Say You Love Me (27 page)

“The time has come for your punishment, my pretty. You can’t escape. You must pay for her sins, just as the others do.”

Her
sins? Was there actually a reason for his madness? Who the devil was “her”?

The doors upstairs were all closed. She tried to open the first one and found that her hands had fallen asleep again, and she cringed as that horrible tingling started all over. And the damned room, when she got the door opened, didn’t have a speck of furniture in it that she could see.

The second room she came to and opened was so cluttered, it was obviously used. By that odious caretaker? But too much light filtered through the worn drapes there, making it too easy to find her if she only hid behind something. And under the bed was out of the question, a sure trap, and the first place Ashford would likely look.

The third room was so dark that she wondered if it lacked windows. She quickly worked her way along the wall until she found some drapes and shouldered them
aside. Nothing. This room was as empty as the first.

Time was wasting. He would search downstairs first, thinking she wouldn’t hazard more stairs. But he would be up there as soon as he’d looked everywhere below. She had gained a little time, but not much.

“You will be punished even more for this foolishness, I promise you. It will be better for you if you reveal yourself now.”

His voice grew indistinct there at the end, indicating he’d entered one of the rooms downstairs. She still had a bit more time.

Kelsey hurried to the next door. An empty closet. The next…more stairs! To an attic this time? An attic would be good. An attic usually had a wealth of clutter and discarded things.

But she had hoped, prayed, that she would find another staircase up there that would lead down to the back of the house. She couldn’t see the end of the hall, didn’t know how many more doors she had yet to fight open. A good hiding place, or stairs that might lead to an outside door that wasn’t locked? God, she couldn’t decide!

Outside was the only real choice, to get away from this house completely. And the house was surrounded by woods. He’d never find her in the woods.

She continued on. Another door—and no drapery in that room at all. The bright daylight, even coming in through filthy windows, nearly blinded her. It took her a moment to see the broken bed, the large trunk with the
lid open, the standing wardrobe missing one of its doors. The trunk? No, too easy, almost like a trap.

But the light from that room did show her that there was only one more door at the end of the hall.

When she reached it, she found that it was locked. But she wasted too much time thinking it might only be stuck and trying to turn the handle just a bit more. She could hear footsteps on the stairs…

She raced back to the lighted room next to her and nudged the door closed just enough so the light wouldn’t be noticed in the hall, but so she could still get it opened quickly. Leaving it open could possibly lead Ashford right to her—if he knew that that door was usually closed. And she held her breath, straining to hear where he was, hoping he’d speak again so she could tell more easily, but he didn’t. She heard only the footsteps, pausing, walking again, pausing…

Was he trying to listen for signs of her progress as well? Possibly. And then there was a marked difference when he reached the top of the stairs, his footsteps becoming much louder. He walked heavily. Deliberate? So she
would
hear him, would know when he was getting closer?

She could tell when he stopped to glance in that first empty room, letting his light fill it. And she realized she’d left all the doors open except these last two. All he would need to do
was glance inside. His steps again, coming still closer, confirmed that.

He still had to enter the used room, though. There was the bed to look under, the wardrobe to open. She had a few seconds only, while he searched there, to get past that room and back downstairs. She might run into the caretaker down there, but up here, she was at a dead end.

She lost what little time she had when the door clicked shut when she tried to get it back open. And having to twist around to open it again…she wasn’t even halfway to the room where Ashford was searching when she heard him walking toward the door.

She turned toward the attic instead, and prayed the panic that was gaining on her wouldn’t trip her up on those damn stairs. There was still the hope that the attic would be big enough, and so filled with junk, that it would take him a very long time to search it completely.

And she still might have a chance to slip past him and head back downstairs.

Tears filled her eyes when she got the door at the top of the stairs open and closed it behind her. The attic was a very large, very long room that ran the length of the top of the house. And it was utterly empty.

She should have known it would be empty just from the sparsity of furniture downstairs. Whoever had owned the house before had taken everything. Whoever owned it now, she assumed it was Ashford, had brought barely
anything into it—because he had no intention of living in it. He used it, as isolated as it was, as a place to practice his cruelties where the screams of those he tortured wouldn’t be heard. It was a prison….

And she had finally run out of options. He was heading up the stairs behind her. The door would open any second. And there was no place to hide in that attic. She was cornered, trapped, and still bound. If only she wasn’t bound, she could fight…

The door opened. She stared at him, wide-eyed, only a few feet away. He smiled and set his lamp down, probably in anticipation. There was enough light in the attic from several small windows that he didn’t need the lamp there.

The smile had chilled her. He ought to be angry that she’d made him search the house for her. He ought to be raving. But he didn’t seem angry at all, he seemed very well pleased, actually amused.

She realized suddenly that this had all been part of his entertainment, to allow her some brief hope of escaping him, then dash it to bits. That’s why he hadn’t chased after her immediately. The bastard had
wanted
her to run, had wanted her to think she had a chance, when she didn’t. All she had done was delay the inevitable.

“Come along, my pretty.” He motioned her forward, as if he actually expected her to come to him. “You’ve had your little chance.”

Those words just confirmed what she was
thinking, and Kelsey saw red. She couldn’t fight? The hell she couldn’t.

Without thinking it through, she charged straight at him, throwing her full weight against his chest, uncaring if she fell down those stairs with him as long as he fell down them, too. And he did. But she didn’t. She’d managed to catch him completely by surprise, and she caught her own balance before she tumbled after him.

In amazement, she stared at him sprawled at the bottom of the stairs, not dead, but definitely dazed. She practically flew down the stairs herself and leaped over his feet, running for the other stairs.

She finally had some real hope. The caretaker could still be on the ground floor, but then again, he might still be far below the house waiting for his lord to fetch her back. After all, Ashford hadn’t really wanted her to be found quickly. That would have spoiled half his fun.

But she was wrong, and she found out in the worst way, running right into the caretaker as she rounded the corner to reach the other stairs. And the impact didn’t send him flying down those stairs as Ashford had gone down the attic stairs. It knocked the breath completely out of her. But he was built like an ox and didn’t even budge.

38

“
Be very quiet, English. I do not wish to have to
cut your throat.”

The blade at the man’s throat was the only warning that had been necessary. It had stopped his forward crawl through the brush instantly.

“What—what do you want?”

“I wish to know what you are doing sneaking about in these woods.”

“I wasn’t sneaking—that is—well, I was just trying to figure out what to do,” the man tried to explain, though the words wouldn’t come easily around that knife.

“Do about what?”

“I was following a coach, you see, but I lost it. Stupid wagon got in my way, delaying me. But it was heading this way, and with that house over there being the only one in the area, I was looking to see if I could spot the coach there. Wasn’t sure if I should pound on the door and just ask, since something about this whole thing just ain’t right.”

The blade, which had relaxed against the
man’s neck, moved a little closer. “You have about five seconds to make sense out of what you just said, English.”

“Wait! It’s my employer, you see, Miss Langton. I’m her coachman. I dropped her off at her dressmaker, but when she come out, this gentleman joined her and took her to his coach and took off with her. But she knew I was there waiting for her. She seen me. So she would have told me what was what, you see, before going off with that man—unless she didn’t want to go off with him. And that’s why I followed them. I think she’s in trouble.”

The knife was removed and the coachman was helped to his feet. “I think we are here for the same thing,
mon ami
,” Henry said, offering the man an apologetic smile.

“We are?”

“Your Miss Langton, yes, she was taken into that house. And no, I am sure she does not wish to be there. The coach that brought her here returned to the city, but I have not been able to determine how many servants are in the house that must be dealt with before your lady can be rescued. My friend has gone for help, but unfortunately, he will lead it to the wrong address.”

“Rescued? How do I know you don’t come from that house yourself?” the coachman asked suspiciously.

“If I did, I have little doubt you would be lying there on the ground with your throat cut.”

“She is in that kind of danger?”

“Did I fail to mention that?”

Derek arrived at his uncle’s house just as James was leaving. Derek was already anxious, after that cryptic message he had received that didn’t really tell him anything. And James’s expression only increased his anxiety.

“Your man said it was urgent,” Derek called out as he moved to leave his carriage.

James motioned him to get back into the vehicle. “I’ll ride with you and explain on the way. Didn’t think you were going to arrive before I left.”

Derek had brought his carriage because he’d just come home in it when James’s footman found him. James already had had his horse brought around, and directed that it be tied to the back of Derek’s carriage.

Artie was still in the hack he’d hired when he and Henry had followed Ashford far enough to determine that he was heading toward his house in the city. He’d left Henry and headed back to Berkeley Square to let James know what had happened, and James had immediately sent for Derek, as well as for Anthony.

James ordered Derek’s driver to follow the hack before he joined Derek in his coach. He said, “Looks like Tony won’t make it in time to join us.”

“For what? What’s happened?”

“What we were rather certain wouldn’t hap
pen. Ashford has taken Kelsey—at least, the girl he forced into his coach fits her description. Artie hasn’t actually seen her before, so he doesn’t know for sure. The stupid man snatched her right off of Bond Street this morning.”

Derek blanched. “She was going to Bond Street today to her dressmaker.”

“It still might not be her, Derek. I would stop by her residence to be sure, but I really don’t think we have that kind of time to spare—”

“Oh, God,” Derek interrupted. “I’m going to have to kill him.”

“I have other plans for him that are much more appropriate for—”

“If he’s put even one mark on her, he’s dead,” Derek cut in again in a furious undertone.

James sighed. “As you wish.”

It didn’t take long to reach Ashford’s residence, not with Derek repeatedly shouting up at his driver to hurry. But searching it took too long. Ashford’s servants swore that he wasn’t there, but James wasn’t about to take any of them at their word.

But then Anthony showed up, having found out where they were headed from Georgina. And Anthony was quick to point out that with that many servants on hand, and Ashford was well staffed, he wouldn’t dare bring a woman he intended to abuse into his own home, especially since she would more than likely be screaming and kicking and generally hollering
for help, unless he had restrained her, but then that would draw even more notice from his staff.

In fact, it would be a good guess that Lord Ashford’s servants didn’t even know of his despicable habits, or they wouldn’t be likely to work for him—unless they practiced the same habits. He might have a few of them in his confidence, but hardly all of them.

Derek was frantic by then. Every minute that delayed them, Ashford could be hurting Kelsey. And they’d already wasted thirty minutes in searching his house.

39

“
What kept you so bloody long?” Ashford growled
at his caretaker as he rose slowly to his feet, rubbing the back of his head.

“Trespassers, m’lord,” John replied as he ambled down the hall with Kelsey gripped at his side so tightly the wince wouldn’t leave her brow. “Spotted ’em from the kitchen when I was searching it for the wench. They was moving around on the edge of the woods near the back of the house. That was too close for my liking.”

“Trespassers? So far from the main road?” Ashford frowned thoughtfully. “Not just hunters?”

“Didn’t have the weapons with ’em for hunters. And there was two of ’em. Figured I better round ’em up for ya to deal with.”

“What a damned nuisance,” Ashford complained. “Where are they?”

“Tied up in the stable. One I hits a might hard, though. Not sure if he’s still alive. The other won’t be coming ’round for a while.”

Ashford nodded indifferently, as if this were
a typical occurrence he’d dealt with many times before. “They can wait, then—but
she
can’t. Excellent. I’ve waited too long for her as it is. You did well as usual, John.”