Chapter Four

Viscount Trenchert crumpled the missive in his fist and stormed out of his study. He did not say a word to his butler, communicating his displeasure with a look. The servant was half the viscount's age, and well aware of his temper. He stepped back quickly, out of the line of fire.

"Where is the messenger?"

"Waiting in the anteroom by the rear entrance, your lordship. Shall I bring him to your study?"

The viscount stared at his servant, wondering yet again why he put up with the puffed up, self-important buffoon.

"Your lordship?"

Where in the bloody hell was his intended? "There is no time!" he barked. Somehow Eggerton had had a contingency plan. Had Eggerton had an epiphany, or a vision of his demise, that had him making arrangements, should he not survive their early morning meeting on the field of honor?

Honor!Ridiculous term for the field where two rivals met to solve disagreements, quell gossip, or protect a woman's reputation. Trenchert had fought and won every time he stepped through the morning mist onto the grassy field of judgment. It appealed to him, reminding him of the medieval ordeal of trial by combat—without the actual fighting. He used his brain and his ability to ensure ahead of time that no one would betray him, nor would anyone mention the fact that he always turned on the fifteenth count, shooting his challenger, or rival, in the back. All it took was the appropriate amount of coin. No one had dared in the past, and he did not see it as a problem now.

"Shall I send him on his way?" the butler helpfully asked.

"Nay, I want a word with him. I am expecting another missive to arrive shortly. See to it that I receive it the moment it arrives!"

The viscount stalked to the door to the servants' side of the house. He did not bother to greet the cook, or any of his staff, though he did cast a glance at the newest scullery maid. She looked ripe for the plucking. He leered at her before continuing along the hallway to the room by the rear entrance.

He entered the room and took the young man's measure with one glance and mentally found him wanting. Lazy oaf. After he found out where Miss Eggerton had disappeared, he would replace the messenger.

The lad scrambled to attention. "Is there a reply, your lordship?"

"Go back to your post, and report back to me when Eggerton's daughter returns." The young man hesitated, irritating the viscount. He sneered. "Is that too difficult to remember?"

"Nay."

He stared at the messenger, willing him to remember to show deference. The youth's Adam's apple bobbed up and down. Excellent—he hadn't lost his ability to silently intimidate.

"Er… Nay, your lordship."

The messenger hesitated for another moment, but the viscount refused to hand him a coin for delivering the missive that would force him to resort to his secondary plan. Trenchert would have to track down the chit himself. He spun on his heel and retraced his steps, slowing when he spied the scullery maid in the pantry with her back to the door. He slipped inside, locked the door, and stalked toward her. "I have been waiting for this moment, precious."

The maid spun around, hand to her throat, horror in her eyes.

He backed her up against the wall, clapped his hand over her mouth, and told her in detail what he planned to do to her. When she struggled, he rasped, "That's it, precious, fight me—the rougher the better."

*

A few hourslater, the encounter in the pantry long forgotten, the second missive arrived. He didn't bother to have the messenger wait. The sender would not be waiting for a reply. He broke the wax seal and smiled. "Well, well, it appears as if my bride-to-be has not only run away…but disappeared. Plucky chit."

She must have left sometime after her father returned home, between midnight and one o'clock this morning. If the unlucky lord had planned for every contingency, he would have had a carriage ready and waiting to whisk his daughter to their country estate.

Did the fool forget Trenchert had an estate in Sussex not far from Eggerton Hall? He leaned on the mahogany desk, steepled his hands, and tapped his fingers together as he considered the time involved to reach the countryside. With two swift changes of horse, she could have reached her destination, but what of the servants? Would Eggerton have had time to warn them of the situation?

Damn the man's hide! Trenchert should have kicked the lord before leaving him to bleed out in the grass. But he would not have achieved his unblemished record on the dueling field if he had not taken every precaution to leave as quickly as he arrived—with the way made clear by the amount of coin that had changed hands to ensure his escape.

Leaning back in his chair, he contemplated his options. He could shell out more coin and send a man to Sussex with orders to drag his reluctant bride-to-be from the shelter of her family estate back to London. The other would be to order his carriage made ready and go after her himself.

He slowly smiled. It would be more cost effective, and guarantee that Eggerton's daughter would not give him the slip. He'd wasted enough time manipulating the deceased lord into the card game that cost him his homes, his fortune, his daughter, and her dowry…and ultimately his life.

His decision made, Trenchert rang for his butler. When the servant arrived, the viscount instructed him, "Have the carriage made ready and my valet pack my bag. I shall be leaving for Sussex in forty-five minutes."

"At once, your lordship."

He did not bother to reply—everyone in his employ knew he disliked conversing with his staff and that punctuality was essential to their continued employment.

A short while later, his carriage was on the road heading south to his country home in Sussex. Leaning back against the leather squabs, he could not relax as anger simmered inside of him. He thoroughly disliked having his plans thwarted. As he pondered the petite beauty with the entrancing amber eyes, his thoughts changed direction, and he imagined the pleasure that awaited when he finally got his hands on her.

Deflowering his enemy's daughter would be worth the wait.