The Reluctant Suitor (76 page)

Though she knew it was only a twinkling of a possibility that the initials were actually his, only reversed, she searched her memory for someone with the remaining initials, T.M., when turned about. The only name she could recall was the one Mr. Carlisle had given her, Thaddeus Manville, the apothecary from London. And it just so happened that Roger was fond of going to London, and Mr. Manville was especially partial to Elston’s woolens. Or was he?

A dull thud from somewhere nearby caused Felicity’s heart to lurch in sudden trepidation. Hurriedly she turned down the wick in the lamp and crept to the front windows, where she peered out through a niche in the shutters. As frantically as she searched the darkness beyond the mill for Roger’s cart, she couldn’t see any sign of it. Another thump snatched a gasp from her and made her whirl abruptly about as she realized she had mistaken the direction from whence the first sound had come.

Cautiously she tiptoed into the hall, half afraid that Roger had gone around behind the mill and entered from the back. “Roger? Is that you?”

Once again, her heart nearly jumped from her chest as another bump intruded into the answering silence.

It seemed to come from Roger’s newly furnished private chamber, a room she had never been permitted to see, much less enter. She crept to the door and jiggled the handle. Promptly, three loud thumps came against the door from the interior of the room.

“Is anyone there?” she called through the portal, but immediately felt like a dunce for asking such a ludicrous question. Of course, someone was there, and whoever it was obviously wanted out!

Not more than two days ago, Felicity had been ordered by Roger to go to the alehouse and fetch him a brimming pitcher of the dark brew. Upon her return, she had found him standing at the door of his new room with an arm raised and his hand on the molding above the portal. At her entrance, he had made a show of yawning and stretching, which had seemed rather far-fetched considering she had seen enough to know he had shoved something onto that narrow strip of wood. In spite of his silly pretense, it had been all-too-apparent what he had been doing . . . what else but hiding a key? Perhaps it was just as well that she hadn’t remembered that incident right off. Otherwise, she’d have already been confronting the person imprisoned in the room.

Curiosity had a way of leading a person into an area that could well prove life-threatening. Felicity was well aware of that fact and yet she considered her choices, whether to ignore the thumps and continue

perusing the ledgers or to discover the identity of the person Roger had secluded in his private room. The decision was hardly debatable, at least not for someone who had already discovered the evil lurking behind a handsomely boyish face. She was fearful enough of Roger without allowing his unrelenting intimidations to control every facet of her life. She had to see what he was up to this time.

Dragging a chair near the door, Felicity climbed atop the seat, slid slender fingers along the uppermost part of the doorjamb, and promptly found what she had sought. “Sly you are not, Roger!”

Clasping the key to her breast, she stepped to the floor and, once again, paused to consider the consequences of her actions. Although determined to release Roger’s prisoner, she was also more than a little wary, not knowing what would likely happen if she erred in thinking her husband was the only culprit.
But he had already proven he was one of the foulest sort!
reason argued. Resolved to find out the identity of the one he had locked behind the door, she fetched a lantern and placed it upon the seat of the chair to lend her much needed light as she tried to fit the key into the lock. Shaking fingers definitely hindered her progress. Yet she had to know what and who was in the forbidden room.

Thrusting the key into the tiny niche, Felicity turned it once, heard a “click” as the lock was freed, and was about to reach for the knob when the door was snatched inward. Almost immediately, out stumbled a woman, totally naked except for wildly snarled hair flowing almost to her waist. Her face and body were terribly bruised. On the inside of her thighs, matted blood had dried, sending cold shivers of dread through Felicity. She entertained no smallest doubt that Roger was responsible for the woman’s sorry condition.

“Help me,” the wild-looking female pleaded in desperation. “Please, oh, please, help me escape that vile madman. He’ll likely kill me if I remain.”

“Who are you?” Felicity asked, completely stunned by what she was seeing. She had never dreamt that Roger would go so far as to actually hold a woman captive for his prurient purposes. “Why are you here?”

“I’m Pandora Mayes, an actress from London,” the woman explained, on the verge of tears. “I came to the mill to buy a shawl yesterday. Or was it a year ago? It certainly seems as if an eternity has passed since then.” She shivered in revulsion. “The miller said he’d give me the shawl if I’d be nice to him, but I never imagined what he’d demand of me in return or that he’d keep me a prisoner to serve his demented pleasure night and day. He forced me to drink some laudanum before he left me last night, but I don’t think I could’ve escaped anyway, not after what he did to me. I’ve never been so violated in so many different ways in all my life. I thought I’d die before he finished with me. I’ve been so frightened, and I’m too ashamed to say what he did.” She shuddered convulsively. “I must leave here before he returns, or he’ll kill me. I know he will! He promised he’d come back tonight, to continue with what he had started before he left. He said he had to run an errand, and then he’d be back. Knowing he’d be gone for a while, I took a chance that someone would hear me. Now I’m free, and I must get away. There’s no telling what more he’ll do if I can’t find a way to escape.”

The actress’s sorely used condition and the terror she conveyed at the idea of falling into Roger’s hands again brought Felicity face to face with the realization that her husband had treated her fairly well in comparison. Knowing how difficult it had been to tolerate his abuse herself, she was moved by compassion and mentally searched for a way to help the woman escape. Her grandfather came to mind.

Laying a hand upon the woman’s arm, she stated what was obvious. “You can’t leave here without any clothes. Do you have any?”

“The miller refused to return them. He told me to wash and perfume myself before he returned, but I’ve

done neither.”

“I’ll run back to the house and fetch some clothes. If you can, you’d better get washed. You . . . ah . . .

smell . . . used.”

“I
have
been
used,
numerous times in fact . . . by that
filthy bastard
!”

Although Roger had vented worse language in her presence, Felicity had never heard a woman spew forth the like. “Ready yourself as much as you can while I’m gone,” she urged. “I’ll return shortly with something for you to wear. My grandfather has friends who’ll see you safely to London, but we’ll have to walk up the hill from here. Do you have any shoes?”

“That’s the only thing that sorry lecher left me,” Pandora sneered in venomous hatred of the man.

Briefly considering the voluptuousness of the woman, Felicity decided forthwith that it would be futile to bring back anything more than a nightgown and a cloak. Although they were nearly the same height, the woman was far more buxom and generally fleshier. With her long, frizzy hair, painted nails, smeared rouge, and eyes smudged with black kohl, she definitely looked the sort to be found in houses of ill repute.

Felicity sprinted back to the house, but in her haste to return with the clothing she had collected, she failed to notice the cart parked in the lane on the far side of the mill. Snatching open the door of the office, she rushed in, busily separating the garments until she realized Roger was standing in the middle of the room with arms akimbo and his scar-separated brow arched to a lofty height above a menacing glare.

Letting out a frightened screech, she whirled about-face and made a frantic attempt to flee. Immediately he was behind her, catching a hand in her hair.

“So, my little dove, you were curious, eh?” he snarled in her ear. “Well, we all might as well have a glass of port while I figure out what to do with the two of you. Of course, I could take you both to London and sell you to the brothels there. . . .” He snickered snidely as Felicity clutched a trembling hand protectively over her protruding stomach. “As dainty and fetching as you are, my sweet, you’d probably lose our chit ere the first week is out. The men will certainly be delighted to taste such a tempting little morsel, even if you are with child.”

He sent her spinning across the room and chortled in amusement as her haphazard dervish ended in a rather ungraceful plop into a chair beside Pandora, who was literally quaking with terror. The tears the woman had wept just since Roger’s reappearance had dissolved the rest of the kohl lining her eyelids, leaving black streaks coursing down her cheeks.

Roger sauntered about, taking his own precious time making his den of iniquity secure as he locked his private haven, bolted the front door, and latched the shutters. As he passed through the room, he smiled insipidly at the pair. “We can discuss where I’ll be taking you over some port, so please don’t stray while I’m fetching it, ladies. Should you dare, I can promise you that I’ll make you both extremely sorry you disobeyed me. I have this cruel little device called a barbed rod. The metal spikes on the end will likely take the flesh off your backs in short order.”

He disappeared down the hallway and, after a lengthy moment, finally reemerged bearing three goblets.

Betwixt the fingers of one hand he clasped the stems of two as he lifted a third to his lips and leisurely sipped from its rim. Holding the portion in his mouth to savor it more fully, he rolled his eyes as if transported to paradise and then smiled as he swallowed the liquid.

“Divine, if I may so myself,” he boasted, as if entertaining two ladies from the upper classes.

He extended the hand bearing the two goblets to Pandora. Fearful of refusing, she peered up at him warily and, with badly shaking fingers, plucked one free of his grasp.

“You needn’t be so terrified, my pet. Drink the port. ‘Twill give you courage. Who knows? I may even take pity on you and finish what we started earlier. My wife could use a few lessons in the art of making a customer happy before she is forced to yield to their various requests.”

A convulsive shudder went through Pandora, evidencing her own growing horror of what he suggested.

Stepping before Felicity, Roger presented the last glass to her and perused her face admiringly as she accepted it with a cautious glance upward. “You are a real beauty, my pet,” he mused aloud, caressing her cheek in a display of affection. “I shall be greatly saddened to take you to London. After all, I did love you . . . in my fashion . . . but, of course, not as much as I loved Lady Adriana.”

A sharp gasp was wrenched from Pandora, who looked up at him in surprise, drawing a curious smile from the miller. Immediately she dropped her gaze to her naked thighs, fearful of claiming any portion of his attention.

“Ah, ‘twould seem you are acquainted with Lady Adriana. How so?” When she failed to answer him, he leaned toward her and railed at the top of his lungs, making both women start and tremble violently in their chairs.
“How do you know her, slut? You’re not of the peerage!”

“L-Lord Col-Colton,” Pandora stuttered fearfully. “I’ve known him . . . for some time.”

“I shall assume
that
was before he returned and married the beauteous Adriana. . . .” Although he waited, he had to resort to a vicious backhand blow across the actress’s face before he gained an answer.

“Y-yes, I-I only m-met her yesterday or m-maybe it was the other day. I c-can’t remember. I’ve l-lost track of time,” Pandora stuttered. Reaching up with the back of her hand, she wiped away the thin trail of blood that trickled from a corner of her mouth. “I n-never saw or even h-heard of h-her until I went to Randwulf Manor the other day.”

“A regal beauty, isn’t she?” Roger mused, sipping his port with a lofty air. “I almost had my pleasure of her, but his lordship intruded ere I could force myself upon her. Of course, I shall never forget how she thrashed me before he appeared. I owe her for that. Sometime very, very soon, I’m going to have her bleeding and begging me for mercy, and then I’ll make her do everything I want. She’ll be sorry she didn’

t let me make love to her then.”

Felicity peered askance at Pandora as the trembling woman lifted the wineglass to her lips. Briefly they exchanged glances, and Felicity frowned, shaking her head warningly, but Roger bent toward her with a smile, halting her attempt.

“What’s the matter, dear? Are you jealous?” He smirked. “You needn’t be. The wench means nothing to me, merely a plaything with whom to wile away my evenings, a knowledgeable diversion, to be sure, but nothing meaningful. I would’ve returned to you once I became bored with her. That was not far off, believe me. Her continuous sobbing and pleading wore on my temper until I was nigh ready to thrash her.

”

“Are you really going to take me to a brothel in London, Roger?” Felicity asked, amazed that she had been able to get the words out through her fear-constricted throat. She had never been so frightened in all her life. “It would likely mean the loss of your child.”

He waved a hand with a casual air, dismissing that issue as none of his concern. “I care not for children, nor your rounding shape, my dear. However, I will miss you to some extent. I’m immensely fond of beautiful women, and you’re among the finest, I must admit.”