Chapter Ten
Rose Point Chateau
Nottingham, England
That same day
“Grom, get the Hell in here.”
“Yes, my lord,”
the lumbering giant of a man said in his usual guttural monotone.
“What do you mean you’ve spoken to everyone , and no one has any information on them? Liars, all of them! The first thing I’m going to do when I return from my wedding trip is raise the rent on all their properties. They’ll know I mean business when I ask for their help. Someone knows something !”
Vern Stiles bellowed.
“They know nothing. And I believed them,”
Grom countered.
“It’s my lord . I am Lord Percival Bowles. You address me as my lord . Do you understand?”
“My lord, they know nothing. And I found nothing to make me believe otherwise. If you take out your vengeance on the people in the village, your coffers will dry up,”
Grom said. “Then your ruse as Lord Bowles will dry up.”
“Nonsense! They are wastrels and have nowhere to go,”
Vern spewed. But he worried Grom may have a point.
“As you say, my lord,”
the hulking man said.
Suddenly, the room felt smaller, as if the walls were closing in on him. No one was doing as Vern said. He needed to show them he meant it, but first, he would find the girl. He had dreamed about that girl, and he would have her.
“We must find her. What did she take?”
Vern demanded. It couldn’t have been anything of value. He’d had everything he could find of value taken from her room.
“We’d searched the room before locking her in there, so she had nothing of value,”
Grom offered.
“Except her horse,”
Vern muttered. “And a resourceful young woman would have saved some coin.”
“Search every nook and cranny. Send a maid to her room to search and have them bring me whatever they find.
“You’ve questioned the cook’s helper and the stable helpers?”
“I have. They saw nothing.”
They had to have seen something. They’re just not talking,”
Vern groused.
“They aren’t loyal to no one, my lord. I offered them coin for answers, but they had nothing.”
“I see. And this coin you offered…where were you planning to get it?”
Grom stared at him with such intensity, it caused Vern to flinch.
“All right. You have a share of whatever we take. That was the agreement. You have nothing to worry about. I’m good for it,”
Vern said.
“I have everything to worry about. You’ve killed her ma, killed her cousin, and took his place, and now, you can’t be satisfied until you marry her—and I don’t see that happening easily, likely with witnesses. None of that was what we discussed,”
Grom said. “If you don’t leave well enough alone, we’re going to dangle at the end of a rope. Her father was one of them real lords…with hoity-toity people in high places.
Feeling a strange heat on his neck, Vern nodded. “Let me know if anyone finds anything.”
Vern returned to Bowles’ study…which was now his study …and stared. Where should I begin? He’d heard of secret hiding places in these studies. Perhaps the old viscount had installed one. Walking to the bookcase, he looked at the shelves at eye level and began pulling out books and tossing them to the floor. Nothing. He started on the shelf below it and repeated the process. Still nothing.
He could do this all day and not find a thing. Moving quickly to the large oak desk, he unlocked it and pulled out the center desk drawer. Seeing nothing, he flung it to the ground. Pulling out the large desk drawers one by one, he searched the contents. He paused at the drawer that contained his ‘stock’ of brandy. There were no plans to toss that onto the floor. Withdrawing an almost empty flask, he emptied it into his cup before pulling another fresh bottle from the wood cabinet near his desk and filling his glass. Her father had good taste in whisky. I’ll give him that, he muttered to himself.
The door opened, and ’rom entered.
He started to snap at the man, but remembered himself. Grom reminded him of their bargain, and while he planned to usurp the other man’s fortune, he needed him at this moment. Pasting a placid look on his face, he asked, “Did you have any luck?”
“No, my lord. Nothing. She left the dress she had worn before taking to her bed, and the maid commented you had ordered her armoire cleaned out before you locked her in the room. I’m not sure what she could be wearing.”
“I’m sure you want to know what I’m doing. I’m trying to find something…anything at all that will tell us where she went…or where the cook and her husband went. If we find one, we will most likely find the other,”
Vern said.
“Have you checked under the desk?”
Grom asked, pointing.
“Of course, I…”
Vern stopped. “No.” He leaned down and crawled under, moving the drawers back and forth. “There is a panel behind this drawer. It’s a false back.” He slid the drawer out and pulled out the panel. A pile of neatly arranged papers spilled out. Vern snatched them up and threw them on the top of his desk. “Don’t just stand there…start looking with me.”
Grom moved to the desk, and the two men scoured the papers. At last, Vern pushed back and shook a folded document in his hand. “I think this could be it.”
Spreading the document out on his desk, he read it, mumbling as he went along. “ “Aha! It’s that betrothal document her mother mentioned. Better than that…it gives the London address for the betrothed! Pack your bags. We leave in an hour, and we have a lot to do.”
“Yes, my lord,”
Grom said, as he took his leave.
Vern remembered Selena’s mother mentioning the lord’s name, but he had been enjoying his brandy at dinner that night and didn’t ask to see proof when she mentioned it. With her mother out of the way, he had forgotten all about the betrothal.
Vern laughed maniacally and waved the papers in the air. Her crafty mother had withheld information about her very rich inheritance. Names are one thing, but it wouldn’t have mattered how much alcohol he consumed, he would never have forgotten that juicy tidbit of information. He tapped the betrothal document in the palm of his other hand. With the information this record provided, he could set himself up comfortably.
I will find the girl . Surely, she would have sought refuge with this man’s family, as there was no other family he knew of to help her. He would find out where that bastard lived, and he would put an end to the pesky problem. Now that he knew who her intended was, it should be easy to find her. And when he did, he planned to ensure the interloper posed no further threat. Once that was taken care of, they would take a trip to Gretna Green. After that, he would claim a dowry—well, almost legitimately — and any other money she had coming, including the sale of all unentailed possessions.
But first, he would enjoy her company and all she offered. After obtaining all the money, Vern planned to leave for Spain. There was a certain barmaid there that he missed.
Bellwood Estate
Derbyshire, England
“Call Doctor Baker now,”
Gerald ordered, rushing upstairs, holding Selena, followed by Dutch and Connery. What had happened to Selena? It seemed much more than fainting. She had clearly been in pain—her head—before dropping into a dead faint .
“Right away, my lord,”
Wells said from behind him.
“Have Anna and Mrs. Evans meet us upstairs,”
Gerald said, taking the stairs two at a time to reach the parlor.
He pushed open the door and laid her on the settee. Grabbing a chair, he pulled it next to the bed. She was so still. He leaned over her face to feel her breath. Thank God!
Mrs. Evans and Anna rushed in behind him.
“What happened, my lord?”
Mrs. Evans asked, pulling a small vial from her pocket.
He struggled to push the lump from his throat. What if I’ve lost her…just when I found her? “I’m not sure. She gripped her head, as if it pained her tremendously, screamed, and then…fainted.”
The housekeeper uncorked a small vial. Gently lifting Selena’s head, she waved the vial of smelling salts beneath her nose. “Their smelling salts, my lord. Come on, child. Wake up.”
As Selena stirred, her hands thrashed above her, until Mrs. Evans gently took them and held them in hers. “Selena…darl’n girl…wake up.”
Selena opened her eyes. Her face was ashen. Trembling, she looked at Mrs. Evans and then over at Gerald. Her eyes filled with tears, and she began to sob. “He killed her. He killed my mother,”
she wept. “My mother is gone…and he wouldn’t let me see her. He poisoned her. I know he did.”
Gerald pulled her up into his arms and held her against his chest. “Who…who killed her, Selena?”
he whispered.
“Percival…my cousin Percival killed her. He’s a m…monster,”
she hiccupped.
“No, he didn’t,”
a woman’s voice said from the entrance to the parlor.