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If he could only push from his mind the image of a young Amelia when she first arrived at Newton Manor with her mother after the former Viscount Newton had married the woman. Amelia had been a pretty little girl, shy and quiet. As she’d stepped out of the carriage and looked up at him, she gave him a soft smile. She’d been dressed in a blue flowered dress, white stockings and black shoes. A blue ribbon had tied her golden blonde hair back.
His father had developed quite an affection for the girl, which Randolph was young enough and foolish enough to resent.
Assuming Randolph held the same fondness for Amelia, the former viscount had handed her guardianship and the responsibility for her welfare to him. He’d expected Randolph to give her a Season and find her a suitable husband with the dowry he left. Instead, his son had spent the dowry and was now auctioning her off as a mistress to cover the cost of his debauched lifestyle.
Another stab at his conscience, knowing the old viscount had depended on him to do the right thing.
He sighed. “Very well. I have no intention of going back on my word.” He looked up at Lyons with a self-derisive sneer. “You know I am an honorable man.”
* * *
Dante and Driscoll arrived at the drawing room in Hunt’s London townhouse to the sound of wails from a baby and sobs from its mother. They took one look at each other and turned on their heels to leave.
“Don’t. Go. Anywhere.” Hunt stood with his hand on Diana’s shoulder as she attempted to calm the screaming child in her arms.
“Isn’t there a nurse?” Dante asked, staring with wide eyes at the amount of noise coming from such a small body.
“She went to fetch s-something to ease Alicia’s stomach. She a-appears to have a problem with d-digestion.” Driscoll could hardly hear Diana’s broken reply over the screams.
“Ah, here we are, little darling.” A rounded woman, somewhere in her fifties, who must have been the nurse, entered the room with a bottle of brown liquid. “A tad bit of chamomile and ginger will set her little body to straights.”
She lifted the sobbing child from Diana’s arms, who then wiped the tears that had been streaming down her own cheeks. She stood, wobbling a bit until Hunt gripped her elbow. “I think you should rest for a while, my love. You look a tad worn out.”
Diana merely nodded at her two brothers-in-law and walked with Hunt out of the drawing room. “I shall be right back,” Hunt threw over his shoulder.
“Blasted things, babies,” Dante said as the room quieted down.
“But a blessing as well,” Driscoll added.
Dante smirked. “You never would had said that two months ago. I think you have fallen hard, dear brother.”
Perhaps he had. The idea of Amelia as his wife and swollen with his child caused as much joy as the idea of him not rescuing her in time caused him excruciating pain. No matter. Even if they were too late to rescue her from the fate Newton planned, Driscoll would still take her as his wife. After he killed, slowly and painfully, whoever ‘won’ her in the auction.
The two brothers sat in silence, sipping on the tea a footman brought to the room shortly after Hunt left.
“Diana is settled, and the babe is already asleep.” Hunt rubbed his hands together as he entered the room. He walked to the tea cart and fixed a cup of tea and then sat across from his two brothers. “What news do you have?”
They had visited with Hunt when Driscoll had first learned of Amelia’s disappearance. As a peer, and member of the House of Lords, Hunt had many contacts that he used to uncover anything he could about the missing woman. Before his questions had brought any information, Driscoll had learned about the auction and the woman being offered, who he knew to be Amelia.
“The auction is to be held in two days. As far as I have been able to ascertain, the event is by invitation only, and given our contentious relationship with Newton and the fact that he had Amelia kidnapped from our club, I don’t think any of our names are on the coveted list.”
Unable to sit still, which is how Driscoll’s days—and nights—had been since he’d returned from the Home Office assignment, he jumped up and began to pace. “I don’t wish to involve the authorities since Amelia’s name will be dragged through the mud and any chance she would have of a normal life thereafter will be nil.”
Hunt eyed his brother with smugness. “And am I to assume you wish the thereafter life to be with you?”
Driscoll stopped and nodded. “Yes. I intend to offer for her the minute she is free of Newton’s clutches.” He glared at Dante. “No matter what the outcome is.” He turned back to Hunt. “And Newton won’t dare object to the match, given he is her guardian, as long as I assure him no legal ramifications would befall him.”
“What is our plan, then?” Hunt asked before popping a small sandwich into his mouth.
“Driscoll’s suggestion of beating the man to a pulp before he can hold the auction was not the best, I think.” Dante grinned at his brother.
“Why not?” Driscoll asked. “We know he has her, we know for what purpose. Why not just walk up to his house, barge our way in and rescue her?”
“Little brother, you are not thinking clearly. One cannot barge into a peer’s home, snatch one of the residents and expect there will be no repercussions,” Hunt said.
“Anyway,” Dante added, glancing sideways at his brother, “I think our best move is to wait until the night of the auction.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “We have to get her before the bidding starts. Once a gentleman has been awarded—I hate that term—the girl, it will be harder to get her out. I would prefer to have as little commotion as possible.”
“What if I visited with Newton and offered to pay whatever he thought he would gain from the auction?” Driscoll asked.
