Page 38 of Claiming His Lost Duchess (The Dukes of Sin #8)

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

“ Y our father? I believed he was dead.”

Georgina snorted at Graham’s words, lifting her glass to her lips as she muttered.

“So did I. But he turned up yesterday, alive and well, much to my shock and horror.”

“And why would he want anything to do with my wife and daughter?” Graham pressed, confused.

“I do not know! I thought — I wanted to believe that he had returned for me. I thought we would finally be a family, now that he had nothing else to distract him from me! But the first thing he asked about upon his return was Joan’s whereabouts.

I thought… I thought that if I told him that she was married — to a Scot, no less, he would see that she was unworthy —”

“Do not speak of my wife like that. She did not want your father’s attention and he was a depraved man, putting his attention on a child like that.

She did not come between your relationship with him.

Your father never cared for you in the first place — did not care for anyone other than himself and his selfish desires,” Graham spat, feeling disgusted.

Georgina hung her head in shame, falling silent. With a sigh, Graham willed himself to stay calm, at least long enough to get the answers he needed from her.

“And then what happened?”

With a shaky inhale, Georgina continued, “He insisted on going to see her. He said that he wanted to introduce himself to Sophia, since he was her family too. He asked me to take him to the estate, to point at the entrance. I had no choice but to do as he asked. He looked like my father but his eyes… he had one thing on his mind and I knew I would regret getting in his way. So I did what he wanted me to, and once I had pointed out the entrances, he told me to return home at once and I did.”

That utter fool had involved his own child in Sophia’s kidnapping, whether or not she was directly at fault. And it made Graham livid, to remember that Joan had thought of her cousin so warmly once, had hoped that she would change and accept the choices Joan had made.

And yet, she had just admitted that she had a hand in the kidnapping of their daughter.

“I will be back for you,” Graham promised lowly.

“You might try to argue your involvement, but as far as I am concerned, you helped that monster gain access to my daughter. There will be consequences for that foolishness. For now, I must find my daughter and wife. I will be back for you, as your actions cannot go unpunished.”

As Graham took a few steps back from her, Lysander moved forward and asked,

“Do you know where he might’ve taken them?”

“H-He likely went to one of his other properties. He as two others, aside from this one — I swear, they are not here,” Georgina stammered, fear causing her body to stiffen.

Graham nodded, “We’ll need the addresses.”

Ten minutes later, as they left the mansion, Lysander asked,

“Do you trust her? Do you think she gave us the right information?”

“I do not trust her at all. Although I have never met her father, I can surmise what he is like, judging by the action of the daughter he raised — or failed to. She is a snake, poisonous and all consuming. As untrustworthy as she seems, we have no other leads. Searching Benedict’s other properties is a much better plan than waiting around while my property and the forest around it is searched for my daughter,” Graham responded with a shrug.

Lysander nodded, staring down at the list of addresses written on the paper in his hand.

“I supposed we’re off to the first property, then.”

Lysander mounted his horse and Graham followed suit, muttering under his breath, “Do not cry, Sophia. Your papa is coming for you.”

Dead leaves crunch beneath Joan’s feet as she made her way through the courtyard. The house before her seemed empty and she was conflicted on whether or not she hoped it really was.

She did not want to face the implications that awaited her if it was not void of any living presence.

Joan still could not believe that the person who had sent her the letter which allured to his involvement in Sophia’s abduction had been able to do such a thing.

Not because he had a higher moral standing than most, but rather because he was supposed to be dead.

It raised many questions and focusing on those questions kept herself from thinking about the fear and guilt working together to weigh her down as she drew closer and closer to the front door.

For a moment, she wished she had told Graham about the letter, banishing the thought. She would not be in this situation if it hadn’t been for him.

Benedict had no doubt heard about her marriage to the Duke — a marriage that stemmed from Graham’s desire to have Sophia within reach.

If she had been able to provide more for her daughter, if she had somehow managed to help Sophia then, they would have returned to their quaint life and none of this would have happened.

At least… that was how she had expected to feel about it all. But the closer she stepped towards what she believed would be her folly, she felt longing for her husband rise up within her.

She missed him, missed the kindness she had shown her, the assurance he had tried to show her, even though he was likely also just as distressed as she was.

But now was not the time to fantasize about what things might be like if only they’d felt more for each other, because her hand was on the door knob.

And she needed to go in and get her daughter back.

Joan pushed open the door and her eyes instantly meet those of the nightmare she hoped was now behind her.

“Ah, my precious rose. You have become even more lovely than I recall. Come, come my darling. Come and greet your dear uncle,” Benedict said to her, his voice so familiar it struck dread deep within her.

She could hardly move, her body tensing up at the sight of the man she had believed — had hoped for nights after that — to be dead.

There he was, in the flesh, still a manifestation of the life she had tried to leave behind all those years when she ran away from home.

He still called her his ‘ precious rose’ in that sweet voice of his that filled her with immense nausea and discomfort and she was still terrified of breathing the same air as he did.

Had anything changed? Was this how things would end, because she was still so afraid of him?

No, she told herself fiercely as she took two steps into the house. I have changed. I have a reason to fight now, and I am not leaving without my ? —

“Sophia. Where is she?” Joan demanded, only addressing him out of necessity.

His face contorted into a displeased glower, pale lines streaking over the bridge of his nose and another across his cheek — scars she did not recall. He seemed taller, even as he limped forward, his dark eyes studying her face and body in a way that made her skin crawl.

“I do not understand why you would ask me such a question. Did you really expect me to have brought her here? She is somewhere, safe and sound. If you behave yourself like the good girl I raised, I will give an order for her to be released. Even though that bastard father of hers does not deserve any kindness from me. For you, my precious rose, I will do anything.” Benedict stated with a smile, the twitching corners of his lips making him look more unreliable by the second.

“Do not talk about my husband like that —”

Joan had barely completed her reproachful statement before he took another step towards her and she felt her joints stiffen again.

“Shut your mouth! How dare you claim that — that brute before me? That no good ruffian, who you let defile you? I am disappointed in you, Joan! Of all men, him? You gave yourself to that filth? And you are raising his child as well? How could you do this to me? I searched for you for years! I put so much of my life aside, just so I could find you, my rose.”

It was strange, how his tone kept changing from furious to desperate, as though he could not settle on how best to convey a message Joan had no desire to listen to.

She was disgusted and appalled by this display and all she cared for was getting her daughter’s whereabouts.

“That is not why I am here, Uncle. Just tell me where?—”

“You were meant to be mine! Mine!” Benedict screamed suddenly, startling her greatly. “We were destined to be together from the start. I own you. And no matter what you do, no matter how far you might try to run, you will never escape me.”

For a moment, Joan nearly gave into the horror sinking its claws into her.

Then she realized that his words were nothing more than rubbish. Because she had managed to get out somehow. And she had built a decent life for herself without any support from him.

No matter how he made her feel as though there was nothing — no possibilities, no more chances for a woman only asking for a good life, she would always rather take her chances out in the open.

Away from him.

“I did it once. And I lived just fine without you. I can do it again. If you disapprove so greatly about the choices I made, you do not need to force yourself to consider granting me your forgiveness or keeping me here. Tell me where my daughter is,” Joan demanded in a fit of courageous rage.

Benedict was silent at first, and just as she had begun to believe that she might’ve gotten through to him, he lunged at her.

Joan screamed, trying to pull out of his grasp but he was too strong and soon, her body was against his. His grip was firm, with hand clamped down against her hip and another on her wrist that he kept pulling in her direction.

Just like all those years ago, his touch caused her spirit to wither, and her courage to fail as fear and dread took root within her.

“Please…” she begged, weakly struggling. “Please let me go. I only want to see my daughter.”

“Why does she matter more than I do? You only want to remain on the good side of that worthless vermin. What has he given you that I cannot provide? Hmm? My rose, I have loved only you, for so long. A filthy boar like him will never be content with you. Come home, to where you belong,” Benedict cajoled gently, his lecherous smile sending chills down her spine.

Graham, for all the rumors about him and his brutish nature, never exerted his strength over her. Not during their first night together, not even during the times he has touched her after they were wed.

He had listened to her, stayed attuned to her needs and ensured that all he did brought her pleasure. He was always warm, always kind and sweet.

And he was the only one who had any right to touch her.

Feebly, she pushed against her uncle’s chest, desperate to be out of this situation and away from this cretin.

“L-Let go of me, right now,” she panted, hating the weakness in her bones that she knew he had inflicted upon her.

“It seems you have forgotten your manners, Joan. I will be happy to refresh your memory,” he hissed as his hands began to roam around her body.

Repulsed, Joan begged her body to exude more aggression during her struggled and when she realized her fear was keeping her paralyzed, she began to scream.

Tears streamed down her face as she prayed, begging for someone to come and save her.

Suddenly she was overcome with immense regret. She wished she had held her daughter closer more, hand kept her hand securely wrapped around Sophia’s so the child would not wander off so often.

She wished she had spent more time with her husband, had tried not to judge him so much and so often based on the fears that kept her from resting.

It was unlikely that anyone had noticed that she was missing, even more so that they were out looking for her. Once Benedict had his way with her, her could take her wherever he wished — or even keep her here, a property she did not even know he had and no one would know.

And she would be lost once more.

Just as she had begun to lose hope, the door burst open and heavy footfalls approached them, the sound seeming to fall in time with her heartbeat.

Then she heard a breathless, demanding voice.

“Let go of my wife this instant.”