Chapter Seventeen

D erek sat in Gavin's billiards room, a garishly decorated space that had yet to be redone by the baroness, who was painstakingly changing each room of the London home one by one. The former baron had famously adorned his home with the most outrageous patterns, textures, and artwork. Derek had to admit that he'd always rather liked it. Not because he admired the décor in and of itself, but because most people who entered Gavin's home couldn't help but stare at the walls and ceilings, not Derek. Tonight, he sat in the corner of a burnt pink chair adorned with a tropical floral pattern, the red felted billiards table untouched as he stared blankly across the room.

Derek had gone to his solicitor's office but was informed that his solicitor's wife had just given birth and that the man would therefore be out of the office for a day or so. Derek had one of the clerks send a letter to the Times with threats of a libel suit before he had gone to Whites for some solace. But that had been a mistake. A number of gentlemen, some he had even considered friends, had leaped at the opportunity to mock him about the allegations of his wife's bigamy. It seemed the entire city had read the article. Derek had deserted his club and then come to Gavin's home, hoping to find a place of peace to settle his mind.

He sat in the dark room, flexing his hands to alleviate the prickling sensation that wouldn't leave. He needed to try and figure out what to do next. Derek knew that publicly, he had to deal with the comte, but every bit of him wished he could handle de Retha the same way he had Lord Nesby. A suit against the man and the paper would satisfy most of the ton, but he knew rumors would persist for some time afterward, regardless of what was decided in court. Still, he needed to take care of the legality of everything before confronting his wife.

He knew it wasn't right to sulk, but he hadn't been able to even look at Mabel before leaving that morning. Logically, he knew she wasn't a bigamist. And he was aware that her former husband was likely just trying to ruin her, but there was something deep and visceral that had bubbled up upon hearing the allegations. Mabel was his , and even a suggestion otherwise was a betrayal.

It was why he had come to Gavin. He knew he needed time to gather and direct his anger at the proper people to keep him from lashing out and upsetting his wife again. But when he arrived, he found only Gavin's elderly aunt in residence, as Gavin, his wife, and his wife's sister had gone out. Gavin's aunt hadn't objected to him making himself at home in the billiards room, so that was where he had gone.

Soon enough, however, his peace was disturbed when the baron returned.

Coming into the room, Gavin did not speak. He only began to set up the billiards game. Once he had, he removed one of the sticks from the wall and began to line up his shot. For nearly a half hour, he played by himself, never acknowledging Derek, who grew more and more irritated. It was a tactic Gavin had used on Derek and their friend Silas for years since they were at Eton together. He would simply ignore the others when dealing with issues until they couldn't stand it. It was annoying how well it worked.

Finally, Derek stood up.

"I suppose you'd just continue playing until the end of time, is that it?"

"Ah, Derek. I didn't see you there."

"Shut up," Derek said as Gavin sauntered around the table.

"I take it you've read the papers?" Gavin asked casually.

"The entire blasted city has read the damn papers."

His friend nodded.

"You don't believe it, of course."

"No."

"Good. Then why are you here?"

"Because I'm bloody upset and there's no other place in this city for me to find any peace."

"Why not your own home?"

"Because she's there."

"But you just said you don't believe it."

"I don't."

"Hmm," Gavin said, bending down to get a level view at the table he was playing on. "Well then, why are you here?"

Derek grumbled. He didn't want to admit his emotions, but it was Gavin, and he knew his friend wouldn't betray his confidence.

"Because I'm angry. The Trembley name has been dragged through the mud."

Gavin stood up.

"Surely you do not care more about what the ton thinks than how your wife must be feeling?"

"What do you mean?"

"I cannot imagine the countess is feeling very good at the moment. Particularly if you left her without so much as a discussion as to what's to be done about the situation."

"And why would I need to discuss it with her? I went to my solicitor and had one of his clerks post a letter to the Times . I also had a footman find out where the comte is staying to delivery him an ultimatum."

"And that ultimatum is…?"

"Make a public apology and leave England or stay and die."

That caused Gavin to pause.

"Die?"

"Yes," he said, standing up. "I'll be issuing a challenge for a duel at sunrise if he doesn't do as I say and if it comes down to it, I will not hesitate to shoot him dead."

"Derek, you've always been the calm sort—"

"My family honor has been insulted, Gavin, as has my wife, and I will not stand for it."

"But his claims are a lie. Maybe you could consider a countersuit? For slander. Take this frog to the courts and see what they do to him."

"It wouldn't be half as satisfying as what I wish to do with him."

"I suppose not."

"Besides, I cannot allow such slander," Derek said. "Even if it's warranted."

Gavin frowned.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, but Derek ignored him. He was aggravated and didn't want to hear about how he was being unreasonable. But Gavin wouldn't let him get away with sulking. "Whatever you wish to do, do it, but don't punish your wife. She didn't have anything to do with that article."

"Except marrying him in the first place."

"You're being a right prat, you know," Gavin said, annoyed. "She's already dealt with her own fair share of gossip and snubs as a result of her divorce. I can only imagine the marriage itself was unbearable. Whatever mistakes she's made, I'd say she's more than paid for them. And now, when she finally has a husband she can rely on, you abandon her?" he shook his head. "For God's sake, Derek. You should be ashamed of yourself."

"Well, I'm not."

"Your father would be."

That was too far. Derek stormed toward the table, but his friend didn't back down.

"My father would have forbidden me to marry her in the first place."

"And you would have listened?" Gavin asked, disbelieving. "You were always so ready to push back at him when he was alive, but ever since he died you've tried to mold yourself into some person you're not."

"I should be more like him."

"But you are like him, in the places that count. I'll tell you what, your father wouldn't abandon his wife, regardless of what trouble she caused him and I am certain he would have some choice words for you at this moment."

Cross and ashamed, Derek left the room, ignoring his friend as he called out for him to wait. But he didn't want to listen, especially since he knew deep down that everything Gavin said was accurate. His father would have been disappointed in him for allowing such a fool to come into his marriage and try to ruin it. Derek had fallen for the comte's attempts to sow discord in his relationship with Mabel, and he knew he would have to apologize to her.

But before he could reach the front door, a man burst into Gavin's foyer. It was Silas, breathing heavily as Gavin came up from behind Derek.

"What are you doing here?" Derek asked.

"Alfred sent word to me. There's been an attack at your house."

Derek stared at his friend, unbelieving.

"Excuse me?"

"Alfred said he came home to find Leona unconscious, a footman stabbed, and the house in disarray. Mabel is missing."

Undiluted fear seemed to explode in him, but he remained perfectly still, except for the trembling in his hands.

"What the hell do you mean she's missing?"

"Just that. No one could find her and when the staff was questioned, her maid, Juliette, said that she had been taken."

"By whom?" Gavin asked.

"The Comte de Retha."

A rage unlike any he had ever experienced engulfed Derek as he pushed past his friend.

"I'm going to kill him. I'm going to fucking kill him," he bit out as he hurried down the front steps.

Without thinking, he grabbed the reins of Silas's horse and rode through the streets of London as fast as he could, nearly colliding with several people as he went. When he reached his Mayfair home, he dismounted and charged up the stairs as fast as possible.

Entering the library, he found several maids and footmen, coming in and out to tend to Leona, who was resting on the sofa, and George, who was lying flat on the ground as a doctor tended to him. Alfred was seated beside Leona while Juliette hunched over a prone lying George, wiping a wet cloth over his forehead.

"What the bloody hell happened?" Derek thundered as Alfred turned to face him.

"Pascal was here," Alfred said, his voice strained. "He tried to take Leona, but Mabel convinced him to take her instead."

"Why the hell would she do that?"

"To protect me," Leona said from the chair. "He wanted to hold me for ransom, but Mabel promised him anything if he would take her instead."

Anger, fear, and misery seemed to come in waves at Derek, hitting him one after the other. He would strangle her once he found her and made sure she was safe. Derek could understand the need to protect a sibling, but it didn't take away from the fact that he was furious that she had left willingly with a man who seemed to delight in causing her misery. It was enough to make him go mad.

"Where did they go?"

"He said he was taking her to France," Leona said.

Just then, Gavin and Silas arrived, having raced after Derek.

"They won't go to Dover then, it's too obvious," Alfred said.

"They might if they thought to throw us off, knowing we'd discount that option. We'll have to split up." He looked at his brother and friends. "Two of us will ride to Dover, the other two will ride to Folkstone."

"Alfred and I will go together," Gavin said, taking a step forward.

"Very well. You two go to Dover. Silas? We'll go to Folkstone."

"Are you sure?" the duke asked. "I should think if he was in a hurry, he'd choose the fastest route out of England."

Derek remembered what Mabel had said about Pascal. He believed himself a clever man and always preferred to make others out to be a fool.

"They might, but I doubt it." Derek swerved to see where George lay on the ground and spoke to the doctor. "Will he recover?"

"Yes, well enough," the older man said. "He's suffering a sore head more than this scratch on his abdomen. A few days rest should put him to rights." The old man jerked his head at Juliette. "Especially with this one tending to him."

"Mon pauvre," she said soothingly to the footman, who appeared rather pleased despite the cut on his head.

At least George had Juliette to fuss over him. Derek would need to provide him with some sort of gift to reward him for trying so valiantly to protect the household, even if he wasn't ultimately successful. He would think about that later.

"Very well," he said to the others. "Let's go."

But before he could leave the room, he saw on the floor a rounded card lying face up. Bending down, he picked it up and saw it was the queen of hearts. His gaze snapped to Leona.

"Why are Mabel's cards out?"

"She was fidgeting with them before Pascal came," Leona said. "She must still have them on her."

He nodded, tucking that information away. With quick orders and goodbyes, Derek, Alfred, Silas, and Gavin were out of the house and on their way to the two ports that shipped to France.