by Sharon Page
“She was laboring to appear composed. But she had obviously been crying. And her hands were clenched.”
“Why didn’t you tell me immediately?” Cary fumed.
“I apologize, Your Grace.”
His majordomo stepped back, allowing him to stride by. Leaving Penders and his mother behind in his study, Cary ran down the corridor. But when he reached the drawing room, he stopped in surprise.
21
The woman in the drawing room was not Sophie. The slender figure in the black cloak who faced him with huge, frightened eyes was Belle, Sophie’s friend. He had met her at the manor house in the country. Belle was a lovely young woman with brown curls and large brown eyes.
“Belle, what is wrong?” he asked as he strode into the room.
Had something happened to Sophie? Cary felt as he had in the jungle in Ceylon on the many times he and his men had been ambushed.
“Sophie is in danger! He took her child, and she went running off to him. I told her to come to you or to go to the magistrates. What he is doing is a crime! And I fear he won’t simply let Alex go because she’s gone to him. He wants to hurt Sophie. I know the kind of man he is.”
“Who is, Belle? Who are you talking about?”
“Lord Devars. He wanted Sophie to become his mistress after her fiancé died, especially when she had the baby and was ruined. He offered to keep her. But she refused him. She wanted to find love, you see. And he took it badly. He tried to force himself on her, and she hit him. She didn’t kill him, but she—” Belle broke off and put her hand to her mouth.
“What did she do, Belle?”
“I mean, she was forced to flee to London as quickly as she could. She was worried about us, but I never dreamed he would really hurt us. But now he has taken Sophie’s son to force her to do whatever he wants.”
“And she has gone to him.” Damn—why hadn’t she come to him? “Where did she go? Do you know, Belle?”
She nodded and held out a folded paper. “He sent her this—his demand that she come to him. In it, he says he would have Alex returned to me if she went. But he never did. He lied.”
Cary read the note, and his blood went cold.
Belle said weakly, “He demands that she not tell anyone. I was afraid to come to you because of that, but I knew I must.”
“You did the right thing.”
“Will you help Sophie? She said she feared you didn’t love her anymore—because she had to say no to you.”
“I’d help her no matter what,” he said gruffly.
He’d been through battles in Ceylon, and he had never felt so sick with fear in his life. He felt even more afraid than he had when he confronted Angelique. He had been terrified she had hurt Sophie. But this time, both Sophie and her son were in danger. Devars was known to be a brute. Arrogant, sadistic, ruthless. He had been barred from some of London’s brothels, for God’s sake, which proved what a vicious monster he could be. And he had Sophie and her child. If anything happened to Sophie, Cary couldn’t bear it. If anything happened to Sophie’s son—he knew they both wouldn’t be able to live with it.
He knew the truth—he did still love her. He always would.
“You promised me he would go free if I came to you. You swore in your note that you would send him back to Belle!”
Sophie struggled in vain. Her hands were bound together again, but this time they were positioned behind her back. The long end of the rope had been tied around a tree. A second rope was around Alexander’s waist. Tears streamed down his cheeks.
Her baby. Her poor, innocent child. She couldn’t go to him or comfort him. Or protect him. How could she be so helpless, so useless? She despised herself. She hated Devars. Hatred was like a serpent writhing inside her. “What are you going to do to him?” she cried.
Devars glared at her—though his top hat shadowed his face and she could not see his eyes. She could see his mouth, drawn in a hard, cruel slash of a smile. His greatcoat swirled around him like large wings on a menacing, monstrous dragon. He came close to her, bending, and she instinctively drew back. “I am ensuring that you cooperate. That you do as I say, you stupid bitch.”
She flinched. Devars spoke in a voice of ice. Utterly calm. Her son sobbed. Then Devars lifted her son’s tiny body and held him over the gaping hole of an old well.
“Dear God, what are you doing?” She gasped.
“I am going to lower him in there, Sophie. He will be perfectly safe—as long as we return to take him out.”
“Mummy, no!”
The back of Devars’s hand cracked across Alex’s small face. His head whipped to the side.
Sophie screamed, “No, stop! Please, stop!”
Devars did, his hand poised for a second blow. His huge body moved with heavy breaths.
“Alex,” she said, her voice breaking. “You must do as he says. We will come back for you. It won’t be long. Close your eyes and sing a little song. Don’t be afraid.”
Would they be back soon?
She knew what Devars wanted. To have sex with her while her son was in danger. This was his ultimate punishment for her defiance. He was sick. Unfathomably evil.
Holding the rope with one hand, with it wrapped around his forearm, Devars let go of her son. Alex fell—
Only a few inches before Devars caught the rope with his other hand. Carefully, he fed Alex down into the dark hole.
Sophie was going to be sick. She had to fight for strength.
“Please don’t do this,” she begged. “It’s so cold tonight. He will be frozen and hungry. And he will be terrified down there. Please, do not do this. Please, bring him up. If you do, I will give you anything you want. I will do anything you want.”
“You will be more obedient when you fear for his life, my dear. And I like the idea of fucking you while you are terrified.”
He drew out a blade from his boot. Hulking and huge, he advanced on her. She wanted to scream.
But Alex would hear, and that would frighten him. “Wh-what are you going to do?”
Devars was like Angelique—too mad to see reason. He believed he had the right to hurt her as punishment. She had tried to thwart him, and she’d lost.
He slapped her. Hard. Then slammed her back against the tree.
Her hands were crushed against the bark.
Tied up, she was utterly helpless. She had to think—
“Won’t you untie my hands? Then I can touch you, pleasure you.”
“You mean, try to escape from me. I know you’re thinking it, bitch. I’m going to take you to a house I’ve rented. If you pleasure me enough, then we will return for your son. But you will have to work very hard to save his life.”
“I’ll replace the bracelet.” Her throat was so tight, her voice was a croak.
“That trifle? I don’t care about it. This had nothing to do with your stealing, whore. You thought you could beat me. I always win. Always.”
“No. You don’t.”
She heard the low, deep, commanding voice and almost collapsed in joy. How was it possible? How could Cary be here? Then she realized he’d heard what she said about the bracelet.
Devars whipped around, partially blocking her view, but she could see enough.
Cary stood there, holding a pistol on Devars. “You know,” Cary said coolly, “I am growing tired of people trying to hurt Sophie.”
Devars brandished the blade. “I’ll kill her unless you put the pistol down, Caradon.”
Sophie knew he was standing close enough to plunge the blade into her or slit her throat. She had to do something.
He might try to kill her, but she had to do something useful. Her hands were tied, but Devars’s attention was fixed on Cary and he was grinning, certain he had the upper hand—
Hard as she could, Sophie kicked upward, slamming her boot right into his crotch.
He howled and staggered, but he wasn’t completely crippled with pain—
Cary fired the pistol at Devars’s leg.
The m
an screamed and squealed, but she realized he was not hit at the exactly instant he did. But by then, Cary had a long blade pulled from his walking stick, and he held the point of it against Devars’s throat.
“Step away from her,” he snarled.
Devars was white with fear. Or with pain. But he blustered, “You won’t kill me in cold blood. You are a war hero.”
“Then we’ll duel. It is one way or the other. We will duel right here and now. Or I’ll let you go—but with a wound to remind you of this night. To remind you to keep away from Sophie, my duchess, for the rest of your sorry life. If you don’t shut up and get out of here, I may cut something vital and leave you with a maimed leg.”
“Your duchess? This ta—”
“Say it, and the blade goes through your throat. You threatened Sophie, you terrified an innocent child. The world would be a better place without a sick, revolting bully like you.”
“No. No, I will go. You’re welcome to the—”
“Again, I suggest you hold your tongue, or I’ll cut it out while you lie dying.”
She’d never seen this side of Cary. The ruthless, tough soldier. He hadn’t even been like this with Angelique. She was almost afraid of him.
Devars certainly was.
Cary took one step back, his blade poised. “I am going to the magistrate with a full accounting of what you have done to Sophie. I would suggest you flee London immediately. Go and hide on the Continent. If you return, I will call you out and kill you. I swear to God, I will. Now get the hell out of here.”
At that, hulking Devars scrambled away, panting. He sounded a bit like a yipping dog.
Cary used the razor-sharp blade to slice the rope from the tree, then cut through her bonds. “Quickly, my dear. We must get to your boy.”
She hurried with him. She couldn’t believe it was over. Within minutes, Cary had lifted Alex to safety and placed her son in her arms.
She had to put her face into Alex’s sweet neck and sob.
“Mummy, what’s wrong? Are you hurt?”
“No. I am happy. You are safe now. You will always be safe.”
“He isn’t going to get away with this. I’ve taken steps. He owes money at the gaming hells. On top of that, we will give our testimonies to the magistrate. Lord Devars is about to be destroyed. He will definitely have no choice but to leave England. He will never bother you again.”
“Thank you. Oh my goodness, thank you.”
“Sophie, do you still care for me?”
“I love you.”
“Then marry me. I believe there is a way to make it possible, Sophie. For now, you and your son should both return to London with me.”
Before she could explain or protest, he took Alex from her arms and carried the boy back to the curricle. “Mummy! Mummy!” the boy cried desperately.
“It is all right. Your mummy is with us. See?”
Sophie had to hasten to get to his side. She clasped the boy’s hand, and they both took Alex to the curricle.
Cary handed her up, then settled the child onto her lap.
He was happy he had been able to save this child. The poor lad clung to his mother now. Cary wrapped a fur throw around Sophie and the child. Young Alex closed his eyes, his long dark lashes lying against his round cheeks.
He was a sweet, handsome child.
Then Cary got up and slowly walked his horses around so they could follow the track back to the main road. He told her how Belle had come to him. The note had brought him to this area, then he had found witnesses who saw Devars’s carriage and managed to track it.
“Thank heaven, you did. Now, how can I thank you?”
By marrying me, he thought.
Then she said, “But where is Belle? Is she in London? I must let her know I am safe.”
“I had my coachman return her to the cottage so she could be with her children.”
“That was very good of you. But I must go to her. I think she would be frightened to be on her own tonight.”
That was Sophie—she had been through hell, yet she worried about taking care of others.
Cary inclined his head. “You’re correct. I will see you safely home, for your friend will want company. I will send word to tell her you are safe now, but I suspect she will want to see for herself. And then we can tell her that we are to be married. I need practice announcing this.”
She flashed a panicked look at her son. The boy had fallen asleep. “I can’t marry you, Cary. I—I love you deeply. I love you so very much. It is so wonderful of you to ask me, but—”
“I won’t ask you to abandon Alex. He is a sweet, clever child. I love you with all my heart, Sophie, and I will ensure he is well-looked after. I intend to settle an income on him, from money not entailed to my estate. And I believe he can live with us as your son. There is no reason we cannot say you were married to your fiancé before he went to war.”
“But it isn’t true. As your duchess, I would be under much greater scrutiny. If someone finds out it is a lie—” She broke off. “No, I will tell you the real reason I cannot marry you. It is about Lord Devars.”
“Belle told me what he wanted from you, and that you had to escape him.”
“I brained him over the head with a vase, then I ran for my life. But he had given me a diamond bracelet, to try to convince me to become his mistress. I didn’t want it. I should have thrown it on his unconscious body. But I was so afraid that Belle and the children would starve that I took it. I stole it—”
“He gave it to you. I do not consider that stealing.”
“But—but he gave it to me so I would be his mistress.”
“He presented it as a gift in the hopes it would convince you. A gift should have no obligation attached.”
She managed a smile. “But it did.”
“And he said he didn’t care about the bracelet. However, to make things right, I will replace it and send it to him. This time he can sell it to support himself when he flees England.”
“But you know I was a thief—”
“I know you were forced into a hellish situation. I admire you for helping Belle and the children. Sophie, it doesn’t change the fact that I love you. And I am going to find a way to make it possible for us to marry. I promise.”
Then he kissed her. A sweet, swift kiss because she was holding her son. “I wish it could be so,” she whispered. “I wish it so much.”
Two weeks later, Sophie was walking outside with the children when she saw Cary riding up the road on his enormous horse.
She swallowed hard. There was something of great import she must tell him.
Then she saw his glowing smile as he rode up to the cottage. He was grinning at her, and he jumped off his horse and ran to her.
The Duke of Caradon was swinging her around out in the yard in front of the cottage. He cupped her face, and his mouth closed over hers.
She pulled back. Blushed. “Not in front of the children,” she whispered.
He clasped her hand and walked her to a small bench between an apple tree in front of the cottage. “You did not tell me your fiancé had acquired a license. It was his intent to marry you—and you exchanged vows.”
“I know, but we did it without permission. The rector indulged us, with no idea that we would consummate our pretend wedding. He was very old, and Samuel convinced him to let us do this. Since Samuel was an earl’s son, he tended to get his way. But I was too young—I was not quite sixteen, and I needed my adoptive parents’ permission to marry.”
“And if it could be claimed that you had their permission, you would be legally wed. That way, your son is legitimate and you are a war widow, my dear.”
“But I was going to be a courtesan.”
“And you have been my private mistress. There have been other men who have married their mistresses, my dear. As I’ve said, Grey is one. And the world has not imploded.”
“When did you see the rector?” she asked, filled with curiosity.
“
These last two weeks I went to see the rector. And I went to visit your adoptive family and your fiancé’s family.”
She gaped in shock. “You went to see them? And during this time you were supposed to be finding a wife.”
“Deep in my heart, I knew I’d already found her. I have convinced your adoptive parents and the family of your fiancé to support the story that you both had permission and were legally married. The rector, who is eighty, has prepared the registry appropriately. No one will doubt you were legitimately a widow, and your son is the child of a hero who died in battle. With your position as a duchess—and wealth and power, not to mention your strength and good character—you will be a success. No one will dare cut you, I assure you.”
“But how did you convince our families to agree to this?”
“Your adoptive family can bask in the prestige. I can’t forgive them for turning you out, but if it buys us a future, I am willing to help them advance socially. Because that will put them on our side, and they will support the story that you were married. I have made the same promises to your fiancé’s family. They lost a son and are starry-eyed at the idea of preference from a duke.”
“All this—for me?”
“For you and your son. And some of my motivation is selfish. I want you, Sophie. I want to spend my life with you. And that is worth any cost. If you will have me.”
“If I’ll have you? Of course. I love you. I’ve loved you all along. I just—feared I would have my heart broken again, so I was being careful. But I love you so deeply! And there is something I must tell you, Cary. It is possible that you are going to be a father.”
He stared at her, stunned. Then let out a joyous whoop. He hugged her, lifting her right off her feet. Then quickly set her down. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t do that to you in your condition. Thank God, we can marry hastily then.”
She gazed at him hesitantly. “It’s very early. I’ve only just missed my courses. It might be—well, just a false alarm.”
“Either way, I have you. And together we have Alex,” he said. “And someday, more children, if we’re fortunate. I couldn’t be more blessed.”