Читать книгу The Complete Regency Surrender Collection - Энни Берроуз, Louise Allen - Страница 83

Chapter Twenty-Four

Katrina’s head felt as if it was being squeezed between two bricks. She tried opening her eyes and found her lids exceedingly heavy. Raising her chin from her chest was also proving difficult. The air had the earthy scent of a root cellar, and the smell made her nose twitch. She should leave this place. If only she wasn’t too tired to move from this chair.

‘Oh, you’re waking up,’ a female voice drawled. ‘That should make this a bit more interesting. I suppose the ropes were necessary, after all.’

That velvety voice was familiar, but Katrina couldn’t recall who it belonged to. With much effort she forced herself to blink, and when her vision cleared Lady Wentworth slowly came into view a few feet in front of her. She was wearing a dark cape over a jonquil gown.

Katrina had no recollection of leaving the Finchleys’ with this woman. In fact she couldn’t even remember leaving the ball at all.

Lady Wentworth cocked her head, and Katrina felt like a butterfly pinned in a case.

‘I’ve tried,’ the woman mused, ‘but I still cannot fathom what he finds attractive about you.’

Katrina tried to place where in Finchley House they might be. This was not any of the beautifully decorated rooms she had seen. The floor and walls were made of crumbling stone and dirt. Aside from the chair she sat on, the only other furniture was a little table near Lady Wentworth. There were items on it, but she couldn’t make out what they were in the shadows. No windows were evident, and the only light came from a lantern on the floor.

Not far away was a deep stone box, large enough to house most of Katrina’s gowns. She tipped her head back and squinted at the arched vaulted ceiling divided by stone pillars.

Katrina swallowed hard. It did little to relieve the scraping at the back of her throat. ‘Where are we?’

‘In a crypt. A very convenient choice on my part.’

A cold chill ran up her spine. Why couldn’t she remember coming here? Her chest tightened as her muddled head started to clear, and she tried to suppress the panic that was taking hold. Why, of all places, were they in a crypt? Dead people belonged in crypts. She needed to leave.

Her arms felt numb. When she tried to lift them up she couldn’t, and realised her hands were tied behind her back. She tugged on the rope, but it wouldn’t budge. When she tried to raise her body, she saw her ankles were tied to the spindly chair.

‘You have tied me up?’ Katrina let out an incredulous breath. ‘Why would you do that?’

‘My associate did it before he left. It seemed prudent at the time.’ There was an odd, satisfied glint in Lady Wentworth’s eyes. ‘The ropes are very secure. Struggling will not help. Your waking has forced me to adjust my plan,’ she said, picking up a small bottle from the table, ‘but rest assured you won’t be leaving. The man I hired will make certain of that.’

She glanced pointedly at the large stone box in the centre of the room and Katrina realised it was a tomb.

Muscles and veins strained against Katrina’s skin as she pushed with all her might to break the ropes that bound her. Warm rivulets trailed down her hands but she barely felt the pain.

* * *

Julian had followed the darkened steps that led down into the Crypt at St Martin’s le Grand, holding the carriage lamp Jonas had handed him. The rapid pounding of his heart echoed in his ears as he navigated the underground stone passageways. Rounding the second corner, he spied the faint glow of light far up ahead and hoped it meant he had found Katrina.

Not knowing what or who he would be facing, he turned down the flame in the lantern. He crept slowly along, trying for the hundredth time to imagine why someone would take Katrina. As he made his way closer to the entrance of a chamber he could hear the sound of muffled voices and listened closely for hers. When he heard it, he almost stumbled to his knees in relief. She was alive.

He placed the lantern down outside the entrance, and when he looked inside was dumbstruck to see Katrina with Helena. None of this made any sense.

The domino wasn’t Armstrong?

‘What the bloody hell is going on?’ he bellowed, advancing into the earthen chamber and avoiding the stone coffin in the centre.

Both women let out a gasp. Helena jumped and something fell from her hand, shattering on the floor. She backed away, moving closer to the wall.

Katrina was sitting in a chair about twenty feet to his left. Her eyes were closed, probably out of relief. When she opened them she glared at him.

‘You have horrid taste in women!’ she yelled at him. ‘That’s what is going on. Now untie my hands and feet so I can beat her to a pulp!’

He took a step towards Katrina, uncertain how he would handle her when she was this furious.

‘Stay where you are,’ Helena ordered.

She was aiming a pistol at his head and looking him directly in the eye. The sound of her rapid breathing could be heard across the chamber.

This could not be happening.

He was about to extend his hand and demand she give him the gun when he noticed the dead calm in her eyes. An unsettling shiver ran up his spine and he recalled her violent temper when he had ended their affair. He had seen how unpredictable she could be. The question was, would she use that gun?

He glanced over at Katrina, who sat frozen in place. It almost looked as if she had stopped breathing. Thank heavens she had stopped talking. Her eyes darted to his and he gave her a restrained nod. Her eyes seemed to say she was willing to stay quiet and allow him to determine how best to disarm Helena.

Now, if only he knew what the best way was...

She liked expensive things—he would start there. He looked back at the woman who had a gun pointed at his head.

‘What is it you want, Helena?’ he asked, hesitant even to move his hands.

She laughed and shifted on her feet—the gun didn’t waver. ‘Now you ask...now that I have your life in my hands. That is rich,’ she spat. ‘I want the life I was destined to have. The life I deserve to have.’

‘No one is saying you cannot have it.’

She shook her head. ‘I cannot have it now. I might have before you arrived, but not now.’

‘Why did you do this? Why did you take Miss Vandenberg?’

‘You chose an American over me,’ she ground out. ‘An American!’ She licked her lips nervously. ‘It was bad enough when I thought you were going to listen to that harpy of a mother of yours and marry Morley’s brat. But then the ton would have assumed you had finally given in to your mother’s pestering. That chit ranks higher than me. It would not be seen as an insult to my person. But this...’ she waved the pistol towards Katrina ‘...this is an American.’ The final statement was said through her clenched teeth.

He needed to direct her attention away from Katrina. He took a step closer to Helena. The pistol was back, pointing at his head.

‘Don’t. Move.’ She cocked it. ‘No one of worth will want me if they think an American is above me. You don’t understand. You’re a man! You live in your lofty world, with all your money and power. You are free to choose the life you want. You. Have. Everything!’

At the moment it felt as if he had nothing. He raised his hands in an attempt to steady her.

‘You have built a fine life for yourself since Wentworth’s death.’

‘I have nothing! I have taken to selling my possessions to pay off my debts. The money is gone and there is no way for me to get more unless I marry well.’

How could he not have realised she was in such dire straits? ‘But the gambling... I have sat in card rooms with you,’ he muttered out loud.

‘I was there to attract men like you! You have reduced me to spreading my legs in search of the money and prestige that already should be mine. Every time I had one of you inside me I earned that title! Every time I waited for you and turned down other invitations I earned it! And every time someone asked if a proposal was imminent, and I had to smile and say nothing, I earned it! That chatterbox Lizzy Skeffington should not be a duchess! I should!’

All her screaming had made her voice hoarse.

‘Surely you could find a husband with a lesser title? There are many wealthy men who would beg to marry you.’

Her body began trembling with rage. ‘You expect me to marry a viscount or a baron?’ she shrieked.

He put his palms back up. It was like trying to settle a skittish horse. His brief moment of sympathy at her situation had clouded his knowledge of her pride and her sense of entitlement. Knowing he had once felt affection for her was making him physically ill.

‘How will taking Miss Vandenberg help? I still do not understand?’

She let out a mean laugh. ‘You stupid man—this isn’t about taking her. It’s about killing her. If she is dead you can’t marry her, and my reputation as a desirable woman will be secure.’

Every bone in Julian’s body seemed to disintegrate, and it was taking great effort for him to remain standing tall and firm. Katrina wasn’t going to die tonight. Somehow he would make certain of it.

‘You have it wrong about Miss Vandenberg and myself. We barely speak.’

Helena’s eyes darted between the two of them and for the first time he could see her confidence waver. ‘You’re lying. I saw her enter the maze at the Finchleys’ shortly before you did.’

This was all for nothing. Katrina wasn’t even his. And if Julian hadn’t witnessed her being kidnapped he would have been asking Morley for his daughter’s hand about now.

He shook his head sadly. ‘It was simply a coincidence. I never saw her.’

He looked over at Katrina, bound in the chair. He could tell she was frightened. So was he. But she was remaining quietly composed, allowing him to try to defuse the situation. He prayed he knew how.

‘His Grace is telling the truth,’ Katrina called out, keeping her eyes on Helena. ‘We barely know one another.’

Helena licked her lips and shifted her feet slightly, staring at Julian. ‘I’ve seen the way you look at her. There is something between you.’

He shook his head. ‘I find her to be attractive.’ Beyond compare. ‘She is American, so her mannerisms are different.’ And charming. ‘But, as I said, we barely speak.’ But she will have my heart forever.

Helena’s eyes darted between them again. Her bravado was weakening. But if he grabbed for the pistol it could go off, and the shot might hit Katrina.

Slowly he held out his hand. ‘Give me the pistol, Helena. No one needs to die tonight.’

She steadied her hand. ‘I know I will swing for what I’ve done.’

‘It does not have to come to that,’ he said reassuringly. ‘Now, hand it to me.’

Her knuckles whitened around the gun and her face set with determination.

He motioned for the weapon. ‘As angry as you are with me, you will not shoot me. You are not that evil.’

Dear God, he hoped it was true!

Her breathing had become erratic, and in the glow of the lantern he saw tears rim her eyes.

‘If I hand you my pistol, what will happen then?’

He took a step closer. ‘I will untie Miss Vandenberg and the two of us will leave. That is all.’

From the corner of his eye he saw Katrina look his way. Keep silent, Katrina. Do not say a word.

He knew he needed to take her back to the ball. If the ton found out she had been kidnapped, her reputation would be beyond repair. He would find a way to deal with Helena later. Debtors’ prison would be enough of a punishment. If he involved Bow Street in this, the kidnapping would be all over the newspapers by morning.

‘Give me the pistol.’

She took two deep, uneven breaths and uncocked the gun.

He stepped closer and motioned again with his fingers. This time she handed him the pistol.

Relief flooded through Julian, and it was a wonder he had the strength to hold the gun in his hand.

He rushed to Katrina’s side and began untying her hands. She rubbed her wrists as he worked on the bloody knot near her ankles. He needed to get her outside before Helena did something else irrational. When the knot was finally free and he had unbound her legs, he stood, ready to take her in his arms. But she lunged for Helena instead.

Julian grabbed her by the waist before she was able to get close to Helena and pulled her back. ‘We need to leave. Now.’

She tore herself free from his grip, her eyes drilling holes into Helena. His former lover was sitting on the floor, staring sightlessly at the ground. It appeared the realisation of what had transpired had hit her.

He needed to get Katrina out of there quickly. Helena was too unstable. He would deal with her tomorrow. They needed to return to the ball.

Julian tugged Katrina’s arm and together they escaped out into the passageway and to freedom.

‘There is a carriage waiting for us above ground,’ he said, taking her hand. ‘I will return you to the masquerade. All will be well.’

* * *

In the darkness of the rocking carriage Katrina wrapped her arms around herself, attempting to alleviate the chills that had begun racking her body the moment they left the crypt. All she wanted was to crawl into bed and tuck herself into mountains of blankets. With any luck she could remain there for days, and avoid telling her father about any of this for as long as possible.

‘You’re shivering,’ Julian said from his seat across from her. His body jerked in hesitation before he crossed the carriage. ‘Forgive me—in this costume I have no coat to give you. I can only offer you my warmth.’ He shifted closer to her on the bench and drew her to his side.

Her body should have melted into his. Instead it stiffened into stone. Although she would be forever grateful to him for coming for her, he was still the man who didn’t want her. She was afraid that if she let herself find comfort in his embrace she wouldn’t be able to let go of him when they arrived at Finchley House.

‘She told me she had hired someone who would dispose of me later tonight. We were fortunate he did not return.’ She rubbed her forehead. ‘What do you think will happen to her?’ she asked into the darkness.

Julian shrugged. ‘She will not say anything about tonight. She would be sealing her fate at the gallows. I will make certain her debts are called in tomorrow. If she cannot pay them, as I suspect she can’t, she will be taken to debtors’ prison.’

She turned to him and met his gaze for the first time in the dim light of the carriage lantern. ‘Won’t her family help her?’

‘I do not believe so. I do not know the particulars, but I am aware that she does not speak to her brother.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Are you in need of a physician? Were you harmed?’

The sound of his true concern was evident. It was breaking her heart all over again.

Katrina shook her head. ‘There is no need. I have come to no harm.’

It occurred to her that the last time they had spoken it had been in a carriage such as this. As far as she knew, this might even be the same carriage they had travelled in.

She hugged herself tighter as the shards of her heart crashed around her chest. ‘How did you find me?’

‘I saw you taken from the terrace. I followed you out to the mews and was lucky to find Hart’s driver parked nearby. We tracked you to the crypt.’

Silence stretched between them. After some time Julian cleared his throat. ‘We will be arriving at the Finchleys’ soon. As much as it unnerves me to leave you alone, I will enter the ball and send Miss Forrester out to bring you back in through the garden. Although it’s a masquerade, and everyone is in disguise, it would be best to have her with you to ensure your reputation.’ He appeared to realise his commanding nature. ‘With your permission, of course.’

Katrina nodded. This night could not end soon enough for her liking.

They travelled the remainder of the way to the house in silence. It didn’t take long before the carriage slowed, made a number of sharp turns, and eventually came to a stop. They were back at Finchley House.

She felt the hesitation when Julian withdrew his arm from around her shoulder. ‘Thank you, Julian, for coming after me.’

He gave her a solemn nod. ‘I am truly sorry,’ he replied before he opened the door. Looking at her one last time, he turned and left her.

Katrina didn’t have the physical or emotional energy to try to determine what he was sorry for, and she rested her head back on the squab while she waited for Sarah. It wasn’t long before the door opened and Sarah jumped inside.

‘Oh, thank God you are back,’ Sarah said, throwing her arms around Katrina and hugging her.

Katrina knew she would have to walk through the ballroom as if nothing harrowing had happened. In order to do that, she could not allow herself to sob in Sarah’s arms. It was taking all her effort to remain composed.

‘I was so very worried,’ Sarah continued. ‘Hartwick told me you had been taken. I made an excuse to my mother about you being sick. I told her you must have eaten something disagreeable and that when your stomach was better it probably would be wise for us to leave.’ She hugged her again. ‘Dear God, you’re shaking.’

Sarah took off her highwayman’s black cape and draped it around Katrina’s shoulders.

‘How long have I been gone?’

‘A little over two hours.’ She ran her hands up and down Katrina’s arms. ‘Are you well? Did they harm you? Who was it that took you?’

Although Katrina was relieved to see her friend, Sarah’s chattering was making her head pound. She quietly relayed all the details of what had happened as she donned the mask Sarah had handed her and they re-entered the garden to find Sarah’s mother.

Hopefully, it would be easy to get her to agree to leave the ball. Katrina just wanted to be safe—in her home. She should have learned that standing alone on a terrace during a ball was never a good idea.

* * *

Katrina entered her home an hour later. The familiar smell of lemon oil in the entrance hall made her muscles soften. She was home. She was safe. If only she could sleep for days.

She was well on her way to bed when her foot landed on the fifth tread of the staircase and it creaked.

‘Katrina, is that you?’ Her father’s voice called to her from the direction of his study.

She was about to call out her answer when he entered the hall in his dressing gown. It took all her effort not to run into his arms. ‘You are up rather late,’ she said.

‘I could not sleep. Did you enjoy yourself at the ball?’

She had never been able to lie to him. So she simply pasted on a smile.

‘Come with me to my study and you can tell me all about it while I put my papers in order.’

Reluctantly, Katrina walked down the stairs and followed him. He moved behind his massive desk, closed his inkwell, and shuffled through his papers.

‘Was the music to your liking?’

She nodded.

‘And the costumes? I imagine some were rather elaborate?’

Again, she nodded.

This time he looked at her over the rim of his glasses and tilted his head. When he narrowed his gaze on her, she shifted on her feet. He grabbed at her right hand from across his desk.

‘What has happened? Why do your wrists look as if you have been bleeding?’

She tugged her hand out of his. ‘It is nothing.’

‘Nothing!’ He stepped out from behind his desk to stand in front of her. ‘You have been injured. Was there an accident? Why was I not informed?’

His concern was too much. She could no longer continue the pretence that she was unaffected by what had happened. She threw her arms around her stunned father and held him tight.

Thankfully, he didn’t say anything when she began to cry. He just hugged her and patted her back as he had done when she was a little girl.

He waited patiently until she had finished crying before he spoke. ‘Tell me what happened.’

She took a deep breath and stepped back from him. ‘I am fine. Know that. The only harm that has come to me are these bruises on my wrists.’

He nodded, but there was wariness in his eyes. He guided her to a chair and she curled up on it. She told him what had happened and he listened without interrupting.

It wasn’t until she had finished that he finally spoke. ‘I knew any association you had with Lyonsdale would not end well.’

‘It is not his fault. You cannot blame him for what that woman did.’

Her father stood and paced the room. ‘That woman would not have done what she did if it weren’t for his interest in you.’

‘It is not as if he intended for this to happen.’

‘Why are you defending him?’ he demanded.

‘I’m not. However, I do find it grossly unfair to blame the man when the fault lies elsewhere.’

He stopped pacing and came to her. ‘We will agree to disagree on this subject.’