Chapter Nine
After a few days of marriage, the day arrived when Amelia had invited Lady Sarah to tea.
Although her sister Victoria had offered to have her husband, the Duke of Worthingstone, handle the matter, Amelia felt responsible for the situation.
Today, she intended to put the matter to rest, once and for all.
It was time to confront the woman about her blackmail note.
When Lady Sarah entered the sitting room, the woman looked as if she hadn’t slept in days. Her hair was pulled back in a knot, and a strand hung limply against her face. Her gown was the faded color of smoke, and in spite of herself, Amelia pitied the woman.
Even so, she had to put an end to this.
“The Duke of Worthingstone has enough evidence against you to have you arrested for blackmail,” she informed Lady Sarah. “If you continue these demands, it will end badly for you.”
The young woman had gone deathly white, but she met Amelia’s gaze squarely. “I need help, Lady Castledon. I don’t truly wish to harm your family, but I will do what I must. I cannot be anywhere near my cousin.” She gripped her arms and stared down at her lap.
“If I arrange to help you disappear, will you let this matter go?” Amelia asked.
“I cannot arrange a house and servants, but I can give you a small pension. It would only be enough for you to travel far away and to begin a new life. If you demand anything further, His Grace will have you brought up on charges.” She leaned forward, adding, “I convinced them to wait until after I’d spoken with you. ”
Lady Sarah let out a slow breath. “This isn’t the sort of woman I am, you know. I never thought that my life would end up like this.” Her brown eyes filled up with unshed tears. “Brandon always said that no man would ever want me as a wife. I suppose he was right.”
A pang caught Amelia in her stomach, but she could give the woman no reassurance.
“Help me to leave, and you’ll never see me again,” Lady Sarah promised.
Amelia passed over the small parcel containing banknotes and a few inexpensive jewels the woman could sell.
Although it was a grave risk, giving in to Lady Sarah’s demands, she wanted to believe that the woman was telling the truth.
“All of this ends, right now. You cannot ask for anything more. If you break this promise, not only will you be arrested for blackmail, but I shall tell them that you stole those jewels from me.”
“I won’t,” Lady Sarah promised, accepting the parcel. Her lips trembled, and she whispered, “Thank you, Lady Castledon.”
Brandon Carlisle, the Earl of Strathland, kept his eyes closed, trying to recognize the woman’s voice. She was speaking to him, pleading for something. He knew the woman somehow. Knew her name, even. She was familiar, and her words reached down past the forgotten years.
“I know you can’t understand my words,” she said quietly, “but I came to say good-bye. I’ll be leaving England, and I won’t return.”
Sarah. That was it—his sister, Sarah.
“Our cousin Lewis has claimed Strathland and our other estates,” she said. “The courts are going to rule in his favor, since you’ve been here for so long.”
Her words were hardly more than gibberish, but Brandon grasped one word: claimed.
Someone had taken what belonged to him. A shattering pain throbbed inside his skull, the memories crashing and tumbling in a mass of broken visions. He didn’t know what was real and what was false anymore.
His prison was formed of gray walls, with bars upon the single window. It couldn’t have been very long that he’d been here. He didn’t remember much except a breakfast that was hardly fit for rats.
Last night, he’d begged them to let him leave. Instead, they’d strapped him down, preventing him from moving or calling out to anyone. Even the taste of water was bitterly laced with laudanum to keep him motionless and silent.
“How long?” His voice was barely audible, and his throat ached with the effort of making sound. How long have I been trapped here?
His sister’s mouth opened in shock. “Y-you understood what I said?”
He gave a nod, though it wasn’t true. She was speaking too fast, the words spilling on top of one another. But in her voice, he caught the fear. From her faded gown and how thin she was, he guessed that Sarah had endured poverty in the past few weeks.
The headache was returning, the immense pressure building inside his skull. But he had to hold fast to sanity, before everything slipped away.
“How long?” he repeated again.
“Four years,” she answered. “It’s been four years since you’ve spoken.”
No. That wasn’t possible. “I’ve only been here a few days, Sarah. Don’t be ridiculous.”
But she was shaking her head. “No. No, it’s been a very long time. I thought you’d never get well.” Tears were streaming down her face. “Thank God. I’m so glad.”
Each word was an excruciating effort, but he managed to form the right sentence. “I need to leave this place.”
“Yes, yes, of course you do.” She wiped at her cheeks with a handkerchief, beaming at him. “I’ll start making the arrangements.” Touching a hand to her heart, she added, “They will give you a series of tests, Brandon. You must pass them. Promise me that you’ll think carefully before you answer.”
He lowered his head, trying to keep his thoughts centered. “Let me rest first. I need to sleep.”
Sarah remained silent, and he forced himself to look at her. She appeared as if she wanted to argue with him. “Are you going to be all right?”
He inclined his head once. The cloud of pain and confusion threatened to lower over him, but he gritted out one last promise. “I won’t let this go, Sarah. What was done to me.”
“Hush,” she soothed, reaching for his hand. “It’s been years now. I’ll see to it that you return home to Strathland. The servants will look after you when I’m gone.”
Gone? He frowned, uncertain where she believed she was going. “Where?” he managed.
A faint flush colored her cheeks. “I haven’t decided yet. But it will be far away from Lewis Barnabas—that I can tell you. Perhaps the colonies, if I can arrange passage upon a ship.”
Her words were meaningless to him, and he dismissed them as not having any importance.
He stared down at his chained hands, and the anger within him surged.
He’d been trapped in this place because of Lord and Lady Lanfordshire and their four daughters.
Because of Juliette and that Highland rebel, Paul Fraser.
Then there was Cain Sinclair, the Highlander who had left him for dead in the middle of nowhere. Brandon’s mouth grew dry at the memory of the intense hunger and thirst.
The madness lingered, threatening to drag him down. He’d lost sight of reason and had entered a living death during these past few years.
No longer.
“I will have my own vengeance,” he swore. “Even if I have to slit their throats while they sleep.”
She paled at that. “No, you can’t. Truly, Brandon, if you tell anyone about this, they’ll never let you out.”
His headache was vicious now, and he closed his eyes against the pain. “I want them dead. All of them.” Not only the women who had refused to wed him, but also Paul Fraser and Cain Sinclair, who had left him for dead. Because of them, he’d been locked away in this asylum.
“Brandon, promise me you won’t do anything rash,” Sarah urged, but in her voice, he heard the fear.
He smiled at that. For she ought to be afraid.
TWO WEEKS LATER
“How are you?” Victoria asked. “Have you settled in to your married life?” Her sister sent a warm smile, but Amelia found it difficult to return it. She was trying hard not to think of Margaret and Mr. Sinclair, who were still missing.
“I’m well enough,” she managed to say with false brightness. The truth was, the earl had buried himself in work. He’d hardly spoken to her in the past few weeks, and it seemed that he was doing everything in his power to avoid her. Not once had he shared her bed since their wedding night.
It made little sense. He had given her a precious gift, and the feeling of being joined together was wonderful. His touch had awakened a part of her that she’d never known existed. Now she understood the secret smiles Juliette and Victoria had shared when they had spoken about their husbands.
But she didn’t know if David had enjoyed their night. Although he had found his own release, he’d asked her to leave. She’d felt so vulnerable, wondering if she’d done something to displease him. And since that night, he’d all but abandoned her.
He certainly wasn’t aware that she’d moved her belongings into a small bedroom, two doors down from his.
Amelia wasn’t foolish enough to take his wife’s former bedchamber—that would have been too much.
But neither did she want him placing her in the servants’ quarters.
She knew that he was attempting to distance himself from her, but she would no longer retreat.
Now she was left to wonder what she should do next.
In the morning, they were leaving for Castledon, his estate near Yorkshire, to meet his daughter.
The very thought made Amelia’s courage falter.
She knew nothing about children and was uncertain of this role.
While she was capable of training the girl in proper etiquette, everything about her marriage had turned out wrong, thus far.
It was impossible to win the heart of a man who was hardly there during the day.
“What have you decided to do about Aphrodite’s Unmentionables, now that the deliveries have stopped?” Amelia asked.
Victoria shook her head, as if she didn’t know the answer.
“I thought we would simply discontinue the undergarments. Now, the demand is so great, Madame Benedict has put a terribly high price upon them.” She eyed Amelia, adding, “I am torn about what to do. If we stop making the garments, the MacKinloch crofters will lose their income. But there is too much risk of discovery.”