A Lady's Guide to Kiss A Rake: Misadventures of the heart (19 page)

A string of curses erupted from his lips, his eyes roaming for something else to destroy. Smashing his belongings to pieces felt good.

“Woman troubles?”

His head shot up at the sound of Craven’s voice and he rose with a sneer. Damnation, he hadn’t even heard Craven enter. Where the hell was his butler? Did he have no control over his own damn life anymore?

“What would you know?”

Craven’s smile remained thin. “I have thrown my fair share of chairs.”

“Doesn’t mean it’s over a woman,” Damien spat out, the words hard to utter.

“No? Are we not damned for them?”

Damien stilled. Dammit, he wasn’t that transparent. In any case, it would take a love sick fool to recognize the signs of a love sick fool (which Damien was not). Which still did not change the ultimate fact—he loved that wretched woman to the point of distraction.

“She refuses to marry me,” he admitted in a begrudging tone.

Craven raised a brow, clearly surprised Damien chose to confide in him. “You offered then?”

“I may have mentioned it in passing.”

Craven just stared at Damien.

“After her brother demanded we marry.”

He whistled. “And she still refused?”

“Yes,” Damien muttered darkly. “She called me rotten to the core.”

He wanted to punch something again. Their entire encounter echoed off the halls of his mind as he tried to understand where he’d gone wrong. In the library, she’d acted sweet and passionate in his arms and he thought, no reveled, in the knowledge of her affections. Then today she turned and spat all sorts of rude things his way.

Would marriage to him be so abhorrent that she would defy her brother’s demands? Of course he was well aware of his depraved existence, but he’d been foolish enough to hope she would take him anyway.

“Perhaps you should have told her that you loved her.”

Damien snorted, pouring them some much needed whisky. “She would never have believed me. What are you doing here anyway?” he asked, handing Craven a glass. They were much too similar to like one another, so stopping by for tea and cucumber sandwiches seemed out of place.

“I received a note to meet, yet I appear to have arrived early.”

Splendid.

Damien was in no mood for company and now he would receive four. After leaving Josephine to the wrath of her brother, he’d tried to cool his temper by drowning his sorrows with whisky at his club, but that only seemed to needle him more. Now he would be required drink more just get through this bloody meeting.

As if on cue, Westfield and James Shaw entered his study.  Both regarded the broken chair with curious eyes before they made themselves comfortable.

“Has my brother not arrived yet?” James asked, taking stock of the room.

Damien cast his eyes heavenward. Anyone could see his majesty had not arrived yet. “Isn’t that obvious?”

James shot him a killing glare. “What crawled up your rear end?”

Craven smiled but said nothing and by nature of his character Westfield jumped in to stop an exchange of blows. “Shaw is following up on a lead. He will arrive shortly.”

Damien chose not to ask how his friend knew that. If Westfield attended tea parties with the likes of Derek Shaw, he wished not to know of it.

“This better be good,” he muttered, annoyed at how easily they commandeered his home.

“No doubt it is.”

“What’s this lead he’s looking into?” Craven asked, stationing his body between James and Damien.

James’ demeanor turned hard and he glanced to Westfield, who apparently had all the answers.

“Word has it Cartwright made some rather devious plans. Shaw is meeting his source to discover what these plans entail so we can intercept him and move forward with ours.”

“There’s a ship in harbor?” Damien asked surprised.

Craven shook his head. “A Japanese ship.”

“Bloody hell.”

They nodded in Damien’s direction. They all knew what that meant. The Japanese rarely ventured far from home, and when they did, it never promised good. While Cartwright may have had a chance at survival with the Chinese, he will have none with the Japanese.

“How much time do we have?” James asked.

Westfield shrugged, but the concern in his eyes never disappeared when he said, “Shaw’s informant said two days, but it’s unclear who Cartwright has his sights on. It could be anyone.”

Damien’s heart plummeted. He’d known the danger, but somehow it had never seemed real, until now. If Cartwright set his sights on Josephine, Damien would sever his head, never mind awarding the Japanese the pleasure.

The silence that followed bore testament to the men’s brooding mood. Everyone seemed to be lost in thought, contemplating the same thing. Who would Cartwright target? All them? Only one of them? Perhaps none of them but someone else? Thankfully, Lady Constance had been collected and remained safely tucked away abroad.

“What did the chair do to deserve such punishment?” Westfield asked, breaking the silence.

Damien shrugged, his gaze flicking to Craven, indicating Craven’s awareness of the matter, but he made no plan to divulge to his longtime friend. Perhaps his actions were childish, but the woman he loved did not want him and his best friend consorted with her confidantes.

A heavy footstep alerted the men to the arrival of the other Shaw, the lines of his face stark and pale when he entered the room. Tension poured from the man like untamed waves. 

“My source has been betrayed,” he stated flatly. “Cartwright already made his move.”

The men stared at Derek in shock, horror spreading across their expressions as the possible implications of his statement hit them.

“Who?” Westfield choked out.

Derek clenched his jaw. Hard.

“Who?” Damien said, his voice steel.

“Cartwright snatched Lady Josephine and Lady Belle.”

Derek’s statement echoed through Damien’s study, hollow and empty. The color drained from his face and all the warmth left his body, leaving him cold and empty. No. He’d just departed from her mere hours ago.

“How?” James whispered.

“Both women were taken from their homes, four hours ago. Cartwright informed all his men with the wrong information, all but two of his most trusted men. Apparently he suspected a breach.”

Damien legs weakened. Jo had been taken only an hour after he’d stormed out in a rage. If he remained, fought harder to convince her, but he had let his temper get the better of him instead…Just like his father. Now Jo’s life dangled from the hands of a mad man.

Four hours
.

Bile rose. He bent over, trying to tamp down his nausea. He focused on Cartwright’s face, and what he would do to the man once he found him. Fury took over, causing his muscles to bunch and his eyes to glaze over. Yes, he preferred anger. The nausea retreated and he straightened, his face as hard as stone.

“Where are they?”

“I almost feel sorry for Cartwright,” James muttered beneath his breath.

“I’m rather happy myself that I’m not on the receiving end of that glacial intent,” Derek muttered, then to the whole room he said, “They are being held on a butcher’s farm on the outskirts of the city.”

“Your information may be wrong,” Westfield said.

“I knew better than to arrive without the whereabouts of the women,” he replied without hesitation.

“Forgive me if I do not care to trust your word,” Damien said, his guttural voice heavy with hatred.

Derek nodded. “I understand what you may be feeling, but we need to be levelheaded if we wish to retrieve the women without harm. Cartwright will expect us to follow. We may be walking into a trap.”

“I don’t give a shi—”

“St. Aldwyn—”

“Don’t,” Damien bit out. “She’s been gone four hours. They may be…they may be...” He could not manage to finish the words.

“I have a plan, but we must be smart about it,” Derek said, his eyes softening, though his face remained granite.

“Will we need more men?” James asked ask his brother.

“That depends if everyone can keep their heads together.”

“We must leave at once,” Westfield snarled, surprising everyone.

Derek never lost his calm as he replied, “You need to settle down. We will be of no help to the women if we get killed saving them.”

Craven nodded. “St. Aldwyn? Your word you will not do something rash?”

All eyes settled on him.

“What will I do?”

“Do not even think about leaving without us,” Derek warned Damien, cold eyes clashing with hard ones.

“Both of you,” he said, his eyes flicking between Damien and Westfield. “You both have that look in your eyes.”

Craven stepped forward, stopping beside Derek, eyeing the men skeptically. “What look?”

“That they are both about to do something foolish.”

Craven nodded. “But foolish how?”

“Like they are about to charge into a battlefield with nothing but their wounded souls.”

Craven glanced at James, “Will you make certain the plan’s in place? I believe I’m needed here.”

James nodded, disappearing through the door, leaving four men facing off.

Chapter 19

Darkness greeted Josephine when she opened her eyes. The chill of the room where they kept her sunk into her bones and she shivered. It stunk of rotten carcasses and the distinguishable buzz of flies met her ears. Josephine had no idea where the men had taken her since they’d knocked her unconscious, but if the ghastly smell happened to be any indication, she ought to be terrified.

At least it appeared to be still daylight; some light was afforded to her through the small window overhead. That was something she supposed. She spared the room a fleeting glance. Nothing distinctive about the room caught her attention, except the overwhelming smell of blood and something else that caused nausea to rise.

A chill rippled down the side of her spine. Her guess would be they held her captive in a place used to butcher animals. They meant to butcher her, torture her until nothing remained of her. Panic reared its ugly head. Would they feed her to the pigs once they were done? Or bury her body in a shallow grave?

Jo choked backed a sob. She refused to cry. Strength. Her survival depended on strength, for her friends may not find her in time. Too many places to search existed. How long since she’d been taken? Three hours perhaps? No one would even take note of her disappearance until morning when she failed to depart for Green Rose Cottages as ordered.

Even then, her brother may believe her stubborn and not search for her beyond her friends, who may also believe her stubborn, disobeying her brother’s orders.

Damien despised her. In all likelihood he never wished to lay eyes on her again.

By the time anyone suspected something was amiss, it would be too late. No, she must escape, save herself.

Her hand traced the swollen flesh of her eye where the beast of a man had punched her. It throbbed without mercy, but she tried to ignore the pain. If what was believed of Cartwright was true, the pain of her bruised eye would be nothing compared to what would follow. Cartwright delighted in causing pain, maybe even taking his time about it. Jo may be scared out of her wits, but also relieved that he’d snatched her and not one of her friends.

The sound of heavy footsteps caused her breath to catch in her throat and she scrambled to the far corner of the room. The door slammed open and a man entered, pausing only long enough to drop another person inside.

“Here’s your little friend. Enjoy each other’s company while you can. When the boss is through with you, there won’t be much left.”

Jo did not glance at the man’s face. Her attention was riveted on the blonde figure who lay sprawled on the ground, unconscious. As soon as the door closed she waited several heartbeats before she clambered on her hands and knees to the still form. Her heart missed several beats when she recognized Belle. Her face beaten far worse than Jo’s swollen eye, it was obvious that Belle had fought back.

With an unsteady hand she brushed a bloodied curl out of her friends face. “Belle?” she whispered in a soothing voice, “Wake up.”

Tears openly streamed down her face and blinded her vision. She wiped at her wet cheeks in furious movements. This was all her fault. She should never have included her friends in any of her projects. 

“Do not dare cry,” Belle’s hoarse voice croaked in her ear.

Jo still wiped at her tears, glancing down at Belle, who stared at her through swollen eyes, fury evident.

“Belle,” Jo’s breath came out in a relieved whoosh.

“How does my face look?”

“Beautiful.”

Belle scoffed, propping herself up on her elbows. “It hurts like hell so I know it looks like hell.”

“You always had terrible logic.”

“We’re not dead yet, Jo. The men will find us.”

But Jo knew better. It could be hours before anyone realized they were missing, and by then they may be dead.

“I’m not afraid to die; I’m afraid for my friends.”

Belle grunted. “Do be more positive. What we lack in height and form, we make up for in spirit and determination.”

“Damien and I had an affair,” Jo blurted, feeling the need to at least tell her friend that much. “My brother discovered the truth and demanded we marry. I refused, of course. He wished to do the right thing and I called him rotten to the core.”

“How did your brother learn the truth?”

Jo gave her a pointed stare and Belle nodded. “My cousins.”

“I’m sorry I never told you.”

Belle’s lip twitched and she flinched in pain. “I knew about the affair.”

Jo’s eyes flew to hers. “You did?”

“Of course. You may fault my logic, but I still have eyes.” She suddenly chuckled. “So you called him rotten. That must have been something.”

Jo managed a small smile. “Evelyn shall kill us when she learns of our deception.”

“Hopefully we’ll be dead by then.”

Jo did laugh then, the sounds echoing off the hollow walls of the room. She huddled closer to Belle, noting when Belle flinched. “How bad did they beat you?”

Belle shrugged. “I may have to forgo corsets for a while. They cracked some of my ribs, I imagine.”

Jo cursed, anger replacing fear for the first time since she’d gained consciousness. So the torture had already begun? Well, she would not give Cartwright the pleasure of allowing any weakness to show and judging by the stubborn look on her friend’s face, neither did Belle. She understood now why Belle jested to keep the mood light, even in the face of death. Cartwright expected them to cower and cry. He would not know what to do with laughter and defiance.

“Why did you refuse St. Aldwyn? You obviously love him.”

Jo sighed. Even now in the face of her imminent doom, she still wasn’t ready to admit that she loved him aloud.

“You possess a reluctant heart,” Belle murmured. “Nothing wrong with that. There is risk to open your heart to pain, but perhaps it may be more painful to take no risk at all.”

Jo looked away. They were the same age, yet Belle was far wiser than her. “Why did you decide against marriage?” Jo asked instead. They’d all shared the same reluctance to wed until Evelyn had tied the knot.

“I’ve never met a man that I believed worthy of all my baggage.”

Jo blinked. Not the deep heartfelt response she’d been expecting, she promptly burst out in laughter. How like Belle to place it all in perspective. Belle joined in on the laughter, and for a brief moment, happiness bloomed in her heart, glad to have her friend by her side.

Their reprieve, however, was short lived when they heard the sound of an eerie whistle, followed by slow, deliberate footsteps. The tone caused the hair on Jo’s neck to rise.

Cartwright.

“No matter what happens,” Belle whispered, gripping Jo’s hand, the first sign of distress Jo had seen since her friend opened her eyes. “We will stay strong.”

The door swung open with a whoosh and a tall man entered. The beautiful angel Jo recognized from the theatre. His cold gaze drifted over them, a hawk inspecting its prey. When he noted the bruises on their faces his implacable mask transformed into a fierce scowl.

His displeasure made it clear he did not like the fact that he had not been the one who inflicted pain upon them. Jo, once again startled by his elegance, gripped Belle’s hand. It may be naïve to presume beauty did not equal evil, but how could such an attractive being be so cruel?

“If I hear laughter,” he said, a snarl forming on his lips. “I must be doing something wrong.”

The cool hatred in his voice caused both women to flinch. He sounded so calm and sure of himself. It was frightening. Jo would never give him the satisfaction of their fear, however, so she plastered a smile on her face. “You have only figured that out now?”

When his icy gaze rested on her Jo had to force herself not to cringe under those merciless eyes, wondering how they’d become so empty.

“Lady Josephine,” he said, her name rolling over his tongue like some ancient curse. “I’ve heard so much about you these past days. It seems as though we’ve been acquainted forever. Alas, you’ve been nothing but a thorn in my side, one I intend to pluck out.”

“I assure you, the feeling is mutual.”

“Such spirit,” he said delighted. “I will enjoy breaking it.”

Josephine scoffed. “My spirit is the one thing you’ll never break.”

Cartwright did not possess an evil smile or even a cruel one. If it had been but so, Jo might not have been so terrified. Instead his smile was euphoric, like she’d just given a small boy a big Christmas present.

“I’m going to enjoy making you scream.”

The men arrived at the abandoned butcher’s farm two hours later. Damien cursed at the time they’d wasted, deliberating on a plan and knocking out Warton, twice. When it became apparent that informing Lady Josephine’s brother had been a mistake and after the second knock out, they locked him in the pantry. The man refused to listen to logic or calm his raging emotions. How Jo managed that grizzly astounded Damien. It also attested to her strength, or at least that was what he’d told himself for the past two hours. 

Six hours.

He should’ve told her he loved her. Now, in the midst of regret, he prayed to the heavens she’d been able to hold onto that strength. 

Derek Shaw motioned the men forward. They had the building surrounded, moving forward from every side. It remained unclear how many men Cartwright stationed inside, but on the outside it appeared too silent. Eerily so. He also understood now why Jo allowed Derek to take the lead on their projects. By all appearances, the Shaws were government men, trained to slip in and out of places without detection. Spies, perhaps?

It afforded him some comfort, but not much. He glimpsed Craven motion with his hands in James’s direction as they came up to the side of the structure. A loud crack drew his attention to his right, just in time to witness a body falling before James’s feet, the man’s broken neck a telling tale. Damien suppressed a shudder as he stepped over the dead man, following James inside. He spared only the slightest of glances to Derek, whose face displayed no sign of remorse.

The building, Damien noted, was bigger than he’d anticipated. His heart sank when they searched for a sign of Jo’s presence but found none. Not even a sound could be heard over the rapid beating of his heart. Was she still alive? Were they even at the right place?

Westfield and Craven entered through another door and shook their heads. Dread crept up his spine at the thought of the women alone somewhere, with no hope of being rescued. Fear choked him. He could not bear her being hurt. What sense did his life make if she was not there to spar with? He would never forgive himself if anything happened to her.

“We’ll get her back,” Craven said, coming up behind him.

Damien nodded, not trusting his voice. He would be damned if he started to howl in front of grown men.

“Would you two stop gossiping like two girls and focus your energy on finding the women?” Westfield snapped.

Damien attempted a smile at his friend’s disgruntled tone, but his spirits plummeted when a piercing scream filled the air. Not a scream of terror, but one of profound pain.

His chest hurt. He strained to breathe.

Josephine.

“No,” he whispered.

Damien did not think, only ran toward the sound full speed, uncaring of any danger.

Jo had refused to scream until pain radiated through her body, causing her vision to dim. They’d tied her down on a table, like a beast, restraining her arms and legs. Up until then, she had not given Cartwright the pleasure of her screams, but she found it hard not to react to the knife that sliced into her body.

Sweat beaded on her forehead and her gaze flitted to Belle, where they’d shackled her in chains, suspending from the roof, blood dripping from her mouth. Her wrists were scratched open and had to hurt, but still she glared at Cartwright, the only sound uttered from her lips were curses. So this was to be their end, butchered in a slaughter house.

Her tired eyes flicked back to Cartwright. He must have had hopes and dreams once. How had he become so cold and empty? Was one born with the desire to inflict pain?

“What happened to you?” Her voice came out as a raspy whisper. The knife stopped, hovering inches above her skin, and for a moment, so did the pain.

Blue eyes stared at her dispassionately. “Excuse me?” he asked softly, deadly. It was obvious the question annoyed him, irritated by the fact she could ask him such a thing in the middle of his torture session.

“What happened to you to make you like this?”

His lips twisted into a snarl, and he seemed more beast than man.  “Not everyone grows up in mansions and castles. Some, like me, have to claw their way up from the gutter. It tends to wipe away fancy notions and lofty ideals.” The knife pierced her skin with sudden force, and Jo almost screamed at the pain, but managed to only whimper.

“Not everyone. I see people rise above their circumstances every day. I help people,” she choked out.

“You truly believe that?”

“Yes.”

Malevolent laughter echoed through the room. “You and I are not so different from one another.”