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Chapter Thirty-Seven

D ominic began his stay at the gentlemen’s club with the comforting smells of leather and brandy. He lunged out of it to get away from the stench of smoke, spilled brandy, and sweat.

There was nothing peaceful about him. His knuckles were bruised, and rage clouded his mind. Yes, alcohol might have contributed to his addled state, but anger was at the top of his list.

His ears hurt from the remnants of the chaos and noise from the brawl.

The shouts. The broken glass. The sound of fists against muscle and bone.

Did he ever think he would be in such a situation? Never. He was a hunter. He hunted for sport, yes, as much as Marianne hated it. These days, though, he could not find the appetite for it. He’d probably hunt for food, but nothing beyond it. It could not remain a game.

So, the fight within the walls of the gentlemen’s club was a surprise. He had a dominant personality, but he never had to use his fists, except perhaps when he was younger. It felt like a lifetime ago.

“Dominic!” a familiar voice called out.

Simon had stepped out of the club, as well, probably looking for him there. Gone was his usual relaxed expression. No smiles, either. He looked concerned and exasperated, instead.

Without waiting for his friend’s response, he grabbed Dominic by the arm and steered him toward a waiting carriage.

“Inside now, before the constables arrive,” he urged.

Even though his mind was not working perfectly at that moment, with shock still weighing everything down, Dominic doubted what his friend said was true. Would the club risk its reputation by calling someone?

Mmm. Perhaps.

He was too tired to contemplate it and too full of rage to argue some more, especially with a friend who cared.

In the carriage, Dominic slumped against the seat. There was a pounding in his temples that felt like a ticking time bomb. Simon sat across from him, looking like the stern one for a change.

He crossed his arms and watched his bruised and battered friend with a scowl.

“What the hell happened in there?” he demanded.

“Nothing,” Dominic lied, waving a hand dismissively, even as his world still spun. “Just a disagreement.”

“A disagreement? Between you and Pembroke, I heard. But why did it have to include the rest of the men in there?”

“It happens. The men need something to preoccupy them. They’re bored,” Dominic said sullenly.

“Stop lying. What were you arguing about?”

“Leave it alone,” he grumbled.

“You can’t keep everything bottled up. I know you. You have so much you keep to yourself. Now, this? Talk to me.” Simon was persistent, his eyes begging this time. The sternness quickly fell away.

Dominic sighed and looked away. Perhaps it was time to stop fighting. Perhaps it was time to find someone who could be on his side. Simon had always been there, through good times and bad.

“It’s Linpool. He has been sniffing after Marianne. I am afraid that he orchestrated our carriage accident. So, I thought that she’d be safer with her family.”

Simon looked incredulous. “You thought that staying with her father was safer? Her father adores Linpool, though God knows what he sees in the man. I don’t see why the ladies find him charming either.”

Dominic swallowed. He thought of his mother, a woman he had loved and admired. Despite her faults, he had thought she was smart enough. Yes, she had many lovers. She’d always pursued pleasure. However, he had thought that she’d be smart about it.

“I told her that I would keep her at home, guarded. That she would not be able to go to events without me. I told her that she was my weakness. She left for her father’s London townhouse.”

“Ah. You’re an idiot,” Simon bit out.

Dominic looked up at his friend, shocked. Simon had never talked to him that way. It was not because of his title. It just wasn’t the way his friend was. He was kind and amiable, full of life and jests.

“You don’t talk like that to women. You could have found a gentler way to show that you are worried about her well-being. If you had given her a choice and a plan of action, like a partner would and not a jailer, she would have stayed with you.”

“Pembroke said terrible things about her. About her influencing me to become like her. There’s nothing wrong with that. It’s what he implied,” Dominic said, his voice breaking. He dropped his throbbing head in his hands.

“I can understand that,” Simon said, his tone softer. “But listen to me. I spoke to Lord Hensley—he plays poker with Grisham. The old man’s been bragging that Linpool visited to court Lady Elizabeth just this morning.”

“This morning?” Dominic echoed, his blood running cold at the thought of Linpool knowing Marianne’s whereabouts.

“Yes. And I’m assuming your wife headed for her father’s house early?”

“She did,” he confirmed, realization crashing upon him. Slowly. Steadily. Heavily.

“Well, we need to get to Grisham townhouse now. Her father was just seen leaving Hensley’s house dead drunk.”

Dominic knew what that meant. Linpool could make a move, or had already done so.

Marianne’s head throbbed as she regained consciousness. She was still in the carriage. It rocked beneath her, and she was startled when she saw Linpool’s face illuminated by the dim light. He looked like the devil himself.

“Welcome back, dear Marianne,” he said.

She wanted to move, to deliver another slap to his smug face, but she soon realized, with horror, that her hands were bound. The rope was tight and thick.

“Where are we now?” she demanded, squinting to no avail. The curtains were still drawn.

“We should be near Oakmere now,” Linpool replied. “You have been out for hours. You woke up at just the right time. You’ll be alert enough to help me find out what things your husband has been hiding. Of course, I want to see the coin and gold.”

“I won’t help you, Linpool!” she insisted, trying her best not to pull at the rope around her wrists lest she tightened the knot.

She had heard about the possibility of that happening, but she also knew her captor was smart enough to tighten it hard.

“You know you will, Duchess. You had been agreeable for hours. You can be again,” Linpool declared with a chuckle. His threat and laughter sounded terrifying as a combination.

The carriage finally ground to a halt, jolting Mariane slightly forward. Linpool did not waste time. As soon as the door opened, he dragged her out. She half-stumbled after him. He persisted, pulling at her until they reached the servants’ entrance.

The halls were deathly dark. The staff had long gone to bed, especially during nights when the master and mistress were absent. Linpool led her to the study, where he began opening and rifling through drawers. Marianne sobbed in frustration as she helplessly watched him stuff a bag with valuables.

The study was a special place for Dominic. It was where he found some quiet. It was where he did most of his work. She wondered if she had a way to stall the Viscount.

“You won’t get away with this.” She echoed what she had said in the carriage. Her heart hoped for the truth in those words.

“I already have, darling,” he drawled.

He continued his search while Marianne prayed for rescue. Her eyes darted left and right, hoping to spot anyone so that she could warn them.