by Alice Gaynes
“You’d stay down here alone?” he asked. ‘Twasn’t decent, not at all. But Londoners and nobility did things different. Still he’d never seen the like.
“She smiled again and a light of cold determination entered her blue eyes. “No one here would molest me, would they?”
“It just it isn’t done.”
Her smile disappeared. “Don’t lecture me on propriety, my good man.”
He shrugged. “Roxanne!”
His daughter appeared at the threshold to the kitchen. “Papa?”
“Make up a room for her ladyship.”
Roxanne took in the scene and dropped a curtsy.
“My maid will help you,” the lady said.
“This way,” Roxanne said. The two girls walked from the room and their footsteps echoed off the stairs to the rooms above.
“Now then.” The lady took a nasty-looking pin from her hat, removed it and set them both on the bar. “I’ll have a sherry.”
He wiped a glass with his clean towel and set it on the bar in front of her. After filling it, he set the bottle aside.
She pulled out some more coins. “Serve yourself and this gentleman here.”
Randall, the butcher, drained his glass and lifted it in a toast to her. Tom gave him another pint and poured one for himself. Without removing her gloves, the lady sipped her sherry and made a little face. No doubt her butler served her much better but that was all Tom had.
“Are there any country houses near here?” she asked.
“Houses?” Tom repeated.
“The sort of place where people from London come for relaxation.”
“There’s a place, right enough,” Randall answered. “But I don’t think they relax much.”
Tom gave the butcher a warning look but the man shrugged it off and drank more of his ale.
The lady’s eyebrow went up. “I don’t catch your meaning.”
“Stories only, my lady,” Tom said. “You know how people talk.”
Randall only snorted at that.
“Keep the rumors to yourself, man,” Tom said.
“The earl’s dead. He ain’t going to rise from his grave to punish me.”
“Still—”
“Which earl?” the lady asked. Her tone was light but steel lay underneath.
“Oakhurst,” Randall said. “Evil probably killed him.”
“The Earl of Oakhurst?”
“The very one. He rebuilt the abbey. Named it something French.”
“Sans Regret, perhaps?” she asked.
“Could be.”
“Her ladyship doesn’t want to hear any of this,” Tom said.
“Oh but I do.”
Randall drank the last of his ale and set the glass in front of Tom. The fool would be drunk in another minute and who knew what he’d say then? None of them were supposed to talk about the abbey and what went on there. Yes the earl was dead but his widow lived on. What would she do if she found out the town had given up her secrets?
“Pour him another,” the lady said.
Tom did and placed the glass in front of the butcher, glaring at him as he did.
“What did you mean they didn’t relax at Sans Regret?” she asked.
“I made deliveries up there and some of the things I saw…”
Her glass sat on the bar with her fingers curled around it. At that last, her grip tightened. She pretended not to care but that was an act. “The earl had a reputation for being rather eccentric.”
“Is that what they call it in London?” Randall asked.
“What do you call it?”
“Such talk, my lady,” Tom said. “‘Tisn’t fit for one as delicate as yourself.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.”
“Besides, it all stopped when the earl died, God rest his soul,” Tom said.
“I ain’t so sure of that,” Randall said, his voice thick with drink. “There’s people up there still.”
“What people?” she asked.
“The countess and some others. I’ve taken some folks up there. The man came back but the woman stayed.”
“I’m looking for a gentleman,” she said. “A friend of my husband’s. Could he be there?”
“Could be,” Randall said. “Don’t rightly know who all’s up there.”
“But more than just the countess and a few servants.”
“Aye.”
She got out some more money and slid it across the bar. “You’ve been very helpful, Mr…”
“Randall, ma’am.” He put the money in his pocket. “I can take you up there tomorrow, if you like.”
“I’d rather go myself unannounced. If you can give my driver instructions.”
“That I will.”
“Well then gentlemen, good night.” She picked up her things, leaving her sherry near full. “If you’d show me to my room. I’m sure that supper must be ready by now.”
“Of course, my lady.” Tom rushed out from behind the bar and led the way to the stairs. He could only call the smile on her face evil and the sooner he got away from it the better. Her steps told him she was right behind him. He’d get her upstairs and come back to give Randall his opinions of him and his loose tongue. Yes he would.
* * * * *
At the first word of the carriage waiting outside the main gate, Caroline had Wortham moved to one of the lower rooms. The monks had aged cheese in the underground chamber because of the darkness and cool temperature. Oakhurst had appointed it with the height of luxury, including a fireplace that vented to the outside, fine carpets and a large bed. It even had its own water closet with the best amenities.
The room wasn’t a dungeon but Wortham had to know she’d moved him somewhere more secure. She’d send Abby to amuse him, if necessary, but she couldn’t send their visitor away without raising suspicion. Damn.
She waited in the sitting room for her guest, composing herself and willing her heart to calm its racing. Robert stood by the window with the lace curtain in his hand. “Who do you suppose it is?”
“We’ll know soon enough. Come away from there before they catch you staring.”
He let the curtain drop into place but stayed where he was. “Do you think they’ve come looking for Wortham?”
“If they did they won’t find him.”
“Maybe he got word out about where you’re holding him prisoner.”
“How could he do that? I control everything that comes in here and leaves.”
Robert fidgeted, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “I wish I were as confident as you.”
“Do relax or you’ll make whoever it is suspicious.”
He rubbed his hand over his chin. “I don’t like this.”
“Then go away and let me deal with it.”
“And not know what’s happening? No thank you.”
Cox appeared at the sitting room doorway, a silver salver in his hand. “A visitor, my lady.”
She held out her hand and the butler approached and bent so that she could lift the calling card from the salver. “Margaret, Countess of Sherford,” Caroline read. “Send her in.”
Cox nodded and left the room. Caroline tapped the card against her lips. The scent of perfume emanated from it. Very feminine and very expensive.
“Do you know her?”
“No. I expect Wortham does though.”
“One of his lovers?”
“He has quite a few of them,” she said. “I imagine she misses him.”
“You might have thought of that before we kidnapped him,” Robert said.
“Maybe I can tempt her with someone else while she’s here.” Maybe she could use Margaret, Countess of Sherford in her plan against Wortham. If only she could puzzle out how.
“Lady Sherford,” Cox announced and stepped aside to let the woman in.
“Thank you, Cox. Have some tea sent up, will you?”
“Very good, my lady.” He left again and Caroline rose to greet her visitor.
The C
ountess was quite a beauty with hair the color of honey and arching brows over eyes the color of robins’ eggs. Though slender, her figure made a perfect hourglass of ample bosom over a tiny waist. Below that, her skirts hid the proportions of her hips but the overall picture would tempt any man. Just the sort of woman a libertine like Wortham would pursue and bed.
The woman smiled. “Lady Oakhurst?”
“The dowager countess. May I present my brother, Robert Durant?”
Robert bowed. “My lady.”
“How kind of you to see me.”
“Not at all.” Caroline pointed to a chair. “Please sit.”
With a rustle of skirts and a too-easy smile, the woman took her seat. “I’ve been running all over this part of the country quite lost. When I happened on your house, I thought surely I could find help here.”
“You do know where you are, don’t you?”
“The late Earl of Oakhurst’s country estate, I assume.”
“Sans Regret,” Caroline answered. “I imagine you’ve heard the stories.”
Robert coughed or choked rather. He sent her a warning glance but she looked back evenly. If this woman was what Caroline believed—a voluptuary—the best way to deal with her was to tempt her to do something she oughtn’t. And to have witnesses. Once compromised, she lost all credibility. She could accuse Caroline of keeping Wortham against his will and no one would believe her. It was a gamble but Lady Sherford no doubt knew very well where she was.
Her reaction confirmed Caroline’s suspicion. She didn’t express shock or outrage but continued smiling. “One hears a great many stories, not all of them true.”
Tea arrived, carried by a maid and a footman. They set the table and tea service in front of Caroline and left again. With steady hands—thank heaven—Caroline served them all and then rested back to sip from her cup. Robert perched on the edge of his chair, a nervous gesture the countess didn’t miss. He really needed to learn to be more devious.
“I’m looking for a friend who might have come here,” Lady Sherford said.
“Might I know this friend of yours?”
“Perhaps. He’s James Hardison, Marquis of Wortham.”
“Wortham.” Caroline took a long sip of tea and pretended to search her memory. “I don’t think we’ve met.”
“He was in India for some time. An unfortunate misunderstanding with Lord Howarth.”
Ah yes. Howarth and the duel.
“He’d just returned when—poof—he disappeared again,” the countess said.
“How very tedious for his friends.” Caroline put an extra emphasis on the word friends. No doubt the woman would realize she knew exactly what kind of friends they’d been.
“One night he was at a masked ball at Lord Blakely’s and the next day he’d disappeared. There was a mysterious woman at the same party and no one’s seen her since either.”
“My husband and I never went to London. If he’d known such things happened there, maybe he would have.”
The countess set her teacup into its saucer with the softest clink. “But since your husband died…?”
“Nothing in London interests me.”
“Wortham’s always been—how shall I put this?—an adventurous sort.”
“The sort who might search out Sans Regret?” Caroline said.
“Only to see if the stories are true you understand.”
She understood. Wortham would have made the perfect guest for her husband’s parties. A man who cared about nothing but his own pleasure. He’d shown her some tenderness lately but who knew how far that went really? He probably showed all of his conquests tenderness until he tired of them.
“Perhaps he met someone who knew where Sans Regret is,” the other woman went on. “He might have gone with her and found his way here.”
“An interesting theory,” Caroline said. “But I haven’t seen anyone besides my brother and the staff.”
She didn’t expect Lady Sherford to believe that. Whether or not she did didn’t matter.
“Oh dear,” the woman said. “And I was so certain I’d find him here.”
“May I ask how you found this house?”
The woman gave Caroline a smile that wouldn’t fool a child. “I know someone who knows someone. They thought you might be continuing with your husband’s parties.”
“Sorry to disappoint.”
“That is disappointing.” The woman smiled and very prettily. “And now the day’s getting so late. It’ll be well after dark before I can get back to the inn. Are the roads around here quite safe?”
“I wouldn’t hear of you leaving before morning,” Caroline said. “We get so few visitors. Maybe we can think of some entertainment for the evening.”
The countess’ eyes widened in curiosity and perhaps excitement. “Entertainment?”
Caroline smiled back. “Nothing like my husband’s parties, but interesting. I still have some of his best wine. Very stimulating…to all the appetites.”
“I’ll look forward to it.”
Caroline rose and rang for a servant. When the maid appeared, she glanced at her. “Please take Lady Sherford to the forward guest suite and see that she’s comfortable.”
The maid curtsied and led the countess from the sitting room. Immediately Robert jumped to his feet. “Are you mad, Caroline? How could you tell that woman this is Sans Regret?”
“She knew very well where she is.”
“Then how could you invite her to stay the night?”
“How could I not?” she answered. “A breach of hospitality like that would tell her for certain that I’m hiding something.”
“And what’s this about Oakhurst’s special wine?”
“That was no lie. He claimed it was an aphrodisiac.”
Robert looked aghast. “Is it?”
“It doesn’t matter. La Sherford thinks it is.”
He ran his fingers through his hair. “None of this makes any sense.”
“I didn’t want anyone to come looking for Wortham but now that someone has, I have to deal with her.”
“By intoxicating her and giving her the run of the house?”
She walked to her brother and laid a hand on his arm. “She won’t find Wortham but she will find someone. Maybe Albert and his huge cock. She’ll make an utter disgrace of herself and I’ll witness the whole thing. I’ll make Wortham watch too. It’ll serve them both right.”
“That’s sick, Caroline.”
“It’s the sort of thing my husband taught me.”
“I wish you’d unlearn it.”
“Maybe when I’m through with Wortham.” She squeezed his arm. “Now go dress for dinner. Maybe later I’ll let you watch the little drama too.”
“Thank you, no.”
* * * * *
In the middle of the night, the door to Wortham’s underground room swung open. Caroline stood on the threshold, a candelabra in her hand. Two sturdy footmen waited behind her.
“You have a visitor,” she said.
He slipped into his robe and rose, tying the belt. “A visitor?”
“Someone from London looking for you.”
Someone had found him? Of course he’d be missed but only a few people knew about Sans Regret and they’d think the place had ceased operation with Oakhurst’s death.
“Who is he?” Wortham said.
“Not a he but a she.”
A woman, but who? No matter. Someone had found him. He might be free soon. Only why was his captor telling him about the visitor?
“Aren’t you curious to see who it is?” she asked.
“Of course.”
She smiled. “Good. Come with me.”
She turned and walked away. Without needing further invitation, he followed, the footman right behind.
The floor above was dark and silent but as they approached the stairs to the next floor, muffled sounds floated down. A human voice. Female but not speaking, at least not English. Holding the candles high, Caroline led the
m up the stairs. At the top, the sounds became more distinct. A woman’s voice, yes, and a familiar one. Men’s voices, too, although softer. None of them were speaking. Instead they made the sort of noises one heard during sex. Grunts from the men. Sighs and gasps from the woman.
“What in hell?” he said.
“Your visitor is amusing herself with my staff.”
“What have you done?”
Her eyes widened in mock innocence. “I? Nothing. She drank too much wine I’m afraid.”
“You supplied it I imagine.”
“I pride myself on my hospitality.” She gave him a wicked smile. “Would you like to see what she’s doing?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“You can go back to your room and she’ll leave in the morning.”
He couldn’t give up his first real opportunity for rescue and she knew that, damn her. But if he wanted to see this woman, he’d have to interrupt her getting frigged by at least two men. Unpleasant but he had to do it.
“Lead on,” he said.
She gestured toward a door. “This way.”
On the other side lay a sitting room much like the others in the house. The connecting door to the bedroom stood open and the lustful sounds came from there. This close he could make out the woman’s voice clearly.
“Margaret.”
“She appeared at the gate this afternoon,” Lady Oakhurst said. “Of course I made her welcome.”
“You drugged her, you mean,” he said.
“She drank the wine on her own.”
Just then, Margaret’s gasps turned to cries and then to a shout. He’d heard that sound many times. He’d held her body beneath his while she spent. She’d just done it with another man. His gut twisted.
“It sounds as if she’s enjoying herself,” Caroline said.
“Who’s the man?”
“Do you remember Albert?”
Ye gods. “The one with the whip?”
“Albert has many talents,” she answered. “He’s well suited to this kind of work.”
“You mean he has a large cock.”
She smiled. “You noticed.”
“I’ve heard enough.” He turned to go.
“Don’t you want to see your visitor? Lady Sherford came all the way from London.”
He stopped in his tracks. He didn’t want to see any of it. He didn’t want to hear it. Lord he could almost smell the rut from here. But this was his only chance for help.