To Love and Protect (2 page)

Clarissa’s eyes widened in fear at the meaning behind his words.
 
Innocent she may be, but she heard the change in his voice, felt the change in a certain part of his anatomy behind her.
 
No!
She cried silently.
 
He stood her up and dragged her to the side of the bench.
 
Not knowing what else to do she slammed her foot down on his and kicked his knee.
 
He loosened his hand enough that she screamed for help.

“You little bitch!” he roared.

Clarissa turned and ran up the path towards the carriage.
 
Too much land lay between her and safety.
 
She saw John approaching them and recognized the worry on his face.

“Duck!” She heard him yell and she instinctively dove into a hedge before she heard the pop of a gun.
 
Prickly branches scratched her face, chest, and arms.
 
Another crash followed by an oath sounded only a few feet behind her.
 
She scrambled out of the bushes, gaining her footing and ran for the coach.
 
Her dress caught in underbrush ripping loudly and slowing her escape.
 
The gloved hand felt like a manacle as it closed around her ankle.

He pulled her down, but she fought and clawed, trying to pull herself away from the thug.
 
Her fingers left trenches in the damp London soil.
 
“Help me!” she cried at the top of her lungs.

“Shut up,” he whispered as he tried to drag her close.

“Help!
 
Please!”
 
The sound of pounding footsteps came closer and closer.
 
Clarissa felt her energy running out as she fought the large man.
 
“Help!”
 
Even her voice sounded weaker, fainter.

“Hell, this ain’t worth it.
 
I don’t care what the bloke said.”
 
All of a sudden her foot came free, she attempted to scramble free, but huge, strong hands lifted her.
 
“But you’re my way out of here.”
 
The man carried her to the far entrance of the park, while she continued to pummel and kick him.
 
She heard people chasing after them.
 
They were close enough to the entrance that the man could get away easily.
 
“Another time, m’lady,” the man turned her head and roughly kissed her mouth bringing blood.
 
“That’s a lil’ somethin’ to remember me’s by,” then he flung her towards a copse of trees.
 
Disoriented and unable to catch her balance, she slammed into a huge old tree headfirst.
 
She felt the bark scrape down her cheek, tearing her flesh.
 
Clarissa saw beautiful stars light the blue sky before all went dark.

***

She awakened in the carriage, her head pounding and her body torn and bruised.
 
She knocked on the wall of the coach to get John Coachman’s attention.
 
The carriage lurched to a stop and she felt the sway of someone getting down.
 
She squinted against the last light of day as John opened the carriage door.

“Miss, I should have gone with you.
 
I’ll ne’er forgive myself.”

“John, I’ll be fine,” she croaked out as she pulled herself up in the seat.
 
“Where are we going?”

“I’m taking you home.”

“No.
 
Take me to Aunt Gertie’s, please.”

“But...”

“No, John.
 
Please, do this for me.”

“Yes, miss.”
 
She watched as John closed the door and felt the sway of the carriage as he once more got the horses moving.
 
Clarissa remained stoic and composed during the entire ride to her aunt’s house.
 
Despite the pounding in her head, she made certain that she had replayed the incident enough in her mind that she could recall the details exactly.
 
The bumping and swaying of the coach in combination with her head made her nauseous, and she could not wait for the torturous ride to be over with.
 
She knew John took his time in reverence to her, but on the cobbled streets of London, it would almost be better to speed to their destination and get it over with.

When they pulled up in front of the Gertie’s house, John jumped down and lifted her out of the carriage just as the housekeeper opened the door.

“Oh, dear,” she heard the old woman say before she yelled, “Lady Heathrow, we need you immediately.”

“John, do I look that bad?”
 
Clarissa did not argue against him carrying her because her legs felt like a holiday pudding.
 
When she heard Aunt Gertie say, “Oh, my sweet baby, what happened to you?” She knew she looked horrid.
 
She felt the tears gather behind her eyes, but she refused to let them fall.
 
She did, however, let the older woman wrap her up in her arms for no other reason but to let her aunt feel better about the situation.

***

Justin Southerby, Viscount Southerby, sat in his father’s study and poured over the report he had to deliver in the next few days to the Director of the Foreign Office.
 
This had only been his third assignment since volunteering to work in the office.
 
His career had begun by coming across a group of Frenchmen attempting to enter Scotland near his grandfather’s land.
 
Justin had quickly run to get clansmen to help capture the intruders.
 
Ever since then, he felt it his duty, no, his calling, to help the government keep Napoleon out of Scotland and England alike.

Before that time, he had done what most younger sons of the
ton
did, played hard.
 
Then his older brother had felt the need to fight against Napoleon and had been one of the few British soldiers killed in the Invasion of Naples, leaving him to inherit.
 
His father had shown him how to run the estates, but Justin found it a boring process.
 
Not that he would neglect them upon inheriting the land, it just currently did not hold his interest.
 
His visits to Scotland every summer always held some adventure and he enjoyed escaping the hustle and bustle of London for a while.

His mother had been on him to begin looking for a wife this season.
 
He thought he had found one in Mikala Simmons.
 
She was fiery and independent, just what his grandfather and grandmother would approve of.
 
Circumstances beyond anyone’s control, however, found her married to the Duke of Hawkescliffe.
 
A pounding on the front door interrupted his thoughts, and soon the butler appeared at the open study door.

“You have a message, my lord.”
 
Justin took the message that his parent’s butler, Dickson, carried on a silver salver.
 

“Thank you,” Justin said on a sigh.
 
He had tried to tell Dickson they had no need to stand on formality, but the man refused to change his ways.
 
Justin took the note, and the man turned stiffly and walked out the door.
 
He ripped open the seal, not paying attention to the mark in the wax, and quickly read the note.

Dearest Justin,

I need your assistance.
 
Please, come at once.

Love,

Gertie

“Uhhh, what has she gone and done now?” Justin asked the empty room, letting his head fall backwards against the high back of the chair.
 
Deciding to get the crisis over with, he locked his report in the safe hidden in the bookshelf and called for his horse.
 
Justin left his parent’s townhouse, which was located in an older but respectable area of Mayfair and made his way to Grosvenor Square to his godmother’s house.
 
He never knew what to expect when visiting his mother’s best friend, which is why he tried to keep the visits to a minimum.

He traveled quickly since most of town had been deserted for country estates for the holiday season.
 
His stomach growled irritatingly as he realized he had worked through lunch.
 
He had become too accustomed to eating meals at a set time.
 
When in Scotland, you could only count on the evening meal being served at a set time.
 
He had missed seeing his grandfather, grandmother, and all the clansmen this year.
 
Justin idly wondered how Liam had spent the last year, and then just as quickly reminded himself they were no longer friends.

His thoughts had wandered, and before he realized it, he had reached Grosvenor Square.
 
He nodded to several passersby as he traveled to the far side of the square and his godmother’s massive house.
 
Justin dismounted from his horse, took a deep breath and started up the stairs.
 
A crisp-looking butler abruptly opened the door.

“My lord, my lady is awaiting you in the pink salon.”
 
Justin stifled his groan as he followed the man.
 
The butler opened the door and the pink attacked Justin from every side.
 
The pink salon had every shade of pink known to man.
 
The tasteful cream-colored walls were the only saving grace of the room.
 
He searched the room and found his godmother on a settee in front of a cheerfully lit fireplace, her pepper-gray hair peeking above the back.
 
Beside her sat a female with blonde hair falling down her back in a haphazard manner.

Please don’t let her be trying her hand at matchmaking
, Justin prayed silently.
 
“Good evening, Gertie,” he greeted cheerfully, belying his hesitation.

“Justin, this is not a social call, unfortunately,” his godmother said in a brisk manner he had never heard before.
 
Concerned, he quickly rounded the sofa.
 
Lady Clarissa Blackerby sat next to his godmother.
 
Her hands were clenched tightly together in her lap.
 
Scratches covered her hands, upper chest, and face.
 
Her clothing looked tattered and torn.
 
Dirt, twigs, and leaves covered her and were tangled in her hair.

“What’s going on?”
 
Gertie’s green eyes sparkled with tears.
 
Justin’s stomach plummeted as he realized that something was indeed seriously wrong.
 
His godmother might do many things, but she never cried.
 
He looked over at Lady Blackerby and saw that she still had not looked away from her hands lying in her lap.
 
Justin did not want to bring up Clarissa’s injuries just yet, so instead he knelt on one knee in front of his mother’s best friend and placed a hand on her knee.
 
“Gertie, what’s the matter?”

“William is missing.”

“Who?”

“My brother, Clarissa’s father.”

“Oh, yes.
 
Are you certain he’s missing?”
 
Gertie nodded in the affirmative.
 
“How do you know?”

“I think he’s been kidnapped, actually,” Clarissa spoke up, her voice husky but firm.
 
She finally looked up.
 
Justin quickly hid his reaction to the cuts and bruising on her face.

“Kidnapped?”

“He left on business, but never reached his destination,” she answered.
 

“Perhaps you should start from the beginning.”

“There are so many beginnings, I hardly know where to start,” Clarissa gave a sardonic chuckle.
 
Gertrude gave her a squeeze before she continued, “Yes, father did leave the city on business.”

He waited, but she only stared at her hands, not making eye contact and not answering him.
 
“Lady Blackerby, if Gertie trusted me enough to bring me here, you can trust me enough to tell me your story.”

“Fine.
 
Something happened on the way to Liverpool.
 
A courier arrived at the house on Friday from the man he was supposed to have met.
 
The note indicated that Papa never appeared for the scheduled meeting.”

“Perhaps the carriage broke a wheel or something and he was merely delayed,” Justin suggested as he stood and straightened out his stiff legs.
 
He walked over and pulled a chair closer to the divan.

“He traveled by horseback,” Clarissa countered.
 
“I kept waiting for a note to arrive from Papa saying not to worry, and all was well.”

“But it never arrived?”

“No.
 
I even wrote to our housekeeper at the estate he would most likely hie off to if something did happen, and they have not seen him either.
 
I prayed all during the vicar’s sermon that if Papa was all right I would make nice with Lorraine, but I have yet to hear a word from him.
 
In a way that is a mixed blessing,” she chuckled.

“Lorraine?”

“My father’s new wife, or my evil step-mother.
 
Whichever you prefer to call her.”

“I see.
 
Yes, I believe we have met.”

“You’re a handsome man, of course you have met her,” she scoffed.

“Lady Clarissa,” he continued on, ignoring her mutterings, “it’s been a month, why have you waited so long?”

“I knew everyone would think he had only been delayed for some reason if I didn’t.
 
I also kept hoping that we would receive a note from him, relieving me of my worries.”

“Does Her Grace know?”

“No, and I don’t want her to.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t trust her or her brother.
 
She moved him in to our home shortly after she and father married, and they have been trouble ever since.”