9781618858467ASinfulEducationPimentel (13 page)

Charles
stuttered and finally mumbled, “No.”

The
blacksmith
tisked
then chuckled.

“To be
clear, sir, it was my intention to secure the finest gold for my wife once we
return to London.”

“That is
what they all say. Young miss, if you will follow me, we will get you a proper
bouquet. My wife will take you out to the meadow, and you can decide what be
pleasing you.”

The ceremony, as well as the ride back to
London, was a blur of excitement. Once safely stopped at her
bother’s
estate, Wycliffe handed the reins to the
stableboy
and walked over to help Emily out of the
carriage.

“I hope the ride was not too hard, Lady
Avonlea.”

Emily smiled, appreciating the sound of her
married name. Now, if only she had the chance to show her appreciation to her
husband.

Isabel rushed out to meet her and quickly
folded her into an embrace. “You are back, and married, I hope?”

“Yes, I am. Please tell me Mama is not
here?”

“No, she is not, and it is my understanding
that Nathaniel has banned her from visiting.”

It was a relief to know that her brother
had finally stood up to their mother.
And to think, I thought he did not have it in him.
She would have to apologize sometime at a
later date, when she was not too preoccupied with finding her husband. “Has
Charles returned?”

“Yes, he has.” Her sister-in-law then
turned to Lord Wycliffe. “The men are in the library. Please go in and join
them. They will be happy to know that Emily has returned intact.” Then, Isabel
grabbed her hand and dragged her in toward the house. “Come, let me order some
tea for us, and we can catch up some. I am sure you have all kinds of questions
and things you would like to share, no?”

“Of course, but I will be there in just a
moment. I would like a few minutes to catch some air, before I return indoors.
The long ride has stiffened me, and I would love to stretch out.”

“But of course. I will send Duncan when
everything is ready. Besides, I am sure your new husband is dying to see you.”

Emily wandered into the side garden, which
more often than not tempted folks driving by to stop and admire the array of
roses, which Duncan maintained over the years. It was often the only place
anyone in the house would run off to whenever her mother was in foul mood.
Duncan, in most instances, hid her and Nathaniel there until the woman’s ire
had passed.

Usually, it would take hours, and neither
she nor her brother would complain. Between them, Duncan, and their gardener,
Mr. Smith, they spent hours learning all the different names of the varieties.

She closed her eyes and took in the
fragrant scent. It was so nice to be home once again. The sound of a carriage
passing by and stopping seemed to fade into the background. Nothing could ruin
this moment of bliss.

“Grab her!” a voice said suddenly.

Before she could react, someone pressed a
cloth to her mouth from behind. She desperately tried to pull away, but
whatever the god-awful smell was had her dozing off.

Her head bobbed up and down as she was
carried to a carriage. When she opened her eyes again, the Duke of Downsbury
smiled. “Welcome home, dear. We have a wedding to prepare.”

She fell into a dreamless slumber.

Chapter Eleven

“Emily? Tea has been ready for a quarter
hour now. Where are you?” Charles heard the marchioness call out.

And yet, he heard no response from his wife.
Where is she? She
could not have gone all that far, in such little time.
“Excuse me, gentlemen. I would like to
check on my wife. I have a bad feeling.”

Footsteps of the
marquess
and Wycliffe followed, and while he wanted to acknowledge their assistance, he kept
walking with speed. Something was wrong, but what it was, he did not know. “My
lady…have you seen her?” the earl questioned the marchioness.

“No, I have not. I left her here by the
garden and did not think I was gone that long. Truly, I have not the slightest
clue where she is. I asked Duncan already, but he swears she never stepped foot
in the house.”

That is when he noticed a cloth on the
grass. He picked up what he thought was Emily’s handkerchief and was not
surprised to find the initials “R.W.” embroidered on one of the corners. He smelled
something pungent wafting up from it.
They had to have been watching the house and expecting her return.
Ether
.
I am going to kill that man, if it
is the very last thing I do!
“They drugged her.”

“Who?” the marchioness asked quizzically.

Her husband jumped in. “Downsbury, I
suspect, which means we do not have much time. Wycliffe, when did you say this
man was due to arrive?”

“To be frank, he should have ported three
days ago. I will ride on to the docks and find out what the delay might be.”

“There is no need just yet. There seems to
be a rider approaching, as well as a carriage following behind. We might be in
luck.”

The horse and boy came to a screeching halt.
“My lords, Lady Thompson, I send word that you are to be expecting a visitor
shortly. Shall I fetch a runner for you, Lord Avonlea?”

“I do not think that will be necessary. But
stay on, as you might need to run for one.”

“Also, my lords, my sister sent a message.
Miss Thompson has arrived at the manor and is unwell. She suspects there is not
much time before his grace marries her.”

“Gregory, if you will follow my wife, she
will make sure you are fed.” The marchioness held out her hand to the boy, who
reluctantly took it and followed.

Charles pinched the bridge of his nose,
hoping the next bit of news would make up for Emily’s abduction. If they could
only get the proof they needed, then Downsbury would be put away for good.

The carriage slowed, and when it finally
stopped at the end of the drive, a portly man, easily ten years older than he, stepped
out and shouted an order to whomever was inside to wait until he came back. He
walked toward him and Wycliffe while Nathaniel stood his ground and watched
from afar.

“Have you any news from the continent,
Briggs?” The
marquess
queried.

“I have, but I have incurred some
unexpected expenses. I will need that squared away before we continue further.”

“What kind of expenses are you talking
about? I gave you sufficient money to take care of everything you needed and
more.”

“I require more, after being shackled to
two whiny women for these past few weeks. Plus, there was their passage, and
then there is the matter of my prisoner.”

“Prisoner!” Avonlea, Wycliffe and Nathaniel
exclaimed in unison, while they pushed their way to the carriage. Avonlea opened
the door to find two women, and a foreign man sitting there with a gun pointed
at him.

“Nathaniel, you may want to have that boy
find that runner now, and any connections you might have to have this one
locked up, secretly.”

“Briggs, who are these women and this man?”

“The man is an associate of the Italian
bastard you had me seek, and the women are the last ones sent to him to work in
a brothel. There were others, of course, but he said it was too late. They were
either sold or had not survived their first month. Another thing, he says the
man we are seeking is already here but did not know where.”

Two survivors were surely enough to
discredit Downsbury and the chief prosecutor. If he waited too long, then the prosecutor
would flee the country to avoid prosecution, which in the end may stall the duke’s
own trial, and they could not have that.

But if he went there now, without
presenting these people to the chief magistrate, then he could very well kiss
seeing Emily again goodbye. Married or not, their stunt in Scotland could be annulled,
and he would be tossed into prison again, this time for tampering with
evidence.

Chapter Twelve

Emily awoke in her chambers, her maid
sitting at her side. Nausea overwhelmed her as she sat up, so she lay back
again, only to have the young girl prop her pillows up.

“I am so glad you are awake. The duke has
been in a foul mood since the day you left. He has stopped in here numerous
times to check on you. Apparently, he was worried the ether might have been too
much. It has been rumored some never wake up.”

That foul odor and the cloth pressed to her
face made her shudder to think the sort of evil they were. “How long have I
been abed?”

“Nearly two days, ma’am. The servants were
worried sick. If I may be so bold, did you wind up seeing his lordship?”

“I did, and we were married days ago in
Gretna Green. Unfortunately, we have not managed to announce our marriage, as I
was taken from my brother’s garden shortly after we arrived. Good heavens…Avonlea.
Surely he knows where I must be?”

“Yes, miss, I sent word after your arrival.
I am still waiting on word from my brother to find out what the plan is, though
I imagine once everyone realizes your awake, his grace will push for the
wedding on the morrow.”

Of course he would. He would not want
anyone to get in the way of him obtaining her dowry. Sadly, he would learn soon
enough, he was no longer entitled. Now, if only Avonlea could sweep in and
rescue her from Downsbury’s clutches, then they would be able to carry on as if
this nightmare never existed.

Her beloved would find her, they would go
on and live happily, and she would give him sons to carry on the Bridgeton legacy.

Emily shook her head to clear the fogginess
that lingered. She would have to resort to pleading with her mama, and with any
hope, the woman would come to her senses.

Finally well
enough to leave her room, Emily threw on a wrap and slid into her slippers.
Since her arrival back at the manor, the duke had her guarded at all times. Two
sentries were posted outside her door, and one escorted her about. Should she
have need to leave the confines of the home, she was to be protected by three
footmen and her mother’s maid at all times.

She walked
down the hall to her mother’s apartments. She knocked then opened the door to
find her mother pouring over some paperwork on the desk. “What can I do for you,
dear? I have not a moment to spare with all these preparations.”

“What are you
about, Mama?” She sensed her mother had a hand in her abduction, but thought
now might not be the best of moments to discuss it.

“
Your
wedding, of course. Thomas has gone to the
modiste
to pick up our order. I am finalizing the wedding
meal, and his grace has already made the arrangements for the service. You
should be thankful his grace is willing to forgive you for your past
indiscretions and grievances.”

Emily could
not believe what she was hearing.
Good heavens… My
indiscretions and grievances?
Clearly, the woman was not right in
her head. She was not the one accepting sexual favors the night of her
engagement. Nor was she the one knee-deep in a scandal that would rock all of
England for its indecency.

She fisted her
hands at her side. Trying to keep them inconspicuously out of her mother’s
eyes. “I simply cannot marry the duke, so you can stop what you are doing!”

“And why is
that, you ungrateful chit?”

“Because I
eloped to Gretna Green with Lord Avonlea a fortnight ago. The duke cannot marry
a woman who is already married.”

Her mother
dropped the paper she was working with and stood, walked over to her, and slapped
her across the face.
Emily gasped with surprise.
Her cheek
burned from the contact.

“You would say
anything to get out of this, would you not? Well, I have news for you, you
selfish little girl. For years, I have aspired to raise myself in society the
way it should have been years ago. But your boorish father insisted we did not
need to be a part of that life. And look at me now, I am no one. After you are
married, I will be introduced to, and welcomed into, other circles. I might
even find myself a new husband who is as wealthy as yours.”

And
to think, she only considered herself and not my own safety
. It was never
about finding the right husband for her. It was her mother’s sick perversion to
being in high society circles.
How could I have been so
daft?
Right from the beginning, her mother had pushed and pushed,
until she got what she wanted. She did not care about credibility or
credentials, her only concern was how deep the coffers were and how it would
impact her future. The woman was truly mad.

“If you think I
will go through with this, know that you have forever lost your only daughter.
I will never forgive you for this, Mama!” Emily spun on her heel and retreated
to her room without looking back.

* * * *

“I still do
not understand why you want to search the pier. If our main suspect is still at
port, what makes you think he will linger around?”

“I do not know,
Nathaniel, but something is not quite right.”

Charles climbed
off his horse and stalked toward the port master’s building. The dilapidated
shack, at the very least, should have a fresh coat of paint. Perhaps then,
visitors at port would not feel like they had arrived at some privateers docks.

Only two ships
were at port, and all was quiet aboard both. When they entered the office,
something caught his eye. A familiar burgundy coat…and the laugh. He stopped
dead in his tracks and shivered. His breath escaped him, and all the memories
he sought to keep hidden in the dark recesses of his memory came back.

“What is wrong,
Charles?” Nathaniel leaned against him.

“That voice…
There are things I never told you about my time on the continent, Nathaniel.
Things I can be charged with.” He struggled to maintain his composure and
sucked in a sharp breath. “I was a troubled man, to put it plainly. Instead of
following leads, I passed my time in the smoke houses and brothels. When I
traveled to Italy, I met a beautiful woman. She was bright and full of life. I
had every intention of bringing her back. The trouble was her employer would
not release her.”

His friend
rested a hand on his back. “There is no need to go on. We all have our demons,
and given you have married my sister, I would say you have come a long ways
from being the man you were. Let us continue our investigation and move on. I
doubt we have much time left before the wedding is to take place.”

They walked
further into the room and rang the bell. No one attended them, yet the deeper
they traipsed, the louder the laughter became. Avonlea stood quietly in a
doorway exiting to the back of the pier and watched the familiar man, dock
master, and several others playing cards.

A few moments
later, Nathaniel joined him, only this time, he cleared his throat, garnering
the attention of ruffians.

“You just had
to do that, did you not?” Charles glared at him.

“Yes, I did.
We very well could not stand in the shadows like two ninny’s trying to decide
what to do.”

Unbelievable!
Hell, it is him.
The middle-aged, portly Italian still looked the same, with
his dark hair long and
unkept
. He wore commoner’s
clothes, even though he was wealthy.
Another man I would like to
see dead.
There was simply no way to hide from his past now. “Well,
now that you have gone and done that, I hope you are prepared to fight your way
out. I am positive I am not leaving without getting my revenge.”

“What revenge?
I thought we were here to discover more about this Italian. What does that man
have to do with anything?”

Avonlea stifled
a groan. “Because
that
man is a brothel owner and was the
employer of a woman I loved and failed to rescue from his grasp.”

His friend
gripped his shoulder and turned him until they faced each other. “Do you mean
to tell me that could possibly be the one we are looking for?”

“Maybe, but I
can assure you, he will not be leaving alive for what he did to Celine.”

The man
dressed in the burgundy coat, and the rest—three total—rose from their seats
and approached them with the surliest of glares. Stares that sent shivers up
his spine.
There is that cold, calculating look I remember.

“Your
lordships look too finely dressed for this neck of the woods. To what do we owe
this pleasure?” the port master asked, chuckling.

The familiar
foreigner snorted. “If it isn’t the English
bastardo
… You know, Celine
would have made me a handsome profit if it were not for you and the
piccolino
she was carrying.”

He did
not…
“You have no right to bring her into this!”

Avonlea lunged
for the portly clod, and they both went tumbling down the rickety, wooden staircase.
He winced in pain with every step. He would not be surprised if he walked away
with a few broken ribs.
How dare he mention her name
! His heart
bled for that woman and the child he had never seen.
Christ.
If Emily could see me now
. He could still save her, and there
was still time to be done with the duke.

Shouting off
in the distance pulled his thoughts, and Nathaniel yanked him away from the
tangle of limbs at the bottom. “We have to go now. It sounds as if the chief prosecutor
is here, and he is not alone.”

What?
How is that even possible…unless…they’re here to deliver
...
“Nathaniel
,
he is the one we need. Grab him,
and let’s go. We must go straight to Bow Street. Now!” The earl managed to get
up, but his breath escaped him. Hobbling along, he caught up to Nathaniel,
evading whatever company descended upon the pier.

Within the
hour, he was likely to be incarcerated again, only this time, they had the
proof they needed. And soon, he would be with Emily. His dear, sweet Emily.

* * * *

The bishop’s
pause right before the vows unnerved her. Emily’s hands trembled at the fact that
their ceremony had not been interrupted yet
.
What if Avonlea never comes for me? What if I wind up marrying the duke?
She
would be married to two men. Surely, that had to be a sin of grandeur
proportions.

What would
the duke end up doing with her after her dowry was in his possession? Would he
keep her around for a while, or would he ship her away as Lord Wycliffe
suggested back at Avonlea’s hunting lodge? Trepidation shook her to the core.

As the
silence became too much, guests began whispering. The Duke of Downsbury
appeared annoyed, and she could not help but notice how much he fidgeted. She
had purposely held back a moment from delivering her vows. Whispers from the
haute tons
finest carried throughout the
century old church. Her mother stood off to the side.

The bishop craned
his head.

Shouting
from outside of the church echoed throughout the building. The heavy doors
burst open and several men holding it closed fell to the floor, toppling over
each other.

An
unfamiliar man, followed by several others, walked down the aisle toward them.
They wore scowls on their faces, and when they stopped by Mr. Sayers, they
stood rigid and ready to apprehend the man. The tallest, dark-haired gent
adressed
the chief prosecutor, “Chief Prosecutor, William
Sayers, you are hereby under arrest for failure to report crimes to the office
of the magistrate, conspiracy to committing crimes of slavery.”

Emily could
not believe what she was hearing.
Can
this nightmare be truly over?

The man
walked over to her and Downsbury. “What is the meaning of this intrusion?” the
duke spewed. “Do you not see that you are interrupting a very important moment
in our lives? How dare you! The magistrate will hear about this!”