A Duke By Any Other Name

Chapter Five

V enus kicked the horrid man. She screamed. She even cried. But nothing she did could persuade him to return her to Bexley Park. The brute’s servant, already inside the coach, held her down whilst Mr. Shuttlebotham tied her hands together. Behind her back. Her abductor also threatened to bind her mouth whenever they reached a populated area.

The servant exited the coach and got back upon the box, leaving her alone with her captor. She stopped screaming. Instead, she wanted to dialogue with Mr. Shuttlebotham. “How can you do this to me? You know I’m not in love with you.”

“It’s Beresford, isn’t it? Your Adonis.”

She glared at the vile man. It wasn’t his unsatisfactory appearance of portly physique, pock-marked face, and unruly red hair that accounted for her dislike of this man. Prior to this, she was merely disinterested in him. But now his arrogant, criminal actions were what gripped her with hatred. This awful man was stealing away her happiness.

Then it occurred to her—he had to be the wicked person who had sabotaged James Beresford. “You! You’re the one who wrought all that destruction at Tilford’s stables.” She took no pleasure in being correct about her assertion that jealousy had prompted the mischief.

He did not deny his guilt. “I don’t know why you’re attracted to him. He’s not even in the petticoat line.”

Not true. A man who disliked women did not kiss as Adonis had kissed her. Just thinking about the kiss made her long to see Adonis but renewed her sense of hopelessness. “Please, I beg you, please take me home.”

What a pity it wasn’t snowing today. They had already gone several miles, something they would not have been able to do were it snowing.

“Once we’re married, you’ll be my property.”

Her stomach flipped. “I will never be yours. I will always be in love with James Beresford. My Adonis.”

His eyes narrowed. “Your Adonis won’t want a woman who’s spoiled goods.”

At first, she did not understand. She was thinking of spoiled as being indulged, not ruined. When she realized just how this man planned to spoil her, her insides collapsed. Her pulse rocketed from revulsion. Tears began to gush in earnest.

She had been so close to capturing the affections of Adonis. Even his sister had admitted his fondness for her. Venus had been on the cusp of uniting with the only man she could ever love.

And now, she thought with another surge of nausea, all was lost. She would never become Mrs. James Beresford. She would, instead, be forced to lie with this horrid man.

If she accepted her defeat.

But Venus Jones could neither accept nor permit defeat. She must find a way to escape this terrible man. It would be nearly impossible since her hands were bound, and when they got around people, she would be gagged.

Her thoughts moved to Scotland. To Gretna Green. How long would it take to get there? What if the snows returned—which there was a good likelihood they would do? If the roads became impassable, they would be forced to stay at one or more posting inns along the way. The very thought of that sent her stomach plummeting. Would this evil man try to force himself on her?

She must pray for snow. Her best chance of escape would be before they reached Scotland, before he could use whatever methods he was planning to secure her hand in marriage. She knew once she was wed, in the eyes of the law, she would be considered this man’s property.

If they had to stop at an inn, that would give her the opportunity to try to enlist someone to help her escape. But how?

She would have to remove the sash from her mouth and holler as loud as possible. Perhaps she could speak with someone who could help her.

Escape from this man was as unlikely as the prospect of a heat wave in February, but hoping for it was all she had.

*

James Beresford’s life had run so smoothly. His existence was uncomplicated; his routine unvarying. And he liked it that way. Then that beautiful little minx had complicated everything. Added to that was this unprecedented assault on his stable and its animals. It seemed as if his whole world had gone topsy-turvy. And he didn’t like that.

He had visited Reginald Woodson this morning in an attempt to gauge any hostilities this man might harbor for him, but Woodson had been exceedingly amiable. He simply could not be the one responsible for what had occurred at James’s stables.

A rapid pounding of horses interrupted his reverie. What the devil? He raced to the window in time to see Emily throw open her own coach door and race to the house. A duchess never opened her own carriage door. Something was most definitely amiss. And where was Miss Jones? Wasn’t Emily supposed to bring her back to Tilford?

James met her at the door.

“James! You’ve got to come! That wretched Mr. Shuttlebotham has kidnaped Miss Jones and means to run off to Gretna Green and force her to marry him!”

Had an axe severed his fingers, James could not have felt worse pain than he did at this moment. He pictured Venus’s pretty face, her fairness, her slight frame, and he physically ached to hold her, to take her away from that vile Donald Shuttlebotham. Murderous thoughts stacked one on top of the other in his crowded brain. If he got his hands on that fellow, he would happily deprive him of life.

“How long ago?” he asked.

“Just as we were leaving Bexley Park.”

Bexley was at least a twenty-minute ride from Tilford. That meant the no-good blackguard had at least a half-hour start. They would have to be in a coach because of the icy weather. He calculated that, given Shuttlebotham’s wealth, it would be a coach and four, which could go at a pretty fast pace.

There was a good chance James’s Sultana was fleet enough to catch them. If he started now.

“How many men with him?”

Emily nervously bit at her mouth. “I only saw a single coachman, but I’m not sure if anyone was inside the carriage.”

At least the fellow wasn’t bringing an army with him. James ought to be able to deal with two fellows—if he could reach them in time. They would need to arm themselves.

It was several minutes before he could start on the journey. He wasn’t dressed for the elements, and Sultana had to be saddled. He would instruct his coachman to follow him in the Beresford coach. Hopefully, the coach would be needed to bring Venus home.

His gut plunged. He hoped to God he got to her in time.