Never Entice an Earl (23 page)

His companion followed. “Rackmorton’s angry with you because you were snooping around
about the Invisibilis, isn’t that right? Trying to find the man responsible for what
happened to your sister?”

“Yes.”

“I understand that you say he has a portrait of Daphne, which is concerning in nature,
but I don’t understand why that has anything at all to do with your being beat up
by his toughs and a sudden concern for her safety, unless…”

He pulled the handle, opening the door, but Mr. Kincraig pushed it shut.

“Unless what?” Cormack scowled.

“You and Daphne.”

“That’s right.” He met his gaze steadily. “Me and Daphne. I will speak to Wolverton
when the time is right. Once all this is settled.”

“That’s all I needed to hear.” Mr. Kincraig pulled the door open. “I’ll go to Wolverton’s
now. Join us there, when you’re through.”

Cormack departed Mr. Kincraig’s residence, and made a stop at his own. It would take
him only a moment to wash and change, which would give him time to calm himself before
confronting Rackmorton. He would need all his patience and wits about him, to extract
the answers he sought before decimating the man. The marquess had thrown the blame
of what occurred to Laura on Mr. Kincraig, but why? He could only presume he was trying
to protect someone else.

Upon seeing his approach on the walk, his footman’s eyes widened, and he leapt to
his feet, opening the door. A glance in the vestibule mirror proved he looked like
a ghoul, with one green, slimy half of his dead face still sliding off. “Heavens.”

He turned with the intention of going to the stairs, but Kate Fickett stood at the
center of the marble floor.

Seeing him, she screamed.

“No, please don’t,” he said, attempting to reassure her.

“Your face!”

“It is only medicine. I’ve been injured and a very nice woman from a farm applied…this
awful salve. Kate, why are you here?”

Just then Jackson entered the room. “Oh, my heavens. Do you need a physician?”

“All I need is a washbasin, a towel, and a set of clean clothes.”

Despite his reassurances, Kate still looked very afraid. “Lord Raikes, I came to you
because I did not know where else to go. It’s Daphne—”

“She’s all right, isn’t she?” he demanded, moving closer.

“I don’t know.” Tears spilled onto her cheeks.

Her emotional response struck panic through his heart. “What do you mean you don’t
know?”

“Someone sent her a message this morning, saying they knew about her being at the
Blue Swan.” She wheezed through a nose that had grown puffy with her tears. “They
said if she didn’t meet them today, that they’d tell everyone.”

“Who?”

“That’s just it, I don’t know. They came in a carriage I didn’t recognize, and with
no distinguishable markings. One moment she was standing on the pavement, and then
she was gone.”

“Rackmorton,” he growled. Rackmorton had been at the Blue Swan that night, and like
a snake he had waited for the most opportunistic moment to bite.

“I don’t think she would have gotten into a carriage with Rackmorton. She rather abhors
and mistrusts him.”

He could not imagine that Daphne’s abductor would be anyone else. Again, the memories
of the paintings he had seen in Rackmorton’s secret room filled his mind.

Rackmorton’s secret room.

He swore. “If he has harmed her, I will kill him.”

“I pray you will!” she exclaimed. “What if he forces her to elope? To marry him? She
cannot marry anyone else. She can only marry you.”

“Please know I have already come to the same understanding. Miss Fickett, please listen
to me. Wait here for me to return, in the drawing room. Do you understand?”

If the girl returned to Wolverton’s home in her present state, she would only inspire
panic in the household, and he had every intention of sparing them that experience.

She nodded. “Where are you going?”

“To find Daphne, of course.”

Once they parted ways, he raced upstairs, changing so quickly from his mud- and blood-covered
clothing that he was still lacing his breeches when he exited the house.

Jackson waited in the street, mounted on one horse and holding the reins to another.

“You don’t have to do this with me,” Cormack said, swinging into the saddle.

“And yet here I am. Don’t deny me the pleasure.”

A short time later, they arrived at the same house where he’d attempted, like a fool,
to tell Daphne good-bye. After knocking on the door, and being told Rackmorton was
not receiving guests, Cormack barged past the footmen, with Jackson following behind,
and headed straight for the study. As he reached for the door, he heard a muffled
scream. He attempted to turn the handle, but the door was locked.

Had that been Daphne’s voice? He couldn’t tell, the sound had been too muffled.

He kicked the door, which produced no result. He kicked it again—

Beside him, Jackson pointed a gun and shot, blasting the handle to bits.

Cormack glanced at him. “I knew I kept you around for something.”

“I’m happy to be of assistance,” he answered cooly, blowing the smoke from the barrel.

Inside the study, Rackmorton was nowhere to be seen. Cormack heard a man’s voice from
inside the secret room.

“Come now, darling. Don’t make me force you.”

He strode furiously to the door. This one, too, was locked.

“Gun.” Cormack extended his hand.

Jackson gave him the weapon, handle first.

Blast.
And the doorknob was gone, obliterated to bits scattered across the floor. He and
Jackson burst into the room. In the corner, Rackmorton’s butler stood, his pantaloons
around his ankles. A blonde servant girl stood with her arms upraised, still holding
a silver tray, which she had clearly been using to fend him off.

With him distracted, she ran for the door.

“What are you doing in here?” demanded Cormack.

“I have privileges,” he snarled.

“Where is he?”

He whirled, cursing at them. “How dare you discharge a weapon in Lord Rackmorton’s
home, and destroy his property.”

“I said, where is he?” Cormack advanced, forcing the man into the corner.

“You have no right to do this. When he finds out you’ve done this—”

Cormack grabbed him by the neck. “Tell me where he is. Somewhere here in the house?”

The man wheezed. “I don’t know where he is, but he left hours ago.”

“My Lord, I do believe he’s telling the truth,” said Jackson.

Cormack let go of him, and the man collapsed, holding his neck with both hands. Had
he just wasted valuable time coming here, when he ought to be on a different trail?
How could that be? Even so, he wasn’t done here. Striding to the far corner of the
room, he wrenched the nude portrait of Daphne from the wall, and kicked his boot through.
Tearing the canvas with his hands, he did not relent until the thing was in ribbons.

On the way out of the study door, he passed the dowager.

“What has happened here?” she demanded.

Cormack bowed curtly at the waist. “My lady, your son has quite the private art collection
in there, which your butler is presently admiring. But then, I’m certain you’ve seen
it.”

“Art collection?” Her eyebrows raised in interest. “Why, no, I’m sure I don’t know
what you mean.”

“Just there. Do you see that smallish door?”

“Just a storage room, but it’s been years since I…” She frowned, and paused, before
entering the door.

He continued on, but paused a moment on the threshold, until as he expected, the dowager
screamed.

Hopeful that there had been some misunderstanding, and that Daphne now waited safely
at home, Cormack sent Jackson to escort Miss Fickett to the Wolverton residence, but
he rode directly there and found the family, along with Mr. Kincraig, gathered in
the drawing room in a quiet uproar, having only just discovered Daphne’s absence.
Havering was there, and by chance, the Duke and Duchess of Claxton had just returned
from their country estate. Mr. Kincraig pulled him aside to quietly explain. It seemed
a florist had arrived for a scheduled appointment her mother felt she would never
miss.

It was then, they all realized he was there. Everyone exclaimed about his bruised
and swollen face.

Forced to provide some explanation, he answered, “I was attacked on the street last
night after delivering Mrs. Bevington home, and dumped in the country.”

Clarissa cried, “But who would do that, and why?”

He was on the verge of confessing everything about the Blue Swan and the Invisibilis,
just so the sharing of that knowledge would help in whatever way to find her, but
at that moment a man arrived to deliver a note, with the announcement it had come
from Miss Bevington.

Her mother grappled with the envelope, as the rest of them gathered closely around.

“Indeed, the missive is written in her handwriting,” she announced, her expression
dismayed. “It says…oh, my heavens. It says that she has eloped.”

Just then, Miss Fickett entered the room, followed by Jackson.

“Eloped?” she cried, her eyes wide and frantic. “With whom?”

“It doesn’t say,” replied Lady Margaretta, the note trembling in her hand, and tears
in her eyes. “Only that we shouldn’t come after them. That she knows they will be
very happy.”

Wolverton thundered, “I wasn’t even aware she had developed an affection for anyone.”

“She hadn’t.” Clarissa took the note, and read the words herself. “I don’t believe
it. I would have known. She would have told me.” Strangely, she looked directly at
Cormack just then and whispered, “I thought perhaps it would be
you
. Was I wrong?”

“She has been abducted,” said Kate, tears threatening against her lashes. “I am certain
of it. She has been taken against her will. We must find her.”

She quickly conveyed what she had seen, with the carriage rolling up the curb, and
Daphne disappearing immediately after. Kate, God bless her, left out all the rest.

“I think it is Rackmorton!” growled Havering.

“Yes!” Clarissa said, nodding.

“I was just at his residence,” said Cormack.

Everyone turned to look at him.

He gritted his teeth. “I went there to confront him, believing him to be the one responsible
for what happened to me last night—”

Havering demanded, “And was he there?”

“No, and neither was Daphne. There’s only one route I can imagine them taking,” he
said, already racing toward the door. The other gentlemen followed on his heels.

“The road to Gretna Green,” the duke muttered.

Already, Cormack’s footsteps carried him to the door. “I only pray we can overtake
them in time.”

D
on’t you dare,” Lord Bamble shouted, leaping across the carriage at her, but too late.
Daphne threw the pages she had ripped from his book out the window, and they caught
in the wind, scattering in a glorious display.

“You horrid little witch,” he bellowed. “I had not even read those pages yet.”

“Well, I have, and guess what? The hero, Captain Johnson, catches fever on page four
hundred thirty-two, and he dies. How do you like that?”

“Arg!” he cried, clapping his hands to his ears. “How dare you ruin the ending for
me!” He leapt upon her. “You have left me with no choice.” He produced a thick cord,
and grabbed for her hands.

While at first she’d been terrified after he had unexpectedly dragged her into the
carriage and subdued her until they were underway, Daphne had come to the realization
he wasn’t going to murder her under any circumstance, so she didn’t hold back one
bit. She kicked at him with all the power within her, and shoved and slapped his hands
away. But to her surprise, Bamble was actually quite agile. After pursuing her about
the carriage some twenty times, he managed to wedge her face into the corner long
enough to tie her wrists, after which time he flung himself, wheezing, onto the opposite
bench.

He stared at her from across the bench, breathing heavily. “Do you see what you have
done?” He wheezed. “Now I am suffering an attack.”

“Dearest Bamble, I think I am at last halfway to despising you.” She gasped for breath,
exhausted now. “Which is very sad, because I actually liked you. Very much so, and
I always had, since childhood. Please, you must tell me why you have done this when
we have always been such good friends.”

He shook his head vehemently, pulling another book from the satchel under the seat.
“I don’t want to talk about it. Just be quiet. We’re almost there.”

“Tell me!” she exclaimed.

He blurted, “Because I owe a very large amount of money.”

She saw the glimmer of regret in his eyes, but at the same time, fear. No doubt he
had kidnapped her only under duress, and at the order of someone else. But who, and
why? By now, the florist would have arrived at the house, and her mother would be
aware of her absence. She prayed for a swift rescue, but what would Kate tell them,
and how would they know where to look? Her only hope, she feared, was finding out
who had forced Bamble to do this, and why. In understanding the reason, perhaps she
would save herself.

“I’ve only ever seen you reading books,” she said. “How could you have gotten into
that sort of trouble?”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me. I like to gamble.”

“And that is how you came to be at the Blue Swan.”

“Not exactly.”

Her eyes widened at the moment of realization, and she exclaimed, “You’re one of them,
aren’t you? The men Lord Raikes is looking for. A member of the—”

“Don’t speak it. The name is only for members to ever say. When I saw you there on
the stage…why, I couldn’t believe my eyes. At the time, I just wanted to be certain
you didn’t see me. I’m not exactly proud to say I patronize such establishments. The
knowledge would kill my mother. Only later did I realize the gift that had fallen
into my hands.”

At that moment, the carriage slowed.

“What do you mean?” she demanded. “What gift? Bamble, do you intend to marry me?”

“Heavens, no.” He avoided her gaze. “You’re far too much trouble for me.”

The wheels slowed to a stop, and within moments the door opened. A glance outside
revealed a nondescript field, with no landmarks of which to speak.

“Good-bye, Daphne,” Bamble said, gathering his belongings.

“Where are you going?”

“Back to London. I hope you understand, I
am
sorry about all this. Truly sorry, but it was the only way I could get him to forgive
my debt.”

“Who?”

Bamble scrambled down the stairs and Rackmorton appeared to take his place.

“Hello, my dear.” He climbed the stairs and joined her inside. “Are you ready to become
my marchioness?”

“You!”

His hungry gaze devoured her, and a tremor of fear raced down her spine. If he was
capable of scheming to this degree, and of kidnapping, of what else might he be capable?
What did he intend? Behind her back she worked at the cord Bamble had tied on her
wrists, stretching and tugging so as to loosen it.

“I know. It’s a surprise. I apologize for the dramatics, but I feared you would never
get into a carriage with me, let alone agree to wed. And I’ve ensured your…unfortunate
distraction will not interfere. Raikes, yes, I know all about him, and the little
dalliance you’ve shared. I saw your…dress there on the floor beside the bed, you see,
just the merest glimpse of it, but it was such a distinctive color of blue. It took
every ounce of my control not to kill him then, knowing it was you there with him
under that sheet, but the others would have seen.”

His eyes glinted with such fury, her fear only increased, but now for Cormack. Worry
crashed through her belly, almost sickening her.

“What have you done to Lord Raikes?” she demanded.

He shrugged. “Don’t worry your pretty head over it. I only acted to guard what has
been mine all along. And he deserved it after all, regardless even of you. At first
we didn’t realize who he was. But, after he started snooping around, Bamble pulled
out one of his books, a volume of
Debrett’s
, and that answered quite a few questions. He was that fellow, years ago, badgering
his bettors and causing problems. The Duke of Rathcrispin was so furious with us all,
for bringing down question upon his good name. Tragic thing about his sister. Honestly,
I don’t know who was responsible for that particular scandal, but it wasn’t me or
anyone else of whom I’m aware. Still, you might as well forget about Lord Raikes.
He and his revenge plot are dead in a ditch somewhere in the country, far, far away.”

No. She couldn’t live…she couldn’t exist if something had happened to Cormack.

She fought off grief and calmed herself. She had to believe Cormack was still alive.
At last, she worked her hands free of their bindings.

She quietly suggested, “Very well, if marriage is what you want, let us return to
London and announce our engagement to the papers in the typical way. We can plan a
wedding. Please don’t deprive my mother—or yours—of that joy.”

“Oh, God, no. Your family wouldn’t allow it, I have no doubt. I’ve seen the way they
look at me, with dislike and, yes, even revulsion. I don’t know why, considering all
I have to offer. Nonetheless, your protectors would step in. It’s what compelled me
to arrange for this whole elopement. Given the circumstances, I knew Raikes would
cause problems. He forced my hand, and I had to act.”

Daphne, filled with fury, seized up her reticule from the bench beside her and, swinging
it hard, struck him against the side of the head. “You will let me go.”

He fell to the side, clasping a hand to his face.

“Now that’s enough!” he shouted, reaching for her, lunging, his arms and legs securing
her against the bench. “I had hoped to be a gentleman about this, but it appears I
shall have to take you now, to ensure your compliance.”

He grabbed at her skirts, and yanked them high—

Just then, something darted into view outside the window. A rider on a horse? Daphne
turned, losing sight of them.

But Rackmorton plastered himself beside the open window, extending his head all the
way out to see.

“Damn it all to hell,” he bellowed.

The rider—no, riders—appeared again. She recognized Cormack, his hair flying back
from his battered face. He was alive. She had never been more relieved. And there,
racing behind him, were Claxton and Havering as well! A flash of movement drew her
attention to the opposite window, where Kincraig appeared on horseback.

Suddenly, Rackmorton produced a pistol.

“Careful!” she screamed, but Havering rode past, disappearing from his saddle with
all the skill of a circus performer, to climb onto the driver’s roost.

Twisting, Rackmorton pummeled the carriage roof, shouting. “Faster! Don’t slow down.”

Daphne struck him with her reticule again, doing her best to knock the firearm from
his grasp, but he shoved her back.

In that moment, Cormack hurtled through the window, only half of him making it through.
Rackmorton aimed, but she kicked at his hand and the gun went flying. The marquess
didn’t hesitate, but did some kicking of his own, thrusting his heel against Cormack’s
shoulders.

Daphne screamed, terrified he would fall out and be trampled or run over by the carriage
wheels, but with a powerful flex of his arms he dragged himself through—

Rackmorton shoved at him, trying to force him back out. Cormack’s fist came round,
finding satisfaction at the center of the marquess’s face, and his legs went sprawling.
Daphne, remembering his crude threat, kicked him in the groin, and he screamed, rolling
to his side on the bench, and falling in a ball to the floor. The carriage rolled
to a sudden stop.

Cormack slid all the way through the window to sit upright across from her, and demanded,
“Are you all right? Did he hurt you? Did he—”

“I am unhurt!” she cried. “How did you find me?”

“We just followed the trail of destroyed books, and once we found Bamble, he spilled
everything.” With a growl, he dragged Rackmorton through the door and down the stairs,
to discard him on the grass at the side of the road. Havering had control of the horses’
harnesses, while Kincraig climbed down, dragging the driver behind him, and Claxton
dismounted. Soon, they had all gathered around the man who had put into action a plan
to abduct her.

Cormack! She could not contain her joy at seeing him. Daphne descended the steps,
and running across the grass, threw herself into his arms, pressing kisses onto his
bruised face. “Your face. What happened? Oh, my darling—”

He stiffened, and she realized the mistake of what she had done.

“Interesting,” muttered Kincraig.

She released Cormack immediately, and stepped back, looking between Claxton and Havering,
who stared at her in wide-eyed dismay. “And you—Havering!” They all stood there, staring
at her in silence. Knowing not else what to do, she flung herself into Fox’s arms.

“
My darling Havering.
You saved me as well.” He stood unmoving in her arms. Peering up, she saw that he
stared thunderously at Cormack.

“Claxton? Kincraig?” she said weakly. “Thank you all.”

Cheeks burning, she climbed back into the carriage and closed the door.

But already day turned to night, and Claxton made the decision that they would send
word to London that they had recovered Daphne unharmed, but out of concerns for safety
and the dangers of traveling the road in the dark, that they would pass the night
at the nearby inn. They supped in absolute silence, with Rackmorton fuming alone on
the far side of the room, his back to them all. Daphne hadn’t known if words on Cormack’s
behalf would help or hinder their situation. But each time she’d tried, he had silenced
her with a glance.

Eventually, the fire on the hearth grew dim, and Claxton quietly, but firmly, suggested
she retire.

“This way, miss,” the innkeeper’s wife instructed, leading Daphne toward her room.
Rackmorton had been committed to a windowless room beneath the stairs, the door of
which was just a few feet away, and he could not effect an escape without their knowing.

Halfway up the stairs, Daphne turned to glance over her shoulder just in time to see
Claxton level his gaze upon Cormack. “I believe you and I have something to discuss
in private.”

Havering muttered, “Damn you, Raikes.”

Cormack nodded solemnly. “Yes. Yes, indeed we do.”

Daphne burst out, her hands gripping the banister, “Did you ever stop to think that
perhaps Lord Raikes is blameless, and that this is all my doing? That I seduced him?”

“Quiet,” barked the duke, his eyes flashing fire. “Go to your room, and do not come
through the door until morning.”

She did not budge, but remained in that spot, defiant and mutinous.

Cormack said to her in a quiet voice, “Daphne, you must do as Claxton says. Everything
will be all right.”

“But this is all my fault.”

“Please,” he said.

With a groan of frustration, she did as she was told.

Only when she was gone did any of them speak again.

The duke turned his attention fully on Cormack. “Obviously a matter has arisen that
requires immediate resolution. Do you dare deny that you have been intimate with my
unwed sister-in-law?”

Cormack closed his eyes and shook his head.

Havering cursed. He stood against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest, his jaw
tight and furious. “I’d never have expected it of you, Cormack. To think I entrusted
her to you. Implicitly. God, wasn’t I a fool? If her brother Vinson was here, he would
drag you out into the yard and shoot you dead for dishonoring her so. So help me,
I am tempted to do the same.”

“I understand your anger.”

He hated feeling as if he had disappointed these men, both of whom he held in the
highest respect, but his foremost concern at the moment was Daphne, and that she not
be hurt in any of this.

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” said Claxton, with a lowering glare, “but I thought you
were betrothed.”

“Which makes this all the more sordid,” Fox growled. He broke away from the wall,
to pace the length of the floor.

Cormack chose his response carefully. “There is no formal betrothal, but rather an
agreement that was intended to bring about the return of my family’s ancestral lands.
The girl in question is but twelve years old. It is her father with whom I will have
to contend, and I will do so.”

The duke’s nostrils flared in displeasure. “Indeed you will. You will break this agreement,
as discreetly as is allowed. Although it riles me beyond bearing that Daphne should
marry a libertine who cared so little for her so as to seduce her. Your unforgiveable
actions have left us no other choice.”