Chapter Thirty
Anastasia held the parcel tightly in one hand, feeling a sense of relief at having it back in her possession. It was only one of the pieces she’d sold, of course, but it was the one that Laurence had mentioned—and knowing she would not have to lie about its whereabouts lightened her heavy heart.
She hurried back to where she had left the carriage and her maid, wondering what the young woman thought of all these mysterious trips. Perhaps she thought that Anastasia was having an affair with another man—even though nothing could be further from the truth.
Anastasia wanted no one but Laurence. She only hoped that one day he might feel the same.
She didn’t look around as she turned the corner, her mind on getting home, and whether Laurence would be there, and what they might talk about over supper.
When a hand reached out and pulled her roughly into an alleyway, it took her a moment to react—and by the time she had opened her mouth to scream, a wad of fabric had already been shoved into it, rendering her silent.
Panic tore through her body, making it hard to breathe, making it hard to think.
She tried to get a look at who had seized her from the street, but she was marched roughly forward, her attacker remaining behind, hastening her movements with a hard shove between her shoulder blades whenever she slowed down.
She considered running, but he—and she knew it was a man, even without being able to see him, because of the size of the hand that gripped her, and the presence looming above her—had such a tight hold on her shoulder that she did not think she could get away.
And if she could, where would she run? She had no idea what was at the end of this alley.
Perhaps he had accomplices, henchmen. Was he a footpad, wanting to take her jewels? He could have them…
Except…she had worked so hard to get back the necklace.
How heartbreaking it would be to see it taken by some thief.
She supposed then she would have a legitimate reason to tell Laurence why she did not wear it.
Although then she would have to lie about where it had been stolen, for there was no good reason she could give for being in this part of town.
She hated the web of lies she seemed to have ensnared herself in.
What if he wasn’t merely a footpad? What if jewels alone would not make him leave? That was a thought too horrible to contemplate. She knew there were evil men in the world…she had always just hoped they would never want anything to do with her.
She tried to protest as she was bundled into a coach waiting at the end of the alleyway, but her muffled words only earned her a kick in the ankles.
The carriage was empty, but her attacker followed her inside, slamming the door, hitting his cane on the roof to tell the driver to go, and then sitting opposite her.
And then she saw his identity.
And her blood ran cold.
Instinctively, a hand flew to her stomach to protect the life that she was sure was growing inside—her baby, Laurence’s baby. Because this was an evil man, and she did not think it was her jewels that he wanted.
He smiled slowly, and then put his hand upon her knee. It took everything in her not to kick him off, but she did not think that angering him was the right decision. She just needed to get away from him, as soon as possible. Surely Laurence would notice she was missing soon, would try to find her…
A voice in the back of her head told her that Laurence would not notice that she was gone until he sat down at supper and she was not there. And that moment was probably still hours away.
And a lot could happen in the space of hours.
“Now, if I remove the gag, do you promise not to scream?”
As much as it sickened her to do so, she nodded. She was struggling to breathe, with the panic and the cloth filling her mouth, and it would be a blessed relief for it to be removed.
He reached forward and pulled the fabric from her mouth.
“Lord Brett,” Anastasia said after several tries, her mouth so dry it was hard to speak. “You must let me go at once.”
Baron Brett laughed, and the sound rang in her ears and made her want to scream.
But she had promised not to.
“I certainly do not need to let you go. And, I’m afraid, I will not be.”
Anastasia tried to remain calm and told herself that angering him would only make things worse.
“I do not understand. What—what do you want with me?”
He chuckled.
“I think you know exactly what I want with you,” he said with a lascivious grin that made her want to vomit. “And you should have been mine. You were the payment that your brother owed—that he still owes. And I’m tired of waiting.”
Anastasia shook her head, and when she spoke, her voice was higher than she had ever heard it before.
“No, no, my brother had the money. He must have—”
He squeezed her knee, and she gritted her teeth.
“No. Your brother has paid me nothing, and I do not believe he will. He has made many false promises—and now he must pay.”
“But—but—it would not be him paying, but me. I do not belong to him. I am married, Laurence will—”
Lord Brett sneered.
“Laurence Walsham is nothing but a womanizing cad. He will not rescue you, and he certainly will not wish to be married to you once you are ruined.”
The word ruined sent her blood cold. He couldn’t do that to her. Laurence would save her, wouldn’t he?
“You didn’t want to marry me because you thought Laurence ruined me, so I do not see why I am worth anything to you now.”
Brett sneered at her. “I certainly don’t want a wife who is ruined. If Laurence was foolish enough to end up leg-shackled against his will, then that’s his problem. But that does not mean I cannot take you as payment against your brother’s debts.”
Anger and fear warred within Anastasia. “I am not a commodity that can be used to settle debts,” she said, more hotly than was probably advised.
To this, he smirked. “But my dear, you are. Perhaps your brother will pay to have you returned, perhaps Laurence will. Or perhaps I will simply regain the money I have lost in other ways…”
He looked her up and down, and she wanted to be sick.
The coach stopped outside an inn, one which was run-down and in a part of town Anastasia had never been.
“The staff here know not to cross me,” Brett said, giving her a warning look. “They will not help you. But I would advise against making a scene—you will only make things worse for yourself.”
His voice was cold and menacing and sent a shiver down her spine.
“Laurence will come for me, and you will be sorry,” she could not help but say.
But he only laughed. “Laurence married you out of a sense of duty. I’m not sure why you think, now that you’re gone, he won’t just return to one of his mistresses. He has many, as I’m sure you are aware. He does not need you.”
Anastasia shook her head violently. “I will not listen—”
“You do not have to listen to know that it is the truth. Why, only the other day at the Joneses’ ball, I saw him closeted away with Lady Frindley.
I spoke to her that evening, and she told me all about their long-standing relationship.
Why, she seemed awfully enamored with that green waistcoat he was wearing to the ball, and indeed, they left together… ”
Anastasia gritted her teeth to stop herself from responding.
She did not want to imagine Laurence with another woman, but Brett painted a vivid picture—and she could imagine the very outfit, for she had seen him leaving in it for the ball that she had not attended, the one he had insisted he didn’t really wish to go to.
Had she simply been hoodwinked all this time?
Lady Frindley… She had heard that name before, too. Oliver had named her as one of Laurence’s mistresses, and here was Brett, naming her again.
Despair washed over her. He would never love her like she loved him. Would never want only her… And now Baron Brett was going to do things to her, ruin her, make her unworthy in the eyes of society and her husband.
She wanted to cry but did not think it would help. And as Baron Brett pushed her roughly from the carriage, she had only one thought: she had to protect the baby.
Perhaps Laurence did not love her, perhaps her life was ruined—but none of that was this child’s fault.