Miller, Raine - The Undoing of a Libertine (Siren Publishing Classic) (33 page)

Ned was nervous, fumbling with the retractable steps, before assisting her out of the coach. He looked up at the fashionable house sporting a red door and then back at her. “Madam, are you sure this is where I must take you? I don’t think
Mr. Greymont would approve—”

“Thank you, Ned. Your loyalty is noted.” She cut him off imperiously. “This is indeed where you must take me.”

Ned dipped his head in deference and asked, “Shall I escort you inside?”

She shook her head. “Please await me here and stay with Jane. I hope I’ll not be a long time.”

Lifting the ornate, swan-headed knocker, she gave it a good smack, thinking that red was an unusual color to paint a door. A thin man answered, she assumed the butler of the house. “We are closed for business this evening,” he informed her.

Closed for business? What kind of business did they do here? she wondered. It looked like a private residence to her. She blinked at him, standing her ground.

He raised a brow. Finally, he asked, “May I help you?”

“I have come to call upon Madame Blufette,” she said firmly, lifting her chin.

The man’s face changed into one of dismissal. “Madame is not receiving tonight. She has a previous engagement and will be going out shortly.”

Georgina felt frustration. “Please, I only need a few moments of her time.”

“Sorry. That will not be possible, Miss…err—”

“Greymont. Tell Madame Blufette that
Mrs.
Greymont came to call.” She felt the waver in her voice but held on to her composure, determined to keep to her goal. She was going to get to the bottom of the mystery somehow. The mystery of this Madame Blufette and why she wanted to meet with her husband! The butler’s eyes seemed to widen at the mention of her name, but then he bowed and shut the door in her face.

Georgina fumed as she went back to the coach. Ned leapt ahead to help her in, seemingly thrilled she was not getting inside that house.

“Are we on to Sir Rodney’s townhouse then?” Ned inquired hopefully.

“Not yet!” she snapped. “I want to wait here for a while.”

Ned went back up to the driver’s seat, and she glared out the window of the coach, keeping her eyes fixed on the glossy red door. Jane gave a weak smile, and Frisk crawled over to Georgina, putting his paw on her lap. Her hand went to his neck instinctively, her fingers drawing through the luxuriant fur over and over again as they waited.

A hired hackney pulled up to the front of the house, and then some ten minutes later, a woman in a dark cloak slowly descended the steps. She had a black velvet bag and a leather packet with her.

Georgina flew out of her coach and walked right up to the woman. “Are you Therese Blufette?”

The woman turned her head and lifted her eyes up to Georgina, who topped her by about six inches. “
Mon Dieu
!” she gasped, and then whispered something indistinct that sounded as if she said, “like Marguerite.”

“What’s that? And why are you sending letters to my husband and asking him to come to you?” Georgina demanded
of the older woman. Yes, Therese Blufette was much older than Georgina had assumed. She was probably late in her fourth decade and, although had the bearing and form of a considerable French beauty, did not look at all well. Her complexion was sallow, her brown eyes dull, her movements deliberate and stiff as if suffering from an affliction. The only colorful part of her was the deep red chestnut of her hair.

“Mrs. Greymont?” she asked gently.

“Yes.” Georgina braced herself, afraid to hear what this woman might tell her.

“I am an acquaintance of your husband’s, nothing more. I know him to be an honorable man, honest and loyal. And I offer my congratulations on your marriage, Mrs. Greymont. I wish you all the best of life. I hope you will be very happy together.”

The sincerity with which she spoke was disarming. Therese Blufette did not give the impression of a woman out to seduce her husband. “But why do you send this letter and ask him to come to you?” Georgina waved the letter in her hand.

Madame Blufette eyed her intently, her voice full off emotion. “I am trying to make things right—before it is too late.” She looked up at the sky and the position of the full moon, and then her awaiting hackney. “Mrs. Greymont, I have to be somewhere right now. It is imperative that I go immediately. Perhaps you can call tomorrow…” She trailed off and turned away.

Georgina watched the hack pull onto the street and snapped into action. She wanted answers now! Tomorrow was too long to wait. Shouting up to Ned, she knew she was not behaving as the lady she was brought up to be, but didn’t give a tinker’s damn right now. “Ned, follow that hack and don’t lose it, whatever you do!”

Chapter Thirty

To give and not to count the cost;

To fight and not to heed the wounds…

—St Ignatius Loyola, “Prayer for Generosity” (1548)

Anxious and tense, Jeremy watched through the window from across the street. Therese had just been admitted into the house only a minute before. He wanted this god-awful exchange over with and Strawnly on his way to the docks, just as he’d designed. Everything was in place, and he could taste victory in the back of his throat. Almost. He had to remain unseen for just a little while longer.

And then, like a curtain being drawn at a theater, the scene changed. To one of abject horror. His heart denied what his eyes were seeing. Something was wrong with his legs, too. He couldn’t move them fast enough to get to her. Wrenching out of the building, he burst onto the street, maddeningly mute, struggling to warn her before it was too late. Fate did not help him in this though. He was not quick enough. He got to the road just as his Gina, his precious Gina, was admitted into the same house Therese had just entered. The train of her blue cloak disappeared as the door shut behind her. Strawnly was behind that door.
Noooooooooo!

* * * *

A rather dour and unkempt servant admitted Georgina after she gave her name and demanded to see Madame Blufette. He mugged an irreverent sneer, shrugged, and told her to follow him. His attitude gave her some hesitation. What was she really doing here in a strange house, chasing after a woman she did not know? But it was too late now, she thought. She was already in, and trepidation or no, she was determined to get some answers.

Just before she stepped into the parlor, Georgina heard their voices. The name “Marguerite” was thrown out. Madame Blufette was conversing with a man. A man who sounded angry. A man owning a voice she had heard before. Her neck tightened as the hair stood up, like she was being stabbed by a needle straight through to the bone, and she knew paralyzing fear. Dear God, what had she done by coming here?

Her error was a grave one, she knew, but it was far too late to correct it, for her presence was made known by the manservant right then. “Mrs. Greymont,” he announced.

The one.
A man in a red coat, bearing evil eyes, snapped his neck in her direction and lost his speech, so shocked he was to see her in his house. She turned to run, but he caught her easily, his arms like a vise around her ribs, pulling her back into his body.

“What a surprise,” he panted, his mouth at her neck, and then one of his hands gripping fiercely around her throat. “Ohhhhh, I’ve missed you.” He shuddered, clearly undone at his good fortune in snaring her. She felt his erection pressing against her hip. He ground against her. “You smell just as I remember. Will you feel the same, too, I wonder…when I fuck you again?”

It was him! Just like before, only this time she had walked right in freely—a witless fly into his spider’s web.

Madame Therese protested to him from across the room. “Mr. Strawnly, let her go!”

“Shut up, cunt!” he snarled at Therese. “Don’t interrupt my reunion with my lover.”

“No! I’d rather die than be touched by you!” Georgina screamed, twisting in his grip. Her warrior instincts kicked in, and she fought him with every bit of her strength, but he held the advantage over her as he tightened his fingers around her throat and squeezed off her breath. No air to breathe. Her head felt like it was going to explode, and then the colors of the room started to dim to darkness. On the brink of unconsciousness, she stopped struggling, and he loosened his grip.

“That’s it,” he purred as she gulped in deep breaths. He slapped her face hard and then a second time. “Take some air, wildcat. I want you strong, for when we fuck.” His eyes widened in the euphoria of madness.

The slaps hurt and her throat ached, but nothing was as awful as the searing regret she knew for her folly.

“Right now, we’ve got to get gone, my special little whore. Later you can fight me. I want you to…then. God, it’s going to be good!” He pulled out a knife from somewhere and laid the blade up against her throat. “So you must behave yourself for me right now—”

A thunderous pounding at the door got everyone’s attention. “Ginaaaaaaaa! Strawnly, I know she’s in there with you! Let her go!”

Jeremy? That was Jeremy shouting on the other side of the door! Jeremy was here, too!
What in the hell?
“Jere—” Her scream was cut off by the filthy hand of her attacker, clamped tightly over her mouth, the knife pressing a bit harder into her skin with his other hand. Georgina’s thoughts leaped erratically, and she was nearly unable to comprehend her situation. Where she was, who she was with, what was being discussed. His name was Strawnly, apparently, and Jeremy
knew
him. How could this be even possible?

Strawnly yelled through the door. “Greymont, you’re not supposed to be here. You’re breaking the rules of our little agreement.”

“You have my wife in there!” Jeremy yelled back, his voice low and harsh.

“Ahhh, but she came to me.”

“Let her go, Strawnly. If she is harmed, you’ll hang, you know that!”

“Not if I get out of this hellhole of a country.” The negotiation stopped, both men seeming to weigh their options.

Jeremy spoke up, more calmly now. “Strawnly, no attempt will be made to stop your departure if you send her out, unharmed. There’s a hack here to take you wherever you want to go.”

“I don’t trust you, Greymont. How do I know you won’t have a gun on me, like you did to Uncle? No, here’s how it’s going to work. You step back, to the other side of the street. I’ll send my man out to spot you first. If you’re not far back, I will kill her. There’s a knife on her throat right now. You push me, I cut her!”

“I’m going back right now. Do not hurt her!” Jeremy returned through the door.

And then nothing, no sounds coming from the other side of the door at all.

Oh dear God, Jeremy, what have I done?

* * * *

Jeremy was in hell. Truly. Strawnly had Gina in his grip right now with a knife at her neck.
No, goddamnit!
Keep your wits, he told himself. Be strong, for her. Just get her to safety and worry about the rest later. Nothing else was of consequence in this world but Gina’s safe return.

A slight, weasel-faced man stepped out on the landing and made eye contact with him. Jeremy nodded and held his hands out to show he had no gun, and then pointed to the hack which was still parked in front. The man went back inside. He saw Luc emerge from the building they’d been hiding in. “Stay back, Luc. No telling what he’ll do to her if he sees you.” Luc nodded and slunk back into shadows.

The door opened, and Gina was pushed out first, Strawnly clenching her from behind and a glinting knife, indeed, stretched across her throat. Her eyes were wide with terror, bouncing about as she tried to find him in the moonlight.

“Gina,” he shouted, and her eyes found him and locked on, rolling back in their sockets with relief. He started toward her.