Chapter Sixteen

"W hy would he just leave like that?" Mabel asked, pacing the bedroom floor as she fidgeted with the Flemish playing cards Derek had given to her as a wedding present. "He's never going to forgive me for this. I know it."

"Of course, he will," Leona said, leaning against the bedpost as she watched her sister walk back and forth. "He didn't seem that mad."

"Didn't he?"

"Well, he didn't shout or yell or stomp a foot."

"No, he just left. Likely too furious to do anything else. Except hate me."

"He doesn't hate you, Mabel."

"He would have every right to, though." She shook her head. "Why would he go without telling anyone where he was going? It's not as if I contacted the papers."

"Perhaps he needed to calm down, to refrain from saying something he might regret," Leona suggested. "Or maybe he went to the papers to insist they print a retraction." Mabel sighed, shoving the cards into the pocket slit at the side of her gown.

"I'm sure he'll be home soon."

Derek had been gone for several hours, and the sun was just setting over the city. Mabel and Leona had sent Alfred out at noon to search for Derek and bring him home, but as neither had returned, Mabel could only assume that Derek was still missing. Or maybe he and his brother were at their club, privately regretting their marriages.

"I loathe Pascal," she said as she brought her thumb up to her mouth. "Why would he do this?"

"Don't bite your nails, Mabel."

"I can't help it," she said, dropping her hand. "Damn Pascal. I can't believe this is happening. What have I done to deserve this?"

"Nothing," Leona reassured her, though, in the next instance, her voice dropped. "Except…"

Mabel looked down at her sister, who sat at the foot of Mabel's bed.

"Except what?"

"Well, you cannot deny that Pascal has good reason to be angry with you. It's not a terrible surprise that he would try and ruin you—although, being a comte, you'd think he'd have more dignity."

"What did I do to him that wasn't justified, given the way he treated me?" she asked hotly, focusing on those words.

Leona tilted her head and gave her sister a nervous glance. "You've never really told me everything that he did," she said quietly. "But I know how the experience changed you. Even without knowing the details, I'm sure it must have been terrible. But to someone who doesn't know you like I do, it might seem as if the way you treated him was rather…harsh."

"The way I treated him ?" Mabel repeated, incredulous.

"You did sneak away in the middle of the night, leaving him a laughingstock," Leona pointed out. "Then you told all papers what a dishonorable man he was, having lied about his fortune back in France, effectively eliminating his ability to marry anyone else of fortune in America."

"And so, because I saved other poor women the difficulties of being married to such a man, I must be eviscerated publicly?"

"No, I believe you were entirely right in what you did. Of course the other ladies in America needed to know that he was not a man who could be trusted. But I can only imagine that those who are close to Pascal have been spending this time telling him how grossly he was mistreated by you, and how justified he would be in taking his revenge. You made a significant enemy in your former husband. Not all men are sensible creatures, particularly ones who believe they have been wronged."

Mabel sighed as she walked, likely wearing a hole in the floorboards when suddenly a knock came at the door. Both sisters glanced up as Juliette entered. Mabel went to her.

"Madame," she said, curtsying, though her face was usually pale and taut. "Un visiteur est ici."

"I'm not taking guests."

"Madame… Il refuse de partir."

Mabel frowned.

"What do you mean he won't leave?"

Leona stood up.

"Who is it?" she asked, coming around her sister.

The tone of Leona's voice caught Mabel's attention. She had been too upset at first to realize that Juliette, whose usual disposition was solid if a bit cold, was shaking.

Dismay suddenly filled Mabel's heart as she took Juliette's hand.

"Who's here?" she asked quietly.

Juliette kept her head low.

"C'est le comte."

Mabel blinked once. Then again.

"Excuse me?"

When Leona's hand came up and touched her shoulder, Mabel jumped. What was Pascal thinking, coming here? Had he lost his mind?

"Do not go to meet him," Leona said, her hand gently gripping Mabel's wrist. "There is nothing good that can come from confronting him."

"But Juliette said he's refusing to leave. Derek will likely strangle him if I don't have him thrown from this house at once," she said, pulling away from her sister. "You stay here. I'll be right back."

"Oh no you don't," Leona said, quickly at her sister's heels. "I will not have you meet that man alone."

Mabel smiled at her sister as they followed Juliette out of the room and down the stairs. Juliette was obviously upset, and Mabel didn't plan to keep her in Pascal's presence for long.

"Where is he?"

"Dans le salon, madame."

Mabel hurried down the hallway, only to turn just before entering the room. "Thank you, Juliette, but you do not have to see him again."

"Mais madame—"

"No, it's quite all right," she said, straightening her back. "I don't want you to be near him, as I'm sure he only has wicked things to say." Mabel faced Leona then. "And I think you should wait here, Leona."

"Oh no, Mabel, that isn't wise—"

"I know, I know. But I've words to say to him that I don't wish you to hear."

"You'll only agitate him."

"I can't very well have him ruin my life without some critiques."

"But what if he gets angry?"

"What could he possibly do? I'm safe within my home, aren't I?"

Visibly reluctant to let her sister be left alone with such a man, Leona was still too loyal to argue for long, and gave her a nod.

Taking a deep breath, Mabel entered the room while quickly closing the doors behind her as if to protect her sister and Juliette. To her great displeasure, she saw Pascal, arms held behind his back as he peered at a painting, seemingly unimpressed. Without even glancing her way, he spoke.

"It's garish, no?" Motioning toward the painting before glancing at her. "But then, I find everything in this household rather crass."

"What the devil do you think you are doing here, Pascal?" she asked, coming forward with stomping feet. "Have you completely lost your mind? When my husband arrives—"

"But my dear, your husband is already here," he said, holding his arms out wide.

"Stop that," she hissed. "You've already made quite a large mess for me, as I'm sure was your plan. Now will you leave me alone? If you've hoped to cause me difficulty, I assure you, your revenge has been successful."

"Revenge?" he said, coming toward her. "Ma cherie, I do not care for revenge."

Mabel gave him a speculative glare.

"Then what do you want?"

"I told you. I need funds."

"But I don't have any."

"Do not lie to me, cherie. Your husband's wealth is well known and I do not doubt your father provided a small fortune for his daughter."

"I would rather die than give you anything."

"Ma cherie, do not tempt me. If we cannot force the hands of these men, we will simply have to try something else."

Mabel tilted her head.

"What do you mean ‘we'? And what are you plotting?"

A chilling sneer spread over his face as the door to the parlor opened up. Mabel turned to see a man, Jean, with Leona in a brutal hold. One arm was wrapped around her waist, while the other hand had a small but vicious-looking knife clutched firmly against her throat. Leona's eyes were wide with panic, and as fear consumed Mabel, she rushed toward her sister. But she barely took two steps before Pascal grabbed her arms from behind and spoke menacingly into her ear.

"You see, your husband may not find you worthy of a ransom. But the little love affair between your sister and her spouse has been well documented. I had hoped to avoid using it to my purposes by coming to you first, but you've left me no choice."

"Let her go."

"Oh, I will. Believe me, there's nothing I like less than a Meadows woman. However, I will only release her when her ransom is paid."

"What ransom?"

"The ransom paid to a kidnapper," he said as Mabel tried to wrench out of his grasp. But he only grabbed her back and hissed into her ear. "I'm taking her back to France with me."

"Nm!" Leona tried, only to quiet herself as the blade pressed tighter against her neck.

"Pascal, please," Mabel pleaded. Terror enveloped her entire being as she faced him. "Don't do this. Take me instead. You don't need her."

"No, cherie. You've already proved worthless in this endeavor. But your sister will fetch a fair price."

"Take me as well then," she said, her fingers gripping his arm.

"So that you might help her escape? No."

"Pascal, I'll… I'll help you, I promise," Mabel said desperately, eyes darting back and forth between a frightened Leona and him. "Anything you wish I'll do, but just please, release her."

He paused and glanced at her, obviously reading the desperation on her face.

"Anything?"

"Yes, please, anything."

Mabel watched as Pascal's face contorted as if weighing his options. He was probably correct in that Mabel wouldn't fetch as high a price from her husband as Leona would from Alfred, considering how furious Derek was at her, but she could see it in his face that Pascal wanted her. Probably because he wished to harm her, but it didn't matter to Mabel. As long as Leona was safe.

She squeezed, her fingers digging in.

"Please, Pascal," she said, her tone dipping. "I'm begging you."

That did it. Pascal's brow lifted at the mention of begging. It had been his favorite thing to make Mabel do when they were married.

"Very well, cherie," he said. "Jean?"

With the single call of his name, Jean hit Leona in the head with his closed fist, and she crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

"No!" Mabel yelled as Jean stepped over her sister and came toward her.

He grabbed her, and she tried to fight him off at first, but Pascal's voice echoed around her.

"Do not make this any more difficult. I can still change my mind and take your sister instead. Remember, you promised to be…obedient. So let's go."

The man hauled Mabel toward the door. In a desperate attempt to leave behind some sort of clue, Mabel was able to fish out a card from her dress pocket and tossed it on the ground before Jean twisted, lifting her into the hallway.

As they stalked into the hallway, Mabel saw George where a pair of maids were huddled around him as he lay bleeding from his stomach. Juliette was gone, and Mabel was grateful that she wouldn't have to see her former spouse, as well as not having to witness the attack on George. All this, because of her, she thought as she was led out of the front door and down the steps into a waiting carriage.

As the driver cracked the whip, the horses took off daringly for the darkening, crowded streets. Mabel stared daggers at Pascal as he settled into his seat.

"Do not scowl," he ordered. "You'll produce wrinkles and likely lessen your value to your husband. Or father. Whoever will want you after this."

Her frown deepened.

"You must be a desperate man if you've gone through all this trouble," Mabel spat. "Derek will be seething when he discovers what you've done."

"As long as he pays, I don't care what that little English prig thinks," he said as he called out to the driver. "Take the south road."

"South?" Mabel repeated. "Are we not going to Dover?"

"That would be the easiest, but unfortunately it is also the most likely and we don't wish to be followed. We'll be leaving out of Folkstone."

"But—"

"But will we be gone from these shores before your husband can track us down? Yes, that's the point."

Mabel glared at him.

"This is madness, Pascal. Even if you do get what you want, there will be repercussions for this. Even as a comte, you cannot just kidnap people and be forgiven."

"I'm not searching for forgiveness, cherie. I'm trying to put a king on the throne. Once that happens, I will have no more reason to fear the courts of this country," he said. "Nor will I give any thought to your pathetic husband, yet I suspect he might actually thank me once all of this is done."

Mabel shook her head.

"Why would Derek thank you for anything?"

"Because of the favor I plan on doing for him, once he pays me."

"What favor?"

"Well, as I know personally what a problem you can be, I thought I might relieve him of your miserable self." He sneered. "I think an ‘accident' will occur during your return. Maybe something involving the Chanel crossing. It was water that you feared most, wasn't it?"

Mabel swallowed as she stared into his cold eyes, as a cold dread flooded her heart. He was going to kill her and by taking the south road, no one would find her in time to stop him.