Barbara Pierce (24 page)

His light blue eyes flickered over her terrified face contemptuously. “Forget about collecting your belongings. We leave this moment.”

Kilby saw all her aspirations crumble at his decree. Once Archer had her safely ensconced again at Ealkin, there would be no chance to secure a marriage with a gentleman he did not influence, no chance to disprove his foul accusations about her mother. She would never see Fayne again. “Archer, be sensible. I cannot leave without my possessions,” she argued, grasping at any excuse to delay their departure.

Priddy slowly descended the stairs, cautiously approaching them. “I concur. A lady needs her property.”

“She will survive a day or so without a clean dress,” he said dryly. “Come along, my sweet sister. The coach awaits.” He dug his fingertips into her nape and pushed her toward the door.

“I do not want to leave. Priddy!” Kilby flung her hand back, reaching for her friend. The viscountess was rushing after them and crying. “Please, Archer,” Kilby begged, though she loathed doing so. “There is no reason why I cannot remain. If the letters offend you so much, just destroy them.”

Her brother scowled at the butler near the door. Several footmen stood in the hall, uncertain whether they should intervene in what was plainly a family argument. “Open the door.”

“No. Stop. Please, you cannot take her away like this,” Priddy sobbed, lacing her fingers with Kilby’s.

“Watch me.” Archer severed their clasped hands with a harsh chop of his hand. He pressed his mouth to his sister’s ear and growled, “Tell her that you want to leave with me,
Kilby. Think of Gypsy. The poor child needs her sister. Without you at Ealkin, who will see to her welfare?”

Kilby went cold at his words. She understood his threat. If she continued to fight him, Gypsy would suffer for Kilby’s defiance. He would lock Gypsy away in an asylum for the insane just for spite. “Monster,” she murmured low, for his ears alone.

He flexed his hand at her nape, a reminder of how simple it would be to snap her fragile neck. “You can whisper endearments to me later. Why do you not ease the viscountess’s mind and tell her you leave willingly.”

“I will if you release me!” she snapped, and was surprised when he complied. She used the edge of her hand to wipe her tears before she turned and faced her distressed chaperone. “Priddy, please forgive me. There is no help for it. I have to go. Archer is correct. I have been absent from Ealkin too long. Gypsy needs me.”

She embraced the viscountess. “I hope you understand.” Kilby kissed her lightly on the cheek and stepped away. There was nothing left to say. Archer was watching her closely, expecting some kind of trickery.

“Forgive our hasty parting, madam. We have a long journey ahead of us,” Archer said, positioning himself between Kilby and the viscountess. Since he had now won, a veneer of civility returned to his demeanor. Ignoring both women’s tears, he bowed gallantly. “Please accept my apologies for upsetting you. In time, you will realize that I am simply protecting what little family I have left. Good day.”

Archer offered his hand, his eyes warning her that it was in her best interest to accept his assistance. Accept her fate. From the open door of the coach, Kilby observed Priddy crying in her handkerchief. Belatedly, she wondered if the viscountess had understood her problems with Archer better than she had let on. Her desire to see Kilby betrothed might have extended beyond fulfilling a promise to her
dead parents. None of it mattered now. Kilby saw her last chance at freedom vanish when the coachman shut and secured the door.

Fayne was in high spirits as his carriage halted in front of the Quennell town house. It was a trifle early in the day for social calls; however, Lady Quennell was making an exception for him. He had an appointment with the lady at eleven o’clock.

If all went well, he would have a cunning ally to help him persuade Kilby finally accept his marriage proposal. The viscountess was impatient for her young charge to make a solid match, and the Solitea title was old and respectable, even if the dukes were not. Once he had Kilby’s consent, he would have to approach the brother. Fayne expected some difficulty from the gentleman. Kilby’s hesitant confession about her perverse brother’s ambitions hinted as much. Nevertheless, he might be able to convince the gentleman to see reason. A connection to his family was advantageous. Eventually, the marquess would come to appreciate the benefits, even if his soon-to-be-bride refused to.

Fayne bounded up the steps and knocked on the door. The butler opened the door and glowered at him. He was a tall middle-aged man with a robust figure that was settling around the servant’s belly. The man was not pleased to find someone standing on the other side of the door. “Lady Quennell is not at home.”

Unperturbed, Fayne handed the servant his card. “The viscountess will see me. I have an eleven o’clock appointment.”

The butler hesitated, his face clouded with indecision. “My apologies, Your Grace. The viscountess has—”

“Gordan, who is at the door?” a woman demanded, her voice hoarse from crying. “Has Kilby returned?”

Taking advantage of the servant’s divided attention,
Fayne pushed open the door and crossed the threshold. The viscountess was poised on the stairs with her hand on the railing. It was apparent the lady had been crying for some time before Fayne’s arrival.

He could tell by her stunned expression that she had forgotten about their meeting. A flash of relief flickered in her eyes. She rapidly descended the stairs and took up his hands in hers. “I need your help, Your Grace. I do not know what to do. My head is so jumbled. She told me that she was leaving willingly, but I know Archer well. He did something, said something to coerce her. I just know it!”

Fayne let the viscountess ramble as he tried to make sense of her words. One thing was clear to him. Kilby was gone. “Where is Kilby?”

His question increased the lady’s misery. She brought her handkerchief to her nose and sobbed. “I told you. Archer took her away.”

His gut clenched briefly at the notion that Kilby might have run off with another gentleman. Fayne rejected the thought immediately. Kilby was not the sort of lady who played games.

Fayne strived for patience. “Who is Archer?” he asked, crisply enunciating each word.

“Her brother, Lord Nipping,” Lady Quennell explained.

Fayne released the breath he was holding. He had forgotten the scoundrel brother’s given name was Archer.

The viscountess quickly relayed to him the events that led up to Kilby’s climbing into the marquess’s coach. “So you see, I did not know what to do. I had no authority to prevent Archer from taking her from the house. He is rightfully her guardian. Still, I cannot bear thinking of Kilby in her brother’s merciless hands.”

Fayne freed his hands from the viscountess’s clinging grasp. “How much time has passed since they left the house?”

“Minutes,” she said, frowning as she concentrated. “Five or ten, I suppose.” She followed him out the door. “What are you planning to do?”

“I hope to find their coach. Do you know where they were heading?” If Kilby thought she could leave him without an explanation or farewell, she obviously did not understand him very well.

Lady Quennell grasped the side of his carriage, while Fayne reached for the reins. One of her footmen was unfettering his horses. “Archer refused to allow her any time to collect her belongings. I assume they were immediately heading back to Ealkin,” she said, her tearful expression lightening at the glimpse of hope he offered. “Will you be returning Kilby to my house?”

Fayne shook his head. If the brother was unstable, the viscountess would be unable to prevent the man from retrieving his sister again. “I think Kilby would be safer with her husband, do you not concur?”

Lady Quennell gave him a watery smile. “So I was not wrong about you. Good. Is Kilby agreeable to the match?”

“She is,” he lied, seeing the older woman needed reassurance.

There had never been any doubt in Fayne’s mind that Kilby would eventually marry him. He had been willing to give her a little bit more time. Regrettably, her brother had forced Fayne’s hand by taking Kilby.

Even though Kilby was under twenty-one, there were legal means at his disposal for getting around a recalcitrant guardian, all of which took time, a luxury Fayne did not have. He only had one option. They would elope to Gretna Green. “I’ll send word to you when she is safe.”

Satisfied, the viscountess stepped away from the carriage. “Excellent. For the first time since Archer’s arrival, I feel I can breathe. Will you send Kilby my love?”

“I will,” he replied absently. In his mind, he was mapping
out the streets as he decided which ones Nipping might have taken.

Lady Quennell waved farewell. “Good luck, Your Grace. I pray that you find her quickly. There is something disturbing about Archer’s manner toward his sister. I confess, I fear for her well-being.”

They rode in silence.

Kilby had wedged her body into the farthest corner away from Archer as the coach rumbled through the streets of London. She had expected him to rail at her for defying him at Priddy’s house. Archer had been eerily silent. With his chin resting on his propped fist, he stared enigmatically out the side window.

It was maddening!

Unable to tolerate a second more, Kilby said, “Are we riding straight to Ealkin?”

Archer blinked. He looked slightly startled to see her sitting across from him. “No. I am too weary to sit in the coach another day. We will spend the night at the family town house and then leave for Ealkin the following morning.”

Fear clawed at her throat. The notion of being alone in the house with her brother was disconcerting. “The house has been closed up for over a year, Archer. Think of the dust. And there are no servants. If you are seeking comfort, perhaps we should stop at an inn along our way to Ealkin.”

Her worries must have been transparent. The corner of her brother’s mouth curved into a faint smile. “Do you fear being alone with me?”

Yes!
She wanted to shriek at him. Instead, she calmly looked him in the eye and said, “No. I just want to return home to Gypsy.”

“You are a dreadful liar, Kilby,” he mocked, his gaze drifting from her face down to her bared ankles. “You have been plotting with the viscountess to free yourself of
Ealkin and your responsibilities to me. Those letters I received are proof of your deception.”

She pressed her fingers into her tender brow and shut her eyes, striving for patience. “Archer, no one is plotting against you. As Priddy had promised you before we departed Ealkin, she merely wanted to fulfill Mama’s wish and launch me into polite society. During my brief stay, I have met hundreds of people. Is it my fault if I made a favorable impression? I thought that you wanted me to marry.”

“The letters I received indicate that you did more than make a favorable impression on certain male members of the
ton,
” he said petulantly. “And what is this business with the Duke of Solitea?”

Kilby inhaled sharply. It took her a moment to realize her brother was not speaking of the old duke, but rather of Fayne. She had to tread lightly because she did not know what he had been told. “Exaggerations and lies, I am certain. I have met the Duke of Solitea on several occasions and he was very flattering. Really, Archer, it is so unlike you to listen to gossip.”

Archer abruptly nodded, seemingly satisfied with her explanation. He leaned over and placed his hand on her knee. The harshness in his light blue eyes eased into a dreamy indulgence. “No one could blame Solitea for wanting you. You have grown into a bewitching beauty. What man can resist those trusting wide violet eyes? They make a man hunger to tangle himself in your long, silken black hair, to feel your creamy legs wrap around his hips as he spills himself inside you.”

Kilby’s heart was pounding in her chest. She gently shifted her knee away from his hand. “This discussion is improper, brother.” This was not the first instance that Archer’s conversation with her had taken a lewd and alarming turn. Usually, such talk transpired late at night after the numerous bottles of wine he had consumed had made him
nasty. She had done her best to avoid him whenever the alcohol released the demon inside him.

However, this time Archer was not drunk.

Nor did he react well to her edging away from him. “Unseemly to speak in this fashion to a sister, perhaps.” Gripping her knee painfully, he held her leg in place while he moved from the bench opposing her to sit beside her. “On the other hand, you and I are both aware that you are not my sister.”

Kilby felt his hot breath on her cheek. “You are wrong. I am your sister and to treat me otherwise will damn your soul.”

Archer dropped his forehead onto her shoulder and laughed unreservedly. He relaxed his hold on her knee. “Oh, Kilby, if you knew of the things I’ve done since leaving Ealkin.” He idly traced the curve of her ear with his finger. “You’d know my soul already belongs to the devil. I have nothing to lose.” Using his hand, he seized her chin and wrenched her face toward his.

“No!” she begged, fighting him in earnest. She felt his teeth bite into her soft lips as he ravaged her mouth with a demoralizing kiss.

Fayne had driven his carriage down several streets, but there had been no sign of Nipping’s coach. If Kilby and her brother were heading for Ealkin, that narrowed down the possible streets they were likely to navigate. He was counting on instinct and the Carlisle luck to help him catch up with them. With each passing minute, Kilby was traveling farther out of his reach.

According to Lady Quennell, the marquess had coerced Kilby into his coach. Grimly, Fayne agreed. Kilby would not have left him so abruptly. She would have sent him a note, alerting him to her departure. He did not know Nipping personally. However, after he had listened to the viscountess’s account, he thought the gentleman’s casual violence toward his sister was unpardonable. Fayne did not care about the man’s rights. Kilby belonged to him, and he planned to make it official as soon as he could liberate her from her scoundrel brother.