Pressing her ear to the wall, she waited to hear more words instead of amorous embraces.
‘What do you mean to do with her?’
Barnabas cleared his throat; the sound caused Louisa to shiver again.
‘I will have to make it so she must marry me.’
‘No, sir. I won’t allow a woman to be taken against her will in my house. EvenIhave morals.’
At least that was something to be thankful for. Louisa would rather die than allow her cousin to touch her. Kissing Wick had felt beautiful. Pleasurable. The thought of Barnabas’s hands on her filled her mouth with bile.
‘I won’t lay a finger on her—I swear it,’ he said. ‘All I have to do is spend the night in the same house as her alone and her reputation will be ruined. Louisa will have no choice but to marry me, and when she does all of her money will become mine. I need that money, Belinda—desperately. I have borrowed from a particularly nasty moneylender named Marcus Sullivan, and he says that if I don’t give him what he’s owed by the end of the month he’ll murder me. And he ain’t the sort of chap to make idle threats.’
Louisa covered her mouth with her hands to stifle a gasp. Barnabas would not let her go because his life depended on it.
Louisa heard a few footsteps come closer to where she stood in the cellar.
‘I can’t say that I approve, my lord,’ the woman named Belinda said. ‘But I suppose it won’t do her no harm to stay a night in my cellar... I’ve never had a real diamond necklace, afore... I daresay you’ll want to show me how grateful ye are after I helps you to a fortune and saves your life.’
‘I’ll buy you a dozen jewels once she is my wife.’
Holding her breath, Louisa tried to keep in her tears. But it was no use. Barnabas was right. He didn’t have to touch her to ruin her. Merely the hint of scandal would be enough to have Louisa expelled from society and spurned by theton.
Wiping her running nose with the back of her hand, Louisa knew she would never meet the Queen again.
And Wick.
Just thinking of him made her silently sob harder. She loved him.Lovedhim. And she was pretty sure that he cared for her as well. If only he would allow himself to be happy.
But they would never marry now.
With one blow to her head, Barnabas had dashed all hope of that. Even though it was not her fault Louisa would be ruined. Her reputation would be in tatters. Lady Jersey, Viscountess Duncannon and several other fashionable people had seen her being taken by a man in the middle of Hyde Park. There was no way she could quash the rumours or hope that it would be forgotten. Mantheria had told her that Lady Jersey’s nickname was ‘Silence’ because she could not stop talking. The woman had probably already told people about Louisa’s kidnapping...
And even if Wick was willing to believe that nothing had happened, her reputation would be irrevocably ruined. If he married her, Wick would be ruined too. Even his sisters: Mantheria, Frederica, Helen and Becca. All who had treated her with such love and kindness would be tarnished by association. They had become the family she had lost. The friends she had longed for. She couldn’t possibly injure them so deeply after all they had done for her.
Louisa laid her head in her lap and cried until there were no more tears inside her. And no hope.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Several hours in a carriage had not improved Wick’s temper. He wished that he had ridden his horse, and knew that he could have made better time without his meddling sister. But she had proved helpful in the search. More helpful than he liked to admit.
It was Mantheria who had learned from another lady in the posting inn where they had stopped that Lord Barnabas’s carriage had taken the road to Cookham. Wick nearly exploded with impatience as they waited for a change of horses. Mantheria insisted that he drink something. She drank milk, but he had ale.
Once the horses had been changed, they set off at a spanking pace towards Cookham. Wick told Mantheria’s driver to spring the horses. If they needed to get a new set at the next posting inn, then so be it.
If he’d been feeling better, he might have appreciated the quaint Tudor village, with its beautiful redbrick buildings and beam work. The tallest building was Cookham Church, a grey stone edifice that resembled a castle from another era. It sat near a river.
Mantheria pointed out of the window. ‘Oh, look, there’s an inn called the Crown. I dare say it is large enough to have a private parlour for refreshments.’
Wick opened the carriage window. ‘Stop at the Crown.’ He closed it with a loud snap. ‘You can rest safely in a private parlour and I’ll continue my search alone.’
‘I’m not giving up on the search, ninny,’ his sister said indignantly. ‘Who better than the proprietor of a coaching in to know if Lord Barnabas has passed through? Or if he has any haunts nearby.’
The driver opened the door of the carriage and Wick reluctantly followed his sister out and into the Tudor-style inn. The first floor was made from redbrick and the second was whitewashed, with triangular wooden beams, three gables and windows. A short man who was nearly as broad as he was tall bowed to them. He had a head full of black hair and a beard that reached past his stomach.
‘Can I offer you a private parlour, my lord?’ he asked. ‘I can tell that you and the lady are members of the quality.’
‘Have you seen a carriage and four come through your town this afternoon?’ Mantheria asked.