had tricked her about their reason for gaining access to his warehouse. And worse, he had laughed at her when she told him she loved him and was desperate to learn how he felt about her.

  What if she had told the truth?

  And now it may be too late. He hated to think what Charles Ashton would do to Victoria, regardless that she was his daughter, if he learned that she loved Blake.

  Panic like he’d never known before welled in his throat. A vision of Victoria concentrating over her next chess move sprang to his mind—glossy dark hair tumbling down her back, bewitching green eyes shining and focused.

  With stunning clarity, he realized that he loved her. That his fierce desire to keep her with him, to not let her return to her father, had nothing whatsoever to do with revenge, but everything to do with the fac
t that he couldn’t bear to part from her. And he had buried his true feelings, kept them from her, not as a form of punishment, but because he had been too frightened to admit the truth to himself.

  Since his mother’s and sister’s death, he had refused to rely on anyone; he had learned not to trust or to need. He had thought such reliance was a form of weakness, and after escaping the workhouse, he had sworn never to be weak again.

  And then along came Victoria, and he had fallen helplessly in love, not just with her beauty but with her intelligence and keen wit. The truth was: he needed her. Needed her as much as he needed air to breathe and water to drink.

  And now it may be too late to tell her.

  “It could be an elaborate trap.”

  Blake swung around to see Justin standing in the doorway.

  “I expect no less from Charles Ashton.”

  Justin nodded. “Mr. Kent told me that Victoria ran from the gardens after receiving an urgent message supposedly from her brother this morning. I suspect it was from her father or Hobbs rather than Spencer. Your horses are being readied as we speak. Del Rey is one of Charles Ashton’s properties. It’s close to a two-hour ride.”

  Blake was already halfway down the staircase. “I’ve been a fool. We must reach her before harm befalls her.”

  The rope binding her wrists was unbearably tight. Her fingers were numb, and she flexed them in a vain attempt to get the blood to circulate.

  Victoria sat on a bed, gagged and bound to a bedpost. Suspecting Blake was less than two hours behind them, her father had taken no chances, ordering Jacob to secure her.

  A cold knot formed in her stomach. Each minute that passed could draw Blake closer into her father’s trap. And here she sat helpless to prevent a possible murder.

  She felt panic riot within her, threatening to rob her mind of logic. She shook her head, and stray wisps of hair fell from her bun into her face.

  She mustn’t succumb to her terror, mustn’t lose control.

  Victoria took a deep breath and tried to relax. She was never the type of woman to fall into hysterics or faint. Looking around the room, she catalogued the furnishings and loose items that could help her.