Chapter Thirty-Nine

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

Later That Morning, Bond Street

“ J ust one more stop, Mr. Bigley,” Gemma called through the window to the coachman. “Madame Renard’s, if you please.”

She was on her way home. She’d taken Anna and gone out shopping today. Anything to keep her mind off her argument with Lucian this morning.

The man was beyond frustrating. Just when she’d begun to open up to him. Just when she’d begun to hope that perhaps he was able to be a good husband, the kind of husband she’d dreamed about, he’d gone and said all of those awful things this morning. He wasn’t even trying to hide the truth any longer. He’d admitted he had no heart. He’d said as much!

She couldn’t regret bringing up his parents though. She’d known she was betraying Mrs. Howard’s trust by mentioning it, even if she hadn’t shared the housekeeper’s name. But Gemma had seen no other way to directly address her concerns. And her concerns had grown until they overpowered her, until she could think of nothing else.

Now she realized that in bringing up her fears, she’d escaped an awful fate—the fate of believing that Lucian was a kind, loving man, when, in reality, he was as cold-hearted and indifferent as she’d always feared. If she hadn’t brought it up, she might never have seen his true character. He might have gone on pretending to be loving and kind for the rest of their contract. Only to stop the act after it was too late for her to leave with everything she’d been promised.

He was a cold, indifferent man, and she would do well to remember that. It was truly chilling that he’d been able to pretend otherwise for as long as he had.

The coach pulled to a stop in front of the milliner’s shop. When the footman folded down the steps, Anna made to accompany Gemma into the store.

“Oh, don’t get up, Anna. I’ll just be a moment,” she said. “I’m only picking up an order.”

The footmen could do it for her, of course, but Gemma was restless. She wanted to get out of the coach and walk a bit. In fact, she wished she could run all the way to Hyde Park and keep running. To get away from the life she was trapped in for at least six more weeks.

Oh, why had she ever agreed to that contract in the first place? She’d known he was pretending. He’d never intended to give her a divorce or any money. He knew she’d conceive and that she’d never be able to leave her own child. It had been his plan all along. It made sense now. And like a fool, she’d begun to believe he actually cared. In fact, the part that hurt the most was realizing that she’d actually begun to believe that he was falling in love with her.

The way she’d begun falling in love with him.

Tears stung her eyes at the thought. But none of that mattered now. It wasn’t real. When she got back home, she intended to tell Lucian that she would be seeking the divorce immediately, with or without his agreement. She’d have her brother’s backing. That would have to be enough. She refused to live a lie with Lucian.

After the footman helped her down, Gemma lifted her skirts and made her way the short distance from the road to the front of the hatmaker’s shop.

“We’ll come back around for you, Your Grace,” Mr. Bigley called from atop his perch.

“Thank you,” Gemma replied, dismissing the coach with a wave of her hand.

The coach took off in the afternoon traffic. As usual, they would circle around the nearby stores and return for her.

A bell fastened to the top of the door rang when Gemma stepped into the milliner’s shop. The space was filled with rows and rows of lovely hats. Ladies’ hats on one side, gentlemen’s on the other. Rows of bows, and feathers, and reams of ribbons graced the wall behind the ladies’ side. Gemma spent a few moments looking over all the pretty baubles. She did so love a beautiful hat. She’d commissioned the one she was here for not a fortnight ago. With Lucian smiling by her side. She shook her head. No. She would not remember such things. It did no good to act as if any of that had been real. The man didn’t have a real hair atop his head.

“There you are, Your Grace,” came Madame Renard’s voice from the back of the shop. “I’ve been expecting you. Zee hat came out perfectly, if I do say so myself. Let me get it.” The woman disappeared into the back of the shop and Gemma continued to browse through the ribbons and feathers while she waited.

She didn’t have to wait long. Madame Renard promptly returned with the green concoction in her hands. “Here it is,” she said, handing it over to Gemma.

“It’s lovely,” Gemma breathed. “Just as I imagined it would look.”

The hat was green velvet, shaped in a circle, and adorned with a bright-white bow and matching feather. It would go perfectly with a certain emerald-green gown she owned.

“Shall I send zee bill to your husband?” the milliner asked with a knowing smile.

“Please do,” Gemma replied with a decided nod. She didn’t like being reminded she had a husband, but the least he could do was pay for her pretty new hat.

Gemma waited a few more moments while Madame Renard packed the hat into a box with tissue paper, wrapped a string around the box, and gave it to her.

“Thank you, Madame,” Gemma said as she headed toward the door.

“My pleasure, Your Grace.” The milliner waved at her.

When Gemma stepped back out onto the street, her coach was not there. She pushed herself up on tiptoes and craned her neck, doing her best to search the heavy midday traffic in the congested area. She still didn’t see it.

No matter. Mr. Bigley would be around as soon as he was able. She turned to look into the window of the patisserie next door.

She’d been salivating over an éclair for a few moments when a familiar voice rang out from behind her.

“Gemma? Is that you?”

She turned to see Lord Pembroke, of all people, pushing through the crowd toward her. Odd that he’d used her Christian name. But they were friends.

“Your Grace, you’re looking well,” Pembroke said when he finally made it to her side.

“Good afternoon, Lord Pembroke,” she said, smiling at her old friend. “I haven’t seen you since…” She let her voice trail off, realizing as she spoke that she hadn’t seen him since her husband had rudely told him to go away at the Chadworths’ ball.

“It’s been quite a while,” Pembroke replied with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Gemma began, feeling true regret at the way Lucian had treated her friend. She should have known what a scoundrel her husband was based on his treatment of this man, who’d never done anything more than be kind to her.

“No apology necessary,” Pembroke said, shaking his head. “May I drive you home? My coach is just here.” He motioned to the conveyance that sat in the street behind them.

Gemma shook her head. “No, thank you. My coach should be back momentarily,” she assured him. She didn’t mention that if Lucian saw Pembroke’s coach drop her off, he’d be anything but happy. Not that she should give a toss what Lucian thought.

“It’s no bother,” Pembroke added. He splayed a hand toward his coach again.

Gemma eyed him warily. “No, thank you,” she repeated. Had he not heard her the first time? Or was he just being overly polite?

Just then, Pembroke crowded toward her and grabbed her arm. Gemma made to step back when she saw the flash of metal at her side. Panic shot through her. Pembroke was brandishing a pistol . He wrapped his arm through hers and pressed the weapon to her ribs. “Don’t move. Don’t say anything. Come with me.”

Gemma’s breath caught in her throat. Her heart pounded unmercifully. A hundred different thoughts raced through her mind. This wasn’t happening. Pembroke was her friend. What in the world was he doing with a pistol?

“You must be jesting,” she said. “But honestly, it’s not very funny.”

He jammed the pistol into her ribs, making her grunt. The pain demonstrated how very real it was.

“Do as I say,” Pembroke demanded. His eyes, which had darkened considerably, were scanning the crowd.

The street was busy. Scores of people were walking about, but none of them knew there was a weapon pressed to her side. How could they? Gemma’s pelisse and Pembroke’s coat obscured it. Not to mention, Pembroke had a wide smile on his face, as if they were doing nothing more than having a pleasant chat. Gemma tried to catch the eye of the passersby, but none of them appeared to notice her.

Pembroke pulled her roughly alongside him a few paces to his coach. “Get in,” he demanded. The door was already open, and the steps were down, so Pembroke was able to help her up and push her in without the aid of a footman. He kept a hold of her arm, the pistol still clutched in his other hand. He pushed into the coach directly behind her, so she didn’t have time to try to jump out the opposite door.

The moment the door closed behind them, Pembroke banged on the ceiling, yelling to the coachman to go. Moments later, the coach rolled into the crowded street. And with every turn of its wheels, Gemma felt more trapped.

She forced herself to breathe and count ten. She could handle this. This was Pembroke, after all. They’d shared wine and laughs and dances for the better part of the last year. He couldn’t possibly mean to harm her.

“What are you doing?” Gemma asked in as calm a voice as she could muster.

“I’m getting what I deserve,” Pembroke replied. He sat on the seat opposite her, but the pistol was firmly trained on her.

Gemma swallowed. What in God’s name did that mean? “What you des?—?”

“Shut up,” Pembroke demanded. “No talking until we get home.”

She drew her brows together. “Home? Are we going to your home?” What in the world was happening?

“No talking,” Pembroke ground out.

She’d never heard his voice angry. She didn’t like it. Apparently, Pembroke was an actor too.

Gemma took another deep breath to calm her nerves, then she turned to look out the window at the crowded street. Everyone was going about their day completely normally. And why wouldn’t they? None of them knew she was being held at the end of a pistol in Pembroke’s coach. No one knew she was in the middle of a nightmare.

She had to think. What could Pembroke possibly want? What did he think he deserved from her?

The only thing she knew for certain was that whatever he was up to, it couldn’t end well. He couldn’t let her go without harming her. Unless… She would just have to try to reason with him.

She folded her hands carefully in her lap and spoke in a calm, quiet voice. “You don’t have to do this, you know? I would visit you if you asked.”

“Shut up. You cannot visit me now that your husband is back.” He sneered at the word husband .

“That’s not true,” she insisted. “I don’t tell my husband everything I do.” She wasn’t lying. She hadn’t even told Lucian she’d gone out shopping today.

“Your husband won’t like what I want from you.” Pembroke’s stare was positively leering.

Cold sweat beaded down Gemma’s back. Oh, God. Did that mean—? Did Pembroke intend to rape her? If so, he’d have to kill her first. She would fight him without end.

“My husband will come looking for?—”

“SHUT UP!” Pembroke’s voice was so loud the carriage shook.

Gemma sucked in her breath. Her eyes widened with fear. She’d never seen him like this. It was as if something had come over him, a rage unlike anything she’d seen before. His eyes had gone dark. He’d turned into a completely different person. One she was truly frightened of.

Swallowing hard, Gemma turned back to stare out the window. Given the extent of his anger and the fact that his finger was on the trigger of a pistol, it was probably best not to rile him further. She would wait to see where they were going. Perhaps there would be a chance to escape on the way out of the carriage.

Within the hour, they pulled to a stop in front of Pembroke’s town house. Gemma had never been inside his home before, but she had waited outside for him upon occasion. It wasn’t that far from the milliner’s shop, but the traffic had been so thick, it had taken a long time to make it here.

Just like when he’d hustled her into the coach, Pembroke took no chances. Pulling her from her seat, he wrapped his arm through hers and stuck the pistol to her ribs. “Let’s go,” he said the moment the footman opened the door and let down the steps. “And don’t try to run or I’ll shoot you.”

Gemma gulped. The metal pressing into her side proved how serious the man was.

The moment they made it up the stone stairs and into the town house, Gemma wrenched from his arm. “What do you intend to do with me?” She glanced around frantically, but there was no butler or any other servants to be found.

“I must hide you.”

“Hide me.” Fear gripped her spine. “What do you mean?”

He shrugged. “Only temporarily. Until the news breaks.”

She furrowed her brow again and shook her head. The man wasn’t making any sense. “What news?”

“The news of your impending divorce, of course.” His smile was dark.

“My what?”

“Your divorce,” he repeated. “There’s been a rumor for quite some time now that you want a divorce from your dear husband, the duke.”

What? How in the world had that rumor spread? Gemma, Cecily, and Lady Clare were the only three who knew about it, and Gemma would stake her life that Cecily and Clare hadn’t said anything.

“That’s not true,” she insisted. “I?—”

Oh, God. Wait. Now that she thought on it, she’d mentioned to Pembroke upon occasion that while divorce would be frowned upon, it was an option. Which meant Pembroke knew she’d been considering it. It was her own fault. The rumor had been spread by Pembroke himself.

“When has the ton ever cared about the truth?” Pembroke scoffed. “I only need the rumor, not the truth. Now walk.” He pointed the pistol toward the staircase.

Oh, God. They were going upstairs.

By the time they made it to the landing on the third floor, Gemma was shaking so badly she could hardly walk. But Pembroke pushed her ahead of him, and they went all the way down to the far end of the corridor, to the last door in the hallway. Pembroke opened it and pushed her inside. “I’ll be back for you later.”

The door closed behind her, and Gemma barely had time to register relief at the fact that she wasn’t about to be imminently raped before she rushed over to the nearest window. It was locked. Nailed shut from the outside, apparently.

She took a deep breath before trying each of the three other windows. They were all the same. Apparently, Pembroke had planned this little abduction well. But how had he known she’d be shopping today?

Oh, God. He must have been following her. He could have been waiting for her for days. Hadn’t Meredith said that he’d asked after her recently?

Doing her best to calm her nerves, Gemma made her way over to the bed and took a seat atop the mattress. She needed to think. Surely, there was a servant here who could help. Or had Pembroke dismissed the servants? She hadn’t seen a butler. Or anyone else, for that matter. What was Pembroke’s plan? And how exactly would the rumor of her divorce help it?

Would Lucian figure out where she’d gone? How could he? No one had seen her with Pembroke. Not even Anna.

Gemma was still miserably contemplating her options when the door cracked open again and Pembroke’s head appeared. It was almost as if she’d conjured him with her thoughts. “I paid a maid to leave a note for your husband telling him you want a divorce. He won’t be looking for you.”