Chapter 37
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
P erhaps Scunthorpe was not so half-witted as it seemed, for it was clear he had the presence of mind to put his prisoner on the third floor of the house in a location where there were hardly any trees to climb out of. Perhaps he also had some good knowledge of just how stubborn Phoebe can be, and that she was most likely to attempt an escape.
When he thought of that and how his own darling wife had managed to slip out of Wentworth Park, and now, Cheshire Hall, he could not help but smile to himself. As soon as he had her back safely, he could teach her a great deal more about how to deal with a potential kidnapper.
Using outlying stones for leverage and grip, he climbed up the wall and managed to get through a window on the second floor. The room was dark around him, but he was never one to come unprepared on a mission of infiltration. He lit a match and quickly located a door that led out to a dark hallway.
Most residences in London were built according to a particular template and Scunthorpe Manor was no different. He silently made his way up to the third floor in the general area of the bedrooms. The first two yielded nothing except empty rooms, but the third… the third was locked.
Charles tucked a hand into his coat pocket and retrieved a piece of tinny wire. Bending it into shape, he deftly managed to unlock the door, smiling to himself when he heard the familiar and satisfying click of the lock sliding open.
At once, he pushed the door open, eager to get Phoebe out of this madhouse, but found himself nearly clobbered in the head with an ornate teapot.
Fortunately, the effects of laudanum had already worn off after being washed down with activated charcoal and lemon juice, and so his quick reflexes kicked in, enabling him to narrowly avoid being rendered unconscious with the piece of crockery.
“Phoebe, calm down!” he whispered hastily. “It’s me—Charles!”
His wife drew back the teapot for another swing before she peered closely at his face. “Charles?” she squeaked. “Oh, my goodness! It is you!”
She quickly dropped the teapot and rushed into his arms. “Oh dear, I am so sorry! I thought you were Scumthorpe and—”
Charles could not help but burst into laughter at that. “What did you just call him?”
“Scumthorpe,” she affirmed, looking up at his face without a hint of shame. “And do not laugh—he wholly deserves it for being an utterly vile human being.”
“You are much too kind,” he said, leaning back and gently drawing her into a hug that lifted her a touch off the carpet. “I would have not called him something remotely human.”
When she hugged him back, he felt relief flooding his body. She was here in his arms and she was well. If he could get her out of here quickly and safely, he could get to work at bringing Scunthorpe to justice.
“Come now, my love,” he told her. “We need to leave. Now.”
“But what about Scumthorpe?” she asked him.
“I have my ways,” he reassured her. “Now, let’s go!”
He dropped her lightly to her feet but then noticed her wincing in pain. “Are you hurt?” he asked her. And then, “Did that bastard hurt you?”
She shook her head. “No, I must have sprained my ankle when I tried to escape. I saw a carriage with the Cheshire livery outside and thought that if I could make it out, I would be able to get to the carriage and back to Cheshire Hall.”
Charles recalled seeing the fluttering piece of linen just outside her window and guessed correctly that she must have attempted to use the covers as a makeshift rope. His wife was an insanely brilliant and courageous woman. Not many ladies of the ton would have the presence of mind to be able to engineer an escape attempt the way she did.
“All right,” he told her gently. “We can go slowly, but we must be quiet, lest we attract the attention of the other guards.”
She nodded and squeezed his hand. “All right.” She inhaled a deep breath. “Let’s go.”
They crept out of the hallway silently, with Charles leading the way and Phoebe trailing soundlessly behind him, her hand grasped securely in his. One time, a footman passed by and they had to press themselves back into a shadowed corner.
They managed to make their way down the stairs, nearing the corridor to their escape, when, from behind them, came the faint click of a pistol.
“I knew you were going to attempt something,” a familiar voice sneered. “But I never thought you would be so bold as to break into my house. Your Grace .”
Charles spun around instantly and glared at the Baron, who was holding a pistol aimed at both himself and Phoebe. With a swipe of the arm, he put Phoebe behind him. “I could say the same of you—kidnapping another man’s wife. Really , Scunthorpe, are you so desperate for familial affection?”
Charles knew better than to push a man who seemingly had nothing to lose. But he was also more than well aware of what was needed at this moment.
“She was supposed to be mine!” he roared, his hand trembling as he trained the pistol on Charles’ forehead. His eyes were wild with rage. “When that senseless spinster handed me that journal of hers, I had planned everything perfectly to the T. If she was ruined, she would be forced to marry me , but you just had to get in the way, didn’t you, Wentworth! Why couldn’t you just stay in your damned hiding!”
“So it was you!” Phoebe shouted indignantly from behind Charles. “You were the one behind the scandal sheets?”
“I own a printing press, amongst many other investments, my dear,” the Baron grinned manically. “It was a very little thing to have it printed and disseminated amongst the ton , really.”
Charles could not help but sigh inwardly at the Baron’s rather convoluted plan to get the woman he wanted to marry him. Or rather, force the woman he wanted to marry him.
A pity that even then, Phoebe and her family did not even consider marrying her off to her most persistent suitor to salvage her reputation at the cost of her lifelong happiness.
“Now, my dear,” the Baron sneered. “Why don’t you go back up to your lovely quarters while I take care of your darling Duke?”
Charles saw Phoebe bristling at the corner of his eyes and felt his heart bloom with pride at her sheer courage.
“I will do no such thing!” she declared.
But the Baron, being the one with the pistol, was not one to take ‘no’ for an answer. He turned his attention towards Charles, but trained his pistol on Phoebe.
“Tell her, Your Grace,” he muttered in a darker tone. “If she does not come back with me, then I have no qualms in using… force.”
He was threatening to hurt her just so Charles would concede! The man was an absolute lunatic!
But Phoebe’s safety had always been of paramount importance to Charles. He would risk everything, anything , if it would keep her safe.
Slowly, Charles tucked a hand into his pocket, a gesture catching Scunthorpe’s eyes and having the pistol immediately aimed back at himself. He held his other hand up in peace, before casually taking out his pocket watch and watching as the hands ticked by.
Gently, he released his wife’s hand.
“Go,” he urged her, his voice infinitely tender.
Phoebe’s eyes widened in confusion. She started to shake her head frantically, but his firm gaze told her that it was for the best.
After a heartbeat, her eyes glazed over with tears as she hung her head and walked over to the Baron’s side without a word.
Lord Scunthorpe smiled viciously, his pistol unwavering. “Do you see, Phoebe? This is why you should stay with me—I would never be so cowardly as to give you up.”
“You are mad,” she told him hoarsely. “Lord Scunthorpe, you have gone mad.”
The Baron merely shrugged. “If it means that I am mad for you, then what do I care? I am more a man than this poor excuse of a Duke that you married.”
He waved the gun at Charles, who simply clutched at the pocket watch in his hand, muttering under his breath.
“What is that, Your Grace?” the Baron taunted him. “Are these your last words?”
“No!” Phoebe screamed. “I am already with you, what more could you want? Let him go!”
But Charles only looked at the Baron innocently. “I said,” he enunciated clearly. “That you have about sixty seconds.”
“Sixty seconds for what—”
But he did not even get to finish his sentence as his eyes immediately rolled to the back of his head and he slumped, falling to the floor in a sorry heap. Charles sighed and simply stepped over him, pausing slightly just to kick the gun out of his reach.
“By Jove, my skills need honing,” he scoffed at himself.
He reached out for Phoebe, who was looking at him with a flabbergasted look in her eyes.
“What happened to Scumthorpe?” she breathed.
Charles shrugged. “I gave him a taste of his own medicine. He is not the only one capable of slipping drugs into drinks.”
“You mean—”
“I drugged his ever-renowned vintage wine. Albeit with something far more potent than laudanum,” he said simply, raising his hand with a satisfied smile. “I have very quick hands. You, my sweet wife, should know better than most.”
Phoebe looked down and blushed. “I am certain you do,” she mumbled.
Charles bent down to pick up the pistol from the floor, studying it for a moment. With a series of deft movements, he loaded it fully and cocked it. A footman walking by at the far end of an adjacent corridor watched the scene unfold and promptly spun on his heels to make a hasty exit from the manor.
Charles smirked, then aimed at the head of the fallen Baron at his feet as Phoebe leaped back and gasped.
“Charles… what are you doing?” she asked him slowly, eyes widening.
He shrugged. “Delivering the mighty Lord’s hand of justice.”
“Oh, no, no, no!” she groaned, clutching at his arm. “You will do no such thing!”
“Why the hell not?” he asked her, his brows scrunching into a frown. This bastard had not only subjected her to the indignity of an abduction, but he had also threatened to kill her. In Charles’ opinion, that was more than enough reason to blow a hole through his skull. Or several.
“Charles, no ,” she said firmly. “Let the authorities deal with him. You do not have to do this.”
He clutched the pistol tightly as his cold gaze flicked over from the man, then back to Phoebe, who was beseeching him with wide eyes. If he shot the man now, she would see it. How could he subject her to witness such an act of violence? All this time, he had been trying to preserve her innocence, he couldn’t be the one to destroy it.
Scumthorpe is damned fortunate to have her here , he cursed inwardly to himself.
He lowered the pistol and smoothly dismantled it, taking out the bullets and tossing them at the prone body on the floor.
“Consider yourself fortunate, Scumthorpe .”
Beside him, he could hear Phoebe heave a sigh of relief. He turned towards her with a helpless look.
“What am I ever going to do with you?” he asked her.
She simply smiled at him and hooked her arm around his. “We are going to live, Charles, and happily at that.”
That… was not a bad idea at all.
As they walked out of the front door of Scunthorpe Manor, they came across the constable and his men, who had begun to force their way through the gates.
“Your Grace!” The constable greeted Charles. “I take it that you have taken care of things inside there?”
Charles shrugged. “I did the best that I could.”
The man seemed to be familiar with Charles as he tipped his hat at him and said with a vague smile, “I am sure you did, Your Grace.”
He turned to his men and barked, “Arrest the Baron of Scunthorpe immediately. I want him behind bars as soon as possible.”
What was prison like for a man of privilege like the Baron of Scunthorpe? It was filthy and repugnant and filled with the dregs of humanity. He would know no peace in there, only a great despair.
Charles had a feeling that the man would much rather die. If he chose to do that, then Phoebe had already decided that it would not be at his own hands and he had always been one to defer to his wife in such matters pertaining… civility.
He turned towards her with a gentle smile. “Let us head back home. We have a brilliant feast awaiting us.”
Her answering smile was the sweetest thing he had ever seen. “Yes, Charles. Let us head back home.”
Perhaps he might not be truly able to put his past behind him, but he realized that it mattered very little to him at this point.
What mattered the most was this woman at his side. His match in every way.
Lady Phoebe Townsend Montgomery, his Duchess of Cheshire.
She was his home. She was his peace.
And heaven help anyone who was foolish enough to come between them.