Chapter 26
“I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure. I am—”
“Phillip Davenport, and believe me the pleasure will be all mine when I choke the breath from your body,” Rian finished for him.
Phillip took a moment to observe him, a look of disquiet on his face while Catherine allowed the tiniest glimmer of a smile to lift her lips. Like any hot-blooded male, Rian was at his most dangerous when his family was being threatened. A fact Phillip could not have failed to notice. Rian did not need to issue threats or warnings. A line had already been crossed and there was no going back. Both men now stared at each other. Rian took in the debauched figure with the sagging flesh and dissolute face. He could not believe Catherine shared the same bloodline as Phillip, yet he knew it to be true. His wife’s face told him it was true. This was the architect of her nightmares, and Rian made a silent promise that Phillip Davenport would not leave this room alive.
As if he were the honored guest at an elegant function attended by the very best of the aristocracy, Phillip waved off Rian’s interruption and continued to speak.
“Well, I see that formal introductions are not necessary, but allow me to indulge myself and explain why we are all gathered here before we embark on tonight’s entertainment.” He paused and moved to the dresser, giving Rian a wide berth as he did so. Whether he did not trust the rope, his men or the captive himself, it was hard to say, but Phillip had noticed the way Rian looked at Catherine, and the way she looked back. The man was her husband and her lover, and as such was unpredictable and volatile. It was wise to be cautious. Pouring a liberal amount of brandy into a glass, he gulped the fiery liquid down. The burn in his belly bolstered his courage.
“As you may or may not know,” Phillip said, “depending on how loose Lady Howard’s tongue has been, Catherine and I are related by blood. We are distant cousins, and have the privilege of being each other’s only surviving blood relatives.” Rian shared his feelings with a curse, which Phillip admonished by waving his finger back and forth as he took a larger gulp from his glass.
“As I said,” he continued, “we are blood relatives, but it seems that my dear cousin’s feeble excuse for a father managed to squander away his fortune before making sure his daughter was married.” His eyes shone with hypocritical sympathy. “Upon his death my dear cousin was left a pauper. A condition unfamiliar to her, but one that I have more than a passing acquaintance with, given the circumstances of my own wretched childhood.” He turned to Catherine. “I really should commend you on the tenacity of your father’s lawyer. The man simply refused to give up until he had secured my promise to shelter you under my roof. Personally I would never have agreed except that he guaranteed doing so would not be to my disadvantage.” Phillip licked his lips. “And I realized I could profit from the situation.”
“Profit?” Catherine asked, bewildered. “How?”
“I was assured that, though penniless, you were handsome enough to attract a husband.” Phillip now beamed at her. “Fortunately, I have always been able to see the full potential of any business proposition. If you were such a beauty, I knew a far more profitable arrangement could be brokered, but of course that was before I saw you for myself.” He drained his glass.
“I don’t understand,” Catherine whispered, looking bewildered and lost.
“Sweetheart, he meant to sell you to a whorehouse,” Rian stated without emotion.
“Ah, I see your husband is a man of the world,” Phillip said, refilling his glass. “I am sure he is quite familiar with the workings of brothels. How much would he have been willing to pay to lie with you, I wonder?”
With his heart aching, Rian watched Catherine’s eyes change color as understanding gave way to rage.
“You miserable bastard!” Leaping forward, Catherine knocked the glass from Phillip’s hand and slapped him soundly across the face, leaving a stinging imprint on his cheek.
“Bitch!” Phillip returned the blow with more force than Catherine’s slight frame had been able to generate. His mouth compressed into a thin line as she fell to the floor, hand covering her face as she fought back tears. Rian let out a howl of rage as Phillip grasped the front of the flimsy garment Catherine wore, pulling her up so their faces were only inches apart. “Let me be perfectly clear,” he snarled. “You will pay for all I have suffered.”
More confused than ever, Catherine asked, “Suffered? How? In what way?” Nothing Phillip said was making any sense. His words only convinced her he was more deranged than she had previously thought.
“I suffered because everything you ever had was given to you. It should have been mine as well. You stole it from me. It was my birthright too!”
“But I didn’t even know you existed! Whatever the rift in our families, it happened before either of us were born. You cannot hold me to blame for something I had no knowledge of!” Catherine spoke reason, but the maniacal gleam in her cousin’s eyes told her it was useless as an enraged Phillip pushed her back to the floor.
“Of course I blame you,” he told her fiercely. “Someone has to pay for my misfortune.”
“You’re a-a-a monster,” Catherine stuttered, but Phillip glowed as if she had just paid him the most charming of compliments.
His glass had landed on the floor and was, surprisingly, still intact. Phillip picked it up and refilled it. “I was quite convinced you had died after leaving me as you had,” he told her. “The streets are a cruel, violent place, especially to young girls who know nothing of them. On reflection, it would have been better if you had perished. God knows you should have.”
“But she didn’t,” Rian said.
Phillip sighed and gave Rian a sour look. “No, she didn’t. I suppose that was due to your interference.”
A terrible form of horror came over Catherine as she listened to the casual way Phillip spoke of her dying. She meant nothing to him, and he held absolutely no regard for her as a living, breathing human being.
Rian spoke in a low voice, “You had best make sure your men kill me, Davenport, because if you do not, then I promise you will not take a breath outside this room.”
Hearing Rian’s words, Phillip turned and blinked slowly, once then twice. “Why, Mr. Connor,” he said, feigning surprise, “forgive me. I should have made my intentions perfectly clear. Of course you will be killed, but only after you have suffered all the agonies of hell as you watch me take this divine creature you care so much for. And I will take her, by force, again, and again, and again. I promise you she will not enjoy one moment of it, and when I am done, there are others who will take their pleasure with her.” He nodded at the two men standing by the door, and, unable to help himself, Rian glared at them.
“If either of you so much as lays one finger on her…” He left the rest of his threat unspoken.
“Such theatrics!” Phillip rolled his eyes. “As I said, after they are done with your wife, then you can watch as I choke the life from her in the full and complete knowledge that you cannot stop me.”
Rian resumed looking at the two burly guards who, finding themselves the object of such intense scrutiny, shifted uncomfortably. Ignoring Phillip, he addressed them.
“You know I will kill you both,” Rian said calmly, “before I kill him.” He jerked his head in Phillip’s direction.
Apparently the full extent of their expected participation had not been explained; Phillip had failed to share with his two henchmen the role he wanted them to play. Neither man was a stranger to thievery, battery, or rape, but their curious code of ethics balked at murder for no good reason. If Phillip wanted to kill both the woman and her husband, then so be it, but he would have to do it without any help from either of them. Swinging from the hangman’s noose for someone like Phillip Davenport was not a prospect either had bargained for.
A silent communication between the two said they wanted no part of Phillip’s peculiar brand of insanity, so they simply turned and walked away. The sound of their boots could be heard as they made their way down the staircase. It was soon followed by the front door slamming.
“They may have gone for help!” Catherine said desperately, her voice close to breaking, but Phillip only laughed at her.
“Nonsense. They have been paid well for their services, and if they want to live to see another sunrise, they know to hold their tongues.”
To hear Phillip state that he would murder her had been shocking, momentarily freezing her. Catherine knew that she alone could not prevent him from ending her life. But she was definitely not going to make it easy for him. She was not about to hand herself over to him without taking something in return. The idea of gouging out an eye was very appealing.
As if deciding that too much time had been wasted in conversation, Phillip moved closer to her side. “Come, Catherine, it is time.”
“Phillip, for the love of God, I beg of you don’t do this!” she beseeched, but her plea only seemed to irritate him. He jerked her roughly to her feet and slapped her.
“At least let the child go!” Rian’s roar made Phillip stop to consider the request.
Sensing a moment of hesitation, Catherine added, “Please, Phillip, I promise I will do whatever you ask of me, but let Grace go. She has no place here.”
“Will you do everything I ask of you?” He ran his hands over her body, feeling the warmth of her skin through the light fabric. Catherine nodded, not trusting her voice.
He paused, his gaze falling on the small figure seated across the room. She was so still, she appeared frozen. Phillip did not have to tell her to mind her tongue.
With a jerk of his head, Phillip motioned toward the door, but Rian was the only one who saw the child scramble from her seat and hurry out of the room. He sighed. She had undoubtedly seen too many acts of human cruelty in her short life, but there was no need for her to witness murder.
“Now, let me see how splendid you are, my dear, and how well you have recovered from our last encounter.” Phillip pulled the sash tied around Catherine’s waist and slipped the robe off her shoulders.
* * * *
Lettie lay curled up in her bed, her mind safely locked in a faraway place where bad things did not happen to good people. She vaguely remembered Phillip coming to her room, handing her a glass and telling her to drink. For a moment she’d wondered if he had finally decided to be done with her. Did the glass contain poison? But as if reading her thoughts, Phillip had laughed.
“No my dear, it’s just something to help with the pain, and to give you pleasant dreams. I promise.”
Not daring to refuse him, Lettie had finished the contents of the glass and then gasped as a strange, numbing sensation began to steal over her. “Wh-what did you give me?” she stammered, her eyes already having difficulty focusing.
“Only something to make you feel better,” he said stroking a hand down her cheek. “Now sleep, and let your worries fade away.” She was almost unconscious by the time he reached the door.
Awash in a laudanum haze, Lettie forgot the horrors of her daily life. She willingly embraced the landscape of this new dreamworld that claimed her, drifting mindlessly from one pleasure to the next. Here she had no worries, no husband, no cruelty in her life. The grass was sweet and green, the sky a perfect shade of blue, the flowers an extraordinary mix of perfume, texture and color. Everything was perfect. Only now, something was trying to pull her out of her paradise and drag her back to the ugly reality she abhorred. Someone grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her, and no matter how hard Lettie tried to pull away, she could not free herself from the relentless grip.
“No…no…” she mumbled into her pillow as she tossed her head back and forth. “Won’t go…can’t make me—owww!” This last was in response to the cold water that soaked her head and shoulders.
Blinking furiously, Lettie sat up, and saw Grace standing by the side of the bed, worrying her lower lip and holding the empty ewer from the washstand.
“What do you mean—”
“Sorry, Missus,” Grace said urgently, “but you gots to come quick, and help the lady. I thinks the master means to do something bad to her.” She paused to catch a breath. “And I think he means to murder the man as well.”
Grabbing hold of Grace’s thin arm, Lettie asked, “Man? What man?”
“The one who’s come for the lady.”
Lettie knew who the lady was, but the man was unknown to her. Had Phillip taken leave of his senses and brought a stranger into their home? Why would he do such a thing? But wait—Grace had said the man had come for the lady. Did she mean he was someone who had come to rescue Catherine?
“Where is this man?” Lettie asked.
“In the lady’s room.”
“Yes, but where exactly?”
“They gots him tied to the chair.”
Tugging on Lettie’s hand, Grace got her out of bed, but the moment Lettie tried to stand she became dizzy and had to hold on to the bedpost until it passed. Once she was able to stand without falling, Lettie took Grace’s small hand in her own. “Tell me exactly what has happened,” she asked, and without hesitation Grace bravely told her all she had seen.
Lettie had no idea how long she had been trapped inside her drug induced hallucination, but she was keenly aware that though she had stepped back to this side of reality, there was no guarantee how long she might remain. Time was of the essence, and she could waste no more of it. Too much had happened already while she had been unaware. She took a step forward, gritting her teeth against the terrible burning sensation radiating outward from her hip.
Step and drag…step and drag…
Refusing to give in to the throbbing ache, Lettie made her way to the bedroom door and pulled it open cautiously. Grace had told her about the two men she had seen leave, but she had no way of knowing if they might have since returned. She peered down the hallway, hearing nothing but an odd muffled sound coming from the direction of the room where Catherine was being held captive.
“And the other man, the one who came for Cath—the lady—is in the room with her as well?” Lettie asked.
“He’s tied to the chair,” Grace confirmed solemnly. “And I think he knows the lady.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Cos when he looks at her it’s like he wants to kiss her.”
From the pocket of her apron Grace suddenly produced a wicked looking kitchen knife that she had had the foresight to fetch before waking Lettie. No one had seen her take it. Cook was gone, presumably deciding to make her escape while she could and taking the slow-witted Rosie with her.
“Not to worry,” Lettie said with a quavering smile. “We two will be enough.” They would have to be.
A moment of indecision suddenly rendered Lettie immobile. Fear snaked its way through her, and she almost succumbed to its poisonous charm, but then she thought of Catherine, who had managed to find someone to care enough for her that he had come to her rescue. Lettie could do no less.
“I’m going to fetch a pistol,” she told Grace, pushing down her fear. “I know the master keeps one in his room, but I want you to stay here where it will be safe.”
“But missus, you gots to go past the other room to get to the master’s room.” With a dirty finger, Grace pointed to the open doorway.
“I will make sure I am not seen,” Lettie told her.
“But you gots a bad leg.”
Closing her eyes, Lettie took a deep breath. Bad leg or not, she was the only one who knew where Phillip kept his pistol. It would be impossible to save Catherine without it. Smiling with a confidence she did not feel, Lettie assured Grace she could make it down the hall without being seen. She did not add she was certain Phillip’s attention would be otherwise occupied.
It was a torturous journey that took all of the courage Lettie possessed. At any moment she expected Phillip, alerted by the thunderous sound of her beating heart, to appear and demand she explain why she was out of her room. The dimly lit hallway helped to conceal her, and passing by the open door to Catherine’s room, Lettie froze as movement caught her eye. But the shadows being thrown upon the wall were too distorted for her to make out, and she closed her eyes for a moment before finding the strength to continue. Her leg was on fire, the throbbing pain encompassing every part of her from the waist down. Lettie willed herself not to fall. If she did she knew she would never rise again, for Phillip would surely kill her. It seemed that luck was on her side, for though her back was soaked with perspiration, and her hands shook uncontrollably, she reached her destination without mishap.
Grace waited until Lettie disappeared. She had taken the knife from the kitchen for a specific reason. Now she, too, inched her way down the hall to the open doorway, ignoring Lettie’s command to remain in her room. Grace had seen a great many things in her short span of years. It made no difference to her that the master wore nice clothes, or the missus slept in a grand bed. People were people, and Grace had learned early to tell the good from the bad. More than once seeing the next sunrise had depended on it.
She knew what was taking place in the bedroom was the same thing that her mother used to do night after night. Grace wondered if the lady in the room had also been promised a gold coin when the master was done with her. She thought not. Somehow this was different from what she had seen her mother do. Grace didn’t like the master. She hadn’t from the first time she had seen him, and she wished with all her heart her mother had sold her to anyone else but him. Rosie wasn’t as dim-witted as she made out, and she had told Grace about how the master had done things, horrible things, to the other girls that used to work in the house. Only all the girls had been sent away, leaving behind just Rosie and Grace.
“He won’t touch me,” Rosie had told her with a knowing smile.
“Why not?”
Rosie had tapped her temple with two fingers and mimicked a lunatic’s grin. “You best watch out for yerself,” she warned.
But Grace hadn’t needed the warning. There was a mean streak in the master that made her afraid. It was easy enough to stay out of his way when there had been others to act as a shield. At first she had stayed in the kitchen, but then the master had said she was to look after the missus. He promised her a gold coin if she did, but the look on his face had made Grace’s stomach swoosh with a sick feeling. Her stomach was swooshing again now, but she knew she had to help the man and the lady. The missus was not strong enough to do it all by herself.