Page 112 of A Gentleman's Wager
To enact part two of her retaliation plan, Bella acquired the aid of Mark, who in turn gathered a posse of his mates from up Grinton way. Between them, they cleared an open space at the back of the coach house and saw that the other stable hands were otherwise engaged for the evening.
The pungent aroma of cheap lamp oil suffused the air as Bella waited in the shadows, praying that Vaughan would take the bait. When the stable door opened, admitting a chilly draft, she held her breath. Vaughan’s slim silhouette appeared in the doorway.
“Lucerne?” he enquired, scoping the vicinity. He took a step forward, releasing the door, which slammed behind him.
Wait. Wait… Bella clenched her fist, hoping the men wouldn’t pre-emptively strike.
One by one they peeled from the shadows, two from the walls and three from the rafters. They dropped into position, neatly surrounding their target.
“Lose your way?” Vaughan remarked, not the slightest bit cowed by a few stocky farm boys.
They replied by lunging for him.
With five against one, it ought to have been a simple matter.
Bella grunted in dismay as Vaughan twisted out of one man’s grasp after another. He was slippery as an eel, and she’d never liked those. Vaughan right stepped, kicked, planting his foot in one man’s groin. While that sandy-haired fool doubled in pain, two of his mates charged Vaughan from either side. He grasped them both and banged their heads together.
This was not at all as it was supposed to go.
If they let him escape, she would murder them all in their beds.
Finally, a set of knuckles struck square Vaughan’s jaw, lifting him off his feet and backwards into the winner of the autumn fayre’s wrestling prize. It all got rather confused and messy as they scrambled and piled on top of one another, but eventually they managed to overpower the marquis enough to stuff a gag in his mouth. While two of the brutes stripped him of coat and waistcoat, shirt and cravat, the others shackled him in irons. Mark wore a smug grin as he wrenched Vaughan’s black pantaloons to his knees. He swaggered over to her and gave her a salute.
“All done, as thee asked.” She gave him a purse and sent him on his way.
Bella waited until the men’s rough talk fell into a distant murmur before approaching her captive from the rear. He pulled ineffectually at the chains binding his wrists but managed to spit loose the rag from his mouth. An oath followed its trajectory to the floor.
“What the hell is going on?”
Bella announced her presence by cracking her riding crop across his bared behind, thus evoking a snarl. He twisted in his chains enough to glimpse her. Then to her horror, he laughed and relaxed in his bonds.
“Miss Rushdale, it appears that you have me.” He lifted his wrists and jingled the irons.
Bella gave him another taste of the crop, but this time, he didn’t flinch.
“How can I be of service to you?”
Damn him. She ground her teeth. He was not supposed to mock her. “I thought sixty lashes might suffice.”
“So few? I’d have doubled it. After all, I have been extremely badly behaved. But I doubt you have the strength for that.”
Bella swapped her crop for the horsewhip and lifted it ready to strike. She’d soon show him what she was capable of, and she doubted he’d be quite so cocksure at the end of it. Vaughan merely turned his eyes to the front and set his jaw. After a moment, when she still hadn’t landed a blow, he sighed as if bored.
“You bastard.” How could he take this so lightly? She knew the crop hurt. She’d tested it against her own leg and had the bruise to prove it. Also, Mark had warned her to go easy with the whip unless she wanted to actually flay him. “You utterly, despicable bastard. How could you do that to Louisa?”
“To Louisa?” he mocked. “It seems to me you’re the one affronted, not her.”
“I’m incensed for us both. What sort of gentleman does such a thing? She was saving herself for her marriage bed.”
“It seems she had a change of heart, and I don’t recall you making any complaints. I gave you both an abundance of pleasure.”
Bella was far too hot to concede that notion. “You did nothing of the sort. You were mean, ghastly—”
“Exactly as you desired me to be.”
“No, I did not.”
Vaughan sighed in his bondage and allowed his head to flop. “Must I endure a verbal lashing, or do you plan to use the whip in your hand?”
