Chapter Sixteen

When Samantha came back to consciousness, pain ricocheted through her head from the blow she’d received from Mr. Arbuthnot while fear tripped icy fingers down her spine.

With a groan and a hand to head, she opened her eyes and then subsequently frowned. For a few moments, she didn’t understand where she was. Besides that, it was quite chilly, and that cold seeped through the layers of her gown and petticoat to send goose flesh sailing over her skin. Then it dawned on her that she lay on a squabbed bench in a traveling coach. Complete darkness engulfed the interior, and for the moment, it seemed, the vehicle had been parked.

Where am I?

In the struggle to sit upright, her head pounded more, but she was able to peer out the window glass around the black velvet curtain. Though the darkness was complete and the door to the vehicle gaped open, she could just make out the forms of a man and a woman who wore a gown as if she’d come here from a society event.

There was a low buzz of voices as they discussed something of import if hand gestures and body language was any indication. Then the man indicated the coach, and the woman shook her head. The only words Samantha could make out was, “Not yet.”

They slowly moved toward the coach, and she recognized Mr. Arbuthnot’s voice.

“You promised she would be mine.”

Dear God, did he truly think she would accept him as a suitor?

“No, I promised you could remove her from the rout.” Annoyance wove through the woman’s voice. “The plan hasn’t changed, Gregory. I want to dismantle the Rogue’s Arcade, so that means there will be collateral damage.”

“I plan to leave for the Continent after tonight. I would like to take Miss Marchington with me.”

The woman snorted. “And somehow in that plan you think she will come to love you?” A trill of laughter escaped her. “Kidnapping, forcing her into marriage, removing her from everything she knows? You won’t win her heart. Besides, that is not where her affection lies.”

“What does it matter? Wouldn’t she learn to accept me when she has no other choice?”

Inside the coach, Samantha gawked with shock. No one should be made to do anything they didn’t wish to do. Love, or even respect, couldn’t be forced.

“It matters because that is where it will hurt. And that is the point of all my interactions with these rogues.” The woman made a gesture with her hand. “Go make certain the site we need has been cleared of anyone lingering in the area. I do not need more witnesses.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Talk to our short-term guest, of course. It is much like a cat toying with a captured mouse, and for whatever reason it is my favorite part of such proceedings.” The trill of her laughter sent icy tremors down Samantha’s spine. “There is a certain power there in feeding hopes and fears before delivering the final blow. And this time, I will make sure she is dead before leaving the scene. I grow weary of these men escaping at the last minute.” When she moved to the door of the coach, Samantha scooted across the bench to the opposite side of the vehicle.

Knots of worry formed in her belly while the woman came up the steps and then into the coach. As soon as she settled on the bench opposite Samantha’s, a grin broke over her face. “Ah, welcome back to the world of the living, Miss Marchington.”

After swallowing down her fear the best she could, she narrowed her eyes on the woman. “Who are you?” In the dim illumination from the moon, she could just make out a coif of blonde hair with pearls and ribbons woven through the tresses. Light blue eyes stared at her as if analyzing her every weakness. Her gown of navy velvet trimmed with pearls suited her frame and coloring, but it also emphasized the poise and power in her form. A navy cloak lined with lighter blue satin and trimmed with white rabbit fur completed the ensemble.

In that moment, Samantha wished she had that cloak, for already, her teeth were tending to chatter together from the cold.

“I’m surprised you haven’t managed to piece it together by now. From all I have seen, you are quite clever.” Her gaze never left Samantha’s face. “But I will indulge you. I am the Countess of Stover.” A satisfied grin curved her lips. “I can see from your reaction that you recognize my name. That is all to the good. I’ve found it’s more personal when a victim knows exactly who has encouraged them off this mortal coil.”

Surely, this woman was demented. Who talked about killing people as if it were normal drawing room conversation? “You mean to kill me.” It wasn’t a question.

“Of course, dear. Oh, and to draw out your loving fiancé. He is the one I truly want.” Her eyes glittered in the darkness. “Some of the other men of the Rogue’s Arcade have managed to escape my plans, but Lord Timelbury will be used as an example.” She tsked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “The accounts of the deaths in the newspapers will be quite shocking and saddening. You fell into the Serpentine thinking it might be frozen enough to ice skate but then your fiancé dove frantically in after you. Sadly, you both were overcome by the temperature of the water and drowned.”

Another chill went down her spine. “I have no intention of going anywhere near the Serpentine.”

“As if you think we won’t force you.” Lady Stover laughed as if that were the gayest joke she’d ever been told.

“Where is my father? I was told you’d taken him.” It was the only reason she’d paused to talk with Mr. Arbuthnot at the house.

“A bit of fiction. We have no interest in a broken, frail old man. In fact, I just needed to use that in order to get to you.” The countess shrugged. “Small bait for the bigger bait, as it were. You see, my dear, I intend to bring down the whole club. The men you make up its members have thwarted me over the last year, and quite frankly, I grow weary of it. In fact, they stopped several lucrative ventures of my cousin before that. Where the Duke of Winthrop and his hapless brother didn’t have the wherewithal or power to finally dismantle the club and take out its members, I do.”

Samantha didn’t have the first clue about what the other woman meant, but it didn’t sound good. “There is a flaw in your logic.”

“Oh?” Lady Stover leaned forward. “Do tell. I enjoy a bit of fiction before disposing of a couple bodies.”

Clearly, the woman was near insanity. Shoving down her fear, Samantha continued. “My engagement to Lord Timelbury is also that—a fiction. We became engaged to please my father and get him through the Christmastide season. It is not real.” As she said the words, sorrow filled her chest, for she should have told him what was being written on her heart. Would it have made a difference? There was no way to know, but it was too late now. She cleared her throat. “He won’t come.”

Please, Cornelius, stay away!

“You truly are quite the ninny, aren’t you, Miss Marchington?” A soft chuckle came from Lady Stover, made even more terrifying with her smile and the conversational implications. “Can you not see the man adores you?”

She snorted. “I rather doubt that. There have been no words of love exchanged, no declarations given. We have simply enjoyed each other’s companionship for Christmastide.”

The other woman shook her head. “That doesn’t matter. Anyone watching the two of you interact together can see he’s nearly tip over tail for you.”

“Impossible. I would know.”

“Not if you have no prior experience with love.” One of her blonde eyebrows rose in challenge. “Have the two of you shared intimacy past kisses?” When Samantha didn’t answer, the countess chuckled. “You needn’t tell me. Your true feelings are written all over your face, in your voice. The faux engagement only continues because Lord Timelbury wishes to protect you from harm—from me. Unfortunately, in that he will fail.”

There was much to digest in everything Lady Stover had said, but Samantha couldn’t allow herself to feel giddy about the possibilities. She needed to find a way out of this vehicle. “This has all been highly entertaining, of course, but I refuse to sit here and continue this ridiculous conversation.” When she darted off her bench and down the steps of the coach to the ground, the unmistaken sound of a pistol cocking stilled her steps.

“That is not part of the plan, Miss Marchington.” With an ease Samantha envied, the countess came down the steps with the snub nose of a ladies’ pistol trained on her. “We shall continue this conversation at the Serpentine, where you can tell your tearful goodbyes to Lord Timelbury.” Her breath clouded about her head due to the cold.

Fear twisted down her spine. “You plan to shoot me?”

“Oh, no, dear. The ball in this pistol is meant for your fiancé.” Still, she gestured with the pistol at Samantha. “Start walking.”

Only then did she realize the coach had been driven into Hyde Park and off the graveled path set aside for carriage traffic. In fact, it had been guided onto the frozen grass near the deeper part of the Serpentine. No sooner did she have the thought about running away when Mr. Arbuthnot was there and that he’d latched onto her arm.

“Let me go.” The situation was already annoying enough; she didn’t need this man to add to it. “I want nothing to do with you.” She shook from the chill in the air. With each huff of breath, the exhalations clouded in the air. Trying to free herself from his hold was fruitless, for he was stronger than he seemed.

As Lady Stover led the way toward the water, her escort leaned close and put his lips to Samantha’s ear. “If you do what I say, at least you will live.”

“At the cost of killing Lord Timelbury?” She could hardly speak for the wad of fear lodged in her throat. How had any of this happened? When she stumbled due to her limp, Mr. Arbuthnot simply yanked at her arm. He wasn’t as gentle nor as patient as Cornelius.

“What can I say? Lady Stover is determined to quell and squash every last member of the Rogue’s Arcade. She hates those men with a fiery passion; God only knows why, so please, let me save you.” His voice was graveled with emotion. “You must know of my regard for you, Miss Marchington.”

“If I do, it has no bearing on my life, for my heart belongs to another.”

“And he is not here, is he? If you throw in your lot with me, we shall live in Rome and be well away from the madness that London has become.” If possible, he dropped his voice even further. “I can get off a shot to buy us some time. We can run like mad to the arch where my carriage is waiting.”

Other women might have made such a deal to remain alive, but Samantha couldn’t imagine a life without Cornelius in it.

There was no time to respond. As soon as she and Mr. Arbuthnot arrived at the edge of the Serpentine, Lady Stover took charge. And she wasn’t alone, for there was a burly man standing off to one side. No doubt he was the guarantee both she and Cornelius would be thrown in the water and left for dead.

“It shouldn’t be a long wait now, Miss Marchington. If your dear Lord Timelbury is as intelligent as you seem to think, he’ll find us directly.” She gestured with the pistol. “Come, Mr. Arbuthnot. Put the shackles on Miss Marchington’s ankles and wrists.”

“What?” Shock went through his voice. Clearly, he hadn’t expected that.

The countess nodded. “Did you think I would just toss her in without a guarantee?” Though she chuckled, there was no mirth in the sound. “Make quick work of it, please. The show is about to begin.”

“Samantha!” The hail of her name had her head jerking up, but she couldn’t see him. “I’m coming!”

“Cornelius!” When she tried to pull from Mr. Arbuthnot’s grip, he clamped down even tighter. Though she couldn’t see her fiancé, the fact that he was in the park and knew where she was brought a modicum of comfort to her.

The burly man brought over two sets of rusty manacles and dropped them on the ground at Mr. Arbuthnot’s feet. Even more terrifying was the fact there was a weight affixed to the middle of each chain, all but ensuring that she would sink once in the water, and fast. “Shall I guide Lord Timelbury down here?”

The countess nodded. “That would be lovely, Mr. Bolton. Perhaps the moment you escort our special guest down here, he’ll be just in time to see the love of his life tossed into the Serpentine. Once he has that motivation, he’ll rush over, I’ll put a ball into a vital organ, and he can follow her into the drink and hopefully off this mortal coil.” She shrugged. “And if he didn’t come alone, feel free to dispose of the extra guests.”

“Do you honestly think he wouldn’t come without help?” Fear twisted down Samantha’s spine as Mr. Bolton left the area.

“That depends on his mindset. If we’re fortunate, he dashed into the night by himself without telling anyone of his direction.”

“Surely not.” Oh, please say you made a plan! She bounced her gaze between the countess and Mr. Arbuthnot, and when she attempted to break away, Lady Stover pointed the pistol directly at her head.

“If you vex me too far, my dear, you’ll be dead ahead of schedule, which will force me to use Mr. Arbuthnot’s pistol to kill your man, and that will make me quite annoyed.” She narrowed her eyes. “The shackles, Mr. Arbuthnot. Now.”

With a curse beneath his breath, the man maneuvered behind Samantha. When he yanked her wrists behind her back while the countess held the pistol with the nose pointed at her heart, tears stung her eyes. The bite of the rusty iron around her wrist despite her glove made her gasp, but as the second one went around her other wrist, tears fell to her cheeks. This was not how she’d hoped the night would end, and now both she and Cornelius had essentially walked into a trap.

“Please reconsider your actions,” she pleaded with the countess in a whispered voice. “You don’t need to do this.”

“Oh, but I do, and I have similar scenarios planned for each member of the Rogue’s Arcade. Retribution is coming soon for them, sure and quick, and I can’t wait until the day London has no more of their ilk.” Then she made a sound of annoyance in her throat. “However, that must wait until the New Year, for my husband has some nodcock plan of spending time in the country as a family once Christmas has concluded, and I am not in a position to bid him nay.”

Samantha’s body jerked when Mr. Arbuthnot clamped one of the larger shackles around her ankle. “It must rub you the wrong way knowing you still must depend on the whims of a man, hmm? That his name is what lends yours legitimacy and opens doors for you?”

“How dare you!” The countess lashed out and slapped Samantha’s cheek with a hand. “He is only still around for one reason only.”

Despite the heat in her cheek and the bite of the shackles on her ankles and wrists, Samantha managed a faint grin. “You love him?” When the countess didn’t answer, she snickered. “How inconvenient for you, that you have that tiny hole in your armor.”

“Nonsense. It is not love that keeps me with him. In fact, I haven’t loved my husband for years. He is well aware of how I spend my time.”

No doubt the woman used her body as if it were a piece of a chess board. She frowned. “Then what is it? I would have thought a woman like you would be independent.” When there wasn’t an answer forthcoming, she grinned. “Ah, it’s your children. You would do anything for those girls.”

“I am building an empire for them. They will live like queens and never want for anything. No one will deny them anything.”

“That is a lovely dream, of course, but you know as well as I that the world we live in favors males and probably will for a long time to come. The best you can do is love your children and make them feel secure, raise them up to fight.”

The countess huffed. “Love can fade or lead us wrong. Coin is what makes things happen in this life, and as long as we have enough, we can buy anything we require.”

Mr. Arbuthnot chose that time to interrupt. “I have done everything you’ve asked of me, Lady Stover. Your quarry is well on his way. Let me have Miss Marchington, and you’ll never see either of us again. You can torture Lord Timelbury at leisure.”

Samantha wriggled her wrists, but he’d done his work all too well. The iron held.

“Absolutely not. Her death will usher in his.” The countess shook her head. “Perhaps his heart will break before he dies. I would very much like that.” Her expression twisted into a macabre mask of hate and envy. “Love has been the downfall of many men and women throughout the ages. Why should he be any different?”

None of this was about power or accumulating coin. Despite the situation, excitement climbed Samantha’s spine. Lady Stover had been thwarted in love at some point. It had left her bitter and jealous. Was that the real reason she hated the Rogue’s Arcade men? Had one of them broken her heart? She couldn’t wait to share with Cornelius and perhaps they could dig into the club’s history or membership.

If they survived.

“Why do you care, Lady Stover? Do you fear what a man—or woman—in love can do? Is it because you have seen extraordinary feats when it comes to the men of the Rogue’s Arcade?” There was no answer, of course, so she warmed to her topic. “Love is real, Your Ladyship, and it is the true power in this world.”

“Don’t be stupid. I refused to let emotions rule me long ago. There are only alliances in this lifetime that lead to real power.” Had she truly found the way to bring down the countess and her criminal network?

“Love won’t end if you kill me,” she continued in a low voice. “What I feel for Cornelius will remain, and that is something you can never banish.” Somehow, she would tell him before the worst happened. He needed to know, deserved to hear the words spoken, even if it meant she might die… or he would.

“Enough. We are wasting time, and I have Christmas to ensure for my children.” She chopped the air with her free hand as her eyes glittered dangerously. “Killing you and Lord Timelbury will bring me joy and one step closer to leveling that club.”

Merciful heavens, the woman was too far gone to argue with. She moved her hands, but the bands of iron around her wrists didn’t budge. “Mr. Arbuthnot, are you willingly going to let yourself be an accomplice to murder?”

His gaze shifted. “You have no idea what this woman has made me do in the face of horrible penalties,” he admitted in a choked whisper.

Panic crowded and grew in Samantha’s chest like escaped bubbles. What would happen now? Despite her wish to remain strong in the face of danger, a whimper escaped her. Where was Cornelius? Had he been delayed or worse by Mr. Bolton? And worse yet, had she imagined her feelings for him. As a few tears fell to her cheeks, she shook her head. No, there was something real there, she just knew it. And dash it all, if she wanted to claim that future, she’d have to fight for it, and that meant somehow evading her captors.

You can do this, Sam.

A movement, a shift in the shadows past her vision alerted her to the presence of another, and every beat of her heart strained. Was it Cornelius? It had to be him, and if it were, she’d give him the opening he needed while her captor was distracted.

“You disappoint me, Mr. Arbuthnot. If you love me like you claim, you wouldn’t let this madwoman harm me.” She turned to face him and tried to ignore the countess. “I refuse to spend the remainder of my lifetime with a man who only views women as objects to be possessed. If you truly cared for me, you would never have brought me here in the first place.”

“I had no choice. You have no idea what Lady Stover and her gang is capable of.” Pleading set up in his voice. “She’s threatened my parents, my sister…”

“While I understand that, I must say it saddens me that your allegiance didn’t extend to me.” Cornelius was near; she could feel his presence. How could she not when every beat of her heart, every rush of blood, fairly called out his name? “In fact, I feel quite betrayed by you, Mr. Arbuthnot. Definitely not the actions of a man who loves a woman.”

Bang!

The whizz of a pistol ball leaving the weapon’s chamber filled her ears. Seconds later, it found purchase in a nearby tree. Cursing from Lady Stover and Mr. Arbuthnot ducking for cover only provided a modicum of amusement, but Cornelius had announced his presence.

“Put down your pistol, Lady Stover. I won’t miss the next time.” Yet he would need to pause at some point to reload. That would waste precious time.

Relief poured over her at the blessed sound of Cornelius’ voice and the command therein. Perhaps the nightmare was almost over. “Be mindful. She is quite insane. They both are,” Samantha called to him as he sneaked through the shadows.

“So I have seen.” He tossed away the useless pistol as he came closer then addressed the countess, who’d whirled about to face him and train her weapon on him. “I waylaid your thug in the woods. Don’t know if I knocked him out but I slowed him down. Stop this foolishness and let Samantha go.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, Lord Timelbury.” With a small, curt gesture of her chin, she communicated with Mr. Arbuthnot. “It’s time.”

The man next to her jerked as if she’d hit him. “But, I—”

“Now, or everything in your life will be taken away!” The note of hysteria in Lady Stover’s voice was unmistakable.

With a curse, Mr. Arbuthnot put an arm about her waist and hauled her toward the water.

“No!” She attempted to squirm away from him, but he was quite strong, and she didn’t have the use of her hands and feet. “Cornelius!” Terror pulled the scream from her throat. Nothing that she did released her from her captor’s grip, and her limp prevented finding purchase on the frozen ground.

“You and I could have been good together, eventually,” Mr. Arbuthnot growled. At the edge of the water, he whispered, “I’m so sorry. Forgive me.” Then he lifted her into his arms, and with a grunt, he tossed her away.

A sense of weightlessness possessed her for three seconds while she screamed. Images flitted through her mind, and the strongest of those contained Cornelius and how his grin had the power to melt the bones in her knees. She would miss him terribly and the life they might have had if they both hadn’t been so afraid to be honest with each other.

“Samantha!” Cornelius’ anguished cry squeezed her heart.

All too quickly, she hit the freezing water of the Serpentine. Without the use of her hands and feet, as well as the weights on the chains, water quickly seeped into the fabric of her gown and dragged her down. As terror took over her person, she sank beneath the surface while she screamed inside her mind.