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“I see you’re up. Good.” The woman set the tray on the table next to the cot. “I have to take your gag off so you can eat. But you’re to say nothing, do you understand?”
Sophie nodded, shaking.
The woman removed the gag. “Here you are. It ain’t much, not what a genteel lady like you is used to, I’m sure. But you reap what you sow, don’t you?”
Reap what she sowed? Sophie arched her eyebrows and opened her mouth.
“I told you, don’t say a word. I’m not interested in what the likes of you has to say. Now eat your luncheon. I’ll be back to clear it later.” She swiftly left the room, locking the door behind her.
Sophie worked her jaw and massaged her cheeks. She ached where the gag had been. In fact, she ached all over, although they had not hurt her, thank goodness. She had taken her share of beatings in her short lifetime, and she wasn’t anxious to begin again. What could they possibly want with her? She truly was nobody.
She was too frightened to be hungry, but who knew when she would be allowed to eat again? The bread was slightly stale and the roast beef flavorless. Still, she forced it down, hydrating herself with the glass of watered-down wine.
How would anyone know she was missing? Ally and Evan were gone in London. No one would notice she was gone until evening, and then it would be too late to do anything about it until the next day. Her eyes misted, and a tear fell. What would become of her?
* * *
Evan banged on the door to Mr. Nathan Landon’s townhome.
The door opened, and a butler appeared. “Yes, sir, may I help you?”
Evan barged past the man. “I need to see Landon. Now.”
“I beg pardon, sir, but the master is still abed.”
“I don’t give a bloody damn if he’s in bed. I will see him now. If you do not get him for me, I will find him myself. I’m sure this huge mansion is full of bedchambers, but if I keep looking, I will eventually find the correct one.” And he’d no doubt find a woman there as well.
“I’m afraid I cannot disturb the master. He left explicit instructions—”
“Did you not hear me, man?” Evan grabbed the butler’s collar. “I will see him now. And if you think I won’t pummel right through you to get to him, you can think again. He has compromised my stepsister, and I am here to see that he does right by her.”
The man cleared his throat. “Sir—”
“It’s ‘my lord.’ I am Lord Evan Xavier, son of the Earl of Brighton.”
“I beg pardon, my lord. But I assure you, th
e master cannot be disturbed.”
“I assure you that I will physically remove you to get to him. Do you think me incapable of such?”
The mousy man eyed Evan up and down. “I suppose you are more than capable, my lord.”
“I assure you that I am. Now are you going to get Mr. Landon, or should I?”
The butler nodded. “Yes, my lord. Please wait here.” He left the foyer, his heels clicking on the marble flooring.
Evan looked around. So this was what one million pounds could buy. It was huge—marble flooring, sculptures gracing every corner, Oriental rugs, and silk brocade covering the chairs and settee. And this was only the foyer.
It was the money. How had Evan been so blind to the fact? Alexandra had come from near poverty, and the stars she saw when she looked at Landon were not stars at all but pound signs.
Evan paced the large foyer, glancing at the grandfather clock at the end of the hallway every couple of moments. Ten minutes passed, and then fifteen. His anger intensified. What on God’s green earth was taking so damned long?
After a half hour had passed and the butler had not returned, Evan left the foyer and walked toward the large staircase. He walked swiftly upward, passing several shocked maids on the way. He tried all the bedchambers on the second floor, to no avail.
Up to the third floor he strode, walking toward the end of the hallway where ornate double doors stood. Yes, he had found Landon’s lair. He grasped the ornate crystal doorknob, but it didn’t turn. Locked, of course. He clenched his teeth and banged on the door.
“Landon, goddamn it, open the door this fucking minute.”
