Chapter 27

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

“ T heodore? Theodore!” The words were accompanied with heavy thuds on the door. “Don’t make me break down this door.”

“You’re going to break down his door?” That was Gabriel’s voice. Theodore would know it anywhere.

“If he doesn’t let me in,” Cedric said simply.

“You don’t need to do that,” Theodore called back. “The door is unlocked, you fool.” He sat up in his chair as the door swung open.

“I thought I’d find you here,” Cedric declared, with Gabriel behind him. “How long has it been since you have taken refuge here?”

Theodore didn’t answer him. He took another sip from the whisky glass that was keeping him company as he looked around the apartment.

He had taken this London flat some years before. It was after his father had died, but still when his mother had frequented the grand estate. In order to find some peace, some time alone, he had bought this flat. Cedric and Gabriel were the only ones who had ever known this address.

Though it was a well-kept flat with few staff, it was not publicly known it belonged to the Duke of Thornfield.

“What are you doing here?” Gabriel asked, walking around Cedric and moving toward Theodore. He didn’t take a seat but braced himself against the back of an armchair. “Evelina is going out of her mind. Margaret wrote to her the day you left. Evelina can’t believe you would walk out on your wife. Neither can I!”

“It’s not so simple as walking out on a wife.”

“Isn’t it? Because it seems bloody simple to me!” The venom in Gabriel’s voice showed just how indignant he was, and in what high esteem he held Margaret. “You have walked out on your wife. You have abandoned her. That is the simple truth.”

“You make it too simple.” Theodore took another sip of whisky. He reached for the decanter beside him, but Cedric took it away before he could, then took the seat beside him, blocking any access to the liquor again. “Why are you two here?”

“Why do you think?” Cedric said with a shrug. “We fancied a sullen conversation with miserable company.”

“Be serious, for what god-damned minute, I beg you,” snapped Gabriel.

“Very well.” Cedric nodded. “To talk some sense into you, cousin.” He gestured to Theodore. “If the rumors are true and you have walked out on Margaret –”

“Rumors? People know already?” Theodore murmured in surprise.

“Of course they do. Do you imagine the staff do not talk to their friends in other households? Do you imagine they in turn don’t talk to their masters? Your exit from the house will be in the scandal sheets by the end of the week. You mark my words,” Gabriel hissed. “I cannot believe you of all people would be so blinded not to have seen what would come of your actions.”

“Ignore him for a minute,” Cedric pleaded with a flick of his fingers.

“Rather hard, he won’t stop wearing a hole in my carpet.” Theodore nodded at how Gabriel was marching up and down.

“Then look at me.” Cedric waved an impatient hand again. “Theodore, I do not believe you wanted to walk out on your wife.”

“And you know the way my mind works, do you?” Theodore said, his voice seething with anger.

“I know the way you gripped onto her when I came near her. I know the way you ordered me not to touch her when I came to say goodbye to you both that night of my dinner party.” Cedric smiled, rather sadly. “Maybe I am not a man who could love one woman, Theodore, but clearly you are.”

“Pah! Is that what you think I am? You think I am in love?” Theodore repeated in alarm, nearly dropping his whisky glass. “You’re sorely mistaken.” Yet there was such a sudden ache in his chest that he rubbed the center of his sternum.

“I think your mother and father starved you of any love so much, that you can’t recognize it even when you feel it,” Cedric said calmly.

“Don’t you dare analyze me!” Theodore spat.

“Very well, then let me do the analyzing.” Gabriel took over, marching toward Theodore. “Because your actions beggar belief!” He waved madly toward Theodore. “You were growing close to your wife. Whether you call it love, affection, companionship, or any much colder word you would probably choose for it, you felt something for her.”

“I –” Yet Theodore was cut off by Gabriel speaking quickly.

“Yet you turn your back on her. Just as you’re getting close, perhaps looking forward to a future when you are not living so alone…” He paused and gestured to the lonesome flat around him. “You pull away from her. Why? Tell me, why is that?”

Theodore couldn’t summon words. He felt belittled by his friend, a sensation that was unfamiliar to him. Between him and Gabriel, there was usually respect and understanding, but not now. Gabriel understood him no more than a stranger, it seemed.

When Theodore still said nothing and just continued to play with the empty glass, Cedric sat forward.

“Because you’ve shut everyone else out. Why should your wife be no different?” Cedric’s simple words broke something in Theodore. He put the glass down beside him and slumped back in his seat. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

“She deserves to be happy.” The words escaped Theodore in a rush. “She deserved a proper marriage. A better husband. What has she got instead?” He paused, unable to look either of them in the eye. He settled himself for staring into the distance across the room instead. “She’s got a scarred husband who only knows how to hurt and be hurt.”

“I do not believe that,” Gabriel said, his voice as passionate as before, but quieter now.

“It’s the truth.”

“No, it isn’t. Or would I still be your friend after all these years?” Gabriel walked forward, slumping down into the third seat in the room and shaking his head. “For God’s sake, Theodore. Your mother and father punished you enough as a child, for no good reason. Don’t continue to starve yourself of any affection now just because… it’s a feeling that scares you.”

Theodore blinked. Was that what this was? Despite all his insistence on strength, despite believing himself brave for bearing with the pain delivered on him over the years, now when it mattered, did he lack courage to take a risk?

The door burst open again.

“You brought people to drag me out of this room?” Theodore turned to face Cedric who was already shaking his head.

“Nothing to do with me.”

Then Theodore saw the face of the man who had come running in through the door.

“Leonard?” Theodore said his name in alarm.

“Leonard?” Cedric and Gabriel repeated in unison.

He was a frightening looking figure, almost impossibly tall and broad, his face rugged and pock marked. There was also a scar, shockingly white across his chin that was peppered with dark brown stubble.

Theodore had met him years ago in less-than-ideal circumstances. Unfortunately, he knew Leonard was a man who would sometimes bend the rules of society for the right price. It meant that Leonard was the obvious man when Theodore had wanted someone to watch over Maggie and make sure she was safe.

“I paid Leonard to watch Maggie,” Theodore said hurriedly to his friends. “Any man would struggle to beat him in a fight.”

Leonard hastened to bow, though it looked awkward, for his figure was so tall and ungainly.

“You were worried someone would hurt her?” Gabriel whispered.

“Your Grace.” Leonard stood tall, clearly out of breath from running so far. “She’s gone.”

“Gone?” Theodore repeated, not sure he understood.

“The duchess and her sister, the Lady Louisa, were attacked on the road in her carriage. Two men with pistols took her away. By the time I caught up with them, they had knocked her out and forced me away by firing madly.” Leonard shook his head. “It’s strange. They were heading toward your estate.”

Theodore was already on his feet.

No, she cannot be taken. Who would take her?

“My estate?” Theodore felt crippled by the words. There was another building on the grounds, beside the great house. It had once been called the Dowager House, though his mother had shown little liking for it over the years and had not returned for some time.

“I know where she is.” The truth struck Theodore at once as he stood tall and pulled on his frock coat. He’d been afraid of something like this, deep down. It was why he had asked Leonard to watch Margaret in the first place. “Call the constables, Leonard. Get them to meet me at my estate. Send them to the Dowager House.”

Margaret lifted her head. There was something over her eyes, something blocking her from being able to see anything. She jerked her head back and forth, feeling a great ache in the base of her skull.

She whimpered at the pain and leaned forward, painfully aware of something cutting into her arms and her wrists.

Are they… ropes?

Then a memory shot across her mind.

She had gone as far as the masked men had demanded in the snow, her whole body trembling in the cold as two pistols were forced at her back. She had jumped over ditches of water, the ice reaching up her skirts and petticoats, so that her bones felt like they had been replaced with icicles.

She was certain they had been walking toward her own estate, but the snow had become so mad and swirling, she had dismissed such an idea very quickly. It was impossible to walk in the midst of that blizzard and know where she was.

Then it had happened. When she had refused to walk any further, her legs capitulating beneath her, one of them had struck her in the back of her head with his gun. She remembered starbursts of light in her vision, then darkness, as her face felt a shock of cold.

I must have fallen face first into the snow.

She jerked against the ropes that were holding her and bent her body forward. She had been forced into a chair. Now, she was able to bend forward far enough to get her forehead on her lap. It made her back ache, but she could shift enough to drag the blindfold off her eyes.

It fell limp around her neck as she sat bolt upright, looking around the room before her.

A cellar?

It had once been a wine cellar. There were racks where wine had once been, but they were now covered in webs, as if this room hadn’t been opened in years. Two lanterns sat overhead, hooked onto iron rods which had been nailed into the arched stone ceiling.

The air was as cold as the blizzard had been, meaning every time Margaret took a breath, she clouded the air around her.

“Where am I?” she whispered.

She angled her head around, trying to take in as much as she possibly could. To her horror, she saw behind her that this cellar had not only been used to keep wine. In the wall was an iron chain and manacle. It was just large enough to chain up something or someone.

Who or what was kept in here?

Then there was a sound somewhere nearby. A door had opened.

Margaret strained against the ropes keeping her wrists bound to the arms of the chair and her ankles to the legs. She pulled as hard as she could, but she couldn’t even work the ropes loose.

There were footsteps now, of someone walking down a set of stairs toward her.

They’re coming. Will it be those men? What do they want?

All sorts of horrible ideas as to why they had taken her filled her mind. It made her frantic, pulling as sharply as she possibly could. The ropes now cut into her wrists, cutting into her skin so sharply that blood was drawn. She didn’t care or hesitate, she just moved faster, the terror overtaking her.

Another door opened, the creak sounding so close that Margaret’s whole body started to shake.

“There’s no need to be afraid.”

That’s a woman’s voice.

Margaret fell still, the blood now dripping between the ropes on her wrists as she looked toward the open door. A cloaked figure had entered, the face impossible to see with the lantern over her head and the hood pulled so low.

She stepped further into the cellar, her hands now visible beneath the cloak. She wore fine rings on her fingers, her hands showing signs of age with a few wrinkles beneath the knuckles. What struck Margaret the most was how calm she was. Those hands didn’t fidget once, neither did her fingers tremble.

She is certain of her actions.

“Who are you?” Margaret asked, her voice surprisingly croaky. “What do you want with me?”

“To protect you, of course.”

“Protect me? From whom?”

“From the demon.” The figure jerked her head back. The hood trembled a little, but it didn’t fall. “I wish someone had extended the same kindness to me, so I could escape his father. No one was so charitable to me. I had hoped you’d be thanking me.”

Margaret said nothing but splayed out her fingers as much as she could, intimating her tied position with blood pooling around her wrists.

“It was a necessity.” The figure shrugged. “I could not be certain how you would respond.”

“Then release me now.”

“I need to know you won’t return to the demon. Then you will not run to him.”

“Demon? What demon?” Margaret murmured in panic, shaking her head. This woman had to be mad. Perhaps she believed in the occult. It was surely the only sensible explanation for this madness.

“Theodore, of course,” she said simply, her voice light pitched and almost nonchalant. “Have you not seen how much he is the devil’s spawn?”

What?

Margaret’s jaw dropped.

“He spent many an hour chained here.” The figure jerked her head toward the manacle in the corner of the room. “I thought it would urge the devil out of him. I even brought priests here, to exorcise him, but it never worked. He had too much of his father in him. Too much of the devil.”

“Wait…” Margaret now realized where she had heard the voice before. It had been impossible to identify before, thanks to the pounding pain in the base of her skull, but now she remembered that fine accent and husky voice. “You’re… his mother?”

The cloaked figure stepped forward and dropped the hood. It was indeed Catherine Notley, the Dowager Duchess of Thornfield.