Fifteen
Rushing into the room with a distinct lack of his usual composure, the butler performed a hasty bow.
“I am sorry, Lord Bidwell,” the servant apologized, turning to glare at the rattled groom. “This man slipped through the servants’ door before he could be halted.”
Biddles waved a dismissive hand. “Do not fear; we will see him.”
With another bow, the butler backed out of the room, clearly accustomed to his employer’s peculiar habits.
Luke paid no heed to anything but the lined face of Cassandra’s groom.
“What has occurred?” he demanded in rough tones.
“It is Miss Stanholte,” he breathed.
Luke’s heart clenched in agony. “Where is she? Has she been harmed?”
“I cannot say.” The groom twisted his battered hat in a nervous fashion, his eyes dark with concern. “We were on our way to Hatcher’s when a carriage pulled beside us. Before I could guess what was occurring, two villains pulled Miss Stanholte and Miss Stowe from our carriage and shoved them into the one beside us. I tried to follow, but they ran us from the road.” His voice broke with suppressed emotion. “Forgive me, my lord.”
Luke did not doubt for a moment this man had done everything in his power to save Miss Stanholte. Still, his fear was too powerful to protect this man’s pride.
“There is no time for that.” He abruptly turned to the silent Lord Bidwell. “Come, Biddles.”
The thin gentleman remained unflappable.
“Where are we headed?” he demanded with annoying logic. “We do not know where Miss Stanholte was being taken.”
Luke dampened his instinctive flare of anger, knowing his friend was simply attempting to keep a level head.
“We will begin with the theater and then move to the neighborhood beyond.”
Biddles ran a finger down the side of his long nose. “That could take hours.”
“I do not care if it will take days,” Luke snapped. “I will find her.”
Biddles smiled with dry humor. “I merely meant we will need help. You go ahead, and I will meet you as soon as I am able.”
“Very well.” Luke gave a decisive nod of his head, then returned his attention to the groom. “I want you to go to the theater. I will begin in the neighborhood.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Without waiting for any further discussion, Luke strode out of the house and down the front walk. Then motioning to Jameson, he gave his orders in crisp tones.
Climbing into the carriage, he was forced to contain his rising panic as the groom battled his way through the heavy traffic. A dozen images of Cassandra in dire need flickered through his vivid imagination, each worse than the other.
He at last reined in his wayward thoughts. He would rescue her before it was too late. He had to rescue her.
Gritting his teeth, Luke impatiently waited for the carriage to come to a halt in a seedy neighborhood. Jumping out, he directed Jameson toward a row of unkempt shops while he turned toward what appeared to be an abandoned school.
Toby had claimed to have tracked the scar-faced man to this narrow street before losing sight of him. Luke had no better clue as to where to begin his search, so he marched to the ramshackle building and began making his way through the shadows.
In the distance he could hear the squall of a hungry baby and the shouts of children at play, but close at hand there was a peculiar silence. No voices, no movement, not even the bark of a dog. That fact alone made him wonder if there was something, or someone, near keeping the place clear of strays.
Frustratingly, however, he had nearly circled the entire building without evidence that anyone had been near the place in years, when something shimmered in the pale dust.
With a frown, Luke bent down to pick up the tiny round object. His heart gave a sudden leap as he realized that he was holding a perfect pearl.
Cassandra . . .
Cautiously pressing himself against the building, Luke began inching toward a door half hanging from its hinges. He bent twice more to pick up pearls, inwardly congratulating Cassandra on her quick thinking. Clearly, she had realized that she must leave some clue as to her whereabouts and had used the only things available. His mother’s pearls had never been more beautiful.
Halting beside the door, Luke was suddenly aware of the sound of muted voices.
“I don’t like the thought of killing the lass,” a rough male voice complained, making Luke stiffen.
“No one says yer to think,” another voice argued.
“What if we be caught? It’ll be the hangman’s noose.”
“Just keep yer eyes open.”
“I ain’t paid enough fer the noose,” the first man grumbled.
“Yer more likely to get a bullet if yer don’t mind yerself.”
“I still don’t like it.”
“Yer will like it even less if the guv hears yer. Now shut yer yap and watch the door.”
Cassandra was inside. And for the moment she was still alive. It was all he needed.
Silently turning, he went in search of Jameson.
* * *
Ignoring the splinters ripping at her tender skin, Cassie desperately pulled at the boards covering the window.
“Please, Miss Cassie, you will hurt yourself,” Miss Stowe pleaded from a dark corner.
With a reluctant sigh, Cassie leaned her head against the cold stone. It had been less than an hour since the men had appeared from nowhere and forced her and Miss Stowe into the carriage, but she felt as if it was a lifetime.
For weeks she had barely avoided the traps of her mysterious pursuer. And all along she had known he would eventually succeed if she did not discover him first. Now the worst had happened, and she was far from certain that she possessed the strength to survive.
“We must do something,” she muttered.
The older woman shivered as she sat on the rickety chair. It was the only piece of furniture in the cramped room besides a broken desk.
“Who are these men?”
Cassie felt a stab of guilt as she turned to glance at her companion. Poor woman. All Miss Stowe had wanted was a brief respite from her tyrannical brother and the opportunity to attend a few elegant parties. She had no notion she was placing herself in such danger.
“I do not know,” Cassie murmured, only half lying.
“Tut, tut. I am injured, Miss Stanholte,” a male voice drawled. With a gasp, Cassie turned to discover a tall, dark-haired man standing in the doorway. “As one of your few surviving relatives, I thought you might remember me.”
Relative? Cassie stepped backward in distaste.
“Who are you?”
His thin lips twisted in a mocking smile. “You do not recall my visit to your home?”
Once again Cassie had a brief, troubling image of a dark-haired man standing with her father. She had been peering through the window and had overheard the angry words and then . . . yes, she remembered. Her father had demanded the man leave, and he had suddenly pulled a knife. There had been a struggle, and the intruder had been cut on the cheek. She also remembered the servants forcibly hauling the man from the estate.
“You were no guest in my home,” she retorted.
His eyes narrowed in an ugly manner. “No, you are right. I was no guest, but I am as much a Stanholte as you, my dear niece.” He watched in pleasure as her eyes widened in shock. “Unfortunately, I have never been allowed the same luxuries as yourself. I was forced to endure on a pittance, while you were lavished with every comfort you might desire.” His smooth tone roughened with deep bitterness. “I was raised in secrecy and shame, while you were allowed your privileged place in Society.”
Cassie’s fear only deepened. There was something extraordinarily evil in his cold eyes.
“What do you want?” she breathed.
“Everything.”
“Everything?”
With deadly purpose, he strolled across the broken floor to tower above her stiff body.
“Everything that should have been mine. You see, I might once have been satisfied with a mere portion of the inheritance, but your father proved that Stan-holtes are incapable of sharing. So I will take it all.”
With an effort, Cassie prevented herself from cowering beneath his glittering gaze.
“You sent Liza to Devonshire,” she accused.
“Of course.” He did not even bother to deny his treachery. “I had heard my father often lament the loss of his eldest child. It seemed only fitting that I grant his dearest desire and discover the whereabouts of the prodigal son.”
Although Cassie only vaguely recalled her grandfather, she found it difficult to conceive that he could have produced a child so lacking in conscience. This man was an insult to the Stanholte name.
“You discovered nothing,” she gritted.
His smile merely widened at her overt distaste.
“Ah, but Liza has so successfully convinced your Man of Business that we have. And once you have conveniently disappeared, then there will be nothing to stand in our way.”
“You are wrong.” She tilted her chin to a defiant angle. “Lord Mumford and Lord Bidwell both know the truth.”
A sudden, fierce flare of fury rippled over his handsome features.
“They can prove nothing.”
“They will see you in Newgate.”
His hands clenched as if he was barely resisting the urge to hit her.
“Be silent,” he commanded.
“Or you will harm me?” she demanded. Despite the fear clutching at her stomach, Cassie battled to face him squarely. He would never have the satisfaction of seeing her beg. “You must realize that this is all too late. You will never gain control of Stanholte Estate. No matter what happens to me.”
“It will be mine.” The scar stood out in pale contrast to his flushed skin. “It belongs to me.”
“Never.”
His hand rose, and Cassie prepared herself for the coming blow, but before it could land, a large, pock marked man stumbled into the room.
“Guv.”
With a low snarl, the villain turned to stab the intruder with a murderous glare.
“What is it?”
The man blanched in fear. “Men approaching.”
“Are you certain they are coming here?”
“Aye.”
“Get my carriage,” he snapped. Cassie felt a surge of hope that was swiftly snatched away as her captor reached into the pocket of his coat to withdraw a pistol. “It seems this is good-bye, my dear.”
A sense of irony struck Cassie as she watched the barrel of the gun point directly at her heart. It was becoming a familiar sight, and once again there was nothing she could do to prevent the horrible end. Then, without warning, Miss Stowe suddenly jumped to her feet.
“No! Stop!” she screamed.
Instinctively, the man turned toward the older woman, and Cassie knew in a heartbeat he would kill her without a second thought. She couldn’t allow the woman to be harmed.
Not giving herself time to think, Cassie gritted her teeth and with all her might ran forward and bowled straight into the unsuspecting cad. A loud shot retorted through the room as Cassie hit the floor with a heavy thud.
Just for a moment, the world seemed to whirl about her head and she battled to maintain consciousness. She could not afford to black out now. But the blow to her head proved too great, and even as she struggled to remain awake, a heavy darkness rushed up to greet her.
* * *
After what might have been minutes or hours, Cassie at last pried open her heavy lids to make the shocking discovery she was being held tight in the arms of Lord Mumford and he was stroking her hair in the most intimate fashion.
“Cassie . . . Cassie, my love,” he murmured as her gaze fluttered upward. “Are you harmed?”
She took a moment to realize she was settled on Luke’s lap and that the room was strangely empty. She also realized that the warmth of his body was creating a very delightful tingle of pleasure through her weak form.
“No, I do not think so,” she replied, attempting to focus her fuzzy thoughts. “What of Miss Stowe?”
His beloved countenance was pale and tight with the need to control his emotions.
“She is shaken, but unharmed.”
“Thank God.” Cassie breathed a sigh of relief. She had been terrified she had been too late. Then a small frown tugged at her brow. “How did you find me?”
“Your groom came to say that you had been kidnapped. I knew approximately where the scoundrel was hiding, but without your pearls I would never have gotten here in time.”
Cassie felt a pang of remorse. When the men had dragged her toward the abandoned building, she realized that no one would think to search for her in such a place. Not without some clue that she was within. She had nothing to drop that would not also attract the attention of her captors, until she recalled the delicate pearls that hung about her neck. She had known that Luke would immediately recognize the pearls. Just as she had known he would come for her.
“Your mother’s beautiful pearls,” she sighed.
“It does not matter. I will buy you another necklace. A dozen necklaces.”
An abrupt shudder wracked her slender frame. Even now, wrapped in his arms, she could not believe that she was safe.
“I was so frightened.”
His arms tightened. “You have no need to ever be frightened again, my love.”
“That man . . .” Her eyes darkened at the memory of her kidnapper. “He said he was my uncle.”
He grimaced at her trembling words. “Yes, I know.”
“He said he deserved my inheritance.”
“He was clearly unbalanced.” Luke pulled back to regard her with a solemn expression. “A man embittered to the point of madness.”
She shuddered again. “Yes.”
His hand moved to gently cup her face, his sweet breath brushing her cheek.
“He will never trouble you again.”
She felt lost in the depth of his blue gaze.
“Where is he?”
“Biddies is hauling him to the magistrate. He will soon be locked in prison.”
She slowly released her breath, unable to believe the whole miserable nightmare was over.
“I am safe.”
“Yes.” An indefinable emotion rippled over the lean features. “You can now go home.”
“Home.” An unconscious frown marred her forehead.
For so long all she had wanted was to be able to return to Devonshire and resume her peaceful life. It was all that mattered. Now she gazed at the dark features that had become so endearingly familiar and wondered how she could bear to leave.
“That is what you wanted, is it not?”
A curious flare of pain ravaged her heart.
“Of course,” she forced herself to say.
“I shall be very happy for you,” he said; then his features abruptly twisted with a pained expression. “No. I am lying.”
“What?”
“I shall not be happy.” His gaze seared over her pale face with a glittering intensity. “I shall be miserable every moment if you are not at my side.”
The squalid room, the musty dampness and even her earlier terror faded away as a delicious heat spread through her body.
“Luke—”
“I love you. I adore you.” His hand moved to trail over her parted lips. “I want you to be my wife.”
He spoke the words that she had secretly longed to hear for days, perhaps weeks, but Cassie warily guarded her heart. She had never thought to fall in love. After her parents’ deaths she had been too frightened to open herself up to such loss again. But against her will, Luke had managed to win his way into her affections, slowly stealing her heart. Now she knew she could never be satisfied with his misplaced sense of honor and duty. It had to be love or nothing.
“I am out of danger. There is no more need to protect me.”
His eyes darkened, the scent of his warm body surrounding her.
“My desire to protect you was only a portion of why I have forced my way into your life,” he confessed, his voice oddly husky. “I had to be near you, because I love you.”
“Oh—”
“And from this moment there will be no more forcing. I was wrong,” he startled her by saying. “You must be free to make your own choices. And if you choose to return to Devonshire, then I must step aside.”
Her eyes widened in surprise. Was this humble man the arrogant stranger who had burst into her life?
“And if I stay?” she asked in soft tones.
She could hear him catch his breath sharply.
“If you stay, then I will never, ever let you go.”
A soaring happiness filled her heart. She had come to London to save her home and instead had discovered that home was merely a place to be with the one she loved. She was home so long as he held her in his arms.
“I love you, Luke.”
He pulled her tightly against his chest, thoroughly disregarding the impropriety of his behavior. Not that Cassie intended to complain. She was enjoying his embrace far too much.
“And you will marry me?” he demanded, the hint of uncertainty in his eyes touching her heart.
“And I will marry you,” she agreed, an impish smile touching her full lips. “But I do not promise to be the most comfortable of wives.”
A low, decidedly wicked chuckle filled the room.
“Ah, my beloved minx, I would not have it any other way.”