“Esther has been gone for quite some time,” Agnes commented, looking a little worriedly.

Bernard frowned. “It has been quite a while, Duke. Where could she have gone?”

“I’m not sure,” Amos replied, getting to his feet. “Excuse me while I go downstairs to check.”

"I'll come with you," Bernard said, following him from the room. Lady Heber, of course, was not about to be left behind, so the three of them trooped downstairs, only to find her parlor empty. There were only a few servants about, who all quieted their chatter the moment the Duke and his guests arrived.

"Have you seen Mrs. Edwards?" Amos asked the cook, who shook her head. Further inquiries were met with no positive answers, and Bernard, Amos, and Agnes made their way outside, now becoming highly concerned over her disappearance.

“Pardon me, Your Grace," came a quiet voice, and Amos spun around to see a scared looking chambermaid at his elbow.

“Yes?”

“Tis only that there’s been talk that Mrs. Edwards is, in fact, Lord Bertram's lost daughter."

Amos's face lost all its color.

"When did you hear this?" he asked, trying not to sound too severe.

"Within the last couple of days," she replied, her eyes staring at his boots.

“Thank you,” Amos replied, watching her scuttle away. Dread rose in his heart. “If the servants know, I must assume that her father also knows,” he said, seeing Lady Heber’s face whiten.

“What shall we do?” she cried, grasping Bernard’s arm. “If he has her, she will not easily escape him!”

Amos thought quickly, his mind running through various possibilities. “He will want her to marry Lord Thompson as soon as possible,” he said aloud, seeing the comprehension on Bernard’s face.

"So, he will have taken her to Lord Thompson's townhouse," Bernard continued. "That way he can claim she has been staying with him, make it look like some lovers’ tryst. She will have no choice but to marry the man."

Amos did not wait to hear another word, taking off towards the stable, shouting for his horse. Bernard followed quickly, telling his mother to wait behind. She kissed his cheek and bade him hurry, watching them thunder away a few moments later.

Esther’s eyes fluttered as she became aware of a strong pounding in her head. Lifting her hand, she found her hair wet and sticky, struggling to open her eyes through a haze of pain.

“If you had not struggled, then I wouldn’t have had to hit you so hard.”

Blinking hard to focus her vision, Esther saw her father’s face come into view.

“What have you done?” she asked groggily, struggling to sit up.

Her father studied her with distaste in his expression. “Nothing a father wouldn’t do for his daughter,” he sneered. “Hiding yourself as a housekeeper and thinking the servants wouldn’t talk. Foolish girl!” He sat back, the carriage rocking her from side to side as she tried to remain upright. “Luckily for you, Lord Thompson is most eager to make you his bride. Your foolish ways have not dissuaded him in the slightest.”

“I will not marry him,” Esther replied, resolutely. “You cannot force me.”

“I can, and you will,” her father said, his face becoming red and spittle flying from his mouth. “Should you not, you and I will find ourselves in the gutter.”

Esther closed her eyes, blocking out the light and the sight of his fury. “What do you mean?” she asked, wearily.

Her father let out a wicked laugh that shook Esther to her very core. “Lord Thompson is willing to pay a great deal for you, my girl. He has been watching you for a long time, and we were able to strike quite a deal.”

Esther shuddered. “I am not for sale, father.”

“Oh, yes you are,” he replied, leaning forward. “You are for sale as much as anything else in my possession. You are the most valuable, it has to be said. The price I will get for you will cover my debts and set me up for the rest of my days.”

Esther shook her head, in spite of the pain that shot through it. “I will not marry him, Father.”

He sat back, seemingly unruffled by her words of refusal. “You will have no choice. When you are found at Lord Thompson’s house, you will have to marry him or have such a stain on your reputation that even I will not be able to have you in my house.”

“I shall go to my sister’s house,” Esther replied, panic rising up her throat.

“And mar her reputation also?” her father asked, mocking her. “I should have thought you cared more for your sister than that.”

Esther closed her eyes, not able to find a way out. She knew that her sister would welcome her with open arms, but Esther would not allow her to be besmirched by what would then be her own tattered reputation.

“You have become a monster,” she whispered, keeping her eyes shut. “When did you stop being my father and instead become my captor?”

He said nothing, the turn of the carriage wheels on the cobbled streets the only sound. Esther wanted to cry but refused to allow a single drop of moisture to fall. She would not show any weakness to her father, would not allow another word to pass her lips.

“Almost there,” her father jeered. “I am sure Lord Thompson will be expecting us.”

A sudden sound of hooves met her ears as the carriage began to slow, and the sounds of shouting caused Esther’s spirits to lift. Had the Duke come for her?