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HER EYES WERE CLOSED, but Montague could not tell if she truly slept. He unloosened his constraining cravat. He could not refrain from imagining himself fucking the Baroness in the carriage. He had taken a woman before in a carriage, and it was no easy matter given the unpredictable motions of the vehicle. But Lady Debarlow had been positioned perfectly, her rump within such easy access...
He took in a deep breath. He had been tempted to soothe her sore limbs, but that would only fuel the already uncomfortable ardor he was feeling. There would be time enough for him to show her his compassion. Too soon and she may presume his concern to be a weakness. He had one chance to convert her mind by compelling her body. To show her what she denied herself by remaining with Tremayne. It was farfetched plan, but he had not the luxury of time.
The carriage bumped along rougher roads, and Montague wished they traveled with the sunlight that he and the Baroness could witness the bucolic surroundings as they neared Chelton. Although Lady Debarlow kept her London residence for most of the year, her maidservant had told Jonathan that her ladyship did return to the country seat once or twice a year. He had had heard the estate to be quite impressive, but there was much to appreciate about Chelton.
The home where Montague had spent a happy childhood, whilst his mother lived and before he had been sent off to school after her death, had once been a small Norse? castle. It was not entirely certain how his great grandfather had come into the estate save that Chelton might have been payment for a debt owed the elder Mr. Edwards. How ironic that Chelton was now the means to pay off a debt once more, Montague thought grimly.
The structure had been rebuilt a number of times in the course of its existence. Montague remembered his grandmother complaining about the draftiness of the place and questioning the wisdom of retaining the old property instead of selling it to the first bidder. His grandfather had hoped to cease her complaints by erecting a wing – built with wood instead of stone – especially for her. He had pledged Chelton to secure the funds necessary to complete the project, and thus began the first set of debts to be owed by the Montague family.
The cellar and kitchens, however, remained of stone construction and much as they were before. As did the few chambers below ground that Montague and his sisters speculated once served as dungeons. They had heavy doors, and their small windows were situated higher than a man’s reach and barred. In one of the cells, he had Jonathan put down a palette of straw for a bed.
Lady Debarlow opened her eyes when the carriage drew to a stop at the front doors of the manor, indicating to Montague that she had not indeed been sleeping. She looked out the window, but the morning light was still two hours away. He assisted the Baroness from the carriage and undid the bindings from her wrists. She looked up at him with a quizzical eye as she rubbed her wrists.
“You will find naught but hills and trees for miles,” he told her as he took her by the elbow.
No one greeted them at the door for the servants had been dismissed years ago.
“And none save you, myself, and my valet as the occupants,” he added in case she thought to seek the aid of someone else.
She turned to the driver, but he had turned the carriage around and was headed out the gates.
“My portmanteau?” she inquired. “Sir.”
“Back at the posting inn with your abigail. We did not retrieve it as you will have no need for clothing here.”
She halted in her steps but said nothing.
“Come,” he urged, “your phantasy awaits.”
He could tell she was tempted to snicker – a good sign for she would not have considered such a response if she did not feel somewhat at ease.
Jonathan opened the door for them and led them down a winding stairwell to the “dungeons.” Montague had selected one of the brighter, more inviting cells. He instructed Jonathan to start a fire in the fireplace. Despite the warmer summer month, the chamber was still cool upon the skin. He could see from the frown upon Lady Debarlow that the accommodations did not excite her.
“The amenities will improve upon satisfactory performance,” he informed. “We shall see how well Madame Botreaux’s has prepared you. We begin tomorrow morning.”
“I am to stay in this...cell?” she asked. “Sir?”
“Yes.”
“But what if I should need to tend to myself, Sir?”
“Pardon?”
“Is there no one to assist me, Sir?”
“Jonathan will bring you a bell to ring should you require him.”
“Him? Am I not to have an abigail?”
“Jonathan would be happy to service you. But you are to address him, too, as ‘Sir.’”
The set of her jaw hardened but she lifted her chin slightly. “What if...what if I should need to relieve myself, Sir?”
“There is a chamber pot in the corner.”
He thought she shuddered. Despite her humble origins, he doubted that she had had to suffer such demeaning conditions. The straw palette was a far cry from the silken sheets was accustomed to at present. From what her maidservant had told Jonathan, the Baroness was partial to the finer things in life. But her current meager surroundings were not intended to break her spirit. Any such attempts would be met by fierce resistance. Lady Debarlow would not be cowed. He felt stirred by her demeanor and found himself eagerly awaiting the morning.
“Have you any other questions, Baroness?”
She pressed her lips into a firm line. “None, Sir.”
“Then I bid you good night.”
He closed the door behind him. Once out of her view, he gratefully removed his mask and took a deep breath. His body buzzed with anticipation. He headed upstairs to the drawing room to find a bottle of drink to calm his nerves. He had never undertaken such an endeavor before. Then again, no one had ever commissioned him to seduce a woman before.
Penelope had taught him a great deal, but he could sense a significant amount of resistance in the Baroness. He had never before felt his confidence waver, but Lady Debarlow was no easy damsel to sweep off the feet. He would sooner deal with the frostiest of women. Indeed, he excelled at melting the icy armor that many women used to protect their hearts. Lady Debarlow was far from frigid. Quite the contrary, she exuded heat and passion. But she had her own set of armor.
The seduction of a woman involved more than an appeal to her lust, but with the Baroness, he would start with her body.
* * * * *
ABBEY WATCHED THE VALET start the fire and entertained for a moment the possibility of bludgeoning him over the head with an object and making her escape. But the chamber was barren, and even if she could slip past the man and find her way out of the place, she could not be certain where to go thereafter. They could be miles from the nearest person. But perhaps even the wilderness would prove a better prospect then her current prison?
The situation was outrageous. Not only was she a hostage thrown into some cell fit only for one’s enemy, but she had to suffer the indignity of being serviced by a man. And to call him ‘Sir’ to boot! But if he thought her some dainty princess, he would discover her to be made of stronger mettle. Why she cared what her abductor thought of her struck her as odd. For all she knew, he might prove a madman.
“What is this extraordinary place?” she inquired of Jonathan, who might prove less aloof than his master.
“One that my lady has never been before till now,” was the reply.
The valet intended to be as mysterious as his master, she deemed with disappointment. But she was not ready to give in completely.
“What part of England are we?”
“Why does my lady wish to know?”
“Does your master bring women here often?”
“On occasion.”
“Does he treat them all with such ‘hospitality?’”
The valet grinned. “You are a special captive, my lady.”
“How am I to have been so fortunate?”
“My master is taken with you.”
That gave her pause. The look of discomfort upon the valet, as if he realized he had disclosed too much, intrigued her.
“I am too old for flattery,” she said, feigning disinterest. “What does he do with his female ‘guests?’”
“It would depend upon the woman.”
“And when he is done?”
He shrugged. “They depart.”
“Of their own free will?”
“Aye.”
The man appeared to speak truthfully, and she felt a small sense of relief. But she would not allow herself to be completely at ease.
“You have been in his employ long and have seen these women?”
“I have been in his service nigh on ten years.”
Damn. He was likely quite loyal to his master, thought Abbey. But that did not mean he was entirely immune to persuasion. She looked him over. Like his master, he had a more athletic body with strong thighs, muscular calves, and square shoulders. He was younger – perhaps eight and twenty years of age – and, save for a slightly crooked nose, was quite attractive.
“A man like you could do much with twenty thousand pounds,” she enticed. “You speak intelligently, have fine features. You need not be a valet all your life.”
“Are you bribing me, my lady?”
“Surely there is something that you wish for?”
He turned to stoke the fire. “I am content in my situation.”
She decided not to press the matter at the moment. Thus far he had obliged her, and she wanted him to continue answering her questions.
“Your master has not long been a patron of The Cavern. Was he a member elsewhere before?”
“I am not aware of it during my tenure with him, but it were quite possible he has not disclosed all to me.”
“But you clearly have his trust for you are party to my capture. You realize I could have you brought to trial for this, and if convicted, you would be sent to Newgate. It be no small offense to kidnap a member of polite society.”
“My master believes that you will not be pressing charges.”
“Ha! And why is that?”
He looked at her candidly. “Because you will have enjoyed your stay here.”
His response upset her with its implied arrogance. “If that were possible, why have I been assigned such poor accommodations?”
“I know not all that my master has planned for you. Suffice it to say that he is quite skilled in the art of pleasuring women.”
She pursed her lips. Their conceit both vexed and intrigued her, but she did not want to display any anger before the valet. He may prove useful yet.
“Have you any water? I am feeling quite parched.”
He bowed and left. To her disappointment, she heard a bolt slide into place. The door would be locked then. She took the opportunity to scan the rest of her surroundings. There would be no exit through the window, provided she could reach it. The only other exit beside the door would be the fireplace. The wooden door looked too heavy to be broken.
Jonathan returned with a canteen of water.
“Thank you,” she said as she accepted the water. “I wonder that I have not come across your master before?”
She studied his face for a reaction. He blinked a bit rapidly and she suspected he was privy to intelligence.
“Or perhaps I have?” she ventured as she flashed through her mind the men that she knew at The Cavern – a futile exercise as she did not know the identity of all of them.
“Perhaps,” he replied. “I know not all his acquaintances.”
“I rather suspect you do.”
He cleared his throat. “Is there anything else you require, Lady Debarlow?”
“My maid Jenny is no dolt. Upon discovering my absence, she will be quick to seek the authorities. We shall be found.”
“I think, Lady Debarlow, by the time anyone should ascertain where you were taken, my master will be done with you.”
He bowed and took his leave, but stopped upon the threshold. He strode back to her. She tensed, preparing to fend him off should he try to press his attentions upon her, though she doubted that his master would have given him permission to do so.
“I believe this to be yours?” He presented her glove. “I think you had dropped it upon the ground.”
Frowning, she took the glove from him. He departed, leaving her in the dark and with the realization that no one was likely to rescue her.