It took every ounce of self-control that Angel possessed not to betray the terror that his threat generated in her, but she would not give him that satisfaction.
Instead she spit out defiantly, “I would prefer sharks to your company.”
Anger glinted in his eyes, then he said mockingly, “You will not be so brave when the time comes.”
Angel had to find a way for her and Kitty to escape, and she must do so before they were taken on Crowe’s ship. Once they were aboard it, there would be no hope of rescue.
Behind Crowe, the battered door, black with age and grime, was open a crack. Angel thought of trying to catch him off guard and lunging for the door now while it was unlocked. But even if she succeeded in getting past him, Sam would be lurking beyond the door.
She glanced back at her stepfather, and alarm prickled along her spine her as she saw the evil glee on his face. He was hatching some new, despicable scheme. She was certain of it.
“I think,” he said at last, “that it is time for Roger Peck to receive a message that will have him rushing immediately to Northumberland to see his father, who is unexpectedly dying.”
Angel smothered a groan. Another forged note, but what was the point of sending Roger north?
“Then your husband will receive a note from Peck that he has eloped with you.”
Angel bit her lips together to smother the moan that rose up in her. Wrexham had managed to persuade Lucian that she had been tricked into that apparently compromising situation at the Kingsleys. But if she and Roger were to disappear simultaneously and Lucian received a note that they had run off together, what would he think?
“Try to understand how hard it is for me to trust even you, little love.”
Crowe rubbed his hands together in delight. “Ah, ‘tis a beautiful scheme. When Vayle finds Peck, he will say he went to Northumberland to see his sick father—but Vayle, being as thorough as he is, will quickly ascertain that Lord Peck has never been ill. He will think that Peck has hidden you away. Likely as not, he will call Peck out. Young Roger will be no match for your husband with a sword. Vayle will kill him.”
Angel’s stomach was roiling. An innocent man would die, and Lucian would forever be convinced that she had deceived and cuckolded him.
He would never forgive her.
What was even more horrifying was that he would never have the opportunity to learn the truth. She would be dead, and there would be no one to tell him what had actually happened, no one to defend her to him.
Lucian would shut her out of his memory as he had shut her out of his house after the Kingsley incident.
Crowe gave an ugly little laugh. “Vayle will never guess that you made a fine meal for the sharks.”
In the light of the flambeaux lighting the entrance to Sir Percival Mather’s house, Lucian checked his gold watch to make certain that he had kept his promise to Angel. He had four more minutes before his hour would be up.
The swell of euphonious music greeted Lucian’s ears as the butler opened the door to him.
Since the program was well under way, he was surprised to see David Inge standing in the hall.
As Lucian came up to him, he said, “You are even later than I am. I only just got here myself. The wheel on my chariot came off as I was pulling away from my rooms. Fortunately, no one, including me, was hurt, but I had to see that it was cleared away.”
“How did you get here?” Lucian asked.
“Tried to find a hackney—not an easy thing to do at this time of night. Had to walk five-sixths of the way. I was so desperate that when I passed Roger Peck’s, I stopped in he hope he would give me a ride here. But as my luck would have it, he’d left no more than two or three minutes earlier for Northumberland. His butler said he had received word that his father is dying, and he set out immediately.”
“This late and in the dark?” Lucian scowled. “He must he mad. Everyone knows how treacherous the roads north are.”
“He is very devoted to his father.”
Lucian headed toward the music room to find his wife and father. At the door, he noticed Wrexham, Selina, and their host, a nervous little man in a luxurious wig of flowing auburn curls, whispering at the back of the room.
Lucian’s breath caught at the sight of his father’s expression. He had seen that look on his father’s face only one other time—the day his mother had died.
He hurried over to the trio. “What is it?” he demanded.
His father nodded toward the door into the garden. “Come outside with me.”
As they crossed to the door, Lucian looked around for his wife but saw no sign of her. Alarm prickled along his spine. When they stepped outside, Selina and their host followed them. Mather shut the door quietly.
“Where is Angel?” Lucian demanded.
His father shook his head helplessly. “She has vanished.”
“What? Where? When?”
Wrexham said, “We took those empty chairs in the back row. I left Angel there while I went to get us something to drink. I was stopped by Lord Brixton. You know what a windbag he is. When I finally got back to our chairs with the drinks, the music had started, and Angel was gone. She was nowhere in the music room. When she did not come back after several minutes, I got Lady Selina to check the lady’s retiring room, but she was not there either.”
Their host, wringing his hands anxiously, said, “I saw Lady Vayle leave her chair and come out here. I confess I was surprised to see her walk toward the back of the garden as though she knew exactly where she was going.”
Lucian gestured toward the tangled jungle behind them. “Back there?”
“Aye.”
“But it is black as pitch,” Lucian pointed out. “Why would she be going there?”
In the pale light falling through the door, Sir Percival flushed. “I ... I thought she was meeting a gentleman. It is a perfect spot for a tryst.”
Lucian thought of Peck’s sudden trip north and an ugly suspicion gnawed at his mind.
Mather, misunderstanding Lucian’s suddenly murderous look, nervously hastened to make bad worse by saying defensively. “You see I had heard rumours about Roger Peck and Lady . .
Selina cut him off. “I assure you such rumours are vicious, malicious lies. I am shocked, Sir Percival, that a man of your integrity would spread them about.”
He started to protest, but Wrexham silenced him, saying, “The important thing is to find Lady Vayle. Bring us lanterns, and do it quietly. No point in disturbing the audience.”
Sir Percival hurried back into the house. His other guests were listening raptly to the music, their backs to the scene in the garden.
Lucian did not wait for a lantern but plunged down a narrow path that wound through foliage as thick as some of the jungles in the New World were reputed to be. He followed it toward the back of the property and was soon swallowed in darkness as black as the bowels of hell.
He called Angel’s name softly, but only the cry of a night bird answered him.
Finally, he turned back toward the house. By the time he reached Selina and his father, Mather had returned with two lanterns. He handed them to Wrexham and his son.
The two men, with Lucian in the lead, worked their way down the winding, overgrown path, pushing aside branches.
Wrexham tripped on a protruding root and cursed aloud. “I do not see how Angel could have made it down this path without a light.”
Nor did Lucian, and he said bitterly, “Perhaps she had a guide.”
He stopped abruptly as he spotted the crushed and broken vegetation just ahead of him. The damage was newly done. Lucian raised the lantern and examined the area carefully. He caught sight of a torn piece of turquoise brocade caught on the broken branch of a tree.
“What did you find,” his father asked.
Lucian held up the torn fabric. His father looked stunned.
“Clearly, you remembered the same thing I did,” Lucian said brusquely. The coat Roger Peck wore to the Kingsle
ys had been turquoise brocade. Angel had been wearing scarlet tonight.
The path took one more turn, and then Lucian found himself at an open gate to a narrow, unpaved street. There had been a shower earlier in the evening, and it was clear from the tracks through the mud and the fresh horse dung that a coach had been parked beside the gate recently.
A white hot wave of molten rage washed over Lucian. Without a word, he turned and made his way back to the house. Both Selina and their host had disappeared inside.
As Lucian re-entered the house, the musicians were still playing, and the engrossed audience was unaware of the small drama that had been played out in the garden.
David and Kitty’s married half sister, Anne, were standing at the door of the music room, anxiously surveying the room. As Lucian passed by, David plucked at his arm. “We cannot find Kitty. Anne has not seen her for some time now, and she is very worried.”
Lucian was too disturbed about Angel for his friend’s words to register immediately. Just then, Selina rushed up to him.
“A messenger just delivered this for you, Lucian. He said it was urgent that you read it at once.” Selina’s face was frightened. “Do you think Angel could have been abducted by ruffians who are holding her for ransom.”
Lucian broke the wax seal and hastily read the note’s contents:
LORD VAYLE,
Your wife and I are wildly in love. We cannot bear to be apart any longer and we have run away together. My servants believe that I am going to Northumberland to see my father but this was a lie to calm suspicions about my hasty trip.
By the time you read this, we shall be on our way to Dover where we will board my yacht and sail out of England and your life forever.
ROGER PECK
Lucian, cursing viciously, dropped the note as though it had burned him.
Selina, seeing the terrible look on his face, snatched it up and gasped aloud as she read its contents.
Lucian turned toward the door. “Bloody hell, I will kill them both with my own hands.”
As he ran out the door, he heard Selina cry, “David, Lord Wrexham, go after him. For the love of God, stop him.”
Chapter 33
Angel, pacing the floor of her dank, gray prison, stiffened as she heard the metal bolt on the outside of her door being lifted. Had Rupert Crowe written yet another poisonous note that he had come to read her?
His first had been to Roger Peck, telling him that his father was dying in Northumberland and that he must go there at once. Rupert had laboured much longer over his second note, directed to Lucian. When it was done, he had insisted upon reading it to Angel with great glee. She had been so infuriated at its contents that she had flown at Rupert, grabbing the paper from his hands and ripping it up.
He had struck her then so hard that she had staggered back and fell sprawled on the cot.
“Damn little bitch,” he had snarled, gathering up the pieces of the note. “Now I will have to rewrite it.”
By the time he finished it a second time, the messenger who had delivered his note to Roger Peck returned with word that Roger had taken the bait and rushed off to Northumberland.
“Wonderful,” Rupert chortled. “Now, Abe, deliver this to Lord Vayle at the same house where you snatched the two women.”
Once Lucian read that note, he would think what her evil stepfather intended him to think, and he would be devastated, believing that Angel had betrayed his trust and his love.
Her head drooped in despair.
The grimy, battered door of her cell creaked open on rusty hinges. She lifted her head defiantly and braced herself for another confrontation with Rupert.
Instead, it was Sam, carrying an unconscious Kitty. He deposited her on the cot.
“What have you done to her?” Angel cried, hurrying to her.
“Nothing, damn it!” cried Horace Crowe, who had followed Sam into the room. “Every time I touch her, she faints.”
The frustration in his voice was so intense that it almost made Angel smile. So Kitty had found a way to foil, at least for now, Horace’s attentions to her. Angel would have tried to scratch his eyes out, but perhaps Kitty’s method was more effective.
Horace stalked from the room, followed by Sam. Angel heard the metal bar on the outside of the door drop into place.
The turquoise satin bows had been torn from Kitty’s eschelle, the ribbons holding the stomacher in place untied, and the fabric pushed down to expose her small breasts, firm and rosy-tipped. No wonder poor Kitty, timid and easily frightened, had fainted.
Angel hastily pulled the bodice together and retied the ribbons. She had nothing with which to revive Kitty so she settled for rubbing her icy hands and whispering her name softly.
When Kitty’s eyes fluttered open and focused on Angel, she gave a small, relieved moan. “Thank God, it is you, and not that horrible…” Her voice failed her and she shuddered violently. “He is not here, is he?” she asked in alarm.
“We are alone for now.”
Kitty looked around her. “Where are we?”
“Locked in a what I believe is a warehouse on the Thames.”
“Are you the other woman they abducted? Rupert Crowe was very angry that they brought you, too. Why did they?”
“To prevent me from raising a hue and cry that you had been abducted, which was what I would have done.”
“How did you know?”
“I was concerned when I saw you go into the garden with that footman. I followed you, thinking to help you if you needed it. Some help was I.” Angel’s voice was edged with scorn for herself.
“I heard you calling me, but when I tried to answer, that awful footman grabbed me and put his hand over my mouth.”
“Why did you go with him into the garden?”
“He told me that David Inge was waiting there, that he wanted to talk to me.”
Angel frowned. “Did it not seem strange to you that—”
“I know it should have, but I was so eager to see David that I did not think about anything else. I am astonished that you would try to help me after…”—Kitty’s voice faltered—“…after what I told you at the Stratford garden party. It was a dreadful thing for me to do. What I told you was not even true, although I believed that it was when I said it.”
Kitty pushed herself into a sitting position on the cot. “You see, when David was trying to comfort me after that dreadful scene at Fernhill, he told me what Vayle had said.” Kitty’s mouth trembled. “When David learned from Vayle that I had told you, he was furious at me. He said that while Lucian might have felt that way about you that morning at Fernhill, he very soon changed his mind.”
She looked at Angel almost in awe. “Indeed, David says that Vayle loves you. I cannot conceive of him loving anyone.”
It had not been easy for him, Angel thought. “David said that even if what I told you was the truth, which it was not, I should never have said anything to you. He said that it was a spiteful, mean thing to do. And he is right.” Tears welled up in Kitty’s eyes. “But I was so miserable and mortified over what happened at Fernhill and so jealous of you that I could not help myself. I am truly sorry. Please, forgive me.”
Angel did not doubt that Kitty’s remorse was genuine and deeply felt. This was the Kitty she had once known, the Kitty of her childhood, and she was delighted to have her back. “Of course I will forgive you.”
“You are kinder than I deserve. I hurt you, but I hurt myself even worse. David is so angry at me over it that he no longer wants to marry me—not that Papa would ever let him.” The tears were pouring down Kitty’s cheeks now. “I did not realize how much I loved him until I lost him. When that awful footman told me tonight that David was waiting in the garden for me, I was so anxious to see him I never thought of anything else.”
Kitty dissolved in tears. “Now I will never see David again!” she sobbed.
Angel held her and comforted her until her crying subsided. Then they sat quietly on the cot, clinging t
o each other.
Beyond the door, Rupert Crowe shouted an unintelligible command to one of his minions.
Kitty shuddered at the sound of his voice. “What does he plan to do with you now?”
“Feed me to the sharks?”
Kitty turned green and moaned.
“Do not worry—that is not to be your fate.”
“What is?”
“He intends for you to marry Horace.”
Kitty shuddered. “I want to die.”
“Well, I want to live!” Angel was not going to quietly let Rupert Crowe make her shark bait. “We must find some way to get away before they take us aboard the ship.”
“But how?” Kitty asked helplessly.
Angel wished she could answer. She would have to pick the moment carefully, for she was unlikely to get more than one chance to escape. “Our best hope is to catch our captors unawares as they transport us to the ship. Perhaps we can make a break for it as we are getting in or out of the coach, or failing that, jump out of it as it is moving.”
“While it is moving,” Kitty echoed in a faint, frightened voice. “We would be killed! I could not.”
“You just said you wanted to die,” Angel reminded her.
“But not that way.”
Angel sighed. She could see that it would be up to her to save both of them. “I shall attempt something, and if I succeed, I will try to get help for you before the ship sails.” They would have a better chance of one of them escaping if they both tried to get away simultaneously and ran in different directions, but she had no hope of persuading Kitty of that.
Nor would Angel herself, hampered by her full skirts, be able to run very fast. Looking down at her gown, she devoutly wished she had worn black or some other dull colour tonight instead of bright scarlet that would make her easier to spot in the dark.
Angel jumped up from the cot and began shedding her long petticoats, one by one, until she was down to the skirt of her chemise, which reached only to her calf.
Devil’s Angel Page 34