Chapter Ten
Michael paused in rummaging through Rupert’s desk. He had found a few things of note, primarily that Rupert appeared to be living on appearances only. The Whitby’s were massively in debt, and most of their debts appeared to have accrued through the acquisition of ancient artifacts from questionable sources.
The items weren’t named in the ledgers; the sources were known for the connection to the world of black market Greco-Roman antiquities. A dark suspicion began to form in his mind as he considered his own collection of relics, inherited from his father. Rupert had expressed an interest in them that first night. Could that be the reason for luring him into their social circle? While not extensive, the items were rare and highly prized, and some carried a dark history.
He had never moved in the same circle as Lavinia and Rupert. Given his reputation with women, he didn’t have to seek such entertainments. Women had always sought him out. When the offers had appealed to him, he had accepted. When they hadn’t, he had declined as kindly as possible. Though the number of liaisons was cause enough for a few raised eyebrows, his preferences had run to the pedestrian.
He had never reached the point of being so bored with the glorious wonders of a feminine body that he needed to add spice the way the Whitby’s had. They had delved into perversions had never held any appeal for him.
The letter itself was telling. Rupert had been a bit too enthusiastic in abusing the wife of one of their compatriots, and the couple was regretfully bowing out of coming entertainments. The truly curious part of the letter was that it was signed with only the use of a Roman numeral.
He had just stuffed the letter into his pocket when he heard the sound of voices coming from just beyond the door. Moving quickly, his steps sure even in the darkness, he crouched behind a large chair in the corner, his eyes trained on the door as it began to open. Rupert stepped inside, Squire Blevins following him, the door closed again, and the room was lit only by the small candelabra that the Squire carried.
“There was no sign of the girl… I searched along the banks of the stream but found nothing. She can’t have gone far, if she survived at all,” the Squire said.
Rupert nodded, “I agree. At this point, it’s a question of locating her remains.”
“There is Blagdon Hall, which is close by,” the Squire offered. “Id she'd sought aid there, all could be lost.”
Rupert dismissed the concerns with a wave of his hand, “If she’d made it to Blagdon Hall; Ellersleigh would have said something”
The Squire nodded his agreement..” He isn’t the type to let something like that go, even if she was just a village girl.”
Rupert coughed softly, holding a handkerchief to his lips. Michael recalled his coughing during the first dinner he'd attended at Whitby Hall. With the medications he'd discovered in their chambers, it was obvious that Rupert was in the early stages of consumption.
“Just so,” Rupert agreed. “But I don’t like his presence here. Lavinia’s plan to seduce the artifact out from under him has failed miserably, and we must have that piece for the final ritual.”
“And Abbigail?” Blevins asked.
Rupert smiled, “When Ellersleigh is out of the way, and the staff is in our possession, we will both have our fill of her, without the burden of virgin missishness… Who knows, Squire? Now that she’s had a man betwixt her thighs, she might be a bit more amenable to our advances.”
Blevins chuckled, “I hope not. I prefer it when there’s a bit of a fight in them.”
Michael watched the two men leave, his fists clenched and anger boiling inside him. With everything in him, he wanted to challenge them openly, but he couldn’t. He needed proof of what they were doing, and more than ever, he needed to know what their ultimate goal was. First and foremost, he needed to get Abby somewhere safe, and figure out what bloody artifact it was that they wanted.
Michael made his way back up the servant’s stairs, and into the hallway that housed his and Abigail’s rooms. In only his breeches and shirt, he gave every impression of a man returning from a tryst. Lavinia was waiting for him outside the door. Her hair was mussed, her clothing rumpled, and she smelled of sex.
“Ellersleigh,” she said in greeting, her tongue stroking her bottom lip. “I see you’ve been partaking of the bounty I provided for you.”
“What are you doing here, Lavinia?”
She laughed softly, “I was hoping you would show your appreciation for my unparalleled skill as a hostess. Every woman under this roof has had you or wishes to. It’s a dream come true for most men.”
Exhausted beyond belief and disgusted beyond measure by her and her cohorts, he didn't bother to conceal his disdain as he spoke. “I do not need you to act as a procuress for me, Lavinia.”
Her hands stroked over her breasts, tugging the bodice of her gown so that the rouged circles of her areolas were visible to him. She continued to touch herself, her hands stroking over her belly to press between her thighs. “I could be anything you needed… Do anything you needed. Whatever you desire, no matter how dark and depraved, you have but to speak it to me, and it will be yours.”
Michael leaned close to her, “Then I will speak clearly, Lavinia. I only desire for you to return to your husband and leave me be. Abbigail and I will be leaving on the morrow.”
She smiled, though the expression was far from warm. It was a bit like a cat baring its teeth in threat. “Enjoy your newly wedded bliss.”
Michael felt vaguely sickened. She had already serviced Squire Blevins, and there were no limit of options for whom he’d just been with, and yet she stood outside the room where his wife slept, attempting to seduce him. “Stay away from us both, Lavinia. I want no part of you, and if you importune Abigail in any way, I will make you regret it.”
She laughed again, maniacally, “Will you beat me? It isn’t the punishment that you imagine, Lord Ellersleigh. There is a point where the pain transcends everything, and the body achieves a state of bliss like nothing else.”
He didn’t touch her but remained completely aloof, when he said, “No, I will not beat you. But I will ruin you. I will see to it that no society hostess will even give you admittance… How quickly will your circle of lovers dwindle then?”
“Burn in hell, Ellersleigh.”
“Without a doubt, Lady Whitby, but I imagine you will be there first.”
After Lavinia had disappeared down the length of the hall, Michael entered the room to find Abigail sitting up in the middle of the bed. She was wide awake and staring at him with concern. “How much did you overhear?”
“Enough to know that Lavinia has somehow crossed from perversion into madness,” she replied.
He didn’t discount what she said though he knew that sometimes it was a much finer line than he hoped she would ever realize. “We’re leaving tomorrow.”
“You found something didn’t you?”
He debated for a moment but then decided that the truth was the best of the options. Being prepared might very well keep her alive. “I’m not sure, but I did overhear enough to know that we are both in danger here. I believe that Rupert is ill... and nothing makes a man more dangerous than desperation.”
He didn't tell her what he'd overheard between the Squire and Rupert. He doubted it would surprise her at any rate. She knew Rupert's motives well enough already. He just couldn't bring himsefl to speak of it. “We will leave for London day after tomorrow, and I know you won’t like it, but I intend to ask Lady Westerbrook to accompany us. Regardless of our past relationship, the people here are not the sort she normally associates with. I fear that she is very much in over her head, and only because of her association with me.”
Abbi shook her head. “No, absolutely not. She will not go with us… And you will not speak with her. I will. I can impress upon her how dangerous Whitby Hall can be. It will be assumed by every gossip in this house that we are having a jealous confrontation, which will precipitate our departure.”
“Will it be a jealous confrontation?”
Her eyebrow lifted slightly but her expression remained calm and aloof otherwise. “No. Jealousy is a wasted emotion, my lord. You will do what you will do regardless of whether or not I obsess about it. It just so happens that in this case, it is to our benefit to feign such poor self-control.”
Chastened, Michael stripped off his clothing and climbed into bed for the second time that evening. Given what he had seen and heard, and all he had to think about, he didn’t imagine that sleep would come anytime soon. He’d spent many sleepless nights in bed with women, but they had normally been of a more pleasant variety.