Chapter 29

Twenty-Nine

As far as abductions went, not that Camilla had ever actually been abducted before, this one wasn't exactly horrible, not when the men who'd snatched her had treated her with kid gloves throughout the train ride back to New York.

Granted, they'd not exactly been willing conversationalists. In fact, they'd not spoken to her at all, but after they'd tossed her into a private Pullman car, they'd then taken shifts watching over her while providing her with meals that had clearly been created by a chef, and a talented chef at that.

She was relatively certain that few, if any, abductees warranted travel in Pullman cars, let alone being served meals that any member of the Four Hundred would have deemed impressive.

Truth be told, the only trepidation she currently had centered around what was in store for her once they reached their final destination, which was rapidly approaching now that she'd been transferred from the Pullman car to a carriage, one that had black curtains obscuring the windows.

Frankly, all she could do now was hope a ransom had been delivered to her father, which she knew he'd pay, and then hopefully she'd be set free. Her first order of business after gaining her freedom would be, of course, to immediately set off to find Owen.

She was relatively certain that he hadn't been seriously injured since she hadn't overheard anything from her guards suggesting otherwise, but until she actually saw for herself, she couldn't help but worry.

She also couldn't help but wonder, given that they'd almost kissed again, and she'd gotten the impression he hadn't been opposed to traveling alone together, even though the consequences of that could have led to an immediate marriage, if Owen had come around to the idea that Beulah might have been right after all and they were, indeed, well-matched.

Pushing aside her thoughts about Owen as best she could when the carriage rolled to a stop, she lifted her chin, bracing herself for whatever was in store for her next.

The carriage door opened a moment later, and without saying a word, a man helped her out, keeping a firm grip on her arm as he led her through a courtyard that was surrounded by derelict buildings, the salty scent of the ocean tickling her nose and lending her the impression they might very well be down near the Battery.

Unfortunately, before she had a chance to determine exactly where she was, the man ushered her through a heavy door that looked as if it had been chosen to withstand an attack. A moment later, she found herself in an entranceway that certainly didn't match the exterior of the building she'd entered.

Walls papered in muted-green silk captured her attention before her gaze traveled over a crystal chandelier, marble floors, and a large bronze sculpture of a horse that would have been at home in any house on Fifth Avenue.

Another man, this one dressed in black, a holster slung low on his hips, strode up and presented her with a bow. "If you'll follow me, Miss Pierpont, I'll see you to your accommodations."

Since she certainly didn't have a choice in the matter, Camilla trailed behind the man down the long marble hallway, through a dining room, and then stopped when the man paused in front of a doorway. He removed a key from his pocket, unlocked the door, then pushed it open before he stepped aside and gestured her forward.

Wondering why the door had been locked, which suggested someone else might be locked in the room she was about to enter, which seemed somewhat ominous, Camilla forced herself to step into the room, all but stumbling to a stop when her gaze settled on a man standing beside the fireplace, a man who took that moment to turn around to face her.

She blinked, just once, before she squared her shoulders and marched farther into the room, temper roiling through her because the man now staring at her with narrowed eyes was not Victor Malvado or any other criminal boss, but none other than George Sherrington, Lord of Shrewsbury—and absolutely the last man on earth Camilla had ever wanted to see again.

"What in the world are you doing here, George?" she demanded, stopping a few feet away from him and crossing her arms over her chest.

George set aside the crystal wine goblet he'd been holding and returned his attention to her, his brows drawing together as his gaze swept the length of her, lingering on the housedress Cora Beth had given her. "I think a more pressing question would be ... what are you wearing?"

Her toe began tapping against the floor. "Is that really the first thing you think you should be asking me right now?"

George gave himself a bit of a shake and was smiling a second later as he closed the short distance separating them and grasped her hand, which he promptly raised to his lips and kissed.

"You're right, of course, my darling," he began, keeping hold of her hand and giving it another kiss, which left her with the distinct urge to jerk her hand away from him, something she was prevented from doing because he had what almost amounted to a death grip on her fingers. "I fear the sight of you had me quite losing my head for a second, although I must add that I'm not sure I like what you've done with the hair on your head. If memory serves me correctly, it used to be a vibrant gold, but now it seems to be a somewhat mousy shade of blond."

"I believe that's because it's long overdue for a wash."

His smile slid from his face. "May I assume you've suffered from some type of mishap that is responsible for you abandoning expected grooming practices?"

"I was abducted, George. I would think the answer to that is obvious."

He gave her hand a pat, a tic appearing on his forehead when she finally pried her hand away from him. "You used to enjoy when I held your hand."

"It's amazing how things change with time."

His lips curved into another smile. "Ah, I understand now. You're still wounded because I was forced to marry another woman. However, I'm sure you'll be delighted to learn that I have every intention of making up for that regrettable circumstance. Believe me when I tell you that I've pined for you for years, dreaming of the day I'd finally be able to see you again."

"You really don't strike me as a pining type of gentleman."

He frowned. "I suppose you're right, as I'm far too manly to succumb to such a feminine emotion. Perhaps I should have said I've been longing for you most fervently over the years."

Reminding herself that contradicting that bit of ridiculousness would only encourage more preposterous statements from a man she'd once thought hung the moon, Camilla stepped back, taking a moment to consider the man.

It quickly became evident that the years had not treated him kindly.

Unlike the George she'd known seven years ago, the man standing before her had acquired a substantial paunch, as well as lost a great deal of his hair, although he was now combing long strands of what hair he had left over his head, which wasn't as attractive as he probably assumed it was.

His face was also on the puffy side, which made his eyes look smaller than she remembered, and he now sported not one but several chins, although . . . She narrowed her eyes on the chins in question, unable to help but wonder if he'd always had a weak chin, and she, being young and apparently incredibly absurd, had simply never noticed.

"May I dare hope you've been longing for me just as much as I have you, and that you're now feeling downright giddy since we've been reunited, although under somewhat questionable circumstances?" George asked.

Camilla tore her attention from his chins. "I'm not certain giddy sufficiently describes how I'm feeling at the moment."

"Ecstatic, perhaps?"

"That doesn't describe it either."

George sent her a wink. "You let me know when the appropriate word comes to mind."

"Oh, I already have a word readily available, and that word would be ... furious ."

"I think I like giddy better, although..." George tilted his head. "Could you be furious because your abductors forced you into a dress that I can only describe as an abomination?"

Camilla's jaw took to clenching. "It's a housedress, George, hardly something to become infuriated over, but since I don't care to waste time with you throwing preposterous reasons at me over why I might be beyond infuriated at the moment, allow me to cut to the chase—I'm in this state because, as I mentioned, I've been abducted, and I'm now quite certain you're somehow responsible for my current situation."

"Perhaps we should sit down."

Camilla narrowed an eye on him. "Oh my word, you are behind this, aren't you?"

"The settee by the fireplace is remarkably comfortable," George said, completely sidestepping her question. "I've spent the past day and a half lounging on it, reading a dreary book penned by some lady—one Jane Austen, I believe."

Unwilling to argue with that piece of absurdity, Camilla stalked across the room and sat down on a dainty chair upholstered in a paisley-patterned velvet, one that certainly didn't have room for two.

After releasing a sigh, George ambled over to the settee, settled himself on it, crossed one leg over the other, then focused another smile on her again.

Her temper edged up a notch.

"And?" she finally forced herself to ask.

"I've been well of late, thank you for asking. Until, of course, I found myself, ah, well, unexpectedly imprisoned."

"I wasn't inquiring over your welfare, George, although from what I've heard, you haven't been doing well at all, considering you apparently divorced your wife."

"And to that I say, divorce improved my well-being tremendously as Eleanor was mad as a hatter."

"I beg your pardon?"

George gave a sad shake of his head. "You heard me. Eleanor was quite insane, which is why I had no choice but to seek out a divorce. I couldn't very well risk having children with her, not after she began showing signs of insanity shortly after we exchanged vows."

"Eleanor Deerhurst and I attended the same finishing school," Camilla said. "She never once displayed any symptoms of insanity when I knew her."

"Nor did she show any signs of madness before I married her, but that certainly changed not long after the wedding as the silly chit decided she found me repulsive a month after our vows were exchanged." George caught Camilla's eye. "Can you imagine? Me? Repulsive to any woman?"

"Actually, I can imagine that."

George waved that aside. "Don't be spiteful. It doesn't become you. However, to return to my story, I can hardly be blamed for being concerned about the downward spiral into insanity Eleanor was clearly traveling at a rapid clip. I mean, I'm an earl. I have obligations to secure the Shrewsbury line of succession, which was impossible to see through to fruition when my wife locked me out of her bedchamber not long after we married and never unlocked her door for me again. Her reluctance to provide me with my required heir, let alone a spare, was when I came to the realization there was something wrong with her mental state—a state that continued to deteriorate throughout the years until I finally had no choice but to have her committed to an asylum."

"You had her committed to an asylum?"

"That's where you send people who've lost their minds."

The notion struck from out of nowhere that her father had been exactly right about George all along.

Yes, she'd realized over the years that George had only been interested in her fortune and couldn't have cared less about her, but her father had also told her that George was a callous and cruel man, something she'd never noticed before, but something she now wholeheartedly believed because ... what type of man would lock his wife away in an asylum, then divorce her, and ... why had Eleanor locked herself away directly after marrying him in the first place?

"It's actually a most fortunate circumstance for you, my darling Camilla, that Eleanor lost her mind."

Camilla jerked herself back to what was truly becoming a most concerning conversation. "How could that possibly be fortunate for me?"

He sat forward. "Because I distinctly recall you proclaiming, before I was forced to marry another woman, that I was the love of your life and that you'd go to your grave loving me. Now, since I'm free of the shackle I had to tolerate for years that went by the name of Eleanor, we can be together, and you'll no longer have to be bereft because of your unrequited love for me."

For the briefest of seconds, Camilla found herself speechless, but only for a second.

"You are aware that unrequited means unreciprocated, aren't you?" she asked.

He blinked. "Does it really?"

She pressed a finger against a temple that was beginning to throb because, clearly, she'd been more than an idiot the year of her debut since, not only hadn't she realized George was a complete and utter bounder, he was also not as well-educated as he'd led her to believe.

"Since we don't have a dictionary handy for you to look up the word, yes, unrequited most certainly means unreciprocated, which means, in its simplest form, unreturned," she finally said when George began tapping his finger against his knee, as if he were losing patience waiting for her answer. "That means that the last part of your declaration would have been downright insulting if you'd actually known what you were saying, but to address the first part of your little monologue..." She drew herself up. "That you can possibly believe I'd still be yearning for you, especially when I proclaimed my love when I was barely out of the schoolroom and far too sheltered to see you for the cad you truly are, suggests that it might have been prudent for you to have had yourself committed alongside your ex-wife in that asylum because ... you're clearly just as mad as you claim poor Eleanor is."

George's face began to mottle as he rose to his feet and began advancing toward her.

"How dare you, some mere commoner, suggest that I, Lord Shrewsbury, an esteemed member of British aristocracy, am insane," he spat out before he reached for her arm, stilling when the door suddenly opened and a man strolled in, one nearly as large as Owen.

"Well, well, well," the man drawled, coming to a stop a few feet away from George. "What an interesting conversation I've just been privy to as I was shamelessly eavesdropping through a handy hole in the wall." He shook his head. "It seems to me, Shrewsbury, that you've been concocting some very craftily constructed untruths because contrary to what you claimed to me, Miss Pierpont does not seem as if she's madly in love with you. In fact, I would say she loathes you."

He turned to Camilla and presented her with a bow. "We've not been introduced, Miss Pierpont. I'm Victor Malvado, and I must apologize for the circumstances surrounding our introduction. It's regrettable, of course, although you really brought all this nasty abduction business upon yourself when you offered Lottie McBriar a position. That offer, I'm afraid, disrupted my plans for that cunning girl."

"Ah, so you were behind the attempt on the Hudson, weren't you?" Camilla asked.

"I must admit that I was, and I'm sure you'd like me to put some of the additional speculations you must have to rest. However, allow me to encourage you to get comfortable before we get into all that nasty business." Victor walked to a settee and took a seat, gesturing to a chair beside him. "Please, make yourself at home. I've ordered coffee and tea, not knowing which you prefer, as well as a few treats. As I'm sure you were able to tell by the luxurious accommodations I provided you with on the train, I've wanted to make you as comfortable as possible."

"I'd be far more comfortable if you'd simply release me," Camilla said before she sat down on a chair, not the one he'd indicated, but on the chair she'd been sitting on earlier, earning a hint of a smile from Victor in the process.

"I see you're no shrinking violet, Miss Pierpont, so allow me to get straight to the crux of our situation. When Fitzsimmons got himself arrested, I decided I wanted to add Lottie and her many talents to my organization." He shook his head. "Imagine my disappointment when I discovered she'd left Five Points. I'm not a man who takes disappointment in stride, which is why I decided I wasn't going to let a woman who could read slip out of my grasp, and I sent my spies out to locate her. They returned with news that Miss Camilla Pierpont had hired her as a paid companion, as well as whisked her and her mother away from the city." He caught Camilla's eye. "That's when my curiosity was piqued because it's not every day that a lady hires a woman with a criminal past."

"How unfortunate for me that your curiosity was engaged," Camilla muttered.

"Agreed, especially after I learned you're the sole heiress of Hubert Pierpont's grand fortune. I, of course, immediately abandoned my interest in Lottie because, even though bringing on a girl who can read would have been beneficial to my organization, I decided you would be more beneficial to my bottom line if I were to hold you for ransom."

"Weren't you concerned about the risks you'd be taking by kidnapping a member of the Four Hundred?"

"Life is always so much sweeter when it comes with risks," Victor returned. "Besides, I'm a well-read man, Miss Pierpont, and over the past decade or so, starting when someone made off with A. T. Stewart's body and held it for ransom, I've read numerous accounts of members of the elite being stolen and then returned when a hefty ransom is paid. Frankly, I've been thinking about kidnapping an upper-crust lady for some time because the return on that venture far outweighs any actual risks. I realized it was time for me to enter the ransom business after my search for Lottie led me to you."

"And hence the plan was hatched to abduct me from the Hudson River Valley."

"Indeed," Victor agreed. "I would have preferred making plans to snatch you here in the city because that would have been an easier strategy to execute. Nevertheless, since I had you in my sights and was determined to find myself the recipient of a fat payout, I went through the bother of placing one of my informants in your near vicinity. That informant turned out to be an invaluable asset, sending me word that you weren't intending on returning to the city after your stay on the Hudson, but were going to travel directly to Newport for the summer. Newport would have been a logistical nightmare. However..." Victor's lips thinned. "The Hudson attempt turned into a nightmare as well because my men never counted on that oaf Owen Chesterfield rushing in to assume the role of knight in shining armor."

"The role of knight does seem to suit Owen, who certainly isn't an oaf," Camilla countered.

"Ah, how quick you are to defend him." Victor turned to George. "I'm afraid you might be in a little spot of trouble, Shrewsbury, because I'm getting the impression Miss Pierpont truly is not enamored with you since she seems to be smitten with someone else. That means you're not going to come into the windfall you've been expecting after the two of you marry."

George waved that aside. "Camilla could never be smitten with an oaf, not after having met me, but know that I prefer being addressed as Lord Shrewsbury."

"Duly noted, George," Victor said before he returned his attention to Camilla. "Where was I?"

"You were explaining how your first attempt at abducting me failed," Camilla said.

Victor nodded. "Right." He settled back against the settee. "In all honesty, I decided after that fiasco, and after you abruptly left the Hudson River Valley, although I knew where you went because my informant fired off a telegram to me practically the moment your decision was made to leave, that I would abandon my desire to hold you for ransom. The logistics of planning an attack in West Virginia were worse than even Newport, but then..." He nodded to George. "He arrived in New York, and lo and behold, he started asking around, looking for someone who could run you down. He said he'd pay handsomely, and wouldn't you know—someone told him to contact me."

Camilla's attention immediately shot to George. "You contacted an underworld crime boss to track me down instead of looking around for a reputable agency such as the Pinkertons, or better yet, a local agency such as the Accounting Firm?"

"I couldn't have used that accounting firm since your dear friend, Gideon Abbott, who I've since learned is a silent partner in that firm, sought me out in London, wanting to have a little chat with me." George shook his head. "It wasn't a pleasant chat. He even went so far as to tell me not to contact you again after he learned I was preparing to depart for New York with the sole intention of reconnecting with you. Since I'm not a man to be ordered about, I boarded the first steamship out of London, determined to beat Gideon back to the city."

"Why were you so determined?"

George smiled. "I would think that's obvious, darling. I wanted to have time to convince you, without Gideon's interference, that I'd made a grave error all those years ago and am now determined to spend the rest of my days proving to you that you're the love of my life."

It was incredibly difficult to refuse the urge to bang her head against the nearest wall.

She settled for drawing in a calming breath instead. "If you ask me, I think it's far more likely that you rushed across an entire ocean to beat Gideon here since you're desperate to get your hands on the trust fund I gained access to when I turned twenty-five."

"You have a trust fund?" George asked.

She couldn't help herself, she snorted, earning a widening of the eyes from George in the process.

"You know very well I have a trust fund, as I told you about it directly after I suggested we run off together, since my father wasn't going to settle a dowry on me."

"Ah, that trust fund, the one you wouldn't have been able to access for seven or eight years after we would have gotten married."

"That's the one, and because I know you remember it, I'm now convinced that the real reason you want to reconnect with me is because you've exhausted Eleanor's fortune, which is why you divorced her, and are now desperate to convince me you're madly in love with me in order to avoid finding yourself in a paupers' prison."

"I'm not going to dignify that nonsense with a reply," George said before he turned his head and began taking a pointed interest in a vase of flowers resting on the small table beside him.

"All this chatter I'm hearing certainly puts an interesting twist on things," Victor proclaimed right as the door opened and another man dressed in black came into the room, pushing a coffee cart. After asking Camilla which beverage she preferred, he poured her a cup of coffee, added cream and sugar, stirred it exactly twice, which left her lips twitching, and gave it to her. He poured a cup for Victor, then quit the room, leaving George looking more than outraged.

"You should have a word with your servant," George snapped, rising to his feet to pour out his own cup, something he'd probably never done in his life.

"I think it would be more prudent to have a word with you," Victor countered, waiting until George retook his seat before he took a sip of coffee and set aside the cup. "Seems to me you've landed in a bit of a pickle because, to remind you, you owe me a handsome fee for locating Miss Pierpont. You also owe me another substantial amount of money since you suffered heavy losses at one of my gambling dens, being so foolish as to have bet the fee money you were supposed to give me for bringing Miss Pierpont back to the city. If that weren't bad enough, you then convinced the manager of my den to provide you with credit, using your so-called affiliation with Miss Pierpont as collateral, and then losing everything but your shirt when my manager finally curtailed your credit line after you suffered obscene losses."

"The only reason I kept my shirt was because one of your barmaids spilled wine on it and no one would take it to put toward my debt."

"Be that as it may, you told me you'd have my money, after I had you escorted here to assure you didn't try to skip town without paying me, once Miss Pierpont returned to the city." Victor gave a crack of his knuckles. "I'm getting the distinct impression she's not going to lift a finger to address your debt."

Camilla quirked a brow George's way. "Am I to understand that you promised Victor, a man with a formidable reputation, that I'd bail you out?"

"Of course, because, even though you're still sore at me for not marrying you, I know you still love me and certainly won't want to see me, as Victor has threatened, lose a finger or worse—an ear."

"Prepare to be earless."

As George took to gaping at her, Victor laughed. "I do believe I like you, Miss Pierpont."

"Enough to let me go?"

"Not quite that much."

"Pity."

"Well, indeed, but what's more of a pity is what I'm going to have to do to George now that I know he can't honor his debt to me."

It wasn't a surprise when George rose to his feet and began pacing around the room, then stopped in his tracks and smiled. "I think there's an easy solution to this." He nodded to Camilla before he turned to Victor. "Even though it doesn't seem as if she's as enamored with me as she once was, I imagine she wouldn't hesitate to marry me if we were found in a, well, compromising setting. All we need to do is arrange for someone to find us alone together, and then you'll get your fee plus my gambling debts returned to you."

Temper was swift and had Camilla rising from her chair and stalking George's way. "That's the most ridiculous plan I've ever heard, and even if we were discovered alone together, I would never marry you."

"You will if you're about to lose your reputation."

"My reputation isn't so important to me that I'd suffer through life with you." She spun on her heel and nodded to Victor. "As I'm sure you've already sent a ransom demand to my father, and probably a substantial one at that, and since you were so accommodating to me throughout my abduction, will you now arrange for me to stay in a George-free room until the ransom is paid?"

Victor inclined his head. "I see no reason why I can't accommodate that."

"Lovely," Camilla said before she returned to her seat, took a sip of coffee, and frowned. "May I also ask a few questions while we finish our coffee?"

"You don't seem like you're the type of lady who would stop asking even if I said no," Victor muttered.

"You're probably right, so..." Camilla set aside her cup. "You introduced yourself to me, which seems odd since I can now identify you."

"I don't plan on remaining in New York after my transaction with your father is completed." Victor steepled his fingers together. "I've already set up plans to take my organization to another city far from here, one I won't disclose to you, of course, but one that will be more than welcoming to the type of business I operate."

"How prudent of you," Camilla said.

"Indeed," Victor agreed. "And with that answered, anything else you'd like to ask me before I take my leave?"

"I suppose the only truly pressing question I have left is ... who was your informant?"

Victor smiled. "I would've thought you'd have figured that out by now, my dear, seeing as how you seem to be such a clever sort."

"I'm apparently not as clever as you believe."

"Then allow me to assuage your curiosity, although I'm sure you're going to feel quite the idiot to learn that the informant who sold you out in exchange for obtaining her greatest desire in life—that being an opportunity to take to the stage—was Bernadette."