Chapter Twenty-Four
Lia jerked as the hood was yanked from her head. Blinking frantically, she struggled to focus against the harsh glare of a nearby lamp. Although she’d been hazy for a few minutes, thanks to the nasty blow to her face, she guessed that only a short time had passed since their abduction. Thrown onto the floor of the carriage, she’d huddled against Amy and done her best to fight a choking sense of terror.
At one point she’d nudged her hood up to take in her surroundings, only to earn another slap to the back of her head. After that—and after her ears stopped ringing—she simply listened, straining for clues to their route. Unfortunately, the rumble of the carriage wheels on the cobblestones blunted her hearing.
Their captors had remained silent for the entire ride. Amy had put on a good show of defiance, but that had simply resulted in a kick to her ribs. After that, they’d both held their tongues, even when the men dragged them from the carriage and hauled them to this room.
Her blurred vision finally resolved into hard reality. She and Amy were seated side by side on rickety chairs in some sort of parlor. The furnishings were shabby but respectable enough, and the woman sitting across from Lia was dressed rather like a housekeeper in a neat gray gown and a lace cap. But most housekeepers didn’t sport blazing red, elaborately curled hair and heavily rouged cheeks. Nor did they usually participate in kidnappings.
Lia’s temper flared when the woman smirked at her. “I don’t know who you are, but I demand that you release us this—”
Amy’s shocked exclamation cut her off. “Bloody hell. It’s him, Miss Lia. He’s done it, the bastard.”
Lia’s stomach lurched when she saw who stood on the other side of the room, casually leaning against the doorframe and looking as natty as if he were about to attend a ball. Clamping down hard, she forced back a sickening wave of fear. “Sir Nathan, are you responsible for this outrage?”
The baronet laughed. “Of course I am, you ninny. Although I must admit I didn’t expect to catch you in my net. My darling little Amy was the target. But when I saw you in the alley . . . well, how could I resist?”
“And a fine catch they are, my lord,” said the woman sitting across from them. “My gentlemen are always looking for something new, even if these dainty morsels are soiled doves.”
Prudhoe pointed at Lia. “I would imagine this one is barely touched, even though her mother is one of the greatest whores in London.”
Lia bolted out of her chair. “You listen to me, you degenerate—”
A large hand slammed her back down on the seat, almost toppling her. After she righted herself, she glanced over her shoulder. She’d been so surprised to see Prudhoe that she’d failed to notice one of their abductors standing behind them. The brute gave her a taunting grin, as if daring her to make another move. His expression made it abundantly clear he would relish the opportunity to hurt her again.
She subsided, trying to think through her terror and rage. They’d almost made it inside the theater, so perhaps Sammy had noticed the commotion and gone outside to check. It was a faint hope, but the only one she had.
“No point in struggling, love,” said the woman. “We don’t want to have to damage the goods.” Then she glanced at the baronet. “Are you saying this one is a virgin?”
He shrugged. “I think it’s quite probable, although one can never be entirely sure until one checks for oneself.”
“You leave her alone,” Amy cried. “She don’t deserve any of this.”
Prudhoe pushed away from the door and strolled over to the dancer. She shrank against the back of her chair but maintained her defiant gaze as he took her chin in his hand.
“She deserves exactly what she’s going to get, as do you,” he said. “Thanks to you and Miss Kincaid’s friends, I’m all but ruined. I’ll have my revenge for that.” He let out an ugly laugh. “And some welcome compensation. Double, now, don’t you think, Mrs. Grace?”
The woman looked perplexed, as if she’d forgotten something. “Perhaps. We’ll have to see what my customers are willing to pay.”
“Who are you?” Lia asked. “And what in God’s name are you talking about?”
The woman’s full lips parted into a smug grin. “I’m the owner of this little establishment and you and your friend are going to be the evening’s entertainment.”
“Do you mean a . . . private theatrical?” Lia cautiously asked, vainly hoping that such would be the case. Though it must be one of a salacious nature, perhaps she and Amy could still negotiate some way out of this.
“She’s a bawd, Miss Lia,” Amy said in a grim tone. “And this is a brothel.”
“That’s right,” said Prudhoe. “And we’re going to sell you both to the highest bidders.”
Lia couldn’t help laughing. “You must be joking.”
He shoved his face a few inches from hers. “We’re going to sell you off as whores to the highest bidders and make a very pretty penny, I assure you.”
Her stomach cramped from the stench of his gin-soaked breath and a surge of horror.
“You’re a dead man if you go through with this,” she said, trying to keep calm. “Lord Lendale will kill you, unless the other men in my family get to you first.”
“Lendale. You mean the marquess?” Mrs. Grace asked in a suddenly concerned tone.
Prudhoe straightened. “It’s nothing to worry about.”
“You have a great deal to worry about,” Lia said. She frowned at Mrs. Grace. “Did he not tell you who I am?”
The madam threw a wary glance at the baronet. “You said she was an actress, newly arrived in town.” She pointed at Amy. “And this one was a dancer and a whore, so no one would think twice if she went missing.”
“Which is exactly true,” Prudhoe said through clenched teeth.
“I’m not an actress,” Lia said. “Although my mother is. She’s Marianne Lester. Surely you’ve heard of her. She’s quite the most popular actress in London—perhaps in all of England.”
Mrs. Grace went white under her palette of rouge. “What did you say your name is?”
“Lia Kincaid, of the Notorious Kincaids. So notorious, in fact, that a great many people will notice if I go missing.”
“Shut your goddamn mouth,” Prudhoe shouted.
Lia couldn’t entirely suppress a smile as she met the baronet’s infuriated gaze. “Did Sir Nathan also neglect to tell you that I’m betrothed to the Marquess of Lendale? The wedding ceremony is to be held later this week at the Duke of Leverton’s house.” She transferred her focus to the brothel owner, who looked ready to faint with horror. “The Duchess of Leverton is my cousin. Perhaps you’ve heard of her, too.”
Mrs. Grace seemed to be choking on her own tongue. A few seconds later, she recovered herself, and then all hell broke loose.
* * *
Amy touched Lia on the shoulder. “How long do you figure it’s been?”
Lia shifted on the unforgiving floorboards, trying to find a more comfortable position. Sighing, she gave up and used the wall to push herself to her feet. Her head throbbed and her body ached, but she worried much more about Amy. Dragging them upstairs to this gruesome little bedroom, one of their captors had banged the poor girl’s face on a banister, splitting open the skin above her eyebrow. She was dreadfully pale and had already retched once into a heavy chamber pot Lia found under the bed.
“Not yet an hour, I think.” Lia grimaced and stretched, trying to relieve the cramped muscles of her back.
“Miss Lia, you take the chair. You shouldn’t be sitting on the floor.”
Lia gently pushed her down onto the seat. “I’m fine. Just rest while I try to think of some way out of this mess.”
“Good luck with that,” Amy said, casting a morose glance around the room.
Lia had already gone over their prison twice, looking for a weapon or means of escape. Aside from the ratty old bed, its linens so wretched that neither Lia nor Amy would sit on it, there was only the chair, a small battered table, one branch of candles, and the chamber pot. The lack of a window meant no means of escape but for the door, which was locked. They had their wits as their weapons, and so far they’d not had much luck with them either.
“What do you suppose is going on down there?” Amy asked.
Lia crouched to peer through the keyhole, seeing only a murky half darkness and a grimy bit of wall opposite their room. She straightened with a sigh. “We can only hope Mrs. Grace is trying to talk some sense into Sir Nathan’s extraordinarily thick head.”
After Lia had informed everyone that she was Jack’s fiancée, Mrs. Grace had launched into a full-throated tirade, berating Prudhoe for kidnapping quality. Events had quickly deteriorated after that when the madam boxed his ears, all while yelling they could end up facing the gallows.
In the mayhem Lia had pulled Amy to her feet and tried to escape. They’d made it into the corridor before their guard got his hands on Amy, throwing her face first against the staircase banister. Lia had launched herself at him, but the other thug suddenly had materialized and pulled her away. On the orders of the madam, she and Amy had been hauled off and locked in this room with threats of a beating if they didn’t keep their gobs shut.
Silence had descended quickly after that. Wherever they were, this section of the building was apparently little used. No one had come near and nothing could be heard through the thick plaster and brick walls of the house. All they could do was wait and pray for a miracle.
Amy closed her eyes. “They’re not going to let us go.”
“They’d be insane not to,” Lia replied, trying to sound confident. “Imagine what will happen when Sir Dominic finds out about this. He’s a powerful magistrate, you know. He will see them all hang if they dare to injure us.”
When Amy opened her eyes, her gaze was terrifyingly bleak. “Which is exactly why they’re going to have to kill us.”
Lia’s heart jolted. “What?”
“There’s no backing away from this, Miss Lia. As soon as Mrs. Grace heard who you were, we were done for. Even if Sir Nathan is too stupid to realize how much danger he courted by kidnapping us, she certainly did. She’s a nasty piece of work, that one, and she hasn’t survived this many years by acting the fool.”
“You know her?”
Amy’s mouth quivered for a moment before she regained control. “My sister was the prettiest, happiest lass you ever did see. Mrs. Grace lured her into the trade and did everything she could to keep her there, even when my Nancy wanted to leave.” She grimaced. “She died of the pox a few years ago.”
“I’m so sorry, my dear,” Lia said quietly.
“That’s why I worked so hard to become a dancer. I didn’t want to end up like Nancy.” Her gaze was hardening. “I may take a lover now and again to protect myself, but I’d never sell myself to one of these places, Miss Lia. I’d starve before I did that.”
Lia hunkered down and took her hands. “You won’t have to, I promise. We’re going to get out of this.”
Amy slumped against the seat back with a weary sigh. “There’s no way out of it, miss. You know too many important people and you’re too important. Lord Lendale and Sir Dominic would go berserk if they found out about this. Mrs. Grace knows that, too. She knows she’d end up hanging at the end of a rope.”
Lia sat down on the hard floorboards, aghast at the turn of events. She finally had a big, loyal family that loved her and wished to protect her, and that simple fact was probably going to get her killed. She would never see Aunt Chloe or Gillian again, or meet her half brother, who’d already written Lia the most warm and loving letter.
And Jack. She would give anything to be with him now, to have the chance to tell him that, yes, she would marry him. All the obstacles that had loomed so large were now insignificant. And he would be devastated if she died, blaming himself for not taking care of her, for not being there when she most needed him.
Lia had wanted to disappear from his life, thinking it best for him. Yet now she was about to get her wish and the irony was all but choking her. It was like being trapped at the bottom of a hill watching a landslide hurtling down on her. Already she felt buried, her chest constricting with panic, and she had to force herself to take one slow breath after another.
Amy scrubbed away tears from her cheeks. “What they had planned for us before . . . well, it wouldn’t have been pleasant, but at least we would have survived. Now . . .”
Lia sat quietly for a good minute. Now that she’d calmed down, she could think. “I think we were sunk before actually.”
“How so?”
“Because Sir Nathan knows exactly who I am and who I’m connected to. He knew as soon as he snatched us that he couldn’t allow me to survive. He might have acted on impulse, but the die was cast as soon as he told his thugs to kidnap me as well as you.”
Amy came up out of her slump, her fury quickly replacing despair. “That degenerate bastard,” she hissed. “He couldn’t just hurt me. He had to go after you, too. Which meant the end of both of us as soon as he touched you.”
“I’m afraid so. Eventually, he knew he would have to kill us.”
The girl let loose a stream of hair-raising curses, ending with a threat to string Prudhoe up herself.
“I hope you get the opportunity,” Lia said with a rueful smile. “But what I can’t figure out is why the idiot would risk so much on this crazed venture. He obviously wants to punish us very badly.”
Amy let out a hollow laugh. “Looks like he’ll get the chance.”
Lia scrambled up from the floor. “I have no intention of making it easy for him. From what Mrs. Grace said, you’re to be, ah, offered to some gentlemen who would bid on you for your services?”
“They hold an auction. Someone like me, who’s younger and fresher than most of the girls, could fetch a pretty penny.”
“That’s revolting, but we might be able to turn it to our advantage.”
Amy cocked her head. “How so?”
“Some of the gentlemen might recognize you; you’re one of London’s premier dancers, after all. See if you can get close enough to one of them to ask for help. Or even tell the man who purchases you that you’re being held against your will.”
Amy looked grim again. “Most of them won’t care. They think forcing a woman makes it more exciting. That’s why they come to something like this.”
God. How ridiculously sheltered she’d been her entire life. “That’s awful.”
Amy shrugged. “Men are awful.”
“Not all of them, and perhaps we’ll get lucky.” She took Amy’s hands and pulled her out of the chair. “I know the odds aren’t good, but you have to try. Do your best to communicate with anyone who might seem at all sympathetic. Tell him to go to Bow Street or fetch a constable. Or ask him to help you escape, if nothing else.”
Amy gave a dubious nod. “I’ll do my best, miss.”
Lia gave her a quick hug. “You’re one of the bravest girls I know, Amy. You can do whatever you need to do to save yourself.”
When they heard footsteps rapidly ascending the stairs, they glanced at the door.
“Listen,” Lia said urgently, “if we are separated and you have a chance to escape, you must take it.”
Amy started to tear up. “I can’t just leave—”
“You must. Then go for help.”
When the key scraped in the lock, they clutched at each other.
“Promise you will,” Lia said.
“Bloody hell. All right, miss. I promise.”
The door opened and their two thuggish captors barreled into the room, followed by Sir Nathan.
Lia tried to brazen it out. “Ah, Sir Nathan. Have you decided to let us go?”
The baronet gave her a chilling smile. “Quite the opposite. Mrs. Grace insists that I take care of you. Immediately, in fact.” His smile turned into a leer. “Well, not quite immediately. I’m determined to enjoy myself before I hand you over to my men for disposal.”
“I’m going to see you all hanged,” Lia said, glaring at the baronet and his thugs. “Sir Dominic Hunter will make sure of that. And if he doesn’t, then my cousin, Griffin Steele, will see the deed done. In fact, he’ll probably slit your throats himself.”
The men, who were holding on to Amy, exchanged a startled glance. Lia was worried she might be overplaying her hand, but she’d clearly landed a hit.
“You’re Steele’s cuz?” one of them asked.
“I am. And he’s very fond of me, I might add.” She had every confidence he would be, once he finally met her.
“Nobody said nothin’ about Griffin bloody Steele. He’ll gut us like fish.” The thug glared at Sir Nathan. “You ain’t payin’ us enough for this job.”
“You have nothing to fear,” Sir Nathan said dismissively. “I doubt anyone knows these women were even taken, and they certainly won’t know who did it.”
Lia kept a steadfast gaze on the other men. “Are you willing to risk your life on that chance? People inside the theater must have heard all the commotion. I wouldn’t be surprised if someone came out and saw you dragging us away.”
“Then why haven’t they come to your rescue?” Sir Nathan said with a sneer.
“Because they—”
He delivered a slap that made Lia stagger and grab for a bedpost.
“Leave her alone, you bastard,” Amy yelled, struggling. But the thugs simply shook her like a rattle until she hung, panting, between them.
Rubbing her jaw, Lia directed a lethal glare at Prudhoe. “You’ll be sorry for that.”
“I doubt it.” The baronet scowled at his men. “You’re perfectly safe. Now take Amy downstairs. Mrs. Grace wants to get her ready.” He flashed the poor girl a deranged grin. “You’re going to be sold to the highest bidder, love, and he gets to do whatever he wants to you. Mrs. Grace has assembled a most interesting group tonight—men with some highly unusual tastes. I’m sure you’ll find it . . . eye-opening.”
“Don’t forget what I told you,” Lia called out as the men dragged the protesting Amy from the room.
The door slammed shut, leaving her alone with the most evil-minded man she’d ever met. When he locked the door and stowed the key in his waistcoat pocket, she had to bite down hard on her lip to steady herself.
“You ruined me, you silly bitch.” Prudhoe’s eyes blazed with hatred. “You and that bloody family of yours. Because of them, I must leave England.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I’m in debt, and some of it is to that devil, Steele. Your cousin,” he added with a snarl. “He’s called in all my markers. And Dominic Hunter has dripped poison into other ears. I’ve been booted from my clubs, hounded by creditors, and now I have no choice but to leave for the Continent.”
While he talked, Lia continued to inch her way around to the other side of the bed, a vague idea formulating in her head. “That’s certainly not Amy’s fault. You have no business taking out your vengeance on her.”
“If she’d done what I told her, none of this would have happened.” A spasm of fury pulled his face into an ugly grimace. “This is all her fault and I hope whoever buys her rips her apart.”
“You’re an absolute monster,” she said hotly. “And I hope my fiancé rips you apart.”
He snorted as he began to stroll around to her side of the bed. “Lendale will never know what happened to you. You’ll disappear like a wisp of smoke, soon forgotten. After all, you’re nothing but a whore, just like your mother.”
Lia didn’t waste energy refuting his assertions. She was too busy bracing herself for what would come next.
As soon as the baronet rounded the bedframe, he launched himself at her. Lia dodged to get around him, but he was surprisingly fast. He crashed into her and sent her flying into the bed. She sprawled half on and half off the mattress, scrambling for purchase. She blocked his attempt to pull her up onto the bed by letting her weight drag both of them down to the floorboards. Lia’s backside connected with a painful jolt that shot up her spine.
“Fine with me,” Prudhoe said, puffing like a dragon. “The floor it is.”
He hooked a fist into the front of her bodice and yanked. The fabric gave way with a loud rip. When he tried to come down on top of her, Lia wriggled partway under the high bedframe, forcing him to flop across her lower body.
“Stay still, goddamn it,” he growled.
When he wrapped his right hand around her neck and started to squeeze, Lia frantically thrashed. His erection pressed against her belly and his face loomed only inches away. His breath was hot and foul, his grin a rictus of cruelty.
Stretching her hand for it, her fingertips hit the chamber pot. She hooked the rim and dragged it until she had a firm grip on the handle. When Prudhoe pulled her out from under the bed and yanked up her skirts, her fear infused her with a desperate strength. She whipped the heavy pot at his head.
It connected with a sickening thud and his body went slack with surprise. When she gave a mighty heave and shoved him off, the baronet rolled to the side, groaning and cursing.
She needed to finish the job.
“You bitch,” Prudhoe choked out as he tried to sit up. “I’ll slit your goddamn throat.”
With a desperate burst of energy, she clawed her way onto the bed, rolled across it, and hit the floor running. She grabbed the rickety chair and dashed back to the baronet.
He’d pushed himself up onto his hands and knees as Lia swung the chair high and hammered it down on his shoulders. When he crashed back to the floor, she grabbed the heavy chamber pot and smashed it against the back of his head. It shattered into jagged pieces, spraying Amy’s vomit all over him.
With a whimper, he slumped and fell still.
Lia staggered backward and grabbed the bedpost for support, trying to calm her rebellious stomach and steady her racing heart. She pinched her nose and sucked in several deep breaths through her mouth, willing her body to settle. The baronet seemed to be out cold and probably no longer posed a threat, but she still had to escape and find help.
Gingerly, she nudged him with her foot, but he didn’t respond. She felt rather sick at the notion that she might have killed him, but she’d worry about that later.
She was steeling herself to turn him over and begin searching his pockets for the key when she heard footsteps pounding down the hall. “Lia, where are you?”
Jack’s voice jolted energy through her body, like a thousand blazing suns. “I’m here,” she cried, running to the door.
The doorknob rattled. “Stand back,” he ordered. “I’m going to kick it in.”
She barely had a chance to scuttle out of the way before the door half-flew off its hinges. Jack stood in the doorway, his waistcoat askew, his cravat half-ripped off, and his hair standing on end. He looked like a wild man, and Lia had never seen anything more wonderful in her life.
“Jack!” She threw herself into his arms.
He held her tight as a vise, all but pushing the air from her lungs. She didn’t care a jot. He could squeeze her like a stuffed toy for the rest of her life and she would never utter a word of complaint.
“Jesus Christ,” he growled. “I thought I was too late.” He eased her back to study her, his mouth flat and tight, his gaze shadowed with anxiety. “Are you all right? Did he hurt you?”
She managed a wobbly smile. “I’m a little bruised, but he didn’t have time to do much damage.”
He touched her cheek, then trailed a hand down to her throat. Prudhoe must have left a mark because Jack’s gaze turned black with fury.
“Where is he?” he asked in a lethal voice.
“On the other side of the bed.”
He eased her out of his embrace and stalked over to the bed, stumbling to a halt as Lia came up beside him. “You did this?” he asked, staring at the heap on the floor.
She nodded, carefully breathing through her mouth. The baronet was exceedingly ripe, and, to be fair, she didn’t smell like a bouquet of posies either. Some of the contents of the chamber pot had landed on the skirts of her gown—a small price to pay for her safety.
“Well done, love,” Jack said with a ghost of a laugh.
She grimaced. “I’m afraid I may have killed him.”
He crouched down and felt for the baronet’s pulse. “No such luck. You just knocked him out.” He straightened and put his hands on her shoulders. “You’re sure he didn’t hurt you?”
“Not in any way that matters,” she said, mistily smiling up at him.
She braced her hands on his chest. Now that the worst was over, she was feeling wobbly and light-headed. And despite what she’d just told him, her head was starting to pound—no doubt from those ringing slaps.
“You look like hell,” he said, frowning with worry.
Lia was surprised she could still laugh. “Thank you very much, kind sir.”
He pulled her close. “I thought I’d lost you forever,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “Don’t ever do that to me again.”
“I’ll try not to.” She nestled her cheek against his wrinkled cravat. “Jack, Amy is in trouble. You brought help, did you not?”
“I did. In fact, I think our reinforcements have arrived.”
They heard quick steps out in the hall and then Gillian strode through the door. She was hatless but garbed in a stylish green walking dress that seemed utterly incongruous, given the setting and circumstances.
She also held a knife in her hand.
“Darling, are you all right?” her cousin asked as she came up to Lia.
“Yes.” She waved a vague hand at Gillian’s knife. “Is that . . . blood?”
“I’m afraid so,” her cousin said with a shrug. “One of the louts downstairs wasn’t very cooperative, so I was forced to teach him a lesson.” Gillian scowled at the baronet, who was finally stirring, then leaned down and casually wiped her blade clean on his coat before slipping it back into her half boot.
“Good God,” Jack muttered, shaking his head. “Please tell me you didn’t kill someone. Charles will be furious if you did. Come to think of it, he’ll be furious anyway, because I allowed you to come along with me.”
“As if you could have stopped me,” she said with a snort. She nudged Prudhoe in the ribs with her boot. He responded with a moan. “Well done, Jack.”
“Sadly, I cannot take credit. Lia is responsible for Prudhoe’s sorry state.”
“Bully for you, old girl,” Gillian said with a grin. Then she sniffed. “What is that dreadful smell? Did someone cast up his accounts?”
“You don’t want to know,” Lia said, clutching Jack’s coat with both hands. She was feeling more light-headed by the moment and a very odd sensation was overtaking her, as if her brain was pressing up against the top of her skull and trying to escape.
Gillian frowned. “You’re looking rather grim, Lia. Are you going to faint?”
“Don’t be silly,” she said, blinking at the swarm of dots drifting across her vision. “I never faint.”
Then she proceeded to do exactly that.