Only Scandal Will Do (37 page)

Winded but smiling at his performance, Manning at last relinquished his weapon to the master, Angelo himself.

“You progress well, Signore Manning,” Angelo said. “If you return often enough, you will indeed become a superior swordsman.” The slight, wiry Italian master’s praise was hard to come by, Duncan knew from experience. For the first time he wondered if he would have been able to win Katarina had he fought her brother instead.

Manning nodded his thanks, then turned and stopped dead at the sight of him. A great smile spread across his face. He strode forward and clasped his hand. “Dalbury! What the devil are you doing in town?” Then a look of fear washed over him and he tightened his grip. “My sister, where is she?”

Duncan unclasped his hand and stepped back, assessing Jack coolly. “I came to ask you the very same question, Manning.”

“Where Kat is?” His eyes widened in alarm. “Don’t you know?”

“No, imbecile, where is
my
sister?”

“’Struth, Dalbury, why would I know where Juliet was? I’ve been at the Braeton’s house party this past month. I haven’t seen her since you sailed.” Apprehension increased in his voice. “Now, what have you done with Katarina? Where is she?”

“Peace, Manning. She is sleeping at Dunham House, perfectly fine.” He couldn’t resist adding, “Sleeping alone for the first time in over a month.”

Jack’s mouth formed a silent
O
.

Unabashed, Duncan grinned. “We have finally come to an accord.”

Face suffused with red, Manning tugged him to a more secluded area of the club and forced him to recount the entire story. At the end, the earl leaned his head back against a wall, eyes closed. “She told me you were crossing the Channel and heading to Italy overland. I ought to beat the wench.”

“Funny, I said the same thing when she told me about her tendency to seasickness. After the fact. Perhaps we should take turns. Or alternate days?” Manning’s perplexed expression darkened, but Duncan met his brother-in-law’s eyes and clamped a hand on his shoulder. “I must confess I am much happier with the way things stand. And I can assure you, your sister is happier now as well. We have been blissfully content these seven weeks and would be, still, were it not for Juliet.”

He swiftly related everything he had learned regarding Juliet’s disappearance. Manning shook his head in puzzlement. “Why would she call another man by my name? I swear, Dalbury, I left for Braeton’s the day you sailed. I went there alone, though I ended up much in the company of a Miss Forsythe. I think the Braetons were a fair ways toward matchmaking us. You can check with them if you wish, but they will tell you the same thing.”

“I did not really believe you had run off with Juliet, Manning. But if she is not with you, where is she? No one has seen her in almost seven weeks.” Christ. Now he was even more desperate. Where in hell was she?

“We will go back to your house and send to Bow Street,” Manning said. “Reginald Matthews will get to the bottom of this if anyone can. He was called in when Katarina was...” He trailed off, and turned a stricken look on him. “Do you think she was taken, as Kat was?”

Duncan shook his head. “Not if she went willingly. No, there is something else going on here. Something to do with St. Cyr, I’ll be bound.”

“Come on, then. Matthews is your man for this job.”

The sun was low in the sky half an hour later when he arrived at Dunham Place with Manning. The mansion, strangely, was deserted. No one appeared outside the front door to take their horses, so they rode around to the stable, where chaos had broken out. Grayson stood on the lawn, wringing his hands. Two of his grooms and a stable boy were sitting about on the grass, rubbing their heads, blinking as cook dished up hot tea for all. In the middle of the manicured lawn, barking orders and making meticulous notes, stood Reginald Matthews.

“Matthews!” Duncan shouted. “Praise God, we were just going to send to you. But what has happened here? Why are my grooms sitting about?”

Matthews looked at him dispassionately, his mouth a firm line.

Duncan’s stomach sank into the tips of his riding boots. “You have found her? Is she alive?” Wincing, he braced for the worst news about his sister.

Matthews stared at him with a look of amazement. “My lord, I have not yet begun to search for her. But you knew she was gone?” he asked sharply.

“Since we arrived home this afternoon. We thought she might have gone with Manning, but that is not the case.” He pointed at the still groaning men, impatience making it difficult to keep from raising his voice. “But what do the grooms have to do with Lady Juliet’s disappearance?”

For once, Reginald Matthews seemed at a complete loss for words. Then, “My lord,” he said gently, “it is not your sister I have come to find, but your wife. The servants discovered the grooms unconscious and the carriage missing. Her maid had the presence of mind to check on Lady Dalbury late this afternoon, found her gone, and sent for me.”

During most of this speech Duncan breathed carefully, trying to keep at bay the awful blackness that encroached on the corners of his vision. Falling unconscious would serve no purpose, though it was preferable to admitting Katarina was missing. He turned to Manning, whose grim expression surely mirrored his own. Before he could even think to frame a question, another Bow Street agent came puffing up, paper in hand.

Matthews seized it, read it, thrust it into Duncan’s hands and issued a curt, “Come on!”

Blindly following before he had time to read the note, Duncan vaulted onto Saxon and followed the Runner, now also mounted. “What does it say?” he called to Matthews.

“Amorina Vestry says your wife is being held again at the House of Pleasure and if I want to see her alive, I must stop her bodyguards from dispatching her at nine o’clock tonight.”

“The devil, you say!”

“There is more,” Matthews shouted above the clatter of hooves, “but I believe it wise if we wait until we arrive at Madam Vestry’s and make our plans more carefully.”

“Only if they include me skewering whoever sought to lay hands on my wife again.”

Though he’d spoken in a quiet tone, Matthews must have heard him, for he replied with as much menace, “That, I believe, can be arranged, my lord.”

Chapter 34

The two men were still stationed beside the door and stocky Tommy Redmond paced from window to window. The sun had set, and with the encroaching darkness, panic settled on Kat like a suffocating mantle. Shortly, they would kill her and leave her lifeless body for Duncan to discover. The devastation this would cause her husband made her stiffen her resolve not to let the bastard get away with his reprehensible scheme. What could she do to forestall him? Distract him? Gain more time for her rescue?

As Redmond wandered about the room, she gauged the depth of his thinly veneered composure. By taunting him, she had broken through that self-possession twice. Perhaps a third time would be the charm. She studied the tall, solid man before her, assessing him as she would a fencing opponent, and biting her lip, summoned her courage.

“If I didn’t know better, Mr. Redmond,” she began, making her tone deeply sarcastic, “I would swear you are afraid of me.”

He stopped and stared at her with frank astonishment. “Afraid of a woman, my lady? Why would I fear you?”

“I have no idea. Yet you still have me trussed up like a chicken, bound hands and feet. Even with your bodyguards in attendance you are not comfortable unless I am rendered completely helpless. I suppose I should be flattered to be thought so dangerous an opponent.” Kat laughed softly.

“I merely wish to make sure you have no chance to escape, Lady Dalbury.”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “And if I had use of my arms and legs there would be a danger of that?” Kat shook her head. “Perhaps if I had a sword in my hand I would agree with you, but one against three with no weapon? You truly flatter me, sir.”

Will sniggered over by the wall. When Redmond snapped a look at him, the sound cut off. “Bait me at your peril, Lady Dalbury.” His gaze returned to her face. “It matters not to me how you die. I could have you beaten to death, and in the darkness, Duncan would not be able to tell from across the pond.”

“I suppose it is easier to beat a woman who is defenseless, especially when there are three of you,” she mused, though chills raced down her spine at his words. “You must be afraid of a fair fight.” She stared scornfully into Redmond’s eyes. “Did Duncan tell you of my skill with a sword, then? Of course, you could have witnessed it first hand at the duel, had you not been dead drunk at the time.”

Though she had anticipated his backhanded slap and braced herself, it smarted worse than the earlier one. She returned her stare to his face, now mere inches from hers. “As I said, it is easier to fight when one’s opponent cannot fight back.”

Redmond laughed then, and her heart sank. But then he replied, “You would fight me wouldn’t you, little hellion? And with a sword. Even though Duncan made short work of you, so I was told. You think I am less skilled than he?”

“I never underestimate my opponents, Mr. Redmond. Do you?”

Gaze not wavering from hers, he snapped his fingers. “Release her hands and feet, Jameson. Crawley, guard her with your sword drawn.” As the blade rang free, steel hissed on steel.

Redmond bored into her with his stare. All she could see were black pupils bordered by a sliver of blue. “You wish to fence with me, Lady Dalbury? You wish a memento of my blade to take to your grave? I will oblige you. We still have some time to kill.” He lingered on the final word. “The third floor attic is unused and will accommodate us nicely. Your cries will scarcely be heard when I cut your face. A just revenge, don’t you think, for your scarring of Duncan? A cheek for a cheek, as it were?”

As her arms were released, pain screamed through the muscles and she stifled a groan. Her shoulders hurt horribly from the unnatural position they had occupied for the last several hours. She shrugged, trying to loosen them up. To make a good showing with a sword, she would need all her faculties to be in top form. She stood, acting more unsteady on her feet than she actually felt. If her opponent’s confidence was boosted under false pretenses, then so much the better for her.

Redmond led the way out of the office, Kat right behind him and Nigel behind her, his sword pressed uncomfortably into her back. They wound up flights of shadowy back stairs, music, laughter, grunts and moans emanating from closed doors on the first and second floors. She had hoped to fix her mind on the coming fight, but the embarrassing sounds of a working brothel intruded on her senses. By the time they arrived on the third floor, she was grateful for the relative quiet of the attic. Her cheeks cooled a trifle. But this was no time for modesty; she was about to be scandalous herself.

Her captor led her into a large chamber, where many wooden crates and several trunks lined the walls. The center of the room, however, was completely clear, if a little dusty. All three men carried candles or candelabra so there would certainly be enough light if they were placed on either side of the fencing area.

Kat bit her lip and untied the strings that fastened the petticoat of her riding habit. The garment slid to the floor. She stepped out of it, kicked it to the side of the room. The velvet jacket, she would retain, both for support and protection. It was only slightly more restrictive than her fencing jacket. She glanced up, to find all three men agog at her.

“You truly did not believe that I would fence in a skirt, did you, Mr. Redmond?” She smiled at the man’s sudden discomfiture. Nigel and Will were all but drooling, but she dismissed them from her mind.
Focus on the major threat only
. She stood, looking expectantly at her opponent.

“I will need a blade,” she reminded him.

He continued to stare at her stocking-clad legs, which were quite visible from the bottom of her chemise, just below her knees, to the tops of her brown buskins. Redmond, now clad only in shirt and breeches, gulped comically and gestured at Nigel. “Give her your sword, Crawley.”

Nigel’s immediate scowl clearly indicated his dislike of the idea. With reluctance, he handed the gleaming rapier to her. “Don’t be gettin’ it dirty, now.”

“Then pray Mr. Redmond is not a heavy bleeder.”

Nigel laughed at her bravado then returned to his place beside the doorway, still chuckling and shaking his head. Armed as well, Will had his sword drawn in case she decided to bolt.

Katarina had no such thoughts. Instead, she tested the balance of the blade, becoming familiar with the feel of it in her hand. She tried to limber up her stiff legs and arms with a few mild lunges. At least the blade itself was of good quality, well kept, and comfortable in her hand. She needed all the advantages she could get, and thrust the sword through her chemise, cutting down the front from mid-thigh to the hem, doubling her mobility.

She paid no mind to the men’s startled gasps, until she glanced over at Redmond. His gaze flicked over her exposed legs. When he wet his lips with his tongue, her composure slipped a notch. The last thing she wished to do was encourage his attentions on a more personal level.

Redmond eyes grew hard in the uncertain candlelight. “Shall we have at it, my lady?” His bow mocked her in its overblown courtesy.