A Lady Compromised (The Ladies) (23 page)

             
Chapter 34

              When Lady Delia awoke, she was in a dark, moldy cellar room, where a small fire was lit in the grate. It looked like the below-stairs servants’ quarters of a small house but to her horror, she found her hands were bound and Lady Harriet, her would-be sister-in-law, also lay bound and tied against an adjacent wall. Delia swallowed tears of terror as she looked at the sweet Harriet, so vulnerable and defenseless and she knew it was her own fault that the girl was a captive.

             
It had to be Rosewood, she reasoned. There was no one else with enough to lose to kidnap her. He must have read of her engagement to Lord Durham in the papers and thought to force her to marry him before it was too late and she was married to another. She wracked her brain, thinking of anything she could do to escape. Or, perhaps she should simply agree to marry him in exchange for Lady Harriet’s release. Then footsteps came down the stairs with frightening noise. Lady Harriet awoke with a scream.

             
“Shut up!” Rosewood shouted when he came down the stairs. He was holding a small pistol and he pointed it directly at Lady Harriet’s heart. She burst into tears and tried not to make a sound as he continued to hold the gun at her.

             
“Christopher, leave her alone! She has nothing to do with this!” Lady Delia called out to him, furious.

             
“You, you
know
this man?” cried Lady Harriet, horrified.

             
“I have that misfortune,” said Lady Delia, “He is my guardian.”

             
“Guardian!” gasped Lady Harriet.

             
“I am,” said Christopher. “And I have been trying for a number of months to collect my erstwhile ward, who was hiding from me in London and contracting engagements to which she has no right to enter without my permission.”

             
“I may marry precisely as I please and I have chosen Durham,” Lady Delia said defiantly.

             
“You do not choose Durham. You choose me. I’m afraid I cannot continue much longer without your fortune and that has made me quite desperate.” He smiled. “And I choose to marry you. You will have no choice, after I am done with you.”

             
“Do not touch me!” shrieked Delia but Rosewood only smiled. “I’m not interested in your frigid body,” he began, “I am used to much more delicious delights of the flesh than your pathetic figure can provide. But I will take you and you will have no choice but to be my wife. I have a special license in my pocket, procured at great expense from the Archbishop of Canterbury. Only waiting to be signed by some nice, frightened curate.”

             
“I will never agree,” Lady Delia retorted.

             
Mr. Rosewood stepped closer to her and bent over. Then he slapped her face, hard. She cried out and she heard Lady Harriet begin to cry harder.

             
“Don’t!” she sobbed. “Please don’t!”

             
Mr. Rosewood walked over to Lady Harriet.

             
“And you. Who is this extra luscious baggage I have found in my basement?”

             
Lady Harriet continued to weep but she stuck out her chin a bit.

             
“No!” shouted Lady Delia, but it was too late.

              “I am Lady Harriet Broadstone and I demand you release me!”

             
Mr. Rosewood looked as if Christmas had come early.

             
“
You
are Lady Harriet?” he said quietly. She nodded proudly and Lady Delia wept silent tears of fear, streaming from her eyes as she struggled to think of anything to save the young girl who would never be her sister-in-law and whom she had now placed in the greatest of danger.

“Isn’t that the best news I have ever heard? I have here the two women most essential to that man I am most anxious to meet
again, Lord Mason Broadstone, Marquess of Durham. How excessively convenient! Tell me my dear, does your brother love you?”

             
Lady Harriet looked confused but not aware of the danger she had put herself in.

             
“He adores me!” she said with honesty. 

             
“And would do anything to prevent harm to you?”

             
“Quite.”

             
“Well you look to be developing into a deliciously voluptuous young woman and as much as I prefer my women to look like you instead of that wretched skinny Delia, I might resist taking you and instead sell you back to your brother. For a price.”

             
Lady Harriet moaned with fury.

             
“Or, rather, I might sell back the both you. There’s no reason I should endure a lifetime of marriage to the nasty, frigid Lady Delia if I can simply extract her twenty thousand pound dowry—or, maybe more—from his lordship? And another twenty thousand for little sister? And maybe some additional funds to ensure the ladies are unharmed…”

             
Rosewood dragged the pistol from Lady Harriet’s shoulder up to her temple and then reached to the neckline of her gown and tore downward. Poor Lady Harriet struggled and screamed as he revealed her chest, covered only with a thin chemisette. He untied the drawstring holding the garment together and some of her generous bosom spilled out.

             
“Shut up,” he said, slapping her, then raking his hands over her exposed body, with lascivious pleasure. “Yes, your ripeness is much more my type than that horrible creature, my ward. And you are probably worth even more.” 

             
“Leave her alone!” shrieked Lady Delia, “Please! Christopher! Leave her alone. You don’t even need to extort the Marquess! I will marry you. You can have my entire dowry and more. Just let Harriet alone!”

             
“So noble, for such a dreadful trouble as you have caused me. I want you now only to punish you for being such a damned nuisance.” Mr. Rosewood drug himself from the side of Lady Harriet and instead tossed Lady Delia onto a low bed in the corner of the room as she struggled. “There was a time during which it was less appealing to you to marry me, as I recall.”

             
She struggled as he tied her already bound wrists to the wrought iron headboard and bound her ankles, still tied together, to the posts at its foot, so she could not kick him. She glared at him, furiously, quite terrified.

             
“That was before I knew what you were truly capable of. And I cannot permit you to destroy or harm Harriet or Mason. If that means I must marry you, I am prepared to do it.”

             
“Delia, no!” cried Lady Harriet, horrified, as she tried desperately to draw her disordered clothing over her chest, still crying in the corner. Her face was stained with tears and humiliation as the futility of her efforts to cover herself or help her friend and almost-sister became evident.

             
“Harriet!” Lady Delia cried, “Be calm. I will not let him hurt you.”

             
Mr. Rosewood laughed and settled himself on top of her on the bed. Though her ankles were tied, he lay against her belly, running his hands down her gown and pulling up the hem.

             
“Though it will be no pleasure for me to take a frigid termagant like you,” he began, “I find that I must in order to punish you for those months of hiding. And little sister can watch, knowing that what you are enjoying will be hers next.”

             
A wave of nausea swept up from Lady Delia’s stomach at the thought and she gasped at him that she would retch. Rosewood jumped off of the bed as she gagged and turned away from him but he was immediately distracted at the sound of his name.

             
“Christopher?” came a woman’s voice from above-stairs.

             
“Yes, my love. Down here,” he called.

             
“I hear so much shouting,” came the voice as footsteps sounded on the stairs. Gigi walked into the room and saw her lover, next to a dry-heaving Lady Delia and Lady Harriet with her torn gown, still on the floor.

             
“Good god, Christopher. You really are a pig,” she said. Lady Delia stared at this gorgeous ladybird, dressed in a provocative gown with a bodice that barely covered an inch of her extremely generous bosom. “It hardly seems appropriate to be raping boring virgins when I am above-stairs and perfectly willing?” she said, with one eyebrow raised at the ladies in the room. 

             
“Gigi, my darling,” Christopher said, coming briskly to her side. He moved to make introductions. “Girls, this is Gigi. She is my one true love. And if not for her and her expensive tastes, I might not have found myself in a position where I’ve kidnapped two ladies of the
ton
to hold for ransom and perhaps enjoy. But she gives me more pleasure than I can tolerate and I must do whatever she asks. And when she asks for a fortune and a new life, I comply.”

             
Lady Delia turned her head to stare at the courtesan. She certainly was beautiful, but in a cheap and overblown sort of way. Not that it mattered, as Gigi appeared to be quite content with her lot. Lady Delia’s stomach had settled a bit from its revulsion at her guardian’s threats against herself and Lady Harriet, but as she watched Rosewood run his hands along the body of his mistress and whisper to her, she wondered how much time she had before it became too late.

Chapter 35

              Lord Durham found the Earl of Blackwell back at the phaeton in Bond Street as he carried the card his sister had dropped in the alley. He was shaking with fear and rage.

             
“Blackwell! You’re here. Where the devil have you been?”

             
“On my way to you,” his friend replied and, seeing Lord Durham in such a state quickly asked seriously, “What on earth has happened?”

             
“Delia. It’s Delia. And Harriet. They’ve been kidnapped.”

             
“What!”

             
“I found this card on the ground in the alley just down the street. It’s Harriet’s. They were together and the phaeton’s been abandoned.”

             
“But why both of them? Do you think it was Rosewood?”

             
“I’m certain of it. There is no other explanation. And as for Harriet—I imagine they just took her because the two of them were together. And if Rosewood needs money, he probably assumes he can demand an exorbitant amount for them both.”

             
Lord Blackwell looked sick as he repeated, “Harriet’s been taken.”

             
“Yes.”

             
“Good god.”

             
“I fear I am ill-equipped to deal with this situation. I am too furious to think clearly.” His friend breathed deeply and looked about for the Marquess’ horse, which was tied up haphazardly in front of the shop.

             
“You have your mount? Excellent. We know that Rosewood is associated with Gigi.”

             
“Correct.”

             
“Gigi does not yet know that we are aware of the connection between them?”

             
“I do not believe so.”

“Then it is clear. They do not expect us to put them together so quickly. We should leave immediately for the house you have leased for Gigi and simply force Rosewood’s location out of her. Or, if we are lucky, he may be there already.”

But the Marquess was already swinging a leg up onto his horse and Lord Blackwell was not far behind.

“I can only pray they do not have another place to go,” the Marquess called out as his friend followed him. They rode through the crowded, darkened streets until the people thinned out and they found themselves in
the neighborhood of Lord Durham’s former mistress.

             
“Do you believe they would hold the ladies in Sparrow Street?” asked Lord Blackwell as they approached the row of small, neat houses.

             
“I do not know. But we will find out soon enough.”

             
The men made their way slowly down the street and had soon appeared in front of the familiar, small, door. The house was quiet and dark and Lord Durham was concerned they had reached a dead end.

             
“Are you armed?”

             
“I have a pistol,” said Lord Blackwell. “Have you?”

             
“I did not think to bring one,” he replied. I must rely on you for any required shooting, though I do hope that none is necessary.”

             
“As do I. Let us assume that Rosewood is not mad enough to desire violence and is only engaged in kidnapping to avoid being hauled into bankruptcy court.”

             
“Quite so.” The Marquess heaved a sigh and climbed the stairs. The door was locked, but he extracted the key he possessed to the lady’s house and it turned. Quietly, the men entered the hall and closed the door behind them, listening carefully. The Marquess raised an eyebrow at his friend, inquiring if they should go further. At Blackwell’s nod, he continued forward slowly, hoping to mask the sound of his heavy footfalls.

             
The entire floor appeared to be deserted, and in a hurry, as the doors were all left open and then men could hear nothing. Shortly, the Marquess reached the back kitchens and found himself looking into a tiny garden behind the house. As he looked out, however, he saw that the bi-folding doors covering the entrance to the cellar were unlocked. Narrowing his eyes, he pointed a gloved finger at the window in a downward direction. The Earl nodded back in agreement. They excited the house through the back door and entered the garden, approaching the cellar doors with slow caution.

             
As they approached the flat, wooden boards that formed two doors at a low angle to the ground, covering the entrance to the cellar, they heard voices. The Marquess stopped short and motioned.

             
“I am concerned that Rosewood may be armed,” he whispered to Blackwell.

             
“I am as well,” he replied. “But I do not think we have any choice, if Lady Harriet and Lady Delia are below.”

             
“That is true. I will proceed and declare myself armed, attempting to confuse and distract him. You must follow with the gun once you think you have the advantage.”

             
Blackwell nodded an assent. Durham bent and threw open the door to the cellar.