“This doesn’t seem so wise, sir. Don’t you think the duke will miss me at my family’s annual Christmastide ball?” Alex said, banking her annoyance, her irritation, her fear.
“I wasn’t left with many options,” he said scowling. “’Twas sheer chance I found the note Olivia left for you.” He smiled again, sending her thinly veiled calm perilously close to dissolving altogether. She couldn’t risk falling into a fit of the vapors just now, though. He might take it in his mind to pre-consummate the nuptials. She doubted it would matter one way or another if she were conscious.
Alex maintained her vigil near the window, keeping the settee between them. She surveyed the chamber and was relieved to see a poker next to the hearth. The trick would be retrieving it without raising his suspicion, or worse, his ire.
There must be some way to get word to the owner of the Hell, but for the life of her, Alex couldn’t see a path in that direction without getting herself killed, maimed, or ruined, and thus stuck with the scoundrel for the rest of her life.
“Why me, sir? And who are you, if you don’t mind my asking. If I’m to marry you, shouldn’t I know your name.”
“You’ll watch your tone with me, Miss Blessing. Once we are tied, there will be no one to save you from my brand of discipline.”
Alex suppressed a shudder. Her gaze didn’t waver while she waited for him to answer. Men like him sported bloated egos and were prone to talking. Braggarts in her opinion. They couldn’t seem to stop themselves from showing the world how clever they were.
“Name’s Urvay. It was all in our grand scheme to avenge my brother’s death, you see. But, alas, I am forced in a slight change in plans due to his being led about by his cock.
“You are Mr. Millburn’s uncle?” she breathed. She should have realized.
He puffed out his padded chest. “Indeed.”
She edged closer to the end of the settee, the end closest to the fire, where it was considerably warmer. She shivered within her father’s greatcoat and her gloves, but she wasn’t about to discard them in such a tenuous situation. “What will marrying me prove?”
His chuckle was not one of humor. It sent a shot of revulsion through her. “He stole from me, so I feel obligated to return the favor.”
Alex forced calming breaths. “Stole from you?” She sounded faint even to her own ears.
“It was a long time ago. But I believe in an eye for an eye.”
“I don’t understand.” This breathless fear would not do. She cleared her throat and tried again. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” Barely better. She glanced down at her gloved hands clutching the back of the settee. Her palms were damp. She moved them to her back, flexing her fingers. Succumbing to panic was the worst thing she could do.
“Elsa. I was to marry her. But Winsome stole her.”
Alex’s head started to pound. “Who was Elsa—wait. You mean the duke’s first wife? The one who… who…” she whispered, stunned she could form a coherent word.
“Oh, I had my way with her. She fought like the devil too. Started to scream. I shut her up but good.”
Black edged Alex’s vision. Urvay killed Winsome’s first wife. Some of the facts trickled through her mind. The reputation her father had suffered, his sins foisted on her. “But he… he had the murderer jailed and tried and executed.”
“He did indeed,” he said with a grin. “My brother.”
“Mr. Millburn’s father,” she whispered. It was by sheer will that Alex did not faint.
“You are very bright, Miss Blessing. Are you a bluestocking perchance?” He didn’t wait on an answer. “It won’t do at all, of course. Even as a duke’s by-blow, marriage to you will get me in places I could only dream before that blackguard married Elsa. Lady Sophia would have served my purposes better. But that fool nephew of mine has ruined everything and I am forced in a slight change in plans due to his being led about by his cock.”
The man was deranged.
“In what way could he have possibly?” She not only sounded faint there was the real possibility that she would succumb.
“He’s been nothing but a noose about my neck. His mother too.”
“I thought his mother perished.”
“Along with my heir.”
The entire conversation was proving difficult to follow. If she thought she could get the window open before he stopped her, she would throw herself out to the cobblestones below.
“Mr. Millburn’s mother died in childbirth?”
“Right after I married the bitch. Messy business that.”
Alex was almost certain it was illegal for a man to marry his sister-in-law. She wanted to rub her eyes but dare not take them from Urvay. He was too unpredictable.
He moved to the other side of the hearth and Alex shifted her stance back towards the middle of the settee. “I suspect you are famished.” He pulled on a bell chord. “You may as well make yourself comfortable. It will be a long night, my dear.”
“We need to notify the owner,” Lady Ranstruther said. “As I understand it, there are chambers above stairs for private parties.”
“Dear God,” the duke breathed.
Theo called for his cloak.
As did Lady Ranstruther.
The duke addressed Alexandra’s other friends, Ladies Thomasina and Philomena, Victoria and Elizabeth. “You shall have to stay and assist my wife. Make certain no one realizes the true nature of the situation. Frederika, I shall accompany Millburn and Lady Ranstruther to la Sous Rose. I suspect Urvay is unbalanced.”
“Of course, darling.” She glanced at Mrs. Marchand. “And you, my dear?”
“I shall go accompany Mr. Millburn and Lady Ranstruther. I wish to thank you for your hospitality, your grace. But I must make sure Alexandra is all right.”
“I understand. Were the tables turned, you could not keep me away.” She went to the duke and kissed his cheek. “Hurry back, darling.” She turned to her son. “To bed with you, young man. Your adventure ends right now.”
“Oh, Mother.”
“Bernard,” the duke snapped.
He straightened quickly. “Yes, Mother. Good night.” The young marquess hurried out of the room without another word.
The duke’s carriage was sent for, and Theo, the duke, Lady Ranstruther, and Mrs. Marchand were soon on their way.
“What happened to your mother, if you don’t mind my inquiring?” the duke asked Theo.
“We were forced to live with my uncle. My mother died in childbirth a few years later.”
“She remarried?”
“To my uncle. I suspect he forced her. I was very young, so my memory is faulty.”
Theo was extremely aware of Lady Ranstruther and Mrs. Marchand sitting across from him. Neither made a sound, but he thought each likely swallowed her gasp.
He couldn’t worry about that now.
“I had no idea Percival was thinking such a thing,” Mrs. Marchand said. “When he located me in Paris, he indicated Alexandra was eager for a visit.”
“She was, Olivia. Never believe that she wasn’t,” Winsome assured her.
“It’s obvious my uncle is a sick man,” Theo said. “I don’t know how I didn’t see it before now. If anything has happened to her—”
“Once we arrive,” Lady Ranstruther interrupted softly in the darkness of the carriage, “I’ll send my note up to my friend. It won’t take long to learn if Alex is still there.”
“Who are you sending the note to?” Theo asked her.
“I’m not at liberty to say, but rest assured, we’ll have the assistance we require. Never you fear.”
“You have plans for my daughter, Millburn?”
“Yes,” he bit out, the fear surging through him with the force of an avalanche in the Alps. “I think once we arrive, we shouldn’t all stroll in together. I’ll go in through the mews. If there are private rooms, I suspect they are located on the upper levels, past the gaming floor.”
“If we don’t find my daughter before tomorrow…” the duke gritted out.
“We will,” Theo vowed.
There was no place to park in front of la Sous Rose, so the carriage was forced to stop on a side street. “I’m going in through the back.” He glanced at Winsome. “You should escort the ladies in through the front. Go up to the gaming level. There are stairs located in the far northeast corner.” Theo didn’t wait a second longer and took off in a run. Whoever Lady Ranstruther’s friend was, they’d better hurry before Theo began kicking in every locked door he came across.
“Perhaps I should be the one to deliver your missive, Lady Ranstruther. My standing as a duke might be to our benefit.”
“That’s very kind of you, your grace, but it’s completely unnecessary.” She sauntered over to someone holding a tray and leaned in, speaking softly. She pulled the note from her reticule and handed it to him.
He said a few more words, then pointed to the stairs.
Another man approached her just as she started up the staircase. Viscount Kearse, if Winsome was correct.
“You think she frequents this place often?” Olivia asked.
Winsome grimaced. “I should hope not.” He took her arm. “Come. I have no doubt the lady will leave us behind.”
“Who owns this place? It’s quite lovely. Nothing I expected a hell to look like.”
They reached the stairs. Winsome glanced up and saw that Lady Ranstruther awaited them at the landing. He increased their pace. “Whoever they are, and no one is quite certain—”
“Your grace,” Lady Ranstruther interrupted, “Alex has been located. A repast was ordered for the top floor. We must hurry if we are to intercept. By the bye, this is Viscount Kearse. He insists on accompanying us.”
Theo hurried up the first flight of stairs, past the noise of the gaming level, and on up. He wasn’t sure how many levels there were to the building, but she was there, he could feel it. Percival would have secured her as far from people as he could get. He would also worry of Alexandra screaming for help. Theo worried she wouldn’t. He continued past a third level to a fourth. It appeared to be the top.
He found himself in a long corridor with tables separating the doors along the hall on each side. Not a single door was open. From another less obtrusive portal, a servant appeared holding a tray. Another man entered after him. There was something different about the second man. Something more regal. Behind him, Winsome appeared next.
Theo hurried down the hall. “Winsome.” He glanced behind the duke. “Excellent, Kearse. I’m glad to see you.” His friend’s expression showed Theo he had much to explain but would bide his time. “Where are Lady Ranstruther and Mrs. Marchand?” Theo asked.
“Here,” Mrs. Marchand said, stepping into the hall with Lady Ranstruther.
The duke’s lips compressed. “They refused to wait below where it was safe.” He speared them with a stern look. “You will wait here.”
“Yes, your grace.” The two women spoke unanimously, conspicuously contrite.
The regal-looking man addressed Theo in a low voice. “You must be Mr. Millburn.”
“Yes,” he said, matching the other man’s lowered voice.
“I’m Mr. Smythe. The baron ordered repast. We shall use this to gain access to rescue Miss Blessing. Your grace.”
“Smythe.” Winsome next addressed the server, whose name Theo hadn’t heard. “You’ll stand back. We shall only use you should the need arise.”
Kearse maneuvered himself next to Theo.
Smythe nodded, and Theo, Kearse and Winsome sidled past him as they moved to the farthest point of the corridor. Smythe motioned for the server to come forward. Mr. Smythe knocked politely on the door, something Theo would not have been able to manage to save his life.
The door didn’t open. “Yes?” Percival’s voice sounded through door.
Every muscle in Theo’s body clenched.
“Your refreshments, sir,” Smythe said.
“Leave the tray outside the door.”
“Of course, sir.” Smythe flashed a key but motioned for the server to set the tray on the closest table.
Theo stepped forward and jostled the table. The dishes rattled. He backed away and prepared to kick the door in. A harsh scream ripped the air, and Theo lifted his leg and rammed the door. The doorjamb crumpled under the force, but something else blocked it from opening enough to let him through. “I’ll kill you, Percival. I’ll fucking kill you.” Using his shoulder, Theo shoved until it gave way and he fell inside, tripping over his unconscious uncle and landing on the floor beyond.
Theo rose to his elbows. Gis—Alexandra stood before him. His eyes moved up her body and the huge greatcoat she wore. It parted enough to showcase the brilliant bronze sheen of her ballgown. She was stilled as a marbled statue, her face was deathly white, registering acute astonishment. Both hands clutched a bloodied fireplace tool.
Winsome stepped over both Theo and Percival, gently took the poker from Alex’s clenched fingers, and tossed it aside.
Theo took Kearse’s outstretched hand and came to his feet.
She looked at Winsome. “He… he murdered your first duchess.” Her voice was unnaturally high but also as calm as Theo had ever heard her.
“Dear God.” Winsome wrapped her in his hold.
Theo leaned down and looked at his uncle. Mr. Smythe stepped forward and handed him a small vial. “Try this, Mr. Millburn.”
“What is it?”
“Smelling salts. I keep it on my person in the event someone… swoons.”
Theo waved the bottle under Percival’s nose. Nothing. “He’s dead,” he said softly to Smythe. He slowly straightened. “Alexandra?”
She turned from her father and looked at Theo. “Theo,” she whispered. A second, later she threw herself in his arms.
And to Theo’s amazement, she promptly burst into tears.