Lillian slapped his face. Hard. Her hand stung with the force of it. The masked one laughed, but Jarvis raised a hand to strike her back.
“No. You asked for it. You may torture them, but you may not dishonor them. Is that understood?” Even Lillian could hear the underlying steel behind the words.
Though relieved to know that having him forced upon her person was not part of the plan, the tone told her that he was not a person to cross.
“Understood?” the kidnapper reiterated.
“Yes.” Jarvis’ agreement held too much resentment.
Clarence had better save her from…the false duke’s clutches soon, or Jarvis might not listen to his orders anymore.
“Fine. Then you may put them in the blue room.”
“Janice, move up the stairs,” Jarvis said. “First door on the right. Any wrong moves, and I’ll shoot Lady Lillian.” The sneer behind her title ratcheted up her terror.
Nothing about the gilded bedroom allied her fears. Two medieval torture racks sat side by side. Lillian began to earnestly fight against the hold in his arm, suddenly more afraid of not getting shot than of his threats. “Help,” she screamed. “Why don’t you help us,” she cried out to the elderly servant who’d stayed behind.
Jarvis gave her shove, and she fell forward, landing on her wrist. She cried out and turned to face him, trying to get away. He lifted the revolver and pointed it at her forehead. “Janice, lie down on that table right next to you. There’s a good girl.”
With eyes full of anguish, Janice did as instructed. “I’m sorry, my lady,” she whispered.
“No, Janice, I’m sorry. It is my family who is doing this.” Lillian turned back to Jarvis. “Whatever you do to her or me, I will see that you are paid back ten-fold.” The low, deep tones were not her normal voice. Her words came out as a promise, a covenant. She would make him pay for what happened today and yesterday, and however many tomorrows before they were free.
He frowned, as if he was starting to think maybe she could make good on her threats, but then shrugged, and moved to tie Janice. When he set the revolver down, she jumped to try to take it, but he was too quick for her and held it at her forehead again. “Stay still. Another move like that, and I’ll take a finger off Janice and mail it to your father, claiming it’s yours.”
Lillian blinked back the tears as she stood rock still while he tied up her friend, her servant. “I’m sorry, Janice,” she whispered. “I’m so, so sorry.” She prayed to every god she’d ever heard of for deliverance, making rash promises. Jarvis did something. She didn’t understand all she saw, but then Janice’s arms were shackled above her head and being stretched. He kept going until she cried out with pain, then he pulled it that much farther.
Janice’s scream tore at her heart, and she sobbed. When he came for her, she instinctively threw her arms up and ducked away from him. He hit her hard enough for her to lose her balance. She landed at his feet and threw up on him. He jumped back in disgust, then grabbed her by the arm, and yanked her up, pushing her to the table.
“No, please,” she said. “Why? Why do you do this to your own family?”
“What has my family ever done for me?”
She stared at him, incredulous. The number of things her father alone had done for him were too numerous to mention. “Father has been forced to pay your way out of troubles more times than I can say. And I’m sure he did more before I was old enough to understand. What do you have against him, your family?” Sickened by his words, she nonetheless tried to keep him talking. Maybe she’d be able to get the gun and force him to loosen Janice so they could get away.
“Always, I’m the second son, no title. No convenient women with titles lying in wait for me. Besides,” he continued as he forced her down and tightened the chains around her ankles, “I would never change my name for a chit. Blasted females are more trouble than you are worth.” He took a knife off his belt and crisscrossed a cut just above her ankles on both feet, then laughed.
When he finished shackling her the same way as Janice, he left, but paused at the door, the servant’s lantern back lighting him so he looked a demon shadow. “No one will stop me now,” he said. “They will never find you here.”
Despair tried to claw its way in, tearing through her hope as if it were a paper note while her ankles stung as if a bee hit her repeatedly.
“My lady?” Janice’s reedy voice called to her.
She swallowed the tears which threatened again. “Yes, Janice?”
“Are we going to die here? Don’t lie to me. I don’t recognize this place. I don’t know where we are.” Her words trembled as they left her.
Lillian bit her lip to stop the instinctive cry of fear as the darkened room hit her senses. “No,” she said grimly. “I won’t allow us to. There has to be a way out of this situation.”
Despite all the hope and promise she served these words up with, Lillian was very much afraid that they would die before her Dark Duke could find them.
Chapter Fourteen
Clarence ran through the warehouse doors in despair. “Lillian!” he shouted and attempted to run after the carriage. His hands slapped to his side where it hurt. He tried to control the blood loss, but couldn’t. His fingers came away covered in dark, thick blood. His earlier dream hit him.
“No!” he cried out, again struggling to run after the carriage.
George took him and guided him back to their carriage, with the duke leaning hard on him for support. The earl followed at a discreet distance, keeping his weapon at the ready, covering them in case others tried to chase them. Clarence barely held on to consciousness when he stumbled. George saved him from hitting the pavement, but he felt his wound tear. What had Jarvis hoped to accomplish by kidnapping Lillian? At least he hadn’t shot the two women.
After being helped up into the carriage, the earl joined Clarence, and George sat with the driver, his weapon out. One would think they were passing through war territory. Clarence grimaced as they hit a pothole.
“Where do you think he’s taken her?” Lamberth said in a gruff, low tone. He clutched his revolver in his hand so tightly, Clarence worried about an accidental discharge.
Carefully, he reached over and loosened the grip. “I will have to look through my notes and ask the people helping me with this case.”
“Case?” Lamberth’s tone changed, and Clarence winced again, but not from pain.
He let out a sigh. George would probably berate him later, but Lamberth needed to know. “I’m an unofficial Bow Street Runner. Happened when I hired them to help me find my dad’s killer.”
The earl frowned. “Killer? I thought it was an accident.”
“I never believed it.” Or the suicide angle, though that one was harder to deal with since he couldn’t talk about it. “Things didn’t add up. I remember him being livid, and he’d planned to go to the magistrate or House of Lords with an issue. He didn’t give details. Just that it had something to do with his failed venture with Jarvis.”
“Why would that preclude an accident?”
Clarence swore under his breath. “It doesn’t, necessarily. But my father was meticulous in everything. Like you, he fought in the Napoleon Wars and knew how to handle a weapon.” Plus, he had a sense of duty, and though old fashioned in a lot of ways, he’d have not left it open for his wife or child to find him while the servants were out.
That was the stickler. Even if he was sad, or thought he was dishonored by the failed venture, he would not have made it for his wife to find his body. War wasn’t for the softer sex, he was wont to say, and often. Probably not his son, either, but he may have thought it his duty. However, Clarence had come home earlier by two days than he’d originally expected.
The person most likely to find him when the servants had a night off was his wife. At least, that reasoning was the thread he held onto whenever the pain hit him. There were other small clues, like mud on the carpet, the skewed way his chair was left. Also, the hand. His
father often pretended to be right handed, but he was left handed. Why would he have shot himself with the right hand?
“I see. So you hired them to gather information?”
“Yes. Everything has led to Jarvis, but nothing major or provable against a lord from a good family. Just small things. Even if Jarvis didn’t pull the trigger, he was involved. Turns out, the venture was a scam from the beginning. Three people are in jail already. Jarvis was the face of it all. At least one other is involved, from what we can tell. Someone is pulling his strings and has been for years. Mayhap, it is the person we saw tonight who stepped into that carriage with them.”
“Canterbury, I am not a stupid man—except maybe when it comes to my family. I was an officer in that war. I saw a lot. Reading between the lines, I’d say you’re afraid he committed suicide.” Lamberth’s voice took on a tone Clarence hadn’t heard before, and the somber and pitch and sympathy hit him hard.
He worked his jaw, trying to keep from crying out a denial, to keep from releasing the pent up grief when he had to keep that possibility to himself. “Yes. I don’t believe it though.”
“When you’re ready to talk, I will listen,” Lamberth said quietly. “However, I can see your theory that Jarvis’ shipping ventures were a set up are likely right, judging by current behavior. How does this help us find Lillian and Janice?”
Clarence nodded at the proffered help, but moved on. “We are getting closer to finding the person behind Jarvis. A few leads. Mayhap, one will have panned out for us. Or at least, have given us a lead to finding where they are holed up at.” He groaned and grabbed his side.
Lamberth’s gaze lingered on his side. “Jarvis responsible?”
Clarence gave another curt nod since he was busy gritting his teeth against the pain.
Lamberth’s deep sigh filled the coach. “Honestly, I cannot understand why you would want to marry into such dishonor.”
Clarence took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I didn’t. I tried to stay away. However, Lillian—and from what I can see, you—are not a part of this. Plus, I cannot seem to resist her.” Should he tell the already distraught father about Robert and the kidnapping? Mayhap just hints of it. “I rescued her from her brother’s scheme that night he left her. Any other details, I’d prefer to wait for Lillian to tell you,” he said when Lamberth opened his mouth. “But that night, I realized that I had been denying myself for no reason. She is intelligent, brave, and her smile warms my heart.”
“Well. That is a bit over the top, Your grace. I have already given my blessing.” Then he grinned. “However, I am glad to have the knowledge that you love her. It is more than I could have hoped for.”
Clarence sputtered at the word love, then subsided. Probably not a good plan to argue with the father about it. He settled back into the coach. They would be at his house soon.
Upon arrival, he allowed George to help him alight, but spouted orders. “I need all the information we have on Jarvis and his partner immediately. Bring every runner to me who has any dealings with this matter, I don’t care the time! Also, George, bring me our inside man. We need information immediately. Even if it blows his cover. Are we clear?”
“Yes, my lord.”
With more than one muttered curse as the blood dripped and pain coursed through him, he settled into the same chaise lounge as before, but without his pretty aide. George began unwrapping it, and Clarence pushed his hand away. “No, Lillian and Janice must be found tonight. Robert, too, if possible, but he is not priority.”
“My lord,” George said sternly, “you are not in position to push me away. The wound must be treated. Any more blood loss and I fear for your life, much less your ability to help Lady Lillian.”
“I do not care about my person,” he said gruffly.
“If I may,” Lamberth interrupted, “I can treat this. George, you go do as ordered. I shall help the duke with his wound.”
Clarence started to protest, but then saw the look which passed between them and knew it was the only way George would leave him. “Fine,” he bit out, frustrated at all the delays. “I will concede to Lamberth helping me with my injury. Now, bring me what I’ve asked for!” he bellowed.
George did a half bow and left. Lamberth dragged one of the other chairs closer and began easing the cloth back to see what he had to work with. The bandaging stuck to the wound, and Clarence hissed.
“Don’t act the baby,” Lamberth said mildly, though Clarence saw the concern on his face.
Dammit. He couldn’t afford to be down and out right now. Lillian needed him. Grief swamped him, and he stared down at his hands and saw how dark the blood was, almost black. His nightmare hit him full force, as if he’d just had it. God, no. No.
He couldn’t be too late.
He started to sit up. He would scour the city for her by himself if need be. He refused to lay here and be treated when she was likely dying. The earl pushed him back down just as a servant walked in. “You will lie there until I am finished,” Lamberth commanded in what Clarence took as his officer’s voice. It held a bit more steel and roughness than the lordship’s usual orders. “You will be no good to her weak or dead.”
That had him lying still when he’d been about to protest.
“You,” Lamberth said, pointing at the servant. “I need water, warmer the better, brandy, and lots of sheets for bandaging up the duke. Wake up whomever you have to in order to make it happen immediately.”
The servant’s eyes widened when they rested on him, and Clarence stared down at his bloody and torn shirt. Where it wasn’t bloody, tar and dirt stained it. Definitely one for the fires. His tailor would be happy at the new order of shirts, he thought ruefully.
“Melanie,” he said as her face lost all its color. “Lady Lillian is in danger. I need those things done right away so no time is lost.” He tried to gentle his voice and remember that, with exception, the majority of the servants had no clue about his clandestine life.
“Yes, my lord,” she said with a curtsy before fleeing the study.
He sighed and then gave Lamberth a quizzical look when he laughed.
“You have the worst reputation. I just saw you be sweet to a serving girl effectively disobeying. So much for The Dark Duke.” He smirked down at him.
Clarence gave him a rueful stare. “I am not sure where that came from, but I must admit, it’s come in handy a few times, especially with my chosen hobby.” He grimaced as he tried to adjust his position. “Since it’s whispers of death and beating servants and torture racks, it keeps people from double crossing me much.” He groaned as the earl pushed around the wound.
“Take off your shirt, my lord. You can’t be gallivanting about London in that anyway. If you do it now, I can see if there are any other wounds to be addressed after our tumble with those ruffians.”
Clarence shook his head at him. “I think you are enjoying this,” he said.
Lamberth grinned. “For truth, if my daughter was not in danger, I would be having the time of my life. I don’t miss the war, but I do miss being a man with a purpose outside of the daily grind. I try within the House of Lords, but…” He shrugged.
Clarence looked upon him in a new light as he unbuttoned his shirt sleeves. He had to wonder how many other lords of Lamberth’s generation felt the same. He also wondered how much of that persona he allowed his daughter to see or understand. He’d guess none. The typical stoic British Lord. God and country and all that. Nonetheless, she’d picked up this side of her father, inheriting it and fully realizing it within her power. He thought to say something then changed his mind. Later.
Gingerly, he pulled first one arm then the other out of its sleeve, grunting out his breath. He just left the ragged cloth behind him, not having any more energy for lifting it out from behind him.
He decided to just close his eyes for a minute while waiting for the servants to comply with their needs for patching him up. Something he’d learned in his days with the Navy and fightin
g abroad. Resting when needed was not an option, rather it must needs be a necessity for best chances at survival.
He was awoken by Lamberth handing him a glass of his own Scots whisky. “Drink it all. This is going to hurt.”
Clarence’s eyes widened at the warning, and he downed the liquid.
Chapter Fifteen
Lillian woke up and tried to stretch agony seared her arms and legs. Fingers of terror clutched her, shock and cold causing her to shake. Jarvis had not returned. A scurrying noise came to her attention. She held her breath. It sounded…no. Her phobic fear of rats hit her square in the chest, and she struggled to breath.
Something scratched at her feet. She screamed out in horror, kicking her feet as best she could. A sharp bite sent severe pain up her leg. Oh God. No. No.
“My lady!” Janice cried out. “What is happening?”
“Rats!” she exclaimed. “They’re on my legs. I think…I think one bit me.” She sobbed.
“Lady Lillian,” Janice said softly.
But Lillian couldn’t respond. Terror clutched at her throat, strangling her as her fear rocketed through her as more scratching on her legs came. Then something crawled over her other leg, scurrying toward her stomach. Her shriek rent the air and didn’t stop.
Janice tried to soothe her, but every scratch, every bite, shot more and more dread and revulsion and horror through her. The door opened, and Lucas entered, carrying a lantern, making the furry bastards visible. Their eyes gleamed red at her, and she screamed again.
Lucas hurried over to her and shooed them off her. “Oh no, no,” he said. “I cannot. This is going too far. I don’t care what happens to me.” He washed set the lantern on a nearby stand, his wizened figure bent even further than when they’d arrived.
“I am sorry, my lady. The Dark Duke holds us in a reign of terror. Whenever one of us goes against his wishes, he kills someone important to us.”
Lillian’s rapid heart rate and erratic breathing began to subside closer to normal. His words impacted her though. “Whomever that is, it is not The Dark Duke,” she said firmly. “It is an imposter intent on smearing my betrothed’s good name.”
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