Page 73 of Her Wicked Highwayman
But he could be lured . . .
“Yes, you see now. I know that he loves you and would risk everything for you.”
Diana clenched her skirts, not daring to move or speak. She wouldn’t betray Tyburn. She had promised to keep the fact that she knew him a secret, and she would never break that vow.
“Why do you want him? Simply because he robbed your coaches?” Diana demanded.
The evil smile that spread across Caddington’s face gave her a terrible chill. He approached her cell and lightly gripped the bars, studying her.
“I have... very unique needs, Miss Fox. The need to hurt others. I prefer men, prefer to see strong, virile men fall beneath my whips and my rods. When they beg for mercy, I hear symphonies, Miss Fox.”
Her stomach roiled dangerously, and she swallowed down rising bile.
“You’re mad,” she whispered.
“I am a sadist. I like pain—it is simple enough. And to have a man like Tyburn beg me for mercy, to have him on his knees...” He didn’t finish, and Diana considered that a small mercy.
“Do your servants know of this?” she asked.
“They do—more than one have been my temporary amusement while I wait for better prey.” He chuckled as if at some private joke.
“You’re a monster,” Diana said.
Caddington stroked his thumbs on the bars and then released them and stepped back, his gaze suddenly full of shadows. “Tyburn will come for you,” Caddington said. “Think upon that, Miss Fox.”
Caddington walked away, a cruel, victorious smile upon his lips, and Diana knew that Tyburn was in terrible danger. She sank to her knees, leaning her forehead against the iron bars for a long moment as she closed her eyes. Despair and death were old friends to Diana, and now both specters loomed near her in the gloom of that dingy little cell, whispering to her to let go, to give in to what fate had in store.
All those sunny daydreams she’d had of a life with Rafe and little Isla were vanishing before her, like sand slipping through her fingers. She’d dared to hope, dared to dream... and now the loss of those dreams hurt worse than she’d ever imaginedbecause she’d been close enough to touch them, to feel whatcould be.
This was her punishment for daring to desire a fairy-tale life. Cinderella would not be found by the handsome prince. She would be a prisoner of the ashes forever. Diana buried her face in her hands and sank deeper into the dark, praying she could sleep so that she didn’t have to face the dawn.
“Diana...”The voice was more memory than a whisper, but it stirred Diana awake.
“Eleanor?” She searched the darkness of the cell. She had to be mad to think she felt her sister’s presence here.
“Find a way out...”The whisper turned into trails of smoke made from the lantern as the candle within burned low and then died, leaving her in total darkness.
“Find a way out,” Diana echoed softly. Yes. There was always a way out, if one dared to shine in the dark.
The sweet scentof cigars still clung to Rafe’s clothing as he left the dining room. It had been a pleasant evening with Ashton, Brock, Will, and Caspian, who had talked and joked and congratulated him. He’d felt younger than he had in years while being surrounded by his brother and his friends tonight. They’d drunk brandy and smoked cigars until long after the ladies had retired to the reading room and Isla had been taken up to bed by Mrs. Chesterfield.
The other gentlemen had gone to bed, but Rafe had stayed where he was, enjoying one last glass of brandy and thinking about how for the first time in years life seemed exciting.
Even though he’d missed Diana at dinner this evening—she’d insisted on returning to Foxglove to see to things—soon theywould have a lifetime to spend together. He simply couldn’t wait, nor could Isla. They’d spent a long time talking about what their new life would mean, and he was thrilled to see how excited his daughter was about having a mother again. It made him think of Isla’s parents and how he wished they could know that she was well taken care of and loved beyond measure.
A footman halted Rafe just as he reached the grand staircase. “This letter just came for you, sir.”
“A letter at this hour?” Rafe accepted the slim letter from the footman and went to his bedchamber to read it. Missives that came after dark did not usually bear good tidings. He seated himself in a chair by the fire, broke the red wax seal upon the back, and unfolded the paper.
I have your pretty fox. She will hang for your crimes unless you do exactly as I say. Come to me tonight and tell no one. Surrender yourself to me willingly, and I will let her go unharmed.
There was no signature, but Rafe flipped the note over to examine the wax seal. The crest imprinted into the wax was one he’d seen only once before upon the signet ring of the man who’d threatened Rafe the night his father died.
Caddington.
Caddington had Diana? It made no sense. She had done nothing to?—
He remembered how she and her men had fled the road that night when the robbery had gone wrong. They had gone straight back to Foxglove, grouped closely together, and he had easily followed their trail. Had one of Caddington’s guards followed them? No, they’d been subdued by Rafe and his men. But someone else could have followed them—someone like Phelps.
