Read The Reluctant Suitor Page 57


  Curiosity had a way of leading a person into an area that could well prove life-threatening. Felicity was well aware of that fact and yet she considered her choices, whether to ignore the thumps and continue perusing the ledgers or to discover the identity of the person Roger had secluded in his private room. The decision was hardly debatable, at least not for someone who had already discovered the evil lurking behind a handsomely boyish face. She was fearful enough of Roger without allowing his unrelenting intimidations to control every facet of her life. She had to see what he was up to this time.

  Dragging a chair near the door, Felicity climbed atop the seat, slid slender fingers along the uppermost part of the doorjamb, and promptly found what she had sought. “Sly you are not, Roger!”

  Clasping the key to her breast, she stepped to the floor and, once again, paused to consider the consequences of her actions. Although determined to release Roger’s prisoner, she was also more than a little wary, not knowing what would likely happen if she erred in thinking her husband was the only culprit. But he had already proven he was one of the foulest sort! reason argued. Resolved to find out the identity of the one he had locked behind the door, she fetched a lantern and placed it upon the seat of the chair to lend her much needed light as she tried to fit the key into the lock. Shaking fingers definitely hindered her progress. Yet she had to know what and who was in the forbidden room.

  Thrusting the key into the tiny niche, Felicity turned it once, heard a “click” as the lock was freed, and was about to reach for the knob when the door was snatched inward. Almost immediately, out stumbled a woman, totally naked except for wildly snarled hair flowing almost to her waist. Her face and body were terribly bruised. On the inside of her thighs, matted blood had dried, sending cold shivers of dread through Felicity. She entertained no smallest doubt that Roger was responsible for the woman’s sorry condition.

  “Help me,” the wild-looking female pleaded in desperation. “Please, oh, please, help me escape that vile madman. He’ll likely kill me if I remain.”

  “Who are you?” Felicity asked, completely stunned by what she was seeing. She had never dreamt that Roger would go so far as to actually hold a woman captive for his prurient purposes. “Why are you here?”

  “I’m Pandora Mayes, an actress from London,” the woman explained, on the verge of tears. “I came to the mill to buy a shawl yesterday. Or was it a year ago? It certainly seems as if an eternity has passed since then.” She shivered in revulsion. “The miller said he’d give me the shawl if I’d be nice to him, but I never imagined what he’d demand of me in return or that he’d keep me a prisoner to serve his demented pleasure night and day. He forced me to drink some laudanum before he left me last night, but I don’t think I could’ve escaped anyway, not after what he did to me. I’ve never been so violated in so many different ways in all my life. I thought I’d die before he finished with me. I’ve been so frightened, and I’m too ashamed to say what he did.” She shuddered convulsively. “I must leave here before he returns, or he’ll kill me. I know he will! He promised he’d come back tonight, to continue with what he had started before he left. He said he had to run an errand, and then he’d be back. Knowing he’d be gone for a while, I took a chance that someone would hear me. Now I’m free, and I must get away. There’s no telling what more he’ll do if I can’t find a way to escape.”

  The actress’s sorely used condition and the terror she conveyed at the idea of falling into Roger’s hands again brought Felicity face to face with the realization that her husband had treated her fairly well in comparison. Knowing how difficult it had been to tolerate his abuse herself, she was moved by compassion and mentally searched for a way to help the woman escape. Her grandfather came to mind.

  Laying a hand upon the woman’s arm, she stated what was obvious. “You can’t leave here without any clothes. Do you have any?”

  “The miller refused to return them. He told me to wash and perfume myself before he returned, but I’ve done neither.”

  “I’ll run back to the house and fetch some clothes. If you can, you’d better get washed. You . . . ah . . . smell . . . used.”

  “I have been used, numerous times in fact . . . by that filthy bastard!”

  Although Roger had vented worse language in her presence, Felicity had never heard a woman spew forth the like. “Ready yourself as much as you can while I’m gone,” she urged. “I’ll return shortly with something for you to wear. My grandfather has friends who’ll see you safely to London, but we’ll have to walk up the hill from here. Do you have any shoes?”

  “That’s the only thing that sorry lecher left me,” Pandora sneered in venomous hatred of the man.

  Briefly considering the voluptuousness of the woman, Felicity decided forthwith that it would be futile to bring back anything more than a nightgown and a cloak. Although they were nearly the same height, the woman was far more buxom and generally fleshier. With her long, frizzy hair, painted nails, smeared rouge, and eyes smudged with black kohl, she definitely looked the sort to be found in houses of ill repute.

  Felicity sprinted back to the house, but in her haste to return with the clothing she had collected, she failed to notice the cart parked in the lane on the far side of the mill. Snatching open the door of the office, she rushed in, busily separating the garments until she realized Roger was standing in the middle of the room with arms akimbo and his scar-separated brow arched to a lofty height above a menacing glare. Letting out a frightened screech, she whirled about-face and made a frantic attempt to flee. Immediately he was behind her, catching a hand in her hair.

  “So, my little dove, you were curious, eh?” he snarled in her ear. “Well, we all might as well have a glass of port while I figure out what to do with the two of you. Of course, I could take you both to London and sell you to the brothels there. . . .” He snickered snidely as Felicity clutched a trembling hand protectively over her protruding stomach. “As dainty and fetching as you are, my sweet, you’d probably lose our chit ere the first week is out. The men will certainly be delighted to taste such a tempting little morsel, even if you are with child.”

  He sent her spinning across the room and chortled in amusement as her haphazard dervish ended in a rather ungraceful plop into a chair beside Pandora, who was literally quaking with terror. The tears the woman had wept just since Roger’s reappearance had dissolved the rest of the kohl lining her eyelids, leaving black streaks coursing down her cheeks.

  Roger sauntered about, taking his own precious time making his den of iniquity secure as he locked his private haven, bolted the front door, and latched the shutters. As he passed through the room, he smiled insipidly at the pair. “We can discuss where I’ll be taking you over some port, so please don’t stray while I’m fetching it, ladies. Should you dare, I can promise you that I’ll make you both extremely sorry you disobeyed me. I have this cruel little device called a barbed rod. The metal spikes on the end will likely take the flesh off your backs in short order.”

  He disappeared down the hallway and, after a lengthy moment, finally reemerged bearing three goblets. Betwixt the fingers of one hand he clasped the stems of two as he lifted a third to his lips and leisurely sipped from its rim. Holding the portion in his mouth to savor it more fully, he rolled his eyes as if transported to paradise and then smiled as he swallowed the liquid.

  “Divine, if I may so myself,” he boasted, as if entertaining two ladies from the upper classes.

  He extended the hand bearing the two goblets to Pandora. Fearful of refusing, she peered up at him warily and, with badly shaking fingers, plucked one free of his grasp.

  “You needn’t be so terrified, my pet. Drink the port. ‘Twill give you courage. Who knows? I may even take pity on you and finish what we started earlier. My wife could use a few lessons in the art of making a customer happy before she is forced to yield to their various requests.”

  A convulsive shudder went through Pandora, evidencing her own growing horror o
f what he suggested.

  Stepping before Felicity, Roger presented the last glass to her and perused her face admiringly as she accepted it with a cautious glance upward. “You are a real beauty, my pet,” he mused aloud, caressing her cheek in a display of affection. “I shall be greatly saddened to take you to London. After all, I did love you . . . in my fashion . . . but, of course, not as much as I loved Lady Adriana.”

  A sharp gasp was wrenched from Pandora, who looked up at him in surprise, drawing a curious smile from the miller. Immediately she dropped her gaze to her naked thighs, fearful of claiming any portion of his attention.

  “Ah, ‘twould seem you are acquainted with Lady Adriana. How so?” When she failed to answer him, he leaned toward her and railed at the top of his lungs, making both women start and tremble violently in their chairs. “How do you know her, slut? You’re not of the peerage!”

  “L-Lord Col-Colton,” Pandora stuttered fearfully. “I’ve known him . . . for some time.”

  “I shall assume that was before he returned and married the beauteous Adriana. . . .” Although he waited, he had to resort to a vicious backhand blow across the actress’s face before he gained an answer.

  “Y-yes, I-I only m-met her yesterday or m-maybe it was the other day. I c-can’t remember. I’ve l-lost track of time,” Pandora stuttered. Reaching up with the back of her hand, she wiped away the thin trail of blood that trickled from a corner of her mouth. “I n-never saw or even h-heard of h-her until I went to Randwulf Manor the other day.”

  “A regal beauty, isn’t she?” Roger mused, sipping his port with a lofty air. “I almost had my pleasure of her, but his lordship intruded ere I could force myself upon her. Of course, I shall never forget how she thrashed me before he appeared. I owe her for that. Sometime very, very soon, I’m going to have her bleeding and begging me for mercy, and then I’ll make her do everything I want. She’ll be sorry she didn’t let me make love to her then.”

  Felicity peered askance at Pandora as the trembling woman lifted the wineglass to her lips. Briefly they exchanged glances, and Felicity frowned, shaking her head warningly, but Roger bent toward her with a smile, halting her attempt.

  “What’s the matter, dear? Are you jealous?” He smirked. “You needn’t be. The wench means nothing to me, merely a plaything with whom to wile away my evenings, a knowledgeable diversion, to be sure, but nothing meaningful. I would’ve returned to you once I became bored with her. That was not far off, believe me. Her continuous sobbing and pleading wore on my temper until I was nigh ready to thrash her.”

  “Are you really going to take me to a brothel in London, Roger?” Felicity asked, amazed that she had been able to get the words out through her fear-constricted throat. She had never been so frightened in all her life. “It would likely mean the loss of your child.”

  He waved a hand with a casual air, dismissing that issue as none of his concern. “I care not for children, nor your rounding shape, my dear. However, I will miss you to some extent. I’m immensely fond of beautiful women, and you’re among the finest, I must admit.”

  “But not to be compared to Lady Adriana,” she managed in a snide tone, as if she truly resented that fact.

  “Oh, I see you are jealous, Mrs. Elston,” he crooned and then chortled as if amused by the idea. “You were certainly envious when Lord Colton turned his attention upon her, weren’t you? Oh, I know how you adored the man, my dear, but one of these days he’s going to be sorry he ever came back from the wars. I intend to have his cods on a roasting stake, and then I’m going to mount Adriana as many times as I please while he’s forced to watch. I owe him that before I kill him.”

  Felicity couldn’t resist asking, “Do you hate everyone, Roger?”

  “Why, no, my dear. I don’t hate you. Or Adriana. Haven’t I treated you well and loved you in my fashion?”

  “In your fashion?” Felicity demanded incredulously. “Hurting me whenever you touched me? Is that what you call love? Or would it be better described as brutality?”

  He waved a hand arrogantly to dismiss her argument. “There are definitely those I hate. Some I’ve shrewdly removed, and no one’s been the wiser. Others have yet to feel my revenge. I had Lord Colton in my sights once after rallying men to aid me, but he lived in spite of the hole I put in his back, and he married Adriana that very same night. I hated him for that! I hated his father before him, and I took my revenge upon him, subtle though it was, but that is neither here nor there. What I must decide at this present moment is what to do with you fair damsels.”

  Roger strode to the far end of the shop, allowing Felicity to dump the contents of her goblet into a tall copper kettle that sat beside her. Pandora craned her neck to see what she had done and then briefly sneered at the waste of good port. Before Felicity had a chance to stop her, the actress raised her own glass and finished the wine off with one flip of her wrist. Felicity stared at her in paralyzed horror, knowing with a certainty that she had just gulped down a lethal dose of arsenic.

  The miller turned and, seeing their drained glasses, set aside his own. “Time to be about the business of taking you two to wherever I’m going to take you,” he announced and then gestured toward the nightgown and cloak that had fallen from Felicity’s arm when she had entered and which now lay in a heap upon the floor. “You might as well let dear Pandora wear those things you brought over, my dear. ‘Twould be difficult to explain to anyone we pass why I have a naked woman riding in the back of my cart.”

  Beneath Roger’s smirking gaze, Pandora dragged on the nightgown and then wrapped the cloak about herself. As he silently gestured for her to move toward the door, she complied, afraid to do otherwise. Bidden in like manner, Felicity followed the woman, and a few short moments later, the two of them were climbing into the back of the cart as Roger freed the reins.

  It didn’t take Felicity long to realize they were not heading toward London after all, but in more of a westerly direction, toward the rolling countryside interspersed with lofty manors and sizable estates through which the River Avon twined. It was also an area where Roger could dispense with them fairly easily and they wouldn’t soon be found, if at all. If she didn’t manage to get away from him alive, it would probably take weeks, perhaps even months, before anyone found their bodies.

  Beside her, Pandora began to groan and writhe in agony. Fearing to do otherwise, Felicity emulated her as best as she could. When she heard her husband’s sadistic laughter, her neck crawled at his callousness. For all his talk of being fond of her, he seemed highly amused by the idea that he had been successful in poisoning her. It was actually what she hoped he’d believe. Indeed, her ploy would likely be the only way she’d be able to escape alive from this ordeal. It all depended on what her husband intended to do with them after he decided they were dead. She was not particularly fond of being buried alive, but then, Roger was not all that ambitious either, especially when it involved hard work, which digging a grave definitely was. Considering his aversion to any laborious task, there was a strong chance that he’d just dump them somewhere alongside the road and be done with it. She prayed desperately that that would be the way of it, and that it wouldn’t be long after he had left them that she’d be able to find help.

  Pandora finally stopped her anguished moaning, and again Felicity followed her example. Even so, she reached across very carefully and pressed her fingers to the woman’s wrist. Alas, she could detect no pulse and could only conclude the actress had indeed died from port that Roger had poisoned.

  In an area that was totally unfamiliar to Felicity, Roger finally halted the cart, dragged Pandora to the end of it, and, from there, let her body plummet to the ground. Taking hold of her wrists, he hauled her away from the road and then along a ridge that Felicity suspected ran parallel to a stream or perhaps even the River Avon. In the distance, she thought she could hear the burbling of a swiftly moving stream.

  While her husband was engaged in the task of disposing of Pandora, Feli
city tore off a tiny portion of her chemise and stuffed the piece into her mouth, hoping fervently it would be sufficient to stifle whatever sound would be evoked from her if Roger let her fall to the ground as he had Pandora. Even with her precautions, she was fearful that some grunt, gasp, or similar sound would issue forth from her mouth, which would indeed prove immensely hazardous for her. If Roger wasn’t thoroughly convinced she was dead, she wouldn’t live out the hour.

  Roger straightened as he reached a place favorable for his purposes. Bracing a booted foot upon the voluptuous actress’s hip, he sent Pandora rolling down the slope, and a short space of time later, a distant splash evidenced the fact that her body had rolled into the stream at the bottom of the ravine. Panting from his exertion, he made his way back to the cart.

  Felicity’s heart lurched in her breast as Roger clasped a hand around her ankle and hauled her toward him. Her skirts were nigh to her waist by the time she reached the end of the bed, but he tugged her around until she was lying parallel with the edge. She held her breath in agonizing fear, dreading her descent, praying she and her baby would somehow survive the fall.

  Roger leaned forward over her and, slipping his arms beneath her, lifted her up in his arms, causing Felicity to grow weak with overwhelming relief. She was much smaller and therefore lighter than the actress had been. Perhaps for that reason, Roger had decided she would be more manageable if he just carried her. In view of the rocks that jutted up here and there over the area he was traversing, he’d have certainly exerted himself far more had he dragged her to the same place from whence he had rolled Pandora’s body down the hill.