Page 145 of His Duchess in Disguise
Emma ran into a sharp-cornered piece of furniture. Feeling down it, she discovered that it was a nightstand. A pitcher of water sat in a washbasin, and – oh, blessed relief – there was a chamber pot in the lower compartment.
Emma stood up to announce her find when a light flared across the room. Mary had discovered a flint lighter and a candle stub on the mantle of a small fireplace. The candlelight revealed a small bed, a fireplace with wood stacked beside it, and a tiny kettle. Everything was covered with a light layer of dust, which made the water in the pitcher somewhat suspect.
Emma pulled out the chamber pot and held it up. Mary nodded, gesturing for Emma to go first. After making use of it, they both felt much better.
Mary looked at the water, smelled it, then tasted it. “Brackish,” she said. “But I don’t taste anything odd. Best wait for a bit and see if I keel over before you have any.”
Emma gave a half-hearted little giggle and looked longingly at the pitcher. But she understood and waited, using her fingers to count the passing minutes. When at last she felt she could wait no longer, she looked at Mary. The maid was sitting on the floor, slumped against the bed. Emma shook her gently.
“I’m sorry,” Mary’s words slurred between her lips. “I’m sorry, I can’t keep my eyes open.”
Emma looked at the pitcher of water in horror. Mary had barely wet her lips with the stuff. If they had each drunk even a full mouthful . . .
Although it pained her to do so, Emma poured the water out on the floorboards and watched it seep into the cracks. Who knew what it was doing to ceilings and furnishings below, but Emma found that she really didn’t care.
“Come on, Mary,” she said. “Get up and walk with me. I don’t know what was in it, but the water is gone now. Come on, get up and walk. We shouldn’t have gone with them; now we are really trapped. Come on, come on! Walk!”
With much shaking and pulling, Emma was at last able to get the taller woman on her feet and moving back and forth across the room. At length, Mary began to stand up straighter and move her feet more surely. “I’m all right, I’m all right,” she murmured. “But we can’t live without water. What shall we do?”
Before they could speculate further, the lock rattled, and two men in Cleweme livery stood outside, along with the Earl of Cleweme and Emma’s father.
“Emma,” he blubbered, “Oh, my poor darling Emma! What happened to you? Where did you go?” He flung an arm around her, embracing her and leaning on her at the same time.
Emma caught a blast of his breath on her face and turned away in disgust. He reeked of wine and something that she couldn’t quite name.
“Emma!” the Earl exclaimed. “How fortunate that we were able to discover where you were being held.”
“I’m sure it was very difficult, Lord Harlow, since I am sure that you were responsible for my being kidnapped.”
“Oh, but I was not,” he crooned. “That was the doing of the Duke of Menhiransten. You, my dear, are far too distraught to testify, and when his body and the bodies of his henchmen are recovered, it will not be difficult at all to pin the blame on him.”
“You cad!” Emma spat, and surged forward, hands forming claws as if to rake them down his face. “I won’t. I won’t do it. I will not testify that the Duke abducted me because he didn’t. And I won’t marry you.”
“What if I said that I have your dear papa addicted to something that he must have every day, or die?”
“I would say that I don’t think you have such a thing and that my dear papa got me into this mess in the first place. He’s never shown me an ounce of love or caring in my entire life. He is not a reason for me to perjure myself.”
“I thought you might say that. I think the maid with you is a friend, and I would like to show you someone else. Bring them both along.”
The footmen grasped Emma and Mary by their arms. Surprisingly, although they were strong and it was clear that the ladies were no match for them, their captors were gentle, even solicitous as they helped them downstairs and into another room. There, Emma drew in a sharp breath and nearly fainted in the hands of the man who was escorting her.
Tied to two heavy wooden chairs were Mrs. Able and Mr. Jones. “Your last remaining family retainers,” Lord Harlow said smugly. “If you do not comply, I will first torture them, and then I will kill them. Their deaths, along with the death of the Duke of Menhiransten, will be on your account. Now, what do you say, Emma Hoskins? The announcement of our engagement was printed in the paper nearly two weeks ago. I believe we have reached check and mate.”
Chapter 43
Captain Arnault met with Sir Draper at their club, the same club where the Duke of Menhiransten had played the fateful card game with Lord Harlow, the Earl of Cleweme. They had reserved a private room and settled in to have a quiet meal before meeting with Lord Harlow’s seconds.
They ate in silence for several minutes, neither of them willing to address the matter at hand. Finally, Sir Draper broke the stillness.
“Do you think,” he asked in his high-pitched tenor, “That Harlow will cut up stiff about the Duke’s choice of weapons.”
“Almost certain to,” Arnault replied. “Cutting up stiff has always been his long suit for getting out of sticky situations.”
“I hear,” Draper went on, “That Harlow is engaged to be married. Only thing is, his bride-to-be ran away when she heard the news. The ad for the engagement has been in all the papers, right along with a reward for her return.”
“Is it so?” Arnault feigned ignorance. “Who is the lucky young lady?”
“Unlucky, more like. She’s the daughter of that Baron of…oh, where was it? Calber. That was it. Calber. The mother’s dowry included some prime docks that open onto the channel. Harlow wants the docks.”
