Further Than Passion (30 page)

"Some men arrested her. They claimed they had a warrant, that she'd stolen money from my trust. But she hasn't!" Selena loyally decreed. "She would never commit such a hideous deed!"

"They took her to ... to jail?" Marcus was aghast.

"Yes." She began to cry again, huge tears rolling down her pretty cheeks. "They dragged her out of my house. I couldn't stop them."

"Which jail, Selena?" he pressed. "Tell me which

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Cheryl Holt

"A place called Newgate. Have you heard of it?"
         

Marcus shuddered, then glared at Chris. "Your mother had better hope she's all right."

He spun and hurried outside, Christopher and Se
l
ena hot on his heels.

******************
                                              

Pamela assessed Elliot's crowded parlor, wondering how he could afford to host such a large gathering.

After being evicted by Stamford, she'd been frantic as to where she should go and Elliot had seemed the logical choice, at least until she could resolve things
with Christopher and his mother. Without hesitation, Elliot had welcomed her.
|

As of yet, no one was aware of Stamford's perfidy,
nor had anyone learned that she'd sought refuge with
      
Elliot. She strolled through the brimming salons, smi
l
ing and chatting, and playing the part of Elliot's hostess, a role she'd often assumed in the past.

However, when she was so distressed, it was di
ffi
cult to exude courtesy. She felt ill, overheated, and am tad reckless. How she loathed being female, having no
power, no assets, no authority over her own life! What she wouldn't give to be independently wealthy, to rub Marcus's nose in it! The bastard!

Up ahead, she espied Regina and Melanie, and she
rose on tiptoe, straining to see Christopher, but he wasn't with them, and her spirits plummeted.
                                               

Where could he be?
                                                    

She sneaked up behind Regina
,
determined not to
let the older woman slink away.
   

"Where's Christopher?" she challenged.
                       

Regina turned and scrutinized her. "Lady Pamela,"
she gushed in a voice
 
that was much too loud, "is it
          

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269

true you've had a spot of trouble with Stamford? Has
he
kicked you out of your own house?"

Everyone within twenty feet heard the sly comment, and many of them gasped with glee. Several crept off, eager to disseminate the news. Gossip would spread like paint spilled across the floor.

She quivered with rage. "We need to talk. Come with me."

"At the moment, I'm busy. If you'll excuse me ..."

Regina attempted to move away, and Pamela blocked her escape. "If you don't attend me this very second, I shall let slip a despicable falsehood about Melanie that is so atrocious she'll never be able to show her face in public again."

"You wouldn't dare."

"Wouldn't I? She's bee
n
residing wit
h
me for weeks. No matter what I say, it will be believed."

"Lead the way," Regina ultimately snapped, her antipathy blatant and impossible to conceal. Pamela proceeded to Elliot's library and shut the door.

"Where is Christopher?" she repeated, desperate to speak with him, to apprise him of what Stamford had done.

"I have no idea," Regina contended. "He's been out since early afternoon. I left a message for him to join us here. Will that be all?"

"No, that won't be
all!
We must make plans."

"About what?"

"About announcing my engagement to him."

"Your
engagement to him?"

"Yes. When will we?" She had to have her finances settled, to be assured that Chris was hers.

Regina laughed.
 
"I'd thought you
 
were acting

270

strangely, but if you imagine you're about to marry my son, you're absolutely deranged. Are you sickly? Should I summon your friend, Mr. Featherstone, and have him call for a physician? Perhaps a draught would soothe your nerves."

Pamela stepped closer, menace rolling off her in waves. "We had an understanding."

"You and I? About Christopher?" Regina refused to be cowed, refused to yield any quarter.

"You said if I delivered Stamford to you, I could have Chris. It was all arranged! We agreed!"

"Ho
w
—
p
recisel
y
—
d
id you
deliver
Stamford?"

"I told you about the girl, about his affair."

"So?"

"You can't renege! I want Chris, and I intend to have him for my husband."

Regina chortled, her derision and scorn palpable.
"
You're mad, Pamela. Totally insane!"

"I'll create a public stink. I'll embarrass you into it. I'll sue to force your compliance."

"If you want to make a fool of yourself, have at it. There isn't a person in England who'd heed you. Now, good evening. Don't bother me again." She went to the door, then halted, peering over her shoulder and glittering with triumph. "By the by, Stamford offered for Melanie. We'll be announcing
their
betrothal tomorrow morning. The wedding is in a week, but were I you, I wouldn't count on receiving an invitation."

She strutted out, and Pamela tarried in the quiet, a flood of fury washing over her. How many duplicitous events should she be expected to endure in a single day?

"Betray me, will you, you fat sow?" She was seething, her mind whirling with revenge. S
o
... Regina presumed

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n
              
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that Stamford was about to wed her precious daughter.

"We'll see about that!" Pamela chuckled, and she stomped out to find Melanie.

******************

Elliot gazed around his teeming parlor, packed as it was with reveling guests. He was thrilled that he could draw such a crowd, yet frantic as to how he'd pay for
\
the gala. Night after night, he threw lavish parties, but the bills were stacking up.

He had to have Melanie's dowry, whether she wanted to provide it to him or not
,
and no on
e
—
e
specially her mothe
r
—
c
ould be allowed to hinder his acquisition of it.
 
His fiscal problems had to be fixed, and if committing a slight ravishment would save him, he would meander down that dirty road.

From across the ballroom Pamela approached, and
 
he gnashed his teeth. To his dismay, she'd shown up
 
on his stoop, weeping, cursing Stamford, and pleading for sanctuary.

Elliot had furnished accommodations, but oh, how he prayed she wouldn't stay long. In light of his penury, she'd send him straight to paupers' jail!

She was in a frenetic state, her color high, her emotions at a fevered pitch, and there was a wild gleam in her eye that had him uneasy.

Over the course of several hours, she'd penned and dispatched a dozen insistent letters to young Christopher Lewis, advising him of where she was and begging him to fetch her. She kept asking if the boy had been invited to the soiree, checking to learn if he'd arrived, and not seeming to remember that she'd inquired minutes earlier.

Her obsession had been noted by all. People were

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whispering, ponderin
g
—
a
s was h
e
—
w
hether she hadn't swung off her rocker, which was just his luck! To be sheltering a poverty-stricken crazy woman!

As she neared, he sipped his brandy, feigning calm
,
and pretending to be glad for her presence.

She slipped her arm into his and grinned. "Would you still like to marry Melanie Lewis?"

He almost spit out his drink. "Yes."

"When the orchestra strikes up the next song, she's sneaking upstairs. I gave her directions to your bedchamber. How much time will you require to push her beyond redemption?"

"Will you appear to
discover
us?"

"With Regina by my side. I want her to witness Mela
n
ie's downfall for herself."

Considering his station and Melanie's, it would be thoroughly damaging for them merely to be caught together and alone, but Regina Lewis would wrangle Melanie out of such an innocuous incident. If he wanted Melanie's ruination to rest firmly on his shoulders, he'd have to do something rash, something reckless, from which there could be no escape other than an immediate wedding.

"I'll need thirty minutes
.
I want to have her naked before you walk in." He hoped she'd no longer be a virgin, either.

"A wise man." Pamela snatched a glass of wine from a passing waiter and raised it in a toast. "To your pending nuptials, Elliot. May you and your little bride be very, very happy."

₁₉

Kate crouched in the corner of the dark cell, unsure
o
f how long she'd been there. Vaguely, she wondered if it was still the same day of her arrest or if more time had passed.

It was so difficult to tell.

There was a dreamlike sensation to what had befallen her, and she couldn't focus on the particulars. Nothing seemed real. Not her life at Doncaster. Not her weeks in London, or her affair with Lord Stamford.

Marcu
s
... How could you have done this to me?

The beloved name whispered through her tortured mind, and she shoved it away, declining to have it take root and grow. She couldn't dwell on the past, or on what had transpired previous. There was only now, and the bleak future.

What would become of her? Would she be hanged? Transported? The possibilities were too bizarre to grasp. She felt out of her body, as if she were watching another woman suffer.

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Cheryl Holt

Hazily, she recalled the Stamford town house, her quiet room at the end of the hall. Would anyone realize she'd disappeared? Would anyone care that she was gone?

Regina would concoct a story about her leaving. Christopher might be suspicious, Selena might worr
y
— they might even searc
h
—
b
ut ultimately, they'd move on
.

There was no one else who'd be concerned. No one else, at all. How sad that in twenty-five years she'd made such a pitiful mark.

Bitter tears welled into her eyes, and she forced them down. She had to concentrate on her predicament, and she couldn't waste energy lamenting her fate. What had happened was over, finished, and she had to figure out how to carry on from this moment forward.

The foul, cold, damp place was her world, and she had pressing needs, but no idea how to meet them. Since the cell door had clanged shut, no food had been delivered, no blanket offered. Although there were occasional screams and groans, they drifted by from far off.

Did the guards even remember that she'd been jailed? Would she tarry, hunched over on the wet floor, until she starved to death?

To her surprise, she wasn't distressed by the notion. What would it matter if she died? Who would mourn? Wasn't it better to perish here, out of sight, so that those who'd once known her couldn't witness how low she'd plummeted?

She considered standing, walking about, and investigating her surroundings, but as she attempted to climb up onto her knees, the pain in her back and ribs was so intense that she gave up. Every muscle cried out in agony, every bone ached and throbbed, and when she

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steadied herself by balancing her palm on the wall, she recoiled from the slime she encountered.

What good would it do to explore? What was she expecting to find? A key? A hidden passage
?
A map that delineated the escape routes?