The Road to Ruin Read online

  In a matter of seconds, the said marquess had gripped her arm in his brutish hand and was towing her towards the door. “You can’t do this,” she rasped, and tried to twist free.

  “Who is going to prevent me?” He came to a dead stop, his eyes wide and fierce, his grip tightening a fraction more. “Will you stop me, Wetherington? What would your wife say? What about you, Pendleton? Your poor mother would turn a fit to hear that you bid so callously on the innocence of a lady. I’m betting not one of you will want to mention this incident over breakfast tomorrow.”

  Daniella let her chin sink to her chest. He had effectively silenced any rumour that would scotch her standing in London—or save her from him. Suddenly her well-thought-out plan seemed naive and silly and her cheeks burned with humiliation.

  “I didn’t think so,” the marquess growled and pulled her so roughly through the door into the damp night that she almost fell.

  Quickly, before the two guards could come to their senses, he towed her down the street, around the corner and into her own carriage. Before the door had closed, he yelled, “Plan B,” into the breeze and the horses shot off at a furious pace.

  Daniella shuffled along the bench seat as far as the space would allow. “Where are you taking me?” she asked, her voice no more than a frightened squeak. Under the circumstances, she wasn’t surprised fear had taken over her usually more robust sensibilities.

  He looked in her direction for only a second, his gaze shuttered, his mouth a thin line and said only one word. “Home.”

  Chapter Two

  “My brother’s home?” Daniella asked hopefully.

  “My home,” he replied without so much as a blink, frown, grin or lecherous wink. He displayed nothing but a furious calm in a situation that had quickly spiralled out of control.

  “You cannot be serious.”

  “I can.”

  Daniella’s fear was quickly replaced by anger. “Stop this carriage right now! I demand to be let out at once.”

  She watched the man across from her reach out a large, dirty hand to sweep the curtain aside. “Do you have any notion of where we are?”

  His condescension only served to fuel her fury. “Everyone will know you have taken me.”

  He lifted a brow and tilted his head in her direction. “Now you fear for your reputation? I assumed destroying it was your single intent when you placed your virtue on the block and opened the bidding.”

  His eyes lingered on her chest and she blushed anew. Yes, she would have been ruined socially, but her body would have remained untouched. Now her flawless plan was in tatters, and she was no longer in control of herself, let alone her supposed coachman.

  Damn him to hell. She pulled the edges of her cloak together with a jerk. “You weren’t supposed to be there.”

  “Neither were you!” he thundered, his fists slamming down on his wide thighs in his first outward show of emotion.

  “Not only did you effectively quash the rumours I needed circulating, you have rendered the mitigations I had in place impossible.” She wanted the gossip to reach her father’s ears but only the tales she spun herself, not the ones others did that had a habit of being more about sick fairy tales than actual fact.

  “What makes you think they won’t speak of tonight’s events?”

  “I don’t know exactly who you are but the fear on their faces was evident. Are you scary?”

  “Are you scared?”

  Daniella considered this, then shook her head slowly. “I don’t think so. If you wanted to hurt me, you would have by now.”

  The marquess surprised her: he threw his head back and roared with laughter. When finally his uncouth guffaws died down, he pinned her with his gaze, his suddenly husky tone washing over her in waves. “I just purchased your virtue. Why would I assault you in this carriage when I could take you home, tear the clothes from your body, tie you naked to my bed and have you at my mercy? The things I could make you do…”

  She gulped. He’d moved forwards with every word, as though he promised all those things could happen, would happen and more. “Take me home,” she whispered.

  “I am. My home.” He sat back with an unnatural grin.

  “You can’t do that!”

  “Again: be sure that I can.”

  She slowly shifted her gaze from his and looked to the carriage door. If she could get it open, she could leap out into the street and beg someone to help her. But the carriage still moved at a fast pace and she had not the slightest clue as to where they were. Perhaps she could talk her way out of it? “There’s been a misunderstanding, my lord.”

  “Oh?” His disbelief was plainly evident but at least he relaxed against the squabs once again. She would think clearer and faster with a little more distance between them.

  “You see, the auction was a setup.”

  “It was? How so?”

  “It’s rather a long story but Pendleton was to be the highest bidder. He was supposed to win my…virtue.”

  “You have a tendre for Pendleton?”

  “Good heavens, no. The man is more a brother to me than my own flesh and blood.”

  “I don’t mind telling you, Daniella, that that is the most disgusting thing I’ve heard all day.”

  “You may address me as Miss Germaine, if you please, and there is nothing untoward in it. He was to be repaid the money that he bid. There was never going to be a…collection.”

  “I see.”

  “Do you?” she asked hopefully, her fingers grasping one another in her lap, twisting painfully.

  “Actually, no. Why would you do something like this? What if Pendleton hadn’t been the highest bidder?”

  “He would have been. We had a clear plan, an agreement.”

  He threw his arms wide. “What happened to that agreement, Daniella?”

  She frowned at the improper use of her first name again. “Miss Germaine. You happened. Everything was running very smoothly until you wrecked it.”

  “I wrecked nothing. I saved you.”

  “From my friend, my lord? I was in no danger.”

  She was gratified to see he reluctantly conceded that point, though he clearly had others. “And what of the other girls? What use have you for twelve highly questionable virgins probably being held against their will?”

  “I would have set them free.” She hadn’t expected to buy those girls. Perhaps she should have done more research about the auction before jumping right in but it had seemed the perfect plan. She had just wanted to move the evening forward before losing her nerve completely and then having to wait even longer for another illegal activity to come to attention. Her thinking hadn’t exactly kept pace with her actions, a flaw she couldn’t seem to shake loose or learn from.

  “Set them free to be picked up again and resold? Murdered on the streets? They have no funds. At least eight of them would have been raped and murdered by the time the sun rises.”

  “Percy would have known what to do with them.” An outright lie. Maybe she should have listened when he’d attempted to talk her out of what he regarded quite vehemently as “madness.”

  “How? Because he is a gentleman? He is nothing more than a milksop and probably a virgin himself. His mother will have him cut off for his part in all of this.”

  Daniella wanted to shake her head until she blocked out his perfectly sensible words but instead released a frustrated sigh. “Please take me home. You have saved innocent girls; you have saved me—though it was presumptuous of you to think I needed it. You have stopped the gossip and prevented possible murders therefore earning your spot next to God. Can you please take me home?”

  “I am taking you home.”

  “Not to your home, damn it, to mine!”

  “Tut, tut, a lady should never raise her voice or use vulgar language. Did they teach you nothing aboard that pirate ship?”

  She froze. It was one thing that the ton knew she’d been raised aboard a ship but no one had had the courage to ask her ou
tright for details. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Do pirates not use manners? Or perhaps just not those your father employs? Does one even employ a pirate? I’m not sure how that works exactly.”

  “My father is dead.”

  “We both know better than that.”

  Suddenly it all made sense. The weight of the world lifted and Daniella laughed. “I understand it all now.”

  “Could you explain it to me then?”

  She stared at the marquess, if that’s what he indeed was, with dirt on his hands and face and in his hair, and smiled. “My father sent you to scare me, didn’t he?”

  “Not at all.”

  Without thinking, Daniella reached out a hand to rest it on his knee. “You can tell Papa that I’m not going to stop.”

  “Stop what?”

  “You tell him the only way I will cease is if I am back with him. Nothing short of my full reinstatement on board will make me happy.”

  “You make it sound as though you belong to a regiment.”

  “His ship is certainly run like one.”

  “That’s interesting to know; thank you for the information.”

  “So you’ll tell him?”

  “I suspect you will be able to tell him yourself.”

  Daniella’s hopes lifted and swelled until she could barely contain herself. “Are we going to see him?”

  “I do hope so.”

  “What do you mean? Aren’t you taking me to him?” All this back and forth and to and fro made her dizzy. She narrowed her eyes. “You are taking me to see my father, aren’t you?”

  The marquess shook his head, his dark curls falling over his eyes as he lowered his gaze and straightened the sleeve of his shabby coat. “Not exactly.”

  “Now I don’t understand. Could you explain it to me? Without riddles?”

  “I can.” He took her hand in his and gave it a squeeze. “When your father finds out I have you, he will come to get you.”

  “I told you, I don’t need to be rescued.” She tried to pull her hand away but his warm grasp only tightened more.

  “Perhaps you didn’t before, but you do now. When your father finds out I hold you to ransom, he will have to come to collect.”

  “All this for my virtue? I’m not a virgin anyway and he knows it.” Her cheeks burned but there was no point him thinking he held a better hand than he did.

  “More lies, Daniella? They won’t help but you needn’t worry. I’m not going to touch you. I need you whole, hale and hearty for my plan to work.”

  “Your plan?” she squeaked.

  “You see, unlike your flimsy scheme, mine is detailed and considered. Even this…nonsense of yours tonight can be turned to my advantage.”

  She grew cold all of a sudden. “What do you want?”

  “Your father stole something of mine and I mean to use you to get it back.”

  “How do you know he isn’t dead as the navy reported?”

  “Last I heard he was still floating about making a nuisance of himself and terrorizing the fleet.”

  “They killed him. It was reported that cannon fire tore the ship apart and all hands went down with the flaming wreckage. You must have read the headlines.”

  “What else could the British navy report when your father constantly makes them look more foolish than they already do? The public need to think him dead, the navy needs to look to have a win.”

  “So you have spoken to him? He is alive?”

  “I haven’t spoken to him but I have heard from someone close to the situation and his heart still beats, his ship still sails.”

  Relief flooded her. She’d known him smarter than the fleet. “Why do you not simply go and take back what he stole?”

  “He would see me coming. With you, I can lure him to me. We will meet on my terms so he can stick no knives in my back.”

  Daniella bristled but did not bite. Her father would never stab a man in the back. Unless of course he deserved it. She had a feeling the marquess probably did. She may even have to stab him herself if it came to it.

  The last she had heard, her father was in retirement. It would have taken something drastic to send him out to engage with the law again, unless that was yet more lies.

  “Nothing to say?” the marquess taunted.

  “You somehow threatened those men back there into silence. How will he hear about my disappearance and know it was you?”

  “Word will be sent. I would save my own name, even if you care nothing for yours. I will control who knows what and when. Even if you are not seen in London again, Sir Anthony will hardly allow the ton to believe you my captive. He will concoct a plausible story to explain your absence even if he hurries after us to avenge your honour; the details don’t matter so much as the outcome.”

  “You have a high opinion of your influence,” she said reluctantly. He’d certainly thought it all through, and allowed for far more contingencies than she had. “What if my father doesn’t care? What if he thinks we have merely fled the country? That I have gone willingly?”

  “Your father and I have history. He will come because it is I who has you.”

  “You are arrogant.”

  He spread his hands out in front of him and shrugged. “You are now my hostage. Your father will show his face and he will bend to my demands. Not arrogance. Merely fact.”

  “My father hasn’t been south of Edinburgh in a decade—he knows better than to come to London. It would mean certain death and he’s not going to lay down his life, even to save mine.”

  “So you’re not entirely selfish then? You do think about others some of the time?”

  “Don’t make the mistake of thinking you know me just because you spent a few months parading as my servant.”

  He inclined his head in her direction but the look in his shadowed gaze still mocked.

  “Are you going to tell me what he has that is so valuable he might risk his own neck to give it back? He’s a wanted man in England and over half the continent.”

  “No. No I’m not.”

  Daniella huffed and sank back. She waited for ten long breaths, waited for the marquess to relax, for his breathing to become rhythmic. And then she launched herself towards the carriage door. She kicked out with one foot while her hands closed about the door handle.

  But before she could push the timber and glass outwards, before she could jump into the street and hand her fate to whatever lay out there, two hands gripped her hips and effortlessly pulled her backwards. They landed in a heap on the carriage floor, her back pressed against his chest. With a shriek, Daniella began to struggle, to lash out but, wedged as they were between the benches, her struggles did nothing but increase her own panic.

  At her ear, the Marquess of Lasterton’s hot breath whispered, “I told you, you’re mine now.”

  Chapter Three

  To say James was furious would be an understatement. Every part of his body seethed, his blood boiled and if he clenched his teeth any harder, he would finish up with a mouthful of dust.

  “Would you—?”

  “No,” he snapped. His arse hurt as if the devil had slapped it. When they’d gone down, one of Daniella’s elbows had landed squarely in his gut, momentarily winding him and taking more than a little of his dignity at the same time. He took in a shaky breath and wondered where in London they were, and how long he would have to hold her on the floor so she didn’t try that again.

  “Don’t you know you could have been killed?” he bit out after a long, tense silence.

  “I doubt that,” she huffed, the rigid line of her back making her arse bones dig into his thighs. He wondered where her petticoats were—for, as surely as he was a man, the chit wasn’t wearing any.

  “You’re not going anywhere without me.”

  “And you can’t watch me every second of the day. I will not let you kidnap me.”

  “You don’t have any choice in the matter, otherwise the term ‘kidnap’ wouldn’t apply.”

/>   She huffed again. “Would you let me up?”

  “I find I like it here.” His arms slid around her body until he almost embraced her. Perhaps such inappropriate actions would wake up her sense of self-preservation.

  Obviously a month of witnessing the wild antics of Daniella Germaine had taken their toll on his sanity. He hadn’t been near a woman, a stiff drink or a game of cards in half a year. Right at that moment, when he should have been banging his head against the carriage floor to shake loose some common sense, only two of his longings rose to the surface.

  When the carriage came to a halt and the door was thrown wide open, Daniella braced her legs and tried to launch herself through the portal again. This time James let her go. His man would catch her.

  “Is everything—? Oomph.” Hobson did catch her and then he smoothly hoisted her body over his broad shoulder.

  She smothered a screech but pushed in vain at his servant’s back. It was too dark for any of his neighbours to see their movements and if Daniella wanted to return to the seven seas she would keep her head down and her mouth shut.

  He gestured Hobson up the garden path to the front door. They arrived in the hall of his townhouse just in time to see his butler skid to a stop on the polished tile, his wig askew and his shirt tails only half tucked in.

  “Uh…my lord?”

  James deliberately ignored his servant’s dishevelled appearance since he knew his own was far worse. “Ah, there you are, McDougal. I know it’s late but do you think Mrs McDougal might prepare a few sandwiches for Miss Germaine?”

  His very staid, very proper butler looked from James to Hobson to the woman hanging over Hobson’s shoulder and then back to James again. “And tea, my lord?”

  “Tea, Daniella?”

  Her muffled response sounded more like “go to hell” than “yes please” so James shook his head and turned down the corridor towards his study, beckoning for Hobson to follow. Opposite the door to his inner sanctum was a small room beneath the stairs with a very sturdy door on it and no window. For an hour or so, Miss Germaine would have to cool her heels while he figured out precisely what his next move would be. Her rash behaviour meant his timeline would have to be as carefully amended as his original campaign had been laid out.