"You now have an eternity in which to thwart me.
Should you refuse to marry Edward Shelton, I will have Ian Clayton killed."
"Yes, Mother, you've been very blunt about what you would do."
"He will be my collateral to prevent any bad behavior on your part."
"Can you expect me to believe that you have him hidden away in some hovel, awaiting the moment I say my vows?"
"I don't care what you believe."
Caroline scoffed. "What did you do? Sneak into his home and club him over the head?"
"Actually, he'd fled London. He was sick of you and your antics, and he was scurrying back to Scotland where he belongs. I had a pair of ruffians attack him on the road. It was very simple."
Caroline studied her, but she couldn't decide if Britannia was lying or not. She had grown so crazed that any nefarious conduct seemed likely. Then again, Ian might be just down the street, sitting in his own parlor and oblivious to the drama unfolding in the Derby household. How could she know for sure?
She had to contact him, had to find out if he was all right.
He'd been fond enough to fight for her, to force his way into her father's mansion and demand that she leave with him. His show of support was the sweetest, kindest deed that anyone had ever done for her. He really was her knight in shining armor.
"I have a gift for you," her mother said, and she handed over three letters.
"What are these?" Caroline asked even though she knew. Her spirits flagged.
"They are messages you managed to pen and have delivered to Mr. Clayton. As you win see from the attached note, he has left the city, and his residence is shuttered ^definitely."
Caroline ran a thumb across the top letter, reading the words someone had jotted on the front. It was as her mother had claimed. He was gone, and Caroline felt his absence as heavily as if he'd died.
She clutched the small pile to her bosom. The letters were her last link to him, as cherished as if they'd been a strand of hair or miniature locket with his portrait tucked inside. On seeing her pathetic gesture, Britannia yanked them away and tossed them in the fire.
"I've been so cautious," Britannia mused, "so I'm perplexed as to how you were able to draft a plea for assistance, but you won't dare another such outrage. I have fired the maid and footman who abetted you. They've been turned out without a penny. If they apply for a new position, and a reference is sought, I shall say they were thieves. They'll never work again. Because of you, they'll probably starve in the gutter."
Tears welled into Caroline's eyes. Disaster struck whatever she touched. Was she tainted? Was she cursed?
"You are so wicked," Caroline charged, hating Britannia as she'd never hated anyone. "When did this happen to you? How is it that I didn't know?"
"Now that I'm aware of how sly you can be, I'll watch you even more closely. If you solicit aid from the other servants, I'll foil you, and the penalty to the involved employee will be worse than ever. Am I beginning to get your attention?"
"Yes, you are."
"You will marry as you've been commanded by your parents. You can't evade your fate." "I realize that."
Her father was lost in his sorrow. Her brother detested her. She had spurned Ian. There was no one else who might have been worried about her, who might have intervened.
She was on her own, floating free of what had tethered her to her prior life. She felt invisible, unloved and unwanted. What would become of her?
"And don't forget," her mother taunted, "in the end, I have your precious Mr. Clayton. Nothing would please me more than to kill him for his audacity. I almost hope you give me an excuse to proceed."
She chuckled, sounding every bit like the deranged person she was, and she whipped around and walked out. The key spun in the lock.
Chapter
Twenty
D
on't turn around." At the sound of a female voice coming from directly behind her, Caroline stiffened but didn't move. The Duke's grand ballroom was packed with people, and oddly enough, whoever had approached her seemed to be hiding in the drapes.
Edward had vanished in the throng, but Britannia was a few feet away and observing her every second, so Caroline was pretending to be very meek. She'd hoped to beg someone for help, but the crowd was an unfriendly mob.
Any person present would think her mother to be perfectly reasonable in forcing Caroline into a horrid marriage. They would deem a refusal as childish and reprehensible on Caroline's part.
"Who's there?" Caroline asked, keeping her expression carefully blank.
"It's me, Rebecca Blake."
Though astonished, Caroline showed no reaction. "What do you want?"
"I'm the one who told your mother about Ian."
"Why am I not surprised? How wicked of you."
"It was, and I'm... I'm... sorry." There was a pause, and she added, "And I don't apologize very often, so I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't gloat."
"I'll try not to."
"Are you in trouble because of me?"
"Of course I am. What would you suppose?"
"I've heard terrible rumors—that she beats you, that you're being locked in a closet."
Caroline thought about denying the stories and asserting that everything was fine, as was her tendency, but Mrs. Blake was the type of individual who'd be brave enough to assist. Caroline had to seize what might be her only chance.
"It's been awful," she admitted.
"I figured as much."
"Do you know where Ian is?"
"He's left town," Mrs. Blake confirmed.
Caroline nodded, calculating the response and what it meant for her future, what it meant for his. Did Britannia have him as she claimed?
"I need your help," Caroline said.
"I suspected you might. Is your mother watching you?"
"Like a hawk. I can't take a breath without her noticing."
"I just saw John Clayton go into the parlor down the hall. He's sitting alone, having a brandy." "So?"
"I'll create a diversion and keep your mother occupied. As soon as I've distracted her, sneak off and talk to him. You'll have to hurry."
'To Wakefield? Why would I?"
"He's a man, as / obviously am not. Plus, he's powerful—as powerful as your father—and he loves Ian. He'll aid you as no one else would dare."
Caroline recognized the wisdom of Mrs. Blake's statement, but she was loathe to parley with Wakefield. He'd hurt her in too many ways to count, but Mrs. Blake was also correct in suggesting that Caroline solicit his support. Of all the people she knew, he was the most likely to stand up to her parents.
If his brother was in danger, he'd want to be notified, and if rescue was necessary, he would act on her behalf.
"All right," Caroline decided. "Go ahead."
She felt a rustling; then Mrs. Blake stepped into view. She walked between Caroline and Britannia, passing by until she was on Britannia's opposite side.
"Lady Derby," Mrs. Blake greeted much too loudly, "the death of your husband's mistress is so shocking. Everyone is whispering about it. Couldn't you just expire from mortification?"
As Britannia prepared to do battle with Mrs. Blake, her back was to Caroline, and Caroline slipped away and ran down the corridor. There was a room at the end, and she rushed in and slammed the door.
Wakefield was seated on a sofa, staring into the hearth. He glanced over at her, frowned, and rose.
"Caro?"
"Yes." Her heart was pounding.
"I'm having a brandy." He grinned his devil's grin that, for years, had had women swooning all over the city. "You won't tattle to my wife, will you? She doesn't approve of my bad habits."
His marriage to the vicar's daughter was still a sore subject. "Please don't mention her to me."
As she neared, he could sense her anxiety. "What is it? What's wrong?" "You must help me." "I'm happy to. Tell me what you need." "My parents are foisting me off on Edward Shelton." "So I've heard."
His smile wavered. Apparently, he felt guilty over his role in her current fate. Good! The bastard! If he'd wed her as he should have done, she wouldn't be in such dire straits.
"I don't wish to marry Mr. Shelton."
"It's what your father selected for you, and you should—"
"I love Ian," she declared, cutting him off. "How grand for Ian," he murmured kindly, "but your parents would never give their consent." "I don't care about their opinion." "Yes, you do."
"You don't know me, John, and you never did. I love Ian, and I won't accept Mr. Shelton as my husband. I won't!"
"Would you like me to meet with them? In light of our past, I doubt they'd pay any attention to me."
"I don't need you to speak with them. I need you to find Ian. I need to be sure he's safe."
"Ian's in Scotland."
"I'm not certain that he is. My mother is mad and—"
"Well, I don't know if mad is the word I'd choose."
"No, she's crazed. She insists she had Ian kidnapped while he was on the road and that—if I don't go through with the ceremony—she'll have him killed."
"She said that?"
"Yes."
"You must have misunderstood."
"She was very clear." "It can't be true." "What if it is?"
They were both silent, and she could see the wheels spinning in his head. Since their botched engagement, they'd scarcely crossed paths, yet here she was, ranting like a lunatic. He was probably rejoicing that he'd had the foresight to break off with her.
"Now, Caro"—he used his most annoying, placating tone—"you're obviously distraught over recent events."
"You think I'm suffering from some sort of... of... delusion?"
"No. You've simply been under a lot of pressure."
He was lucky she didn't slap his imperious smirk off his perfect face. He'd always thought he knew best, always thought he knew more than she did. She grabbed the lapels of his coat and shook him.
"Listen to me, and listen well: I would do anything for Ian. I would walk through hell and back. I would drown myself in the deepest ocean. I would jump from die highest cliff. I would even marry Edward Shelton. But I absolutely must know if he's all right."
He studied her, then shrugged. "You're serious."
"Yes. Locate him, and if he's free and unharmed, bring him to me so he can take me away from here."
"If it's so terrible at home, don't wait. I'll assist you now. If you're afraid or if you're being mistreated, I'll intervene and place you under my protection."
"I can't jeopardize Ian. If she has him as she claims, and she learns I've met with you, she'll hurt him. I'm positive she will. She's increasingly deranged."
"I'll find out where he is."
"Thank you."
She raced to the door and opened it.
"Caro?" "Yes?"
"I'm glad you came to me." "I'm not!" she rudely replied. "I'd rather cut off my arm than ask you for help, but you care for Ian." "I love him. I always have." "Then don't fail me. Don't fail him!" "I won't." "Swear it!" "I swear!"
He put his hand over his heart, and the other was stretched out as if he'd laid it on a Bible. Their gazes locked and held, and he seemed sincere. Maybe he'd changed; maybe he'd come through for her. For once.
The hall was empty, and she tiptoed out, then hurried to her mother before Britannia had noticed that she'd sneaked off.
Mrs. Blake had continued insulting Britannia, and a huge crowd had gathered to titter over the fireworks. Mrs. Blake saw Caroline approaching. She raised a brow in question, and as Caroline responded with a quick nod, Mrs. Blake stumbled forward pretending someone had pushed her. She had a full glass of wine, and she spilled the whole red mess down the front of Britannia's dress.
"Oh, Countess," she gushed, "I'm so sorry."
"You little fiend!" Britannia hissed. "My gown is ruined."
"I'd buy you another," Mrs. Blake offered, "but my brother-in-law has my money tied up in court. Would you speak to him for me? If you could convince him to relent, I'd compensate you."
Britannia was so furious that Caroline worried she might explode. Caroline leaned in and scolded, "Mother, you're making a scene. Why don't we go?"
"Yes, why don't we?"
Britannia flashed such a look of hatred at Mrs. Blake that the bystanders blanched and stepped away, presenting them with an easy path to the foyer.
Britannia hastened through the gauntlet, Caroline hot on her heels, departing so swiftly that they didn't even wait for their cloaks and hats to be retrieved.
Caroline passed by Mrs. Blake and mouthed, Thank you.
You're welcome, Mrs. Blake mouthed in reply, and suddenly Caroline didn't feel so alone.
For the first time in so very long, she was hopeful. She had Wakefield and Mrs. Blake as her allies. Perhaps she would survive her ordeal, after all. Perhaps everything would work out for the best.