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Chapter Twenty-Six

Pride goeth before the fall…

“W hat in heaven’s name are you talking about? How hard did those men hit you?” Lady Crowden laughed at that, a trilling sound that still rang cold.

Hard enough. “I can’t imagine you’re overly concerned for my well-being.” He was fairly certain that she’d decided that he would not leave that hovel alive. Otherwise, she would have taken steps to conceal her identity. The longer he was conscious the more the cobwebs in his brain began to clear, and the more he realized just how dire his situation was.

“If Miss Ashton is dead then Stanford does not get the pleasure of her public humiliation,” she explained. “If I had been unwilling to help him get you out of the way to make this happen, he would have exposed me. I would have had to face my husband’s censure. I don’t care enough about Marina Ashton to want her dead—only miserable. And she’s of no use to Stanford in such a state.”

It might be cold and calculating. Certainly it was self-serving. But it held a note of truth in it. So if it wasn’t her and Stanford Williams trying to end Marina’s life, then who? Miss Whitmore? Mr. Nutter? Jacob? And how would he be able to protect her while he was rotting in that hole? “She’s in danger.”

She clucked her tongue like a disapproving nanny. “I won’t bother lying to you, my lord. So are you.”

“I’d gathered,” he replied sotto voce.

“It would be pointless to lie, I think. You are many things, Lord St. Aiden, but you are not stupid. I will say that I, initially, had thought simply to keep you here and have you released later… blindfolded naturally and possibly with a generous bit of laudanum in you to render your memories indistinct. But upon greater reflection, and considering the longing looks exchanged between you and Miss Ashton—an indication that there is much more to this marriage than simply avoiding scandal—I cannot trust that this would represent only a delay in your nuptials and not a complete cessation.”

“Why? I cannot fathom that you could not have come up with a way to exact your petty vengeance that would not involve significantly less risk to yourself?”

“I need Williams on my side,” she offered with a shrug. “He knows too much and could ruin me if he chooses. I need to keep him happy. So, the marriage will be delayed… long enough that it will be assumed you fled to parts unknown rather than go through with it. And, of course, I’d like you to suffer a bit for the insult you’ve dealt me.”

If his head hadn’t already been pounding, he would have banged it against the nearest hard surface. “You are a lunatic… fit for Bedlam.”

She laughed. “I think you underestimate me,” she crowed. “I’m not a lunatic, at all. I know precisely what I’m about and why. What I possess, Lord St. Aiden, is a well-developed sense of self preservation and a wealth of pride. You pose a threat to the former and have wounded the latter quite thoroughly. It is a matter of cause and effect.”

There was a lengthy pause as she obviously was waiting for a reply. A reply which he was unwilling to give. The more he talked to her the more ammunition he was giving her.

With his stony silence, her temper spiked. “I will stop her from marrying you. From marrying anyone! After this, with the derision that will surely greet the very mention of her name, I doubt there will be any forgiveness to be had. Not when you’ve made her the same sort of laughingstock she made of poor Stanford. Will you beg her to give you one more chance? To accept you? Will you lay your pride and dignity at her feet to be trampled upon? Assuming you live to do so. That remains to be seen. A bit of humility could sway me.”

“So that’s your end goal,” he mused. “You simply wish me to abase myself as you were so willing to do.”

“Perhaps… or perhaps I just enjoy the chaos. Either way, you sparked my ire, and now you are paying the cost. Get comfortable, Lord St. Aiden. You’re going to be here for some time. Long enough for Miss Ashton to flee the city and her current shame. Bath might be a good choice for her, though not far enough to outrun the gossip. The Continent might be nice. Fine weather and new vistas can do wonders for a broken heart, I’m told.”

“And when Marina is gone, what is my fate to be?”

After a second’s hesitation, Lady Crowden shrugged. “I suppose it doesn’t really matter if you know the entire truth. After all, as you’ve no doubt guessed, you’ll not leave this cellar alive… In a few days, perhaps a week, you will be found soaked in brandy, reeking of another woman’s perfume, and with a knife in your back and an ace up your sleeve. It isn’t as if Mr. Danvers would be your nearest and dearest friend if you didn’t have something in common with him.”

“You are banking on a great deal of assumptions,” he informed her.

“Assumptions are what our society functions upon. What will happen to Miss Ashton when you do not arrive at the church on time, my lord? No one will think you might have been abducted or that you might have been prevented from being there against your will. The assumption will be that you came to your senses. You realized how inappropriate she would be as a countess—the bastard daughter of a woman of low morals and weak character and a father… well, who knows what he was? There are whispers and they are ugly enough that people will be only too eager to dig up those old rumors and bandy them about.”

“And when my remains are discovered in the very unlikely scenario you painted previously?”

“You are a man. It will never be a stretch of the imagination to think you had gotten drunk and availed yourself of the cheaply bought companionship of some strumpet or other. Such behaviors are not only commonplace, they are practically encouraged.”

The true hell of it, Caleb recognized, was that she spoke the absolute truth. That is exactly what would happen. Marina’s life, at least as she knew it, would be forever altered. The other idea, that she might believe he’d willingly left her to face such humiliation alone, that was equally abhorrent to him. “You’ve considered all the angles, haven’t you? You’ve crafted this scheme with the skill of a master.” But she hadn’t counted on one thing—the depth of his determination. He would get out of there and he would see Marina safe. But first, he had to determine if the madwoman before him had any information that was actually useful.

“So Miss Whitmore, despite her appearance of being quite viperous, has been mostly innocent in this fiasco. But what do you know of Mr. Nutter?” he asked. While she was feeling so free with information, he might as well make use of the opportunity.

“He’s aptly named,” she conceded with a sly smile. “There have been whispers for years about the unfortunate accident that befell the first poor girl to catch his eye. On the surface of it, most believed she had taken her own life, but there was just enough doubt… she’d been quite firm in her rejection of him, you see? Miss Ashton, at least to this point, had been careful of his feelings. As for Miss Whitmore, she’s naught but a dupe—eating out of Stanford Williams’s hand and swallowing his lies with a syrupy smile.”

“Would he truly go to such insane lengths simply because she wounded his pride?”

“Of course, he would. Our situation is unique—because I’ve turned the tables. I’ve taken the power and the control. Men have always had it, and some are unable to let go of it. By virtue of being led by her own will, Miss Ashton has insulted his pride, his manhood, and indeed, his very understanding of what he is entitled to in this world… As for Miss Whitmore, she lacks the power to do any real harm to Miss Ashton. She lacks the gravitas and position in society, not to mention the connections, to ever truly ruin someone. Every ugly whisper that escapes her lips is viewed as sour grapes. If you wish to ruin someone, you must first give the appearance of being their ally. Then, when you turn on them, others will assume it’s for just cause and will follow suit. Ask your Mr. Danvers about it… oh, no. I don’t suppose you’ll ever have that option.”

Caleb didn’t openly challenge her because he knew it would be a mistake to give away anything. Instead, he just glowered at her. Let her believe him to be impotent and mute with rage. It was to his benefit for her to underestimate him.

After a moment, she smiled smugly at him then turned to walk away. When she rapped on the door, it was opened by a beefy man who kept his eyes and a pistol trained on Caleb while she made her exit. He’d wondered if the place was guarded. Now he had an answer, even if it was the least desirable one available. Regardless, he intended to make his escape. She would not claim victory and she would not succeed in ruining Marina or his chance for happiness with her. The how of it all remained to be seen. He needed to clear the cobwebs from his brain; to strategize and execute the plan would require a steady hand and acuity of mind that he had not yet regained. The first step would be freeing his hands. Whoever had tied the knot in those ropes had done so with great enthusiasm. They were a tangled mass that would take ages to free.