“Take me instead,” Sarah offered with a wobbly voice. She was already leaning forward, her arm stuck out in front of Juliette in an effort to hold her back.
The man glared at Sarah for one fleeting second before returning his attention to Juliette. “We’ve no need for your friend there. It’s you we want. Now get out or suffer the consequence.”
“I will go.” Juliette pushed Sarah’s arm aside. She had no idea who the men were or what their motive was for insisting she come with them, but she would not allow them to harm Sarah.
“No! You cannot!” Sarah’s voice was desperate.
“Return home,” Juliette told her as calmly as she was able. “Tell my brother what has happened.” She began climbing out but paused in the doorway just long enough to give Sarah a meaningful look. “And make sure Florian knows as well.”
Sarah responded with a jerky nod. Her eyes were wide with fear.
An arm came around Juliette’s waist. “That’s enough.” Her kidnapper hauled her down into the street so Juliette could see that each end had been closed off by workers, or men pretending to be workers. They’d diverted traffic and trapped them without anyone taking notice. “Time to go.” The man who held her grabbed her wrist so tight her skin twisted and burned beneath his fingers.
Pulling Juliette along, he dragged her toward another carriage, taking her past Raphe’s driver, whose lifeless body lay sprawled out next to the whinnying horses. Dear God! They’d actually killed a man without second thought! Blood pooled beneath his chest, staining the road in a morbid shade of glistening red.
Fearing she might be sick, Juliette turned her head away and allowed herself to be shoved up into her assailants’ carriage. She would comply without complaint lest they choose to punish her by murdering Sarah as well.
So she told herself to keep a tight leash on her composure. Succumbing to tears would serve no purpose beyond annoying these men who’d already proven themselves quite merciless. There was no telling what they might do if she proved too difficult for them to manage. Instead, rational thought and a clear assessment of the situation at hand was the only chance she had of escape and perhaps even of survival.
The man who’d grabbed her got in and sat down beside her while his companion made himself comfortable on the opposite bench. Black curtains blocked out all light, casting them in grimy shadows. A dull object pushed into her side.
“Don’t do anything stupid,” the man beside her muttered.
“I wasn’t planning to,” Juliette told him sharply. Across from her the other man aimed his pistol straight at her chest.
“Smart girl,” the man beside her said, his weapon nudging her hard in the ribs as the carriage rolled forward. “You wouldn’t want to risk a shot going off by accident, would you?”
“No.” She said nothing further, remaining silent as the carriage moved onward, her greatest fear being the lack of clues left for Florian and Raphe to follow.
To Florian’s relief, everything seemed fine at the hospital when he arrived to make his first rounds after more than a two-week absence. His patients had been well taken care of by the new physicians Viola had hired, and even Haines was there, back at work without a hint of his recent bout with typhus.
“I asked the chief magistrate to press charges against Blaire,” Viola said as the two of them strolled through the wards while assessing the standard of care that was being provided. “He will go on trial next week for severe negligence and if found guilty, could go to prison for up to a year.”
“It isn’t enough, but at least it is something.” All Florian could hope for was that the case would set a precedent, reminding other physicians, surgeons and apothecaries of their duty toward their patients.
They walked a few steps in silence before she hesitantly said, “About your reputation . . .”
Florian winced. He’d been wondering when she would bring that up. “The committee has suggested you take a leave of absence for a while. If the situation escalates, you will in all likelihood be asked to resign your position.” Her expression was apologetic. “This decision was not made lightly, Florian, but the members felt it was necessary to act in the hospital’s best interest and I . . . I do not have enough power alone to go against their wishes.”
“Nor should you.” As much as he hated having to abandon his work, he understood why it was necessary for him to do so. “The hospital takes priority, Viola. It comes before my pride and whatever duty we have toward each other.”
“I knew you would accept the decision, though I do regret that it had to come to this.”
“It was Bartholomew’s doing. When I failed to meet his demands, he punished me by making my fears a reality.” Allowing a humorless grin to surface, he said, “What he probably didn’t expect was for me to find comfort in the outcome. For years I have lived with this burden, this abject anxiety, wearing me down. He chose to crack it wide open and release it out into the world, and frankly, the experience has thus far been rather liberating.”
“What about Juliette?” Viola gave him a coy glance. “How does she feel about all of this?”
“She loves me for who I am.” It still felt miraculous, to have met a woman of her social standing who did not give a fig for appearances, titles, prestige or anything besides core values and character. “To think she will be my wife is . . .” He contemplated the best possible adjective and eventually gave up. “Words cannot describe it.”
Viola chuckled. “I am so incredibly happy for you. Everyone deserves to be loved, and I am pleased to know you have found a woman who was able to convince you that you are worthy of such affection.”
His cheeks grew uncomfortably hot so he made a hasty attempt to divert attention away from himself. “What about you, though? Is it not time for you to dip your toes into Society and perhaps make a match of your own?”
Viola rolled her eyes right before preceding him through a doorway. She paused on the other side at the top of a wide landing and faced him. “Your kind is too hungry for scandal. They devour it as easily as children devour their sweets—in quick succession and without pause.” She shook her head and expelled a wistful breath. “My entire life was lived in private until I accepted Tremaine’s proposal. The moment we married everything changed. I was written about in the most unfavorable terms because of my age and background. To meet the people willing to read these articles, and use them as fodder for all sorts of rumors, has never appealed. I prefer to keep away and to focus on something larger than myself, rather than on those looking to see me fail the moment I enter a ballroom.” She smiled with the assurance of a woman who knew her own mind. “This is my domain, Florian. This is where I stand a chance of success. Not out there in public and certainly not with some aristocratic snob of a husband by my side.”
When he raised an eyebrow, she relaxed her expression and chuckled while hitting him lightly on the arm. “You know what I mean, Florian, and besides, you are as different from that lot as I am.”
He was well aware of the fact. They started down the stairs at a steady pace. “Still, I always imagined you settling down one day and having children.” She was so protective and nurturing it would be a shame if she didn’t.
“This is my child.” She spread her arms wide, encompassing the entire hospital in her statement. “I have pledged my life to it, Florian. I do not have the time or the energy for the responsibilities of marriage and motherhood.”
Viola’s words resonated deep within. It was precisely how he had felt until recently, until Juliette had become more important to him than anything else in the world. He still wanted his career, of course, if keeping it was possible. One of the things he loved about Juliette was knowing she would support him in this and that she would show him how to have both.
Reminded of this, he told Viola, “I have an important call to make. Will you let me know what the committee members decide?”
“Of course.” She smiled at him warmly. “I will continue insisting that no one c
an take your place.”
Pleased to know he had her unwavering support, Florian left the hospital quickly, hailed a hackney and directed it to Huntley House. “I wish to speak with His Grace,” he told the butler as soon as the door to the massive residence was opened. He handed the man his card even though it was a superfluous effort considering the number of times he’d come here in the past. The butler knew precisely who he was.
“Wait one moment.” The butler departed down a corridor.
To Florian’s surprise, however, it wasn’t he who returned, but Huntley himself, his creased brow, chaotic hair and quick stride affording him with a wild appearance that instantly alerted Florian to the man’s distress. “Thank God you’re here. I was ready to go and find you myself.”
Ice began to form in Florian’s gut. It shivered through his veins until cold panic was all he could feel. “Juliette. Is she not well?” If she had suffered a relapse, it could prove fatal in her already weakened state.
“This has nothing to do with her health.” Huntley said, but the dread in his eyes lingered. Florian held his breath, fearing the worst and expecting his life to be torn to shreds within seconds. “She was taken at gunpoint, evicted from the carriage I sent to collect her.”
The ice expanded, pushing its way into Florian’s heart and filling it with a pain so acute he almost clutched at his chest. “We have to find her.” Dear God, if something had happened to her, if these villains had harmed her in any way, he’d rip their heads from their bodies and—
“Her maid described a tall broad-shouldered man with a thick white scar beneath one eye,” Huntley said, scattering Florian’s bloodthirsty thoughts of revenge. “She said his hair was black and his eyes an odd shade of amber.”
Coherent thought returned, pushing his panic aside and allowing him to assess what he knew with the same precision with which he’d always applied himself to everything. The information led to only one possibility, one in which fear turned to outrage, then anger and finally fury.
Meeting Huntley’s gaze with the determination of a man setting out on a hunt, he told him crisply, “It sounds like the man who took her was Mr. Smith, Bartholomew’s manservant.”
Huntley frowned. “What the hell does he want with Juliette?”
“I’ll explain on the way,” Florian promised, already striding back toward the carriage. He held the door open for Huntley who climbed in without further question. Florian leapt in behind him and fell back against the bench as the carriage lurched into motion. “The truth,” he said after righting himself, “is that Bartholomew’s still alive and hell-bent on seeking revenge.”
Chapter 26
The room Juliette had been brought to was without a doubt the most garish she’d ever seen. Red velvet drapes flanked each window, the excess fabric pooling richly upon the glossy parquet. Gilded furniture clad in plush brocade matched the drapes and the gold braided ties that held them. Thick carpets stretched across the floor, decorated by lavish designs of flowers in full bloom. Most unsettling were the paintings hung side by side on the walls, each depicting scenes of nude men and women engaging in explicit acts of sexual congress.
Perched on one of the chairs, Juliette deliberately gazed at her feet. She had yet to be informed of why she’d been brought here, though she had begun to suspect who was behind it since the only criminal she could think of with this sort of wealth was Bartholomew. After all, this was precisely what Florian had feared, that his father would use his loved ones to seek revenge.
A door opened and footsteps approached with a soft tread. Juliette refused to look up, refused to give her captor the satisfaction of her curiosity, her interest. So she kept her eyes stubbornly on her feet until a black pair of fine leather shoes, freshly buffed, came into view. Silence followed, keeping her escalating heart rate company. And then, the distressing stroke of a finger sliding firmly over her jaw.
“My, my, my . . .” A low chuckle followed. “You certainly are a pretty one, even though I suspect you look much better with hair.”
A palm crept under her chin, tilting it back and forcing her gaze up until it collided with blue steely eyes. The nose between said eyes was narrow and delicately shaped, the mouth beneath well hidden behind a finely trimmed beard.
“Do you know who I am?” His silky voice made her shudder. She clenched her jaw, thought of Florian and tried to ignore the ripples of fear flowing through her. “My name is Mr. Mortedge, but perhaps you know me best as Bartholomew.”
So she was right. This was Florian’s father, and he had deliberately taken her in order to hurt his son. A fine plan, one that would likely work as long as Bartholomew thought she was Florian’s weakness.
“What do you want?” She forced as much venom into her tone as she could muster.
Bartholomew gave her a syrupy smirk. “Retribution.” He withdrew his hand and took a step back, his gleaming eyes sliding over her body until she felt dirty and violated. “First, Florian betrayed me, then he ignored me. Informing the world of his heritage isn’t enough. He needs to suffer and learn that I must be heeded.”
Dread slithered through her, curling around her insides and snapping at her sanity. She had to stay calm, no matter what. “You assume any harm you inflict upon me will have the effect you desire, but Florian isn’t a man prone to deep emotion. He is guided by logic alone.”
“Except when he is with you.” Bartholomew spoke with the confidence of a man who was well informed, and that made Juliette’s confidence wither. “His affection for you has been made quite clear. The look in his eyes when you are together is oh so touching. And let’s not forget the risk he took on your behalf.”
“He would have done the same for anyone else.”
Bartholomew looked at her with condescension. “Unlikely. He gave up everything he held dear in order to save you, Juliette. I bet he would do so again by offering marriage . . . yes . . . I see I’m correct. He hopes to salvage what remains of your reputation!” A dull bit of laughter tumbled from his chest. “Ha! Imagine how upset he will be when I take away his chance to do so—that incessant need he has to be a knight in shining armor, waving his noble sword in the wake of my destruction.”
“You’re mad.”
“No.” All trace of humor vanished from his face as he leaned in close, his light blue eyes driving straight through her own. “I am fueled by hatred and severe disappointment and I have suffered my son’s disobedience long enough. The time has come for me to teach him a lesson, by making him watch you die.”
Juliette’s stomach dropped. A cold shiver scraped her spine. “He will not come.”
“Hmm . . .” He studied her closely, then lowered his gaze to her breasts and allowed it to linger. “Perhaps not. Perhaps . . .” His hand was suddenly between her legs, pushing them apart so he could stroke along her inner thighs. “I could teach you a thing or two about pleasure.”
She tried to clamp her legs together while wriggling back in her seat. Bile rose in her throat. “My brother will kill you before you have the chance.”
He straightened himself and seemed to consider her warning with calculated care. Eventually he grinned, wide and mockingly. “You underestimate the speed with which I am able to accomplish the deed.”
She stared at him in horror. “You’re a monster!”
“No. I am wronged!” He bellowed the words, letting them bounce off the walls with violent fury. Glaring at her, he squared his shoulders and smoothed his jacket. “I believe our guests will arrive soon—it’s a gift, you know, sensing your child’s nearness.” Moving away, he went to the door and paused there to smile at her as if all was well and he was the most incredible host in the world. “You may want to start praying if you’re the religious sort.” And with that ominous piece of advice, he left her to do precisely that.
“Are you absolutely sure we shouldn’t alert the authorities?” Huntley asked. Sitting opposite Florian in a hired hackney, they’d been discussing the situation at hand and their app
roach to it during their drive over to the Red Rose. Unsure of what they were up against, Florian wanted as much support as possible and intended to ask Henry for help.
“Absolutely. Doing so would only put Juliette in additional danger.”
“Because Bartholomew might decide to take her down with him if he starts to feel threatened,” Huntley reasoned.
Florian nodded. “Let’s not forget how easily he murdered your driver. And he is not the only man Bartholomew’s killed over the years, I assure you.” Why the devil were they moving so infernally slowly? Shifting, he glanced out the window and saw to his relief that they were almost there. “The worst part is we’re not dealing with a lunatic who belongs in Bedlam, but with a calculated evil-doer whose mind is sharper than most. Our only chance is to try and reason with him, though I can assure you it will not be easy.”
“Because he believes he is right and you are wrong.”
“Precisely.”
The carriage drew to a halt and Florian sprang out, not waiting for Huntley, whom he sensed was following close behind. Without breaking his stride, he almost ran through the Red Rose’s entrance and down the hall to his brother’s office.
The door stood open so Florian entered without knocking, greeting Henry with a quick nod before getting straight to the point of his visit.
“Bartholomew has her.” Florian strode forward until he stood face-to-face with Henry. “The bloody bastard has taken Juliette and we need your help in getting her back.”
“Christ!” Henry’s eyes sharpened, lit by a kindred fury. He stood, rounded his desk and followed Florian from the room, talking as they went. “If we had only alerted the authorities when you discovered he poisoned Armswell then—”
“What?” Exasperation gripped Florian with full force. “Bartholomew looks entirely different from the man he once was. How would you have proven he was one and the same when everyone thinks him dead?”
The Illegitimate Duke Page 27