The Wild Child (31 page)

Amworth frowned. “Are you seeking permission to court her in your own right?”

Dominic hesitated a moment, knowing that to answer the question would irrevocably damage his relationship with his brother. But he had no choice; Meriel must come first. “Yes, though I don’t know how to convince you that I am not a fortune hunter. My inheritance is very modest compared to hers.”

“It would not be a bad thing if Meriel wed a man who would live with her at Warfield,” Amworth said slowly. “The one qualm I had about Maxwell was that his responsibilities would keep him in London and Dornleigh for much of the time. I might be willing to offer my blessing—if you love Meriel, and she will accept you.”

“Thank you, sir,” he said fervently. “I will swear any oath you wish as to the genuineness of my feelings. Meriel is… unique. Magical. I have never felt so happy, so alive…” He stopped when Amworth’s amused expression showed that he was babbling.

Pulling himself back to the reason for his visit, he went on, “I came here because of a serious issue that must be resolved before there can be any more courting. Lord Grahame heard of your illness and returned to England early. When the family solicitor told him of your hopes for Meriel’s marriage, he stormed up to Shropshire. Yesterday he threw me out of Warfield, and threatened my life if I ever returned.”

Amworth made a rough sound that drew a frown from his wife. Holding up his hand to still her, he said,

“I am in no condition to drive him out on your behalf.”

Dominic smiled without humor. “I would be a poor sort of suitor if I hid behind you. Confronting Lord Grahame is my responsibility, but I felt that I would have more moral authority if I have your approval.”

“My moral authority is at a low ebb now.” Amworth plucked restlessly at the coverlet. “It was dishonorable to go behind Grahame’s back, but I felt strongly that Meriel needed a more normal life. Though you have proved me right, Grahame is understandably angry. I doubt he’ll leave Warfield simply because you ask.”

Especially since Grahame considered Dominic to be Meriel’s seducer, and didn’t yet know that he’d been deceived as to the identity of her suitor. Dominic would deal with that when the time came. “Meriel is of age, and as mistress of Warfield she has a legal right to entertain what guests she chooses. I intend to use that fact.”

“I will give you a letter authorizing you to act on my behalf where Meriel is concerned.” Amworth sighed, his face strained. “Will that help?”

“It certainly will.” Seeing that Lady Amworth was on the verge of ending the visit, Dominic said, “I will take my leave before I exhaust you, sir. Just one last question. Do you happen to know if General Ames is a magistrate?”

Amworth’s expression eased. “He is, as well as being Grahame’s former commanding officer. Perhaps you’ll be able to resolve this peaceably, Renbourne.”

Dominic bowed. “I hope so. It is my wish that ultimately both of Meriel’s uncles will approve of her marriage. I swear that I want only the best for her.”

“Wait for me downstairs,” Lady Amworth said. “I shall join you shortly.”

He obeyed, and was moving restlessly around the drawing room when she arrived with a folded paper in her hand. “Here is your letter. My husband dictated it to me, and signed it himself.”

“Thank you, Lady Amworth.” He tucked the letter in his coat. “I am very grateful to you both. I’ll keep you informed.”

He was on the verge of leaving when she said, “It’s almost dinnertime, too late to start for Warfield. You must dine with us and spend the night.”

It was an order, not a request. He smiled wryly. “So that you can draw your own conclusions about my character?”

“Exactly so.” She glanced away. “I regret that I have not been a better aunt to my husband’s niece.”

There was a long pause before she said stiffly, “Perhaps Lady Meriel is not really mad, but… my mother was.”

“You owe me no explanation, Lady Amworth,” he said quietly. “Everyone has private dragons.”

Her gaze returned to his face. “I begin to understand how you have drawn Meriel out. Mysterious are the ways of fate. Would Lord Maxwell have done as well with her, do you think?”

Dominic shook his head. “I doubt it. He lacks patience.”

Before she could reply, the footman entered the drawing room, disapproval on his face. “A person wishes to speak to you, my lady. He says he is from Warfield Park.”

Lady Amworth and Dominic exchanged puzzled glances. “Bring him in, Liddel.” After the footman left, she said, “Do you suppose this could be Lord Grahame, come to castigate my husband?”

Dominic frowned. “Surely he wouldn’t, knowing Lord Amworth is very ill.”

She smiled humorlessly. “I doubt that would stop him. Though my husband does not complain, he has had a difficult time sharing custody of Lady Meriel with Grahame. Their opinions about her best interests were too different. There were regular clashes. Otherwise, my husband would never have arranged a marriage secretly.”

Further speculation ended when the door opened and Ka-mal entered. With his turban and travel-stained garments, he was a startlingly foreign figure in this staid drawing room. “Kamal!” Dominic exclaimed. “Has something happened to Meriel?”

“My lady.” The Indian bowed to Lady Amworth. “I came hoping to find you here, my lord, and to inform Lord Amworth that Lord Grahame has taken Lady Meriel to the asylum at Bladenham.”

“My God!” Dominic froze in horror. Collecting himself, he said, “Forgive my language, Lady Amworth. Though Grahame wanted to send her to the asylum before, it didn’t occur to me that he would do that when she is so much improved.”

“He captured and bound her as if she were a wild beast,” Kamal said, eyes glittering. “She was on her way to the asylum within an hour of your departure.”

Dominic swore again, sickened by the thought of Meriel tied and caged, beating her wings against the bars until she destroyed herself. Turning to Lady Amworth, he said in a clipped voice, “I must refuse your kind hospitality, I fear. Meriel must be removed from the asylum as soon as possible.”

She nodded, her face pale. “I will not tell my husband— this news might well bring on another attack, perhaps a fatal one. I rely on you to do what is necessary.”

“On me, and Kamal.” He glanced at the Indian. “You must be exhausted. Do you have the strength to start back tonight? There are still hours of riding time before dark.”

“I shall not slow you down,” Kamal said tersely.

“You two may be men of iron, but you’ll need fresh horses,” Lady Amworth said practically. “While they are being readied, you must both have food and drink.”

She rang the bell and gave the footman orders about the horses, then ushered the men down to the kitchen. While the cook assembled a cold meal, she succinctly described the legal conditions of Meriel’s guardianship. Not anticipating the massacre and Meriel’s “madness,” her father had taken only the standard legal precautions, meaning she was free to choose her own husband. That would simplify Dominic’s task.

After Lady Amworth left them to their meal, he asked Kamal, “How did the ladies react to Grahame’s actions?”

“They were most displeased with his lordship.” A flash of white teeth showed in the Indian’s dark beard.

“Only the argument that they would hinder my journey prevented them from accompanying me.”

Thank heaven that Meriel had such allies. Dominic took another slice of cold beef, then proceeded to tell Kamal who he really was.

Confession might be good for the soul, but by the time he finished enlightening everyone who had a right to know, he was going to be heartily bored with the subject.

Chapter 29

They headed straight to Bladenham, with only a short, late-night stop at a shabby inn. During the long ride, Dominic discussed strategy with Kamal. Both agreed that sheer aristocratic bluster had the best chance of success, so they descended on the asylum like a thunderstorm. As soon as the door opened, Dominic stepped inside and demanded, “I must speak to Dr. Craythorne at once.”

The skinny housemaid said uncertainly, “The doctor is treating a patient, sir.”

“I don’t care if he’s ministering to God Himself!” Dominic barked. “He will see me right now, or he’ll soon be in the Shrewsbury jail.”

Having modeled his behavior after Lord Wrexham at his most autocratic, Dominic wasn’t surprised when the maid scuttled off in terror. It didn’t hurt that Kamal was at his back, looking feral and dangerous.

Within minutes, Craythorne strode into the handsome receiving room. “What is the meaning of this intrusion?” His face changed when he saw who waited. “Lord Maxwell. I presume that you are here about Lady Meriel Grahame.”

Dominic fixed the doctor with a steely glance. “You presume correctly. I want her released into my care at once!”

“I can’t do that,” the doctor said calmly. “She was committed by her uncle, who is her legal guardian, and only he can authorize her release. He warned me that efforts might be made to take her away, and charged me to keep her here safely, so that she can receive the treatment she needs.”

“Lord Grahame was one of Lady Meriel’s guardians when she was a child, but he has no legal authority over her person now that she is of age,” Dominic retorted. “Certainly he has no right to commit a healthy young woman to an asylum.”

Craythorne shook his head. “You know nothing of the matter. The girl fought like a wild animal. I have seldom seen a female so demented.”

“Of course she fought!” Dominic stalked forward, forcing the doctor to fall back a step. “If you were kidnapped from your home and imprisoned, wouldn’t you?”

The doctor blinked, as if he hadn’t thought of it that way. Recovering, he said, “Your logic is backwards. She isn’t mad because she was brought here, but was brought here because she was mad. Why else would Lord Grahame commit her?”

What would persuade Craythorne? Greed was always plausible. Improvising swiftly, Dominic said,

“Because Lady Meriel and I are betrothed, and Grahame wants to block our marriage. Her other uncle, Lord Amworth, approves of the match.” He pulled Amworth’s letter of support from his coat and gave it the doctor.

Craythorne read it twice, then handed it back, frowning. “That’s all very well, but Amworth hasn’t seen her since her breakdown. He cannot know her current condition.”

“Grahame’s kidnapping of Meriel has nothing to do with her mental state.” Letting his imagination run rampant, Dominic continued, “I believe that he has been embezzling Lady Meriel’s inheritance, and he fears the audit that will take place if and when she marries. To conceal his crimes, he is trying to prevent the wedding.”

After a startled moment, the doctor said, “That’s absurd! A Gothic melodrama, fit only for frightening weak-minded young girls. I find it easier to believe what Grahame told me—that you are a fortune hunter determined to marry a grievously afflicted girl to gain control of her inheritance.”

“The heir to Wrexham has no need to marry a fortune.” Dominic’s voice dropped to dangerous softness.

“Would you think it Gothic for a husband to lock up his wife in a madhouse simply because she disagreed with him? Ask Jena Ames, or her father, if such a thing could happen.”

Craythorne paled. “That was an unfortunate accident. The cases are quite dissimilar.”

“Are they? In each case, a man brought in a woman and declared her mad, and you agreed because she tried to defend herself,” Dominic said with lethal precision. “In the case of Miss Ames, I was willing to believe that you were deceived by her wicked husband, but I am no longer so sure. What kind of institution are you running here, Craythorne? How many people are you holding against their will?”

“None!” the doctor replied, but he looked badly rattled. “Lady Meriel is as clearly mad as any patient I have ever seen.”

“If she’s mad, it’s because of what you’ve done to her!” Dominic exploded. “I am taking her out of here right now, or as God is my witness, I will return with magistrates and militia and take this hellhole apart brick by brick! Every newspaper in Great Britain will hear the story of the distinguished physician who locks up rich women so their male relations can plunder their assets.”

His voice became pure ice. “This is your last chance, Craythorne. Release Lady Meriel, or I will destroy you. The choice is yours.”

The doctor looked ill. Even if he was Grahame’s innocent dupe, the enmity of a powerful lord could wreck his life’s work. Moistening his lips with his tongue, he said, “Come see for yourself. That will convince you of her state as no words of mine will.”

!“By all means, take us to her.” Dominic started toward the right-hand corridor. “As I recall, females are kept in the east wing?”

“Actually, she is temporarily in the west wing.” The doctor glanced at Kamal, who was following Dominic. “Your servant should wait here. Too many visitors may increase her agitation.”

“Kamal is her trusted bodyguard, and her friend. His presence will be nothing but beneficial.” Not to mention the fact that the Indian would provide good support if the doctor was fool enough to use force to prevent Meriel from being taken from the asylum.

Craythorne led the way down the western hall to the heavy, metal-bound door. Dominic wanted to jump out of his skin with impatience as the doctor fumbled through his keys to find the right one. They entered the secure area. Dominic’s blood chilled as he remembered what he had seen and heard on his earlier visit. Meriel had been here for less than three days—but how long would it take for a sensitive mind to snap? How much time until a girl who had lived with near-total freedom died of captivity?

The doctor stopped in front of a door and began searching for the right key. Dominic’s stomach knotted. Surely this wasn’t the restraint room…

Craythorne cautioned, “Remember, this was necessary for her own safety.”

The door opened to reveal Meriel’s frail form tied to the chair in the center of the room. She wore a straitjacket, with additional bonds securing her to the bolted-down chair. Her face was smudged and bruised, and she stared blindly ahead, not moving a muscle when the three men entered.

“You bastardl” Dominic shoved past the doctor and went to her. She was like a statue, only a thready pulse in her throat showing that she was alive. Gentling his voice, he said, “We’re taking you out of here, Meriel.”