Chapter 21
Evie glared at Lars and dared him to say one annoying word. Not only was she furious at the man for leaping into the coach as it pulled away from the museum, she was furious with herself for paying so little attention to her surroundings. She should have seen him coming and done something to keep him away from her. A solid kick to the lower region would have been Belle’s recommendation. But no, indeed. Her thoughts had been so preoccupied with Jeremy’s deception, she not only allowed Lars to enter the coach, she had allowed him to tie her up as well. The short, stout man was surprisingly strong and had subdued her in just a few short seconds.
She lowered her gaze to her lap, to the twine biting into her wrists and studied the knot. If she could just get the man to focus his attention elsewhere, she could loosen the binding and charge for the door. Raising her head, she watched Lars narrow his eyes and shake his head as though he could read her thoughts.
With a sigh, she turned to the window and watched beads of moisture collect on the pane of glass, then fall like tears, leaving behind tiny wet rivers. A thick mist hovered near the ground in the darkness and brought an icy chill to the damp air. She snuggled further into the borrowed wool coat, grateful for the small bit of comfort it brought. For several minutes, her mind conjured and dismissed ways to escape. Dozens of foolish or dangerous scenarios sprang forth, from launching herself through the glass panes, to rising up to kick Lars unconscious. None of them had any chance of success, and she grew more frustrated with every mile they traveled away from the museum.
After another quarter-hour of realizing she couldn’t escape with Lars watching her so intently, she turned to the man and gave a forceful sigh. “Where are you taking me?”
He said nothing as he reached into his coat and pulled out a knife.
Evie tensed until she watched Lars begin to clean his fingernails with the tip of the blade. She shifted on the seat, trying to stretch her cramped muscles. Going on long coach rides had never appealed to her. She did not like small areas and sitting in a cramped place for very long, not without making several stops along the way to stretch her legs.
“I know you are taking me to see Lord Montague.” She cleared her throat, trying to tamp back the shiver of disquiet at speaking those words. “Can you at least tell me when we will arrive?”
The coach dipped into some uneven ground and the flame of the lamp near the door flickered until the wheels found smoother road. Lars moved the knife to his other hand, not answering her question. Evie noticed one of his little fingers was missing down to the first joint, and a bloody bandage had been wrapped around the wound and tied across the back of his hand. “What happened to your finger?” she asked before she thought better of it.
Lars held up his right hand. “I displeased Lord Montague, is what happened. Now, quit asking questions, milady, because you won’t get any answers from me.”
Evie drew back, horrified. When she could find her voice, she said, “Goodness, that looks like it must have hurt a great deal. What did you do to deserve such punishment?”
Finishing his last nail, Lars shrugged. “Let you escape last time.” He glanced up, the flame flickering in his determined dark eyes, making him look even more menacing than ever before. “I won’t let that happen again, I can assure you.”
Evie snapped her mouth closed and glanced down to her bound hands. She had hoped she could convince Lars to let her go. That, perhaps, she could bribe him into turning the coach around. Now, she knew that would never happen. She would just have to wait for an opportunity to escape when they stopped for food or some other reason.
Hearing the man shift in his seat, Evie found Lars pulling out a stained handkerchief. He unwrapped the corners and cut off a piece of the smoked venison with the same knife he just used to clean his fingernails. Then he held out the meat to her. “Hungry?”
Evie shook her head and settled further back against the seat cushion. Her mind wandered back to Jeremy. He had come for her last time and helped her escape. Last time, however, he knew where she had gone. Then he had married her. Truly, lawfully married her. A betraying bolt of excited delight shot through her middle at the thought. And for a second, she considered the possibility he had done it for her and not out of duty to the Guardians. She blew out a breath, trying her best to sort it all out. Perhaps Jeremy had no choice. Perhaps the anvil priest refused to perform a fake ceremony and draw up fake documents.
What now? Evie rested her head back against the cushion and closed her eyes. She was suddenly exhausted. Having Jeremy truly marry her meant he could dictate where she could go and when. He might not allow her to return to France with Belle. What then? How could she live the rest of her life loving someone who did not love her back? How could she watch him go on missions while she stayed behind to embroider rosebuds or paint koi fish? How could she stand to know he had been with a lover while she waited up for hours in a cold bed? Would he have merely been gleaning information or had it purely been for enjoyment? That would drive her mad.
She swallowed the hot lump that had risen up her throat and squeezed her eyes against the tears stinging their way to the surface. Evie could never, ever live that way. She didn’t think anything could be worse than what she had gone through the last six years.
She thought wrong.
Not long ago, Evie thought if she could just spend some time with Jeremy, he might realize she was what he had been looking for in a wife. That he would fall in love with her, stop his beguiling behavior with all the ladies, and act as all her friends’ husbands. Now, she had to realize this would never be the case. Jeremy was a Guardian whose first priority belonged to his missions. He might have married her, but they would never have a true marriage.
As Evie drifted off into a fitful sleep, she wondered if it even mattered. For, unless she escaped before Lars brought her to Lord Montague, she would not live long enough to learn why Jeremy really married her.
Something jarred her awake. Evie raised her head, wincing at the pain shooting though her neck, and focused on the scowling man shaking her shoulder. “You may stop that now. I am awake.”
Lars moved back and opened the door, then stepped down into the gray morning mist. Evie stared at the opening for several seconds, realizing they had traveled through the night and she had slept through any chance at making an escape. She couldn’t get her legs to move, not when Montague surely waited for her somewhere outside the coach.
After an impatient sigh, Lars stuck his head in. “Come, milady,” he grumbled, “or I’ll have to come in and get you out.”
Evie did not like the sound of that. Forcing her frozen legs to move took great effort, but not as much effort as scrambling out of the coach with her wrists tied together. Lars clapped a hand to the top of her arm and helped her down the slippery iron steps. She gritted her teeth as she reached the ground and straightened, the stitch in her neck growing even more painful. Taking deep breaths of the cold, misty morning air helped and, as long as she didn’t move her head to the right, the pain eased to a more tolerable level.
“This way,” Lars said and turned away.
The sky had lightened to a steel gray and it would be hours before the sun ate away all the mist hovering near the ground. Evie glanced beyond Lars and saw giant white columns rising up and the outline of a great mansion. They hadn’t returned to Montague’s old gothic pile. So, where were they?
Glancing around, she winced when her sore neck protested, but spied something that could be trees to her left. Could she dash into them before Lars noticed?
Just as she considered the option, he turned around and snapped his brows together. “You will not get very far. Now, come along, milady.”
Still, Evie hesitated, weighing her options. Should she run?
Before the idea had fully formed, Lars stomped up to her, clamped back onto her arm and pulled her along. She struggled to keep up, stumbling alongside him. The front door opened just as the coach began to roll away. Evie tried to glance over her shoulder, to signal the driver in some way, but was shoved inside the mansion. She nearly slipped on the white and gray marble floor, but caught her balance just as the door slammed shut behind her, the noise echoing out across the expansive foyer.
An older man with thinning hair and a large hook nose, probably the butler, locked the door, and walked away without even glancing in her direction. Evie didn’t bother to call out to him, knowing he would ignore the summons.
Lars headed for the stairs. “Follow me,” he said over his shoulder.
When she didn’t move, he stopped on the first step and turned, narrowing his eyes. “I am taking you up to a guestroom, milady.” He motioned to her with the unbandaged hand. “You might want to…” His hand went up to her hair, and he shrugged. “Just follow me.”
With a sigh, she did as he instructed. Perhaps she could crawl out of a window and climb down a tree. She moved up the steps slowly behind Lars, finding it difficult to hold the long wool coat with bound hands, and then they turned right and followed a long passage until making a left and walking down another long passage. He stopped before the last door on the right and turned the knob, then motioned for her to go into the room.
Evie stepped inside as he closed her in and locked the door, a bit surprised to find such lovely, delicate Queen Anne style furnishings. The sitting room had pale lavender silk wallpaper with painted ivory roses and green leaves. The tables were topped with white marble that matched the fireplace mantle and held candelabras dripping with clusters of heavy crystal drops. Ivory silk wingback chairs flanked a chintz sofa that matched the wallpaper perfectly.
She moved into the bedroom and found the same décor. The fluted bedposts rose up each corner and had intricate swirls and waves carved into the mahogany. The mountain of pillows in various apple green, lavender, and ivory silk looked enticing. Evie wanted to crawl beneath the thick blankets and sleep another few hours.
Turning toward the table with the tall oval mirror, she noticed herself and pulled a face. Her hair stuck up in every direction and a large dirt smear arced down her right cheek. With a deep sigh, she spied the water in the washbowl near the table and walked to it. Since her hands were still tied, she dipped them both into the cold water and washed the dirt from her face with both hands. Brushing her hair proved more difficult, but she managed to free the remaining few pins still in place and get the tangled mass back into some semblance of order.
She lowered the ivory handled brush back onto the table and glanced once again at the knot in the twine binding her wrists together. Lowering into the chair beside her, she gnawed and pulled with her teeth, but the thing would not come loose. Her neck screamed out and she was forced to stop and lift her head until the pain eased. She made several more attempts before giving up and rising from the chair.
Then another problem presented itself and she glanced around until she found the chamber pot behind the dressing screen. Of course, the chore would have been much less difficult had she a coat that fit properly and two free hands to use.
With a sigh of relief, she stepped out from behind the screen, her thoughts a bit clearer. How would she make her escape? Moving about both the bedroom and the anteroom, she went to each window and grew more and more frustrated when she found no means of leaving in that manner. None had a balcony, a tree, or even a vine to crawl down. She would just have to think of another way to sneak outside. Spying the row of cushions in a window seat, she eased down and rested her head back against the wall. Then she drew her legs across the cushions, crossed her ankles, and settled her tied wrists in her lap. The sun had just climbed out over the tops of the trees that spread out as far as the eye could see, blanketing them in gold so bright, it was hard to look upon. She caught just a sliver of a lake in the distance and realized the mist had already evaporated. Three small ribbons of smoke rose up from the forest and she narrowed her eyes, wondering if the smoke came from cabins.
The sun climbed up to her left, so she would have to travel south if she wanted to find the source of the smoke. If she ever had the chance to make her escape.
With a sigh, Evie thought the view really quite lovely. She tried to recall all the properties Lord Montague owned, hoping to realize her location. Nothing she remembered fit the lovely mansion.
Resting her head back, she could hardly keep her eyes open. Evie had just drifted off to sleep when a knock sounded at the door. With a gasp, she nearly fell out of the window seat, then came to her feet as the door opened. Lars stepped into the room and nodded his approval when he glanced at her. “Come with me,” he ordered and turned back to the door.
Evie followed the man back down the corridors and they descended the steps. She chewed on her lower lip, wondering if Lord Montague wanted to sacrifice her so early in the day. Perhaps, he would torture her first, to get her to admit to being a Guardian. She shivered, recalling just a few of the torture methods Belle spoke about. Having her arms and legs pulled out of socket on the rack made her queasy. Her steps slowed. Perhaps Lord Montague preferred branding her naked flesh with a hot poker.
With her mind so occupied on such horrible thoughts, she almost bumped into Lars as he stopped to enter a room. Delicious smells of fresh baked bread distracted her and she followed Lars into the breakfast room, where a long buffet held steaming, heaping platters of food. Her stomach grumbled when she spied a servant cutting thick slices of ham away from the bone. Pursing her lips, she wondered why Lord Montague wished to feed her before he tortured her. Perhaps he wished to dangle the idea of torture and death for a day or two before actually doing the deed.
“Milord, I present Lady Fielding.”
Evie’s stomach clenched and her hunger fled. Then she heard the scuffle of a step, quickly followed by the clip of a cane, and turned to find someone other than Lord Montague entering the room through another door. It was difficult to tell the man’s age. He had a full head of hair, near the color of corn silk, and sharp gray eyes. It was the slight webbing of wrinkles around the corners of his eyes that showed him to be perhaps in his early to mid-fifties.
He smiled as he stopped before her, leaning heavily on his cane, and Evie could not stop her heart from doing a strange flip in her chest. The man was incredibly handsome, but he was also incredibly dangerous. It radiated from him.
Movement just behind his right shoulder caught her attention. Evie glanced over and stumbled back a step when she saw Lord Montague advancing in her direction from the same door the man had come. Rage boiled in his ice blue eyes and his fists were clenched as he stopped just behind the man standing before her.
She heard the stranger speak, his voice deep, yet smooth, and she focused back on him. “Worry not, Lady Fielding, no harm will come to you under my roof.” Then he swept a hand toward the food. “Come, let us have something to eat, shall we?”
When the man turned back to her, his gray eyes dipped down to her bound hands and he frowned. “What is this?” He limped forward, drawing his brows together, and picked up her tied wrists. Swiping his thumb over her reddened, cold hands, he murmured something and shook his head. Then he released her and withdrew something out of his coat.
The blade glistened and Evie held her breath as he lowered it down to her hands. With a quick jerk, he cut through the bindings and the twine fell down to her feet. The coiled silver snake glistened over the black onyx hilt as he pocketed the knife, but then the pain pulsated through her hands and Evie winced, raising them up to her chest.
She noticed the raw rope burns and the bruises around her wrists. Evidently, so did the stranger. He smacked his cane against the floor and ordered salve and bandages at once. Never had Evie seen servants scramble about, and in just a few minutes, her wrists and hands were feeling better and the heavy coat had been removed from her shoulders.
“Now, shall we try again?” he asked, motioning to the large fare piled on the sideboard.
Evie glanced over at Lord Montague and frowned. “Is he going to join us?”
The man smiled slowly and shook his head. “Not if that displeases you.”
She hesitated, not at all expecting him to say that, then nodded. “It does.”
His smile widened, and he turned and signaled for Lord Montague to leave. Montague gave her another furious gaze, then turned and stomped out of the room without argument.
Evie relaxed her tense shoulders and walked over to the food. Her stomach grumbled as she took a plate from the footman and added all of her favorites. Another footman directed her to the seat to the right of the head of the table, the place of honor, and moved her chair forward as she sat. He then placed a napkin into her lap and offered strong, steaming tea.
When the stranger joined her, she glanced around and found Lars gone. A footman served him coffee and he dismissed all the servants with a wave of his hand.
They were alone. Evie hid her discomfort by lifting her tea to her lips and sipping the delicious, perfectly brewed tea. She could be afraid on an empty stomach or on a full stomach, and decided on the latter. Not able to recall the last time she ate, she considered it beneficial to not only her physical capacity, but her mental state as well. Thoughts were clearer, less jumbled when she wasn’t starving to death.
She picked up her fork and forced herself to take small bites of food. Then she tried the gooseberry jam on the fresh bread and closed her eyes, not remembering having anything so delicious in her entire life.
The man chuckled and she opened her eyes, but refused to set the bread down until she finished the last morsel.
“I take it, you find the food adequate enough?” he asked, lifting his coffee to his lips.
“I do.” She ate more buttered eggs and decided she was clear-headed enough to ask some questions. “Who are you?”
His lips twitched as he lowered his cup. “I am certain you know the answer to that already.”
She kept her eyes level and refused to glance away, just as Belle taught when speaking a lie. “I do not have any idea, but I would like for you to tell me. I would also like to know why you brought me here.” She raised her cup and sipped more tea.
He cocked his head to the side. “You are more direct than I thought you would be.” His eyes roved her face several times. “And much lovelier. I can see why Jeremy married you.”
Evie nearly dropped her teacup. She carefully placed the thin china back onto the saucer, trying to calm her pounding heart. “You know Jeremy?”
Leaning over, he lowered his voice to a near whisper. “I know a lot of things, my lady.”
Evie got the distinct feeling the man was not exaggerating. She shifted in her seat. “Well, then, I must call you something. What do you prefer?”
“You may call me Freddy, my lady, if you will permit me to call you Evie.”
“Of course.” She pushed her nearly empty plate away. “If you are acquainted with my husband, that is perfectly acceptable.” She pressed her napkin to her lips and settled it over the plate. “I do not think he will be very pleased to learn you are holding his wife against her will, though. Perhaps, you should take me back to him now. I am sure all will be forgiven when you do.”
“Hhhmmmmm.” He drummed his fingers against the pristine tablecloth, seeming to consider her words. “As much as it pains me to say, I am afraid your request is out of the question.”
She glared at the man. “Why is that, exactly?”
He leaned back in his seat, a smile curving one side of his lips. “Let me just say, I am very much enjoying your company.”
She shook her head. “You cannot mean to keep me here forever.”
His smile fled. “It is for a short time, Evie. No longer than necessary.” The Flemish mantle clock struck the half hour chime and Freddy reached for his cane. Just before settling his palm over the top, she found the same silver snake coiled within onyx, exactly like the knife he carried. The Viper insignia. He came slowly to his feet, wincing as he rose from the chair. “Come, let us take a walk in the garden.”
Evie’s first thought was to refuse, then she thought better of it. Perhaps she could find a means of escaping. With a nod, she came to her feet and followed Freddy into the salon and out a set of French doors.
Warm sunlight spilled out over the perfectly manicured grass, and Evie had to shade her eyes against the brightness. A little yellow butterfly swooped down before her then lifted several feet up to flutter toward a large marble edged flowerbed filled with several dozen various flowers in bloom. Foxglove, peonies, daisies, bluebells. The picturesque garden could have been straight out of a painting.
“Come, Evie, this way.” Freddy turned and ambled toward a bench near a tall marble fountain that cascaded water down each of its five tiers.
She walked by the gurgling water and found ten koi swimming in the bottom pool, their white, black, and orange scales glistening as the sun’s rays meandered through the crystal-clear surface. Seeing them reminded her of her thoughts the previous evening in the coach. How Jeremy would continue to lead an adventurous life while she wasted her days and nights in worry and sorrow.
With a deep breath, she focused back on the present and moved to the bench. Before she considered what would happen with Jeremy, she had to first escape. She took a surreptitious glance at the trees surrounding the property as she lowered onto the hard marble. She wanted to see how many servants and workers moved about, but saw none as she sat beside Freddy and adjusted her mauve skirts.
He held his cane loosely and she once again noticed the coiled snake in silver, surrounded by black onyx. “You have a unique cane.”
Glancing down, he nodded. “I designed it myself.”
“How do you know Lord Montague?” she asked, hoping to find a clue as to what he intended to do with her. She was more certain than ever she sat beside Viper, the very leader of the reprehensible secret organization that killed and blackmailed, maimed and ruined anyone that stood in its way.
Freddy glanced over at her slowly, his gray eyes revealing nothing as he studied her for several seconds. “I have known Montague for many years. He was a loyal friend when others turned their backs on me.” His shoulders went tense and his lips dipped into a tight frown. “I do not forget being wronged, my lady.” Then he sighed and shook his head. “I do not forget anything at all. It is a family curse, I am afraid.”
Evie licked her lips, wondering how much she should ask. Yet, how would she ever know if she did not ask? “Are you aware of what Lord Montague tried to do to me?”
His eyes went hard for several seconds. “I am aware of a great many things, my lady.”
She hesitated, her heart pounding with hope at the displeasure he clearly displayed at Montague’s intentions. Perhaps she had an unlikely ally. She had to know for certain and lowered her voice. For her, it was always better knowing what was to come than to be caught off guard and unprepared. “Is it your intention to let him finish what he started?”
Freddy’s lips dipped down at the corners. “If you are wondering if I am part of his Hell Fire Club, then the answer is no. I actually find the whole thing a barbaric ritual I would not enjoy in the least. But Montague believes in all that nonsense.”
Would the man ever give her a clear answer? She swatted at the fly buzzing around her ear. “You did not answer my question.”
Freddy blew out a breath. “Honestly, Evie, I have not decided what to do about you yet.” He glanced over at her. “One thing is certain, though. You have seen far too much, and I must take that under consideration.”
Her breath lodged in her throat and Evie scrambled to her feet. She would not sit by and wait while the man decided how to keep her silent. He would either eventually kill her himself or hand her over to Montague. Shaking her head, she backed up a step, then turned and flew around the bench. She ran south, not daring to glance over her shoulder. That would slow her down. Right now, she needed to get away. Heading toward the spires of rising smoke she spied earlier from her window, her feet pounded the ground as the line of ash trees grew closer. Almost there. She drew in deep gulps of air. Her arms pumped at her sides as she pushed her legs to move even faster.
The trees were just a few feet away. Her lungs burned and her side ached as she raced in between two thick trunks. Then someone stepped right into her path, causing her to crash against his wide, solid chest.
Stunned for a moment, Evie glanced up into glistening blue eyes. His thick lips curled up into a menacing sneer as his arms snaked around her body. “Going somewhere?” Montague asked. Then he leaned down to whisper into her ear. “You can’t leave yet. Not when we have unfinished business between us.”