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CHAPTER3
“Abloody knave, a villain of the worst order. It is too kind to call him a devil,” Verity cried, balling her hands at her side and staring up at the imposing mansion in a fury. “How can anyone be this unfeeling?”
“Wot happened?” Artie said, running over to her, leading the mare by the reins. “Where is little Thomas?”
She took a steady breath against the panic and fear beating at her senses. “The duke has him.”
“Why?”
The pure bewilderment in Artie’s tone pierced her chest. They had all been a family for the last two years. An odd set, but they’d found happiness and comfort with each other in a bond that had felt unbreakable. How easily it had shattered with just a few scrawled lines. Dipping into the pocket of her riding habit, she withdrew the note her sister had left.
Dearest Verity,
I have left for Paris by way of Dover. I am unhappy in this life my foolish passion trapped me into. I have found a kind, charming soul in a gentleman I have exchanged letters with for the past several months. I cannot take Thomas with me, for every time I look at him, I am reminded of the pain and the dashed expectations. I am reminded of the love I lost and the heartache I endured, that I still endured daily. I am taking Thomas to the Duke of Bainbridge. He will not be your burden anymore. Now that I am gone from Benbow, the scandal and the whisperings will lessen. Verity, see if Papa will once again welcome you home, and perhaps in time, you might find your own happiness.
Catherine
“He was never my burden, Catherine. He was our little love,” Verity whispered, tears burning behind her eyes. Slipping the letter inside her pocket, she took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “I am going to steal into that house and rescue Thomas.”
Artie’s eyes widened. “Wot?”
“You heard me,” she said grimly.
Artie looked back at the mansion and the rolling lawns and gardens surrounding the dwelling. “I don’t think he needs rescuing.”
She shook her head against that reasoning. “Little Thomas is clearly in the clutches of a villain. One who hardly cares about our bond, and one who most certainly will not allow me a space in his life.”
Artie appeared dubious as he mulled this over. “He is a bleedin’ duke. We don’t want to offend a duke.” He mimicked the dreadful notion of a noose around his neck.
With a sniff, she tossed her head. “I am Lady Verity, the daughter of an earl. What can a duke do to me?”
“Yer the disgraced daughter of the earl,” Artie pragmatically pointed out. “Methinks the duke can do a lot.”
Noting that he was worried, she hugged him toward her. “I will be careful. I promise.”
“I ain’t assured,” he mumbled.
“The house seemed understaffed. The housekeeper allowed me inside, and I perceived no footmen or maids about. I shall wait until it is dark, slip inside and take Thomas out. We’ll take my horse and ride to Meadowvale Inn, rent a coach and a driver, and return here at about midnight. Catherine did not name herself in the note she left to the duke, and today he asked my name. I do not believe he knows who we are and that I am thankful for. Once we are away, he will not know where to look for us. May I rest my hopes on you to help me in this, Artie?”
His chest puffed out. “Yes.”
“Thank you, Artie. I could not do this without you.”
His brown eyes showed pride and the fierce resolve she felt brewing in her heart. One did not abandon family to strangers, especially one called the Devil Duke with a salacious and rather dubious reputation. Her pulse pounded with a bit of fear and some exhilaration. The idea of seeing the duke again sent the startling reaction through her.
“I’ll not be seeing him,” she muttered under her breath, staring up at the only window that shone with light.
Outside, in the dimming twilight, the rest of the mansion loomed dark and ominous. It was that room that might be important, and she walked back and forth on the lawn, trying to understand its position inside the house. A figure walked up to the window, and she recognized the imposing frame of the duke. Verity gasped, and before she could dash away and hide, his gaze snared hers. She found herself rooted to the spot, her heart a frantic pulse, simply staring up at him.
He stood before the windows, one of his hands behind his back and the other holding a cane, his booted feet slightly apart, his expression haughty and cold. He was tall and broad-shouldered. That he used a cane did not diminish the duke at all. Somehow it added to the impression of formidable will and strength. Earlier, she had been secretly awed at the stunning beauty of his mocking green eyes, which were as the lush forest itself. With his sensually cruel mouth, the duke gave the overall impression of cunning and beauty, a kind of gentleman she would never dream of walking too close to, two years ago, when she’d debuted in London for her first Season.
There was such power and surety in that stare that pinned Verity in place. How wretched it made her feel. As if she were a mouse challenging a hawk. The awareness shook her resolve, only for a second. She lifted her chin. I am not afraid of you duke. His mouth curved in a barely-there smile, mocking her silent defiance. Verity forced herself to look away, vowing to rescue little Thomas at all cost.
Verity waitedfor the midnight hour to sneak into the duke’s mansion. The small coach and the driver waited down the lane, but Artie moved stealthily beside her as they tested the terraced windows. The night was silent and still, and she resented the terrible uncertainty that prickled over her skin. They had tested a few windows to no avail and her door picking skills were none-existent.
“This one is open,” Artie whispered.
Relief hit Verity, and with it a lifting of her spirits. “I will go inside alone, Artie.”
