by Maggie Dove
“No! Lord Nicholas must not know about the telegram. No one must know I have gone to London. Now, help me pack,” Angelique insisted as she frantically rummaged through her clothes.
“But what shall I tell him, my lady? He will miss you, he will ask. Will you be returning tomorrow or the next day?”
“Janie, I can’t explain. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone. Believe me, he will not think it odd that I have left Windword. Lord Nicholas will think that I have traveled to America.”
Janie frowned. “America? Why would he think that? And what about your aunt? Surely she will worry.”
“I’ll speak to Tante Mattie before I go. I’ll tell her something that will set her mind at ease. Janie, can I depend on you to keep my secret?” Angelique implored, ceasing her mad rush to take the maid’s hands in hers. “I need you to help me.”
“I don’t like this one bit, my lady. You should not travel alone. If I cannot change your mind, then let me go with you.”
“I’ll be fine, Janie. Can I count on your discretion?”
With a worried look, the maid hesitated at the closet door, then nodded her head.
“You’ve been kind, my lady. Now it is my turn to help you. Go to London—your secret is safe.”
* * * *
The heavyset, older woman opened the door with a fearful expression on her face. Her wide hips blocked the entrance as she glanced nervously over her shoulder and whispered, “This is not a good time, Viscountess. Maybe it would be best if you left.”
Incredulous that Gertrude Mason had the nerve to suggest she leave, Angelique replied curtly, “Madame, I was summoned here because the child is ill. Take me to Colin at once, and then I will decide whether I stay or go. Not before.”
“Do as I ask, Viscountess,” begged Gertrude, again looking over her shoulder, her chest firmly pressed against the door. “I will, no doubt, get a beating if Edgar finds out I’ve tried to warn you. You must leave here now!”
“I’ll do no such thing!” Angelique cried out. She drew in a deep, slow breath, trying to keep her temper in check. “I would have come sooner, but the carriage that brought me to the station from Windword Hall suffered an accident. It took an extra day to get here. The wheel let loose and the driver was almost thrown to his death. I missed the train and had to—oh, never mind!”
Angelique could wait no more. Anxious to see the boy, she pushed aside the woman and rushed inside the dreary building. “Where is he?” she demanded. “Where is Colin? Has a doctor been sent for?”
“You should not have entered, milady. Colin is well. He has never been better. Oh, Viscountess—God forgive me. Go, dear lady. Turn around and never come back!”
Before Angelique could respond, Gertrude Mason let out a frightful gasp as her husband’s skeletal form came into view. “Edgar!”
“Gertrude, the children need you. Leave us at once,” Mason ordered, his scrawny features frozen in anger.
Her eyes wide with fright, the hefty woman scurried down the hall, disappearing into one of the rooms.
Left alone with Edgar Mason, a terrible sense of foreboding overtook Angelique. She suddenly felt nauseated. The putrid stench of dried urine was overwhelming, worse than the last time she had been here, and her morning sickness exacerbated the effect.
Edgar licked his lips. “Viscountess, about the funds. It was generous of you to send such a substantial amount.”
“Where is Colin? Take me to him at once. I need to ask the doctor if the child is well enough to travel. I’m taking him away from here today.”
“Of course,” Mason responded peevishly. “I can assure you, the boy is in the best of health now, but he gave us quite a scare. His fever did not break for four days … that is when Gertrude insisted we wire you. I hope we didn’t inconvenience you, dear lady.”
Disgust swelled within her. “Colin is not an inconvenience, monsieur. I should have been made aware of his condition sooner. I need to speak with the doctor,” Angelique insisted as Edgar led her down a creaky flight of wooden stairs and into yet another dark, gloomy hallway.
“The doctor has left. There is no more need for him, Viscountess,” Mason replied matter-of-factly. “The boy is quite well. You will see for yourself.”
“Why is Colin here, so far away from the other rooms?”
“Lady Kent, Colin is not the only child we care for. His condition could be contagious. You wouldn’t have wanted us to expose the others to illness, now would you?” Mason asked, saliva catching at the corners of his thin lips.
“No, I suppose not,” Angelique conceded. Anxious to see Colin, she hurried her steps in an effort to catch up with the bony man racing in front of her. She could hear the raspy sounds coming from his chest as he tried to catch his breath.
Coughing, Edgar called back to her, “Come, Viscountess. Colin awaits.” He stopped before a big wooden door. Unlocking it with a ring of keys that he lifted out of his side pocket, he finally let her in.
It was dark inside. So dark, Angelique could hardly see. “Why have you kept Colin in this dark room?” she asked, furiously. “He must be terrified.”
“Calm yourself, Viscountess, little Colin has slept through most of his illness. He has not been frightened. But one never knows what goes on in the mind of a child.”
Mason’s ominous tone sent shivers up her spine. “Colin,” Angelique called out to the boy. “I’m here, darling. I’ve come to take you.” She walked farther into the room, her eyes finally adjusting to the darkness. She saw a bed in the center of the room. “Colin!” she cried out, walking toward the bed. She lifted the sheets. The bed was empty. No, not empty. Chains? To her horror, she saw chains on the bed!
Angelique turned around to confront Edgar Mason, and terror gripped her.
With a sickly smile, Mason stood behind her, carrying a metal bar. “No!” she begged, backing away from him as he raised the bar over her head and brought it down hard.
Later, suffering from excruciating pain, a groggy Angelique felt her limp body being picked up from the floor and carried to the bed. From far away, she heard demented shrieking laughter and felt the bony hands that dallied way too long upon her breasts chain her wrists and ankles to the bedposts. Her blurry vision prohibited her from distinguishing the lurking figure that stepped forth from a hidden corner of the room and was the source of all the laughter.
* * * *
The sight of the near naked young girl before him drove Edgar Mason to distraction. His hands itched to touch her body, to explore harsh and cruel and torture her senseless. His hand entered her blouse and grasped her breast; his worm-like fingers closed over her nipple with a harsh pinch.
She moaned slightly. He smiled and pinched her again.
His fingers ached to travel lower and grope beneath her belly, to plunge inside her, to know just how she felt in that most private of places. Ever since the coronation day when he had first seen her, he was filled with tantalizing thoughts about how he would violate her. He pictured her limp and broken before him, weeping silently, allowing him to have his way with her. Ah, such pleasure he would take in witnessing her complete and utter humiliation. Instead, he would have that to savor and a whole lot more at a later time—a time when moans would cease and agonizing, terrifying screams would prevail.
But why should he wait? He had waited long enough. Who was to stop him? Gertrude had been forbidden to enter this room without his permission, and the girl was chained to the bed and unconscious. The ache in his loins unbearable, he pulled down his pants. He could hardly contain himself, so intent was he on ravishing her.
Again, his hand clutched her breast, his fingers gripping and pulling at her nipple. Determined to suck her, he wiped the sweat from his upper lip with his free hand and lowered his head.
“Enjoying yourself, Edgar?”
Startled by the voice, Mason turned his gaze from Angelique and suddenly found himself standing before his accomplice, completely exposed to her. “Damn you, woman!”
he cursed, placing his hands over his shaft, trying to shield it from her view.
His accomplice snickered as Edgar reached for his pants. Pointing to below his midriff, she laughed. “Nature was a little scarce, Mason, but you were going to put your scantiness to good use. Why did you stop?” the accomplice taunted, with a twisted smile. “I would have enjoyed watching her squirm. Although by the looks of it, she wouldn’t have known the difference.”
Clenching his teeth, Mason did not reply. His only wish was to wring the bitch’s neck. Her belittling sneers had caused his erection to collapse; his member lay limp against his thigh. Horrified, he turned from her and quickly pulled his pants over his groin.
“So tell me, Mason. Did you send the ransom note?”
“Yes. The note has been dispatched to Windword Hall. Now, we just wait.”
After a few, raspy breaths, Edgar added, “I think we overpaid the messenger. I could see the gentleman was overwhelmed. You should not have pawned her jewels for payment. You must understand, Viscountess, they could be traced to you?”
The woman scoffed. “You are a fool, Mason. I am no more a viscountess than that slimy excuse for a messenger is a gentleman. But this will soon change once Kent takes me for his bride. I have schemed too long and hard to do anything stupid now. I’ve taken every precaution, but have you? That is what troubles me.”
“Don’t worry. The man owes me a favor. He will deliver the note to Kent and disappear. He has never disappointed me in the past,” Edgar replied before being overcome by a coughing spell.
“For God’s sakes, Mason! There’s blood gathered at the corners of your lips. Death take you—you’re a walking specter!”
Glassy-eyed, Mason dismissed her words with a wave of his hand. “After I receive the ransom money,” he managed to say between coughs, “what do you want me to do with the girl?”
“What you do with her is of no concern to me. Have your way with her and then kill her. It is what you are itching to do. I can see it in your eyes, Mason. Go ahead—enjoy yourself!”
Angelique’s sudden gasp of terror seemed to catch their attention.
“Well, well. Look who’s finally awake. The injection wore off sooner than expected, my dear. We’ll have to turn you over and give you another one,” Edgar said, laughing wickedly. Leaning down to whisper into Angelique’s face, he added, “Your arse is curvy and plump … made to my liking.”
Angelique pressed her face against her shoulder, trying unsuccessfully to shield her nose from Mason’s foul breath. Outraged, she cried out, “Take off these blindfolds and release me at once!”
“My dear woman, you are in no position to demand anything,” Edgar retorted. His hand tore at her blouse and he grabbed her breast, squeezing it tight as if to prove his point. The pain throbbing in her head was unbearable as she writhed on the bed, twisting and turning in every direction to evade his touch. But the chains held her in position, accessible to Mason’s foul whims.
“Please,” Angelique begged him. “Don’t touch me!” she beseeched in a frantic outburst.
“No amount of begging is going to stop me, Frenchy. Your moans fill me with lust, and your squirming about makes me want you all the more.”
“Mason,” the accomplice demanded shortly. “Go find that silly wife of yours. I saw her weeping in the hallway—better calm her down before the old hag does something we’ll both regret. Stop drooling. She’ll be waiting for you when you return—she’s not going anywhere.”
The accomplice’s voice sounded faintly familiar to Angelique, but the bestial edge to it was confusing. Try as she willed she could not place it. She heard the door shut behind Edgar and sensed the woman’s presence as she came closer and stood before the bed.
“Who are you?” Angelique asked. “If it is money you want, I will pay handsomely if you release me immediately. Mason does not have to know.”
Laughter was the woman’s only reply, but not for long. To Angelique’s horror, the woman began to speak in her usual honeyed tone—a tone, which Angelique instantly recognized. “Let’s get rid of the blindfolds, my lady.”
“Janie!” Angelique exclaimed when the blindfolds were removed, and she saw the maid’s smiling face before her as though they were at Windword Hall on any ordinary day. Mon Dieu, it could not be!
“Janie,” Angelique repeated, her voice quivering with horror.
“Yes, my lady?” the maid asked innocently. She walked toward the bedroom door, opened it and stood at the threshold. “Naughty girl, the other morning you rushed out and didn’t taste the café au lait … and after all the trouble I went to convincing my mother to serve that instead of tea.” With a bloodcurdling chuckle, Janie slipped out of the room, only to peep her head back in. “Oh, and my lady … about our little secret. Don’t worry, I told no one. No one knows you’re here.”
* * * *
Hours later, Angelique heard the sound of the doorknob turning. She lifted her head to see who had entered the chamber.
“Madame Mason, thank God it is you—hurry, please!”
Coming to stand before the bed, Gertrude expelled an angry breath. “Edgar had no right to tie you up like this. There is no reason to hold you here in chains. If only you had turned away and not set foot in this house. Now it is too late.”
“It is not too late. You can still help me. Hurry, release the chains!”
Gertrude frowned. “I dare not. He will beat me again. The black and blue marks are beginning to show from the thrashing I got this morning for trying to warn you at the door.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Oh, milady, I shouldn’t be here. Edgar has forbidden me to enter this room.” Suddenly distracted by the creaking of wood, Gertrude looked to the door and screeched, putting her hands to her lips. “He mustn’t find me here! I just needed to reassure myself that you were faring well.”
“But I’m not faring well!” Angelique snapped with the last ounce of strength she possessed. “Please Gertrude, I am with child. Release me, if not for myself, then for my unborn babe.”
“I cannot,” Gertrude said, shaking her head. “Edgar will let you go as soon as he gets his money. We have no other choice. The Clemmons woman is blackmailing us.”
“Madame, please …”
“Listen to me, my dear,” Gertrude persisted. “She has a plan, and she needs Edgar’s help to carry it through. I eavesdropped on Edgar’s conversations with her. She schemed to convince you that Lord Nicholas was having an affair with Lady Blake. It was despicable for her to have forced Edgar to tell you such lies about your husband.”
“Please, Madame Mason, we are wasting precious time. I don’t know what you overheard, but I saw my husband walk out of Clarissa’s townhouse. We can talk later. You need to help me, my life is in danger!”
“I assure you, it was all their doing,” Gertrude insisted. “I must say something else, milady. Lord Kent knows nothing about the boy. He does not even know that the boy exists. No one does except her and us … and now you, milady. Not even her mother knows. She left Windword and worked as a governess while pregnant with Colin.”
Her plump features flushed with ire as she spoke further of Janie. “For three years we took care of her son. Do you think she showed any appreciation? Blackmail is all we got from the likes of her.”
Gertrude’s words numbed Angelique, making her forget her surroundings. “Colin is Janie’s child?” she asked, shocked. “Mon Dieu!”
Gertrude shook her head sadly, wiping her brow with the back of her hand.
“She came to us shortly after Colin was born, passing herself off as a viscountess and telling us that her maid had died giving birth to the boy. We believed her. We had no reason not to. She dressed the part with all them fancy outfits, masquerading herself as quite the lady. After entrusting the child to us and paying us a good sum, she left, and we did not see her again for an entire year.”
Angelique’s wrists were raw, as she tried to free herself. Gertrude grabbed Angelique’s hands and held the
m firmly. “Please, milady. It is not necessary to try to escape. Edgar will release you in time. You are hurting yourself.”
Intent on speaking the truth, Gertrude glanced over her shoulder once more to make certain she was not overheard. “The woman came every summer after that with the yearly funds, but never once did she want to see the child. Imagine not wanting to see her own flesh and blood, milady? And if that were not enough, she came back this summer and confessed all. When she revealed the father’s identity—oh, dear God in heaven! Edgar and I almost met our maker. We almost did indeed!”
Sweating profusely, Gertrude took a handkerchief from the folds of her skirt. Wiping her face and neck, she continued, “You must listen, milady. James Kent is Colin’s father. Yes, your husband’s late brother. She threatened to report us to the authorities for keeping the earl’s grandson from him. She would do this if we did not help her. We need the funds to leave the country, to escape to where the earl cannot find us. Lady Kent, you look ill. Maybe I shouldn’t have …”