“You think you could abduct my wife and I wouldn’t retaliate?”
“I knew you’d retaliate,” James gasped, trying to regain his breath. “But I didn’t realize you’d be such a coward that you’d have to bring along guards to protect you.” James forced himself to straighten and held his arms wide, the chairs rattling with the movement. “Really, do you fear a pampered whore?”
“You’re scum and nothing more!” The man growled and rushed forward, fist raised.
Exactly what he wanted. James lifted his arms and swung the chain around his neck. With a quick jerk, he tugged Lord Beckett back against his chest and held him tightly with the chain. “Not so fierce now, are you?”
Beckett gasped for air, clawing at the chain, his eyes bulging. “If I’m going to die anyway, I might as well take you with me to hell.”
“Let him go!” One of the guards pulled a pistol from his jacket pocket, training it on James. His arm trembled so badly he would more likely shoot the wall. Just as he’d thought, Lord Beckett’s guards were completely inept.
Beckett twisted from side to side, his feet stomping at the floor like an irate bull’s, but James didn’t loosen his hold. Sweat broke out across his forehead as he fought to maintain control of the monster. “How does it feel,” James said softly, pulling the chain so tight the man was wheezing for air, “to know that not only will Eleanor be free of you, but she will also inherit your money to do with as she pleases. I do hope she burns your ancestral home to the ground.”
“Move aside!” The prison guards filed into the cell, so many they could barely move. Still he didn’t let go. James needed just one more moment, one more to kill the bastard once and for all. But his moment was over. Suddenly, he was swarmed. Beckett was torn from his hands. Fists hit him in the stomach and face, propelling him backward. Over the sound of knuckles connecting with his flesh he was only too aware of Lord Beckett gasping and choking air back into his lungs, returning to life. He had failed, damn it all.
James fell back against the wall. His body was no longer his own. His knees buckled and he slid to the floor, collapsing completely. The shouts and jeers from the guards and other prisoners merged together in an unnaturally loud buzz. He laid with the side of his face pressed to the damp stone. Laid there trying not to breathe because it hurt too badly. As he laid there he thought of Ellie and how she must have felt when she’d been beaten by Lord Beckett.
“Hold him,” Lord Beckett gasped, rubbing his throat and glaring at James.
Two of Lord Beckett’s guards latched onto his upper arms and jerked him to his feet. James hung limply from their grip. He couldn’t fight; he could barely lift his arms. A stabbing pain sliced through his chest, beating in time with his heart. He was rather sure a rib or two had been cracked. He was chained, outnumbered. He didn’t give a shite about dying, but he was bloody well irate that he hadn’t killed Beckett.
The man shrugged off his jacket, handing it to a prison guard, who took it hesitantly, obviously uneasy with what was happening. No doubt Lord Beckett would pay him handsomely to do as he pleased.
“When I’m done with you,” Lord Beckett grinned, “I’ll make sure I take care of my wife once and for all.”
He threw his fist forward, hitting James in the chin. James’s head snapped back, hitting the rock wall behind him. Pain branched across his skull, shooting down his spine. The lantern light danced around him, the room fading in and out of focus.
He clenched James’s shirt and pulled him close. “When I find Eleanor,” he whispered for James’s ears only, “have faith that she will pay for her crimes. Perhaps you’ll be seeing her soon after all… in hell.”
“Enough,” one of the prison guards hissed, stepping between them. “We need him alive for the hanging.”
“I’ll determine when it’s enough,” he growled.
Lord Beckett released his hold and stepped back. How James wished he could punch that arrogant smirk from his face. The guards released him and James fell to the hard ground, the chains rattling around him. He didn’t have time to move before the man’s foot came forward. The tip of his boot caught James in the gut. Pain rippled through his body. James bit back his cry. He would not give them the satisfaction of making a sound. Instead he focused on the pain, welcomed it greedily, for it made him forget, for a moment, the wretchedness that had become his life.
Lord Beckett started toward the door. “By the by, Mr. McKinnon. I’ve recently had the pleasure of making the acquaintance of an Arabella McKinnon. Any relation?”
James growled low in his throat, his fingers digging into the brick floor.
“She is?” He released a deep chuckle. “How very interesting. Don’t you fret, I’ll make sure that when you’re rotting in hell your sister is well taken care of. We certainly wouldn’t want her to be lonely.”
With a roar James managed to stumble to his feet and lunge toward the door. The chains around his wrists and ankles jerked him back. Spent, his legs gave out and he collapsed once more to the ground. The door closed, the lock turning.
“I look forward to seeing you hang tomorrow,” Lord Beckett called through the window. His laughter vibrated through the hall, bouncing off the walls even long after the man had left.
James rolled onto his back and stared up into the darkness. The world faded as pain overwhelmed him. He lost track of time, barely noticed the damp stone underneath, the scurry of rats across the floor.
As his eyes closed, his body fading into nothingness, he was vaguely aware of the fact that tomorrow he would die, knowing that instead of helping, he had made everything so much worse.
Chapter 16
Eleanor found she liked Alex. Although with his overly long hair and tanned skin he resembled a pirate, not at all like the men of the ton she normally associated with, she was comfortable in his presence. He was handsome as sin, but there was a dangerous air about him that sent people scurrying to the other side of the lane when he approached. And she needed someone dangerous guarding her back.
He’d apparently been in London for a few days, having arrived to settle matters with Ophelia. Eleanor had been so relieved to have someone else helping that she’d almost started to cry at his appearance. Yes, if anyone could help, it would be Alex.
He lifted his hand and assisted her down from the hired hack. “You’re sure you want to do this?”
“Yes.” It still hurt to move, but she ignored the pain. How could she complain when James was in prison? When she thought about what he must be going through, she could barely breathe. The frantic need to help him overwhelmed her, and she would have walked through hell merely to ease his suffering.
The laudanum Patience had forced past her lips would help dull the aches. But she limited her intake, for she wanted to keep her wits about her when she confronted Lord Beckett. Mr. Smith followed them, silent as always. He would play their guard. Already two days had gone by since James had been arrested. She was frantic to gain his release, worried about what would happen to him in that prison with no protection.
Alex had bribed a guard to find out how he fared. The man had merely grunted that he was still there, inside the filth and darkness where her husband belonged, not James. Hope was the only thing that kept her going… hope of freeing James. Hope for another life, a better life.
“Forgive me,” Alex said, “but you don’t seem… as if you’d get on with James.”
She smiled slightly as she slid her arm through his, mostly because she was still too sore to walk comfortably on her own. Underneath that polite query was the real comment… she didn’t seem like the sort of woman to visit a brothel.
“I didn’t know it at the time, but I needed him to remind me that there was a life, a world out there full of pleasure and beauty if one has the freedom to enjoy it.”
He nodded slowly, mulling over her response. Overhead, heavy gray clouds threatened rain. The dreariness matched her mood. She didn’t quite understand how the world could go on as it had
when her heart was slowly being crushed, destroyed.
“And you think that by speaking with your husband you might win your freedom?”
“I have no choice but to try.” Her smile fell as the town home came into view. Her old fears came unfurling back. She clenched Alex’s arm more tightly. “I fear James may change. He was so optimistic until he uncovered the truth. Now there is a desperation in his gaze that frightens me.”
They paused at the bottom of the stoop. “I think,” Alex said, “that no matter what happens, if you still believe in him, if you still believe in a future with him, that perhaps you can help him through.” He gave her a quick smile, his white teeth brilliant against his tanned skin. “At least it worked with me and my wife, Grace.”
The love he had for his wife was evident in his voice, in his gaze, in the way he smiled when speaking about her. Could she and James have that someday? But she knew enough to realize that she couldn’t change James if he didn’t want to change. She could only pray that the true man was still there… deep down.
Alex glanced back at the quiet Mr. Smith, then up at the black door, a door that Eleanor gone through so many times before she’d lost count. “Shall we?”
Her heart slammed wildly in her chest, and she suddenly found it hard to breathe. “Might as well get it done with.”
They started up the steps of the familiar town home, a place that she had resided in for over a decade. She was home. But it no longer felt like home. Perhaps it never had. No, it was merely a box that held memories, painful memories of a life she hadn’t wanted yet hadn’t been able to escape… until now.
“You’re sure?” Alex asked once more as they paused at the door.
“I must try,” she said softly, although inside she despaired that anything would come of her visit.
“My father—”
“No.” She rested her hand briefly upon his sleeve. Patience had admitted that Alex did not speak to his family, that his father was a powerful man who had disowned his eldest son. His younger brother didn’t even know he existed. “We can’t bring more people into this mess. My husband will only try and use them as he has used me.”
Alex nodded. Still, if worse came to worst, she was not above begging Alex to speak with his father. When he reached for the bell cord all thoughts fled and only one emotion remained… terror. She was returning to the viper’s nest.
The door opened almost immediately. Graham stood there, first glancing at her with a look of what could only be disgust, then at Alex with unease. She had to remind herself that Alex and Mr. Smith would not let anything happen to her, but it was difficult to remember when the memories came roaring back.
“How wonderful to see you, Graham,” she snapped coolly. “Now, move aside.”
He didn’t budge. Alex stepped closer, the man taller, stronger, and younger than Graham. “You heard her, move aside or I swear to God I’ll make you.”
Graham’s jowls quivered as he shifted in indecision. “I would be happy to call for Lord Beckett.”
“Is this not my house as well? Or are Lord Beckett and I no longer married?”
He flushed and she could tell the butler wanted to set her down a peg or two. Hell, he probably wanted to toss her from the town house. But his gaze shifted to Alex, and then to Mr. Smith, and finally he stepped aside, reluctantly giving them access.
“Where is he?” she asked as she moved past the man and into the great hall. How very odd it was to return home. The marble elegance seemed cold and unforgiving. Not a touch of her personality could be found in the place where she’d lived her entire adult life. It had always been his and always would be. There would be no sadness when she left for good.
“If you are speaking of your husband,” Graham sneered, “Lord Beckett is in the library.”
“He’s no husband,” she hissed. How she hated his condescending tone, the way he looked down his nose at her and always had. “And you’re no gentleman. A true man does not stand by while a woman is tortured and beaten.”
He straightened, snapping his attention toward the door. “You are his wife; he is your master.”
“No one is my master. I decide my own fate.”
Alex grinned proudly as she marched past them. Even though it hurt, she kept walking, determined to see her plan through, determined not to lean on anyone when she entered the library. She would show him he could not make her cower. She could sense Alex and Mr. Smith behind her. They would be her strength. She had little time, so very little time to free James, and this was her one opportunity. She paused on the threshold and found her husband seated behind his desk. Seeing him, she felt no fear. He was only a man, a human being who could die as well as anyone. The only thing she felt was complete and utter disgust.
Sensing her presence, Lord Beckett glanced up from his paper. He didn’t seem the least bit surprised to see her, and in fact looked only mildly amused. “Well, darling, have you come home already? Did you find you couldn’t live without your spending money?”
His arrogance was just the thing she needed to spur her into action. Lord, how she hated him. “I could live within the depths of poverty if it meant being away from you.” She swept across the room, refusing to cringe no matter how much the movement hurt her aching body. “I’ve come to seek a divorce.”
He burst out laughing, his entire body shaking so hard that the teacup upon his desk rattled on the saucer. He thought he held all the power in this relationship, and why wouldn’t he? He had before. “You must be jesting.”
“Not at all.”
His smile fell. He was silent for a long, long moment, his gaze flickering from her to Alex and Mr. Smith, who stood waiting in the hall. She knew he was attempting to understand her sudden bravado, and he weighed his words carefully. “I will kill you before I divorce you.”
From the corner of her eye she noticed Alex shift closer to the door. She prayed he did not interfere. Casually, she moved toward the fireplace, drawing her fingers along the mantel. Only she could get her husband to relent, and it would take more than the threat of physical violence.
“Think on it, husband,” she said, settling in one of two leather wing back chairs near the fireplace. She spent little time in this room, for it reeked of his essence, his scent permeated the space. “If we divorce you can marry your whore.”
“Whore?” He chuckled, strolling toward her and taking the chair next to hers. “Funny that you should mention whores.”
She refused to react, for she would merely be giving him what he wanted. “If you think to shame me, it will take more than that.”
He sighed as if bored, drumming his fingers along the arms of his chair. “Even if I wanted to ruin my family name by divorcing you, it is highly unlikely the courts will grant it.”
“Are you not the same person who said that money can get you anything?”
He chuckled. “Touché. Yes, I suppose I could pay the courts, or I could merely wait for you to die.”
It was a threat she took seriously, although she didn’t dare show any outward reaction. “And if I have a way to divorce without killing me off?”
He quirked an arrogant brow. “Oh yes, the second cousin who is related to the queen. How could I forget since your parents like to mention it every time they are in polite society?”
“It could work.”
“Perhaps.” He smiled. “But why would I grant you a divorce when I could just as easily kill you and be rid of you for good?”
“Try it,” Alex growled, stomping toward them. He’d obviously had enough, and she didn’t blame him. Part of her wanted to flee, merely to escape her husband and his odious comments. But James was counting on her, and she would walk barefoot across the fires of hell to set him free.
Eleanor held up her hand. “No, please. Give us a moment.”
“I’m not leaving,” Alex snapped.
Her husband merely watched them all with amusement sparkling in his dark eyes. Of course he didn’t understand loyalty an
d affection. “Wait by the door where you can still see me.”
He hesitated, glaring at her husband. Mr. Smith, too, looked ready to pounce, and she could see Graham with a few footmen standing in the foyer, waiting to be called. Dear Lord, a war was about to break out, and then she would never gain James’s release. Finally, Alex spun around and moved into the hall, Mr. Smith following.
“You will grant me a divorce.” She settled in her chair once more, her cold gaze pinning her husband in place. “Because, darling, I know something about you that you don’t want me to know.”
He looked only mildly interested as he leaned back in his chair. Not for a minute did he believe she had any real power. He was about to find out how much she knew. “Really? Do pray tell?”
“I know that you’ve sold vital military information to Russia.”
He retained his smirk, but she didn’t miss the unease in his eyes. The urge to gloat was overwhelming but she managed to hold her tongue. “Prove it.”
She smiled back. “That’s the thing… I can. Not only do I have papers, but I also have witnesses.” She paused, letting the realization settle. “Months ago I tracked down a few witnesses.” She shrugged. “You know… just in case I’d need them. A footman you fired. A maid you tried to seduce. They were so eager to talk to me.”
She exaggerated the information she had, but he didn’t need to know that.
He surged to his feet, his face flushing with outrage. “You bitch!”
Eleanor held up her hand. “Now, now, you don’t want to harm me, because if anything happens… say, I lose my life, the papers will go public. I have friends, you see.” She glanced toward the door. Alex had reentered, called forward by Lord Beckett’s cry of protest. Mr. Smith remained in the hall, making sure the staff did not come to her husband’s rescue. They needed to leave, and soon, for if her husband called for help, they would be outnumbered.
“So, you will grant me a divorce. Most importantly, you will drop the charges against James. If you do all this I will keep your secret.”