Julia Justiss (28 page)

Rupert frowned, clearly displeased. “How dare you address me in such a tone—” he began, advancing on the boy.

Worried Rupert might cuff Jem for not according him the deference he expected, Belle said hastily, “You needn’t wait. Lord Rupert will not be long.”

With more bravery than sense, Jem stood his ground. “All right, Miss Belle. But he looks like a rum one to me. I’ll be right outside, iff’n you needs anything.” Passing close by Rupert, as if daring the baron to take a swipe at him, Jem proceeded to the door.

“Leave him, Rupert,” Belle said in an urgent undertone as the baron turned toward the boy, lifting one hand.

Slowly Rupert lowered it. “As you wish—for the moment, Lady Belle.”

As soon as Jem closed the door, Rupert sniffed. “The low quality of the staff you employ amazes me. A tart like Mae as a dresser, a half-witted ex-boxer for a butler and now that—guttersnipe!” He shook his head disdainfully. “When I have the ordering of your household, the servants will be properly trained and know their places.”

Deciding not to dispute that point so as not to lengthen a visit she intended to be brief, Belle said, “I cannot imagine why you’ve called on me. I thought I had made my future plans perfectly clear.”

“I should have returned sooner, but you were naughty, popping off to London without a word, then running back here scarcely a day after I discovered you were in the City,” he reproved, reaching for her hand.

She drew it back. Neither did she offer him a chair.

A look that might have been anger flashed briefly in his
eyes, but his tone remained pleasant. “As my last visit provided the impetus to end your little interlude with Carrington, I thought to give you time to get over your pique. I am still prepared to be generous, despite your temporary…defection to the captain.”

“Lord Rupert, I believe I have already, in quite plain terms, refused your—your obliging offer. I am sorry you force me to state the matter so baldly, but I am not interested in a relationship with you. I shall never be interested in a relationship with you. Now, I will thank you to leave and not call on me again.”

To her exasperation, he merely shook his head at her. “And I, my dear, am not interested in prolonging this tiresome game of advance and retreat. You have taunted me and tempted me and driven me mad with jealousy long enough. This time, I will not accept no as your answer.”

“
You
will not accept—!” she gasped. She’d known he was arrogantly certain of always getting his way, but this time his presumption was outside of enough. “Since we do not appear to be exchanging any meaningful conversation, I will thank you to leave now. Good day, my lord.”

Calmly Rupert crossed his arms. “I have no intention of leaving. Now—or ever.”

The first flickering of alarm went through her as she walked to the bellpull. “I regret to part on such a note, but if you will not go voluntarily, you leave me no choice but to have you forcibly removed.”

Rupert chuckled. “I didn’t doubt you would try. So I took the precaution of insuring you could not.”

The self-satisfied look in his eye intensified her unease,
though she maintained a facade of calm as she tugged at the bell.

“Ring away, my dear, but no one will answer. Your household is in my keeping now. And so are you.”

His humorous expression vanished, replaced by an intent look that mirrored the heat gleaming in his eyes as he advanced on her. Her attention riveted on his face, she backed away, until her heel bumped the parlor wall.

With a wolfish smile, he put his hands on her shoulders. “Ah, my sweet, I’ve waited so long.”

“Let me go immed—” she got out before his mouth came down on hers.

Resisting the probing of his tongue against her firmly closed mouth, she struggled, but Rupert was surprisingly strong. She could neither break his grip nor twist free.

In desperation, she bit his lip.

She felt, rather than heard, his curse against her mouth. She had an instant to rejoice at the removal of his lips from hers before his hands tightened on her shoulders and he slammed her against the wall.

The force of the contact knocked her off balance and nearly robbed her of breath. His nails biting into her arms, Rupert caught her before she could fall and pinned her in place with his shoulders.

Fear and fury pounded through her to the beat of the ache in her head. She tried to focus her rattled brain, create a plan, while his harsh panting breaths filled her ears. Then she heard a scrabbling sound and he pressed the whole length of his body against her.

Through the thin muslin of her gown, she felt the thick
heat of his erection throbbing against her belly and realized he must have unbuttoned his trouser flap.

“Like it rough?” he growled into her ear. “I knew you would. It’s going to be such a pleasure to oblige you.”

Keeping her immobile with the weight of his body, he forced one of her hands down and wrapped her fingers around his naked penis. Then, before she could think how to counter that, he smashed a fist into her cheekbone.

Pain exploded in her head, blinding her, ran shrieking through her body. For a moment she battled it, until a wave more powerful than her will submerged her and she went falling, falling backward into darkness.

E
ARLY THAT EVENING
, Jack sat in his library, Belle’s note between his fingers as he inhaled its faint scent of lavender. At his mother’s behest, he’d retreated here to escape the tumult of activity as Lady Anne prepared for the ball tonight in honor of Dorrie and Winston’s engagement.

Soon, he thought, replacing the note on his desk. He’d been disappointed, but not surprised, to receive Belle’s missive and discover from Watson, after immediately setting out to her house in an attempt to talk her into remaining in London, that she’d already departed.

He smiled. Trust Belle to act at once upon any matter she felt to be important.

He’d been half tempted to go after her then and there, armed with the welcome news of his mother’s approval. But he had appointments with the solicitors about Dorrie’s wedding contract, numerous parties to which he’d already promised to escort her, and the affair tonight—as much bittersweet joy as obligation—where before all the ton he would present her hand to James Winston. After that, he would finally be free to set out for Bellehaven.

He hoped this time apart had led Belle to miss him as sorely as he missed her—thereby weakening her desire to
live independently and softening her resistance to accepting his suit. If so, now that he could present her assurances of his family’s support, he had a reasonable chance at winning his heart’s desire.

Making Lady Belle his wife.

He grinned. Failing such a victory in his first attempt, though, he might well follow through on his threat to camp out on her doorstep, refusing to budge until she finally gave in to his persuasion.

He was imagining some of the more intimate forms of persuasion he might employ when a knock sounded.

“Lord Egremont to see you, sir,” the butler said.

Surprise, and an unwelcome flicker of jealousy, stirred in Jack’s chest. What could Belle’s good friend—his mouth thinned as he recalled the two of them tête-à-tête in her theatre box—want with him?

“Send him in, and bring us some wine, please.”

A moment later, the earl walked in. “My apologies for intruding at such a busy time—and congratulations on your sister’s upcoming nuptials. Winston is a fine young man.”

“We are all pleased with the match,” Jack replied, gesturing his visitor to a chair. He had to work at curbing his impatience as they exchanged pleasantries while Quisford poured the wine, knowing that since his personal acquaintance with Egremont was slight, the earl’s call must have something to do with Belle. Had something happened to her? he wondered with a stab of alarm.

As soon as Quisford withdrew, Jack asked, “How may I assist you?”

“As I imagine you suspect, I’ve come to discuss a—certain lady we both hold dear. I have reason to believe you may harbor serious intentions toward her.”

The jealousy intensified, along with a primitive, purely male possessiveness. “And what might your interest be in that?” he replied, an edge to his voice.

“Do you mean to marry her?” Egremont asked bluntly.

“Yes.” Jack neglected to add that he’d yet to obtain the lady’s consent to such a plan.

Egremont smiled wryly. “Then, much as it wounds me to have my suspicions confirmed, concern for Belle’s welfare forces me to salute you.” He raised his glass to Jack.

Surprised and somewhat mollified, Jack lifted his glass in return. “I thank you for having been a friend to her when she had great need of one.”

Egremont set down his glass, his smile fading. “I should have been a better one. For what you believe about her and are now attempting to prove—yes, I know about your trip to Eastwold—I’ve suspected for years.”

Disconcerted, Jack raised his eyebrows. “You seem singularly well informed.”

“One of the benefits of long friendship with members of the Home Office. After learning of your quest, I decided that if your intentions toward Belle were honorable, I would offer you what I know…and an apology. From the first night I met her, she’s fascinated me—not just her startling beauty, but the grace and dignity of her, the unexpected keenness of her wit. After barely half an hour of conversation—she quizzed me about some matter under debate in the Lords—I knew she was no common strum
pet. By the end of that conversation I…I had fallen in love with her.”

His face pensive, he swirled the wine in his glass. “Oh, I knew she deserved better than what Bellingham provided. But I was already married, and could offer her no more than the friendship which, since I’d known Bellingham for years and had a reputation for fidelity, he permitted. I knew if I found her rightful family, I might lose her altogether and I…I couldn’t bear that thought. So I soothed my conscience by telling myself that, having been taken so publicly under Bellingham’s protection, there could be no going back for her. I appointed myself a sort of guardian to watch over and protect her from the worst of the excesses.” He sighed. “I was not always successful.”

“Vauxhall,” Jack said.

Egremont grimaced with distaste. “Vauxhall. I like to believe our friendship provided Belle some measure of comfort and relief from a life she despised. But in my heart, I know I should have done more. I should have done what you are doing—searched for her family, tried to restore her to the life she somehow lost. I had all the connections needed to make such an attempt. It was selfish cowardice on my part that I did not. By what I did, and even more, what I did not do, I betrayed both our friendship and her.”

Setting down his glass, Egremont looked back up at Jack. “You are a better man than I, Jack Carrington. If you choose to honor me with your confidence, and I can do anything to assist, know that I will do so. Know also that I will lend whatever support I can to reestablish Belle.”

Not sure what to say in the face of Egremont’s disclosures, Jack remained silent. Though furious at the earl for letting Belle languish in shameful servitude for six years, he could not help also feeling a strong sympathy. Would he have the courage to pursue his inquiries if at the end of them, instead of claiming her as his bride, he would lose her forever?

Once again the earl raised his glass to Jack. “I hereby turn over to you the privilege of caring for Belle. It comes with a warning, however.”

“And what would that be?”

“You know the story behind the girl Jane Parsons?” When Jack nodded, Egremont continued, “Belle maintained from the first that she was the victim of a conspiracy to traffic in young girls. She uncovered enough evidence to that effect that Lord Riverton felt justified in investigating further. The information we’ve gathered leads us to believe that a number of prominent, wealthy gentlemen are funding it—and Lord Rupert may be one of them. Certainly we have discovered that he is one of Mrs. Jarvis’s most regular customers.”

Jack’s instinctive dislike of the baron intensified. “I don’t find that hard to believe.”

“Given Belle’s involvement in bringing the affair to light—and Rupert’s designs on Belle, he will bear close watching. He’s recently left town, and I would not be at all surprised if he calls at Bellehaven.”

Rupert at Bellehaven? Jack spit out a curse.

“Exactly,” Egremont agreed. “I intended to go there myself, to check on her, but now, perhaps it would be better for you to do so.”

Jack cursed again. “I cannot leave until after my sister’s ball tonight.”

Egremont nodded. “I’m probably being overly cautious, but Rupert has wanted Belle for a long time and won’t be easily discouraged. I imagine she could use some help.”

Jack envisioned the baron’s face at the other end of his fists. “’Twould give me the greatest of pleasure.”

“I imagine it would. Well, with the festivities soon to begin, I shan’t take up any more of your time.” The earl stood and deposited his glass. “Good luck, Captain.”

“Thank you, Egremont,” Jack replied, offering the older man his hand. “For watching over her. And for relinquishing her now.”

Egremont gave his hand a firm shake. “If any man could, I believe you deserve her. God bless you both.”

Thoughtfully Jack walked him to the door. Whatever the earl’s failings in not doing all he could to help Belle earlier, he admired the man’s fortitude now. He could only imagine what it would be like to have to stand aside and let a more fortunate man claim Belle for his wife.

“If we are shunned by society, you may not wish to acknowledge us, but if you choose to visit, you will always be welcome. Belle has a great fondness for you.”

His eyes misting, Egremont nodded. “That is kind of you, Captain. Good evening.”

As the door closed behind Egremont, Jack strode back to his desk. He would make sure his paperwork was in order and pack a portmanteau. Then, as soon as he handed Dorrie over to James and led his mother out for the first dance, he would leave for Bellehaven.

T
HROUGH A THICK
, pain-filled mist, Belle struggled to wake, her head throbbing, the side of her throat on fire. Moaning, she tried to move and found her hands tethered.

Alarm evaporated some of the confusion induced by the pounding in her head. She tried to push herself upright and focus her thoughts.

She was in bed—her bed? In a night-dark room. But how had she come to have her hands tied?

Then with a jolt, the memories broke through.

Rupert.

Entering the parlor oh so casually, only to later overpower her, force a kiss on her, strike her.

What else had he forced after she lost consciousness?

Sickness and a rising fury in her gut, her mind groped past the pain to search out more subtle sensations. The bareness of her body, clad only in a shift. The sticky wetness between her legs.

“Ah, so you are awake at last,” observed a voice that made her instantly stiffen with distaste and dread. “Here,” Rupert said, approaching the bed with a cup in his hand, “drink this. ’Twill ease the ache in your head.”

She wanted to bat the cup away, until she realized she was desperately thirsty. Still, what if the liquid were drugged? Her whole being rallied around the conviction that, however and whenever the opportunity arose, she would escape him. And she must be ready.

“I don’t mean to drug you,” Rupert said, as if reading her thoughts. “Come now, don’t be stubborn. Take a sip.”

Her throat felt so raw, she could hardly force out a sound. “Why should I trust you?”

“Touché, my dear, though I assure you, I have no desire to render you comatose again. I do regret the rather over-vigorous blow to the head, but you so agitate me, I forget caution, sense, all. I could not even stop myself from enjoying you, though next time, I promise to wait until you wake.”

“Spare me the pleasure,” she spit back.

“Oh, I intend to spare neither of us that. But this little episode in the arms of Morpheus did prove useful.” With one finger, Rupert touched her neck, just above where the pain was most intense, and she couldn’t keep herself from flinching. “I was able to accomplish one important task without causing you further discomfort.”

He pulled his hand back, waving it so the candlelight glinted off his gold signet ring.

“You see it, the crested ‘R’? A judicious application of heated metal just below your delectable ear, my sweet, and I have made my mark on you—indelibly. ‘R’ for Rupert, sealed in your flesh for all time.”

Horror washed over her in a cold wave. Despite the pain in her head, she struggled at her bonds, desperate to break free, to verify or disprove his awful words.

“Don’t struggle so,” he advised. “You’ll see it soon enough. You must rest and regain your strength.”

Tears of rage and a growing despair leaked from the corners of her eyes. “Bastard,” she whispered.

“A drastic measure, to be sure, but I worried that Carrington might be besotted enough to forget what was due his name and offer you marriage. And though his fortune cannot compare to mine, wedlock might prove a powerful
inducement. Though we both know that you, my sweet, were born not for lawful union but to indulge a man’s secret, sinful pleasures. You are, quite bluntly, a whore—but you are
my
whore. Now that the whole world can see that at a glance, Carrington will have nothing more to do with you.”

His every word was like a stone sinking her heart into a bottomless ocean of despair. For it was true. Any approval Jack might have managed to coax from his family for a betrayed daughter of the gentry would be forfeit, were she truly branded with the mark of servitude to Rupert as clearly as the French branded the “V” for
voleur
onto the breasts of their thieves.

Overcome by a sense of violation too profound for tears, she closed her eyes.

Rupert made a soothing sound. “Do not fret, my dear, it will mar your beauty but a trifle. And I shall make it up to you. Bellingham’s gifts are nothing to what I will settle on you. Sumptuous gowns, the most brilliant and perfect of jewels, horses, coaches, houses in magnificent style. But you will not leave this chamber until you agree to belong to me and me only.”

As he delivered that speech, the embers of her anger stirred, lifting her spirit out of its torpor of hopelessness. After he’d struck her unconscious, burned her, rutted on her—he thought a few jewels and trinkets would make the matter right?