These men were going to kill her, and she felt as though she’d just started to live. All her dreams of a future with Adrian had vanished like smoke in the wind, and she felt as though it was all her fault for daring to reach so high. She’d blackmailed him into marrying her, and now she wasn’t even going to have the chance to make it up to him.
At last, the coach rumbled to a stop, and the door opened. One of the men appeared in the opening, and he was even more fearsome looking than the one who’d ridden with them in the coach. “Get up,” he snarled, roughly grabbing Vanessa’s shoulders and wrenching her out of the vehicle.
She cried out in pain as her bound arms protested the strain, but then she was on her feet outside. She blinked against the glare of the sun, trying to figure out where they were. Near the river, she decided, wrinkling her nose at the smell.
“In here,” the man demanded, hustling her into a building before she had a chance to see more than a dingy street full of nondescript warehouses. She thought about screaming, but she hadn’t seen anyone, and she feared the consequences wouldn’t be worth it on the slim chance that someone might hear her and care enough to come investigate.
Once inside the building, the two men led Vanessa and Anne through a labyrinth of corridors to a door at the top of a set of rickety stairs that led down to some sort of cellar. This close to the river, it was certain to be dank and wet.
Anne began shaking her head wildly as the man tried to shove her through the opening. “No,” she cried. “Just let us go. Our husbands will pay whatever you want. Don’t make us go down there.”
“Shut up, you crazy bitch,” the man holding Anne snapped, forcing her forward.
Anne clung to the doorframe, refusing to go through. With a snarl, the man backhanded her across the face.
When she cried out and let go of the door to press her hands to her bruised cheek, he shoved her mightily, sending her flying down the stairs.
“Oh, my God,” Vanessa cried, as Anne’s scream was abruptly cut off with a loud thump. “She’s with child, you bastard! Let me go to her!”
The man who’d been holding her laughed and released her, and she hurried down the stairs, finding Anne crumpled in a heap at the bottom. Her blond hair was stained with blood, and Vanessa was sobbing by the time she reached her friend’s side.
“We need a doctor!” she cried, but the men simply shut the door, and she heard the unmistakable sound of a key turning in a lock.
Kneeling beside Anne, Vanessa carefully felt her throat for some sign of life. There! Weak, but she was still alive.
Vanessa collapsed beside her, pulling Anne’s head carefully into her lap, cradling her and stroking her brow. “Come on, Anne,” she whispered. “Wake up. Please wake up!”
Anne moaned a little but didn’t otherwise respond. Vanessa rubbed the tears from her eyes, trying to focus. It wouldn’t do any good to cry. Somehow, she had to get herself and Anne out of this place.
The first step was for Anne to regain consciousness, as she couldn’t very well carry her. She fumbled through her reticule, surprised they’d let her keep it. At last, she found what she was looking for, a vial of smelling salts. She wasn’t one to faint, but Anne had convinced her to buy them, saying every well-bred woman had them. She opened it and held the pungent scent under Anne’s nose, but Anne still didn’t move.
Vanessa smoothed Anne’s hair back, horrified to see a huge lump forming where she’d hit her head. The wound was still bleeding profusely, so she pressed a corner of her skirt against it, trying to staunch the flow.
“Please, Anne,” she whispered. “Don’t leave me here alone.”
She leaned back against the wall, cradling her friend’s head in her lap, fearing that not only was Anne going to die, but she might soon share her fate. She thought of Gabriel, her little boy, who would be left without a mother once again. Everything had been falling into place, and she couldn’t believe it was going to end this way.
The bastards who’d taken them obviously didn’t care whether they lived or died. A bit of hope blossomed in her chest as she thought of Adrian. He’d be looking for her by now, she was certain. But the hope shriveled quickly. How on earth would he ever find them?
* * * *
ADRIAN AND MORGAN ARRIVEDat Lucien’s townhouse, jumping off their mounts and heading quickly for the door. They instructed the butler to have someone tend to the animals while they burst into the house.
“Luke?” Morgan cried, his voice echoing in the vast hall. “Luke, we need you!”
Lucien appeared at the top of the landing, his brow wrinkled in concern. “What is it? What’s going on?” he asked, striding quickly down the stairs.
“Roger!” Morgan replied, his voice cracking with fear and fury. “He’s taken Anne and Vanessa in retribution for Prometheus.”
Adrian remained silent as Lucien turned to meet his gaze. He and Morgan hadn’t spoken at all on the way over. His twin had been right to say that this was his fault, and his fear and crippling guilt swallowed him, reverting him to that silent boy he’d once been.
Realizing Adrian was not in a place to add anything, Lucien turned back to Morgan. “What happened, exactly? Are you certain Roger is to blame?”
As Morgan recounted the footman’s story, Adrian strode to his brother’s study, where he knew he’d find an arsenal of weapons. He opted for a pistol and quickly loaded it as his brothers followed him into the room.
“What are you planning?” Morgan snapped. “You can’t simply shoot him. We have to find our wives first.”
At last, Adrian found his voice. “I don’t intend to shoot him until after we find the girls.”
