Page 4 of Her Scandalous Rake (The Worthington Legacy #8)

T ristan glared at his captor, not believing this person had the audacity to kidnap him before his wedding and threaten him.

“Did you not hear me?” the lad demanded. “You are in my control now! What have you to say to that?”

Nodding, Tristan cocked his head. “I heard you. Pray, tell me how you plan on ruining me as you have threatened? Because I can assure you, I did not ruin any woman three years ago.” There could only be one woman that could come close to being ruined. Diana. Yet he had never ruined her. Lord Hollingsworth had!

As the figure before him began to shed the layers of disguise, Tristan widened his eyes. His captor straightened, shedding the driver’s jacket, revealing the unmistakable silhouette of a woman beneath. The bulk that had been gathered around her middle fell away as she released the tie, and the fabric of her dress fell down, swishing around her legs. With a final, deliberate movement, she removed the driver’s hat, and a cascade of brown hair spilled over her shoulders.

Tristan blinked in disbelief, his mind struggling to catch up with the revelation. This wasn’t the boy he had thought was holding him captive—it was a woman. And not just any woman, but one he didn’t recognize.

He studied her face, but no flicker of recognition came. Her blue eyes, however, were unmistakable in their intensity, sharp and filled with an anger that made his skin prickle. Those eyes were shooting invisible daggers at him, and despite the confusion swirling inside him, he couldn’t deny the sense of danger she exuded.

For a fleeting moment, he wondered if she had mistaken him for Trey, who had once led a scandalous life as a notorious rogue before settling down. Trey had surely broken enough hearts in his time. But the victorious grin curling at the corners of her full lips suggested she knew exactly who she had, and it wasn’t Trey.

Tristan swallowed, his voice hoarse with bewilderment. “I—I’ve never seen you before. What is this? What do you want with me?”

The woman took a step forward, folding her arms over her chest, her smile widening as if she relished his confusion. “Oh, you’ve seen me, Lord Worthington,” she said, her voice low and dangerous. “Perhaps not like this, but trust me, you’ve played your part in my story.”

Her words sent a shiver down his spine, and a cold realization began to settle in his gut. Whoever this woman was, she was here for revenge—and it was deeply, disturbingly personal.

“I finally have in my presence the honorable Lord Tristan Worthington.”

Inwardly he groaned. So, the idea of mistaken identity flew out the window. “Yes, you do. Now will you be so kind as to tell me your name?”

“Tabitha Paget.”

“And now will you tell me how you know me, and why in heaven’s name you thought it important to kidnap me?”

“I work for someone who hates you. You ruined her life, and now it’s time to ruin yours.”

Her? “Pray tell, who is this person you speak of? Are you certain I know her at all?”

She laughed. “Oh, you know her, I assure you.”

A loud gasp pierced the tense silence, and before he could fully register what was happening, another figure appeared in the doorway. She was dressed in a nightgown and white wrapper, her auburn hair cascading over her shoulders like flames. Her hand flew to her mouth, eyes wide with shock—eyes that struck him with an unsettling familiarity.

For a moment, Tristan could only stare, his breath catching in his throat. He recognized those eyes, the same eyes that had once gazed at him with admiration and affection. His heart faltered as realization dawned on him.

“Diana,” he breathed, his voice barely above a whisper.

The woman standing in the doorway was none other than the woman he had once loved so deeply, the woman whose memory had haunted him for years. Her face was paler than he remembered, and her expression was a mixture of disbelief and horror. But what was she doing here, in this remote cottage, and why had she gasped so violently?

Tristan turned his gaze back to the first woman, the one who had just revealed herself. The triumphant grin on her lips told him that whatever was happening here, it was all connected. Somehow, these two women—Diana and the one filled with burning anger—were part of the same story.

The pieces of the puzzle began to click together, and Tristan felt a cold sense of dread settle over him. He was trapped in a web far more complicated than he had ever imagined, and it seemed the past he thought he had buried was about to resurface in the most dangerous way possible.

“Lord T—T—Tristan?”

Although he had seen her from a distance at some of Society’s functions, he hadn’t tried to even look at her during those times. But now… In a rush, all the memories he’d tried to forget three years ago came back to him. The ball… the infatuation… the greenhouse. And that incredible, unforgettable kiss.

He’d tried to forget how lovely Diana had been when he first met her, but it was nearly impossible. Now she was a luscious beauty. Shaking his head, he pushed away the thought. Thinking of her this way was not healthy. Something in his forgotten memory told him not to trust her.

Slowly, her gaze swept over every inch of him, taking in the sight of him bound to the chair, vulnerable and at her mercy. Tristan’s breath hitched as their eyes locked in the heavy silence. It was as though time had collapsed in on itself, and for a moment, he forgot everything—forgot why he was here, forgot the chains that bound him, forgot even the bitter years that had passed between them. All he could remember was how she had once made him feel. How, three years ago, a single glance from her had turned his world upside down, reducing his mind to mush. She had bewitched him then, made him believe he was in love—helplessly, completely.

But not now. Not anymore.

He swallowed hard, trying to harden his resolve, to cling to the anger and betrayal he had nursed for so long. This was his chance—his moment to confront her, to finally dredge up the past and cast her out of his thoughts for good. He needed to tear down the illusions he had built around her, the fantasies that had lingered in his heart despite everything. Confronting Diana might be the only way to banish her ghost from his mind forever.

Yet the reality of it—the sight of her standing there, a mixture of pain and defiance in her eyes—shook him. The thought that she had gone to such great lengths to kidnap him, to drag him to this remote place, made his chest tighten. She was now his captor, a role he never could have imagined for her. According to her maid, she despised him, hated him with a passion so fierce it had driven her to this.

But as he looked at her now, with all the bitterness and heartbreak swirling between them, he couldn’t help but wonder—was hate really all that remained? Or was there something more buried beneath the weight of their past, something neither of them could truly let go?

“Tabitha? What is he doing here?” Diana asked softly.

“Hmm, well, my lady, I took the coach into town to buy the items you requested dressed as your driver, and when I saw him , and heard he was marrying Lady Jane Fairbourne tomorrow, I knew I must do something quickly.”

The servant was no longer brave and superior as she’d been a moment ago. Now she acted like most maids should in front of their employer.

Diana groaned. “Oh, Tabitha, what have you done? You can go to prison for kidnapping a lord. We can both go to prison for this.” She covered her face with her hands as her fingers rubbed circles on her temple.

“No, my lady.” Tabitha rushed to Diana’s side and placed her palm on her shoulder. “It will be his word against ours. Nobody saw, I assure you.”

“Lady Hollingsworth,” Tristan said once he found his voice. “What a surprise to see you—and in your nightclothes, no less.”

Diana’s hands dropped to her side as her perplexed eyes locked on his. “I’m quite certain it is a surprise, my lord, considering you probably never expected to see me again.”

“I must admit, I hadn’t.” He flicked his gaze over the length of her. “Especially under such circumstances. Tell me, Lady Hollingsworth, why did you instruct your maid to kidnap me?”

“I didn’t know of her plans,” she said coolly.

He moved his focus back to the servant, his mind scrambling for anything that might entice her to release him. “Do you plan to hold me for ransom? I can tell you that my mother has a bad heart. If I am not at the church to wed Lady Fairbourne tomorrow, my mother’s heart will fail. If she dies as a result of this wicked deed, you won’t see a penny of my money. I beg you, for my mother’s sake, please return me to the church posthaste. If you release me now, I promise not to tell the magistrate of the kidnapping.”

“Ridiculous,” Tabitha shouted. “The storm has grown worse since our arrival, and even if we left at first light, it would be impossible to return you in time. By then your loving fiancée’s heart will be shattered.” Anger sparked in the maid’s eyes.

He seethed, finally hearing the rain pelt against the roof. No matter how bad the storm, he needed to leave tonight. “How much do you want?”

“My lord?” Tabitha asked with an arched eyebrow.

“Name your price. How much do I need to pay you to let me go?”

“I don’t care about your money, my lord. If you must know, I don’t plan on returning you at all.” She moved in front of him and stopped. “Lady Hollingsworth and I don’t want one shilling from you. We want revenge! I want to hurt you in the same manner you have hurt my mistress.”

Tristan’s attention jumped back to Diana, but she didn’t make a move to stop her maid. He looked back to Tabitha. “You really want revenge? Are you planning to push Lady Fairbourne over the cliff, then? Pray, my dear, take me to the cliffs and shove me over instead. Perhaps you’ll succeed where Lord Hollingsworth failed.”

*

Anger, hurt, betrayal, and confusion churned within Diana, twisting her heart into a painful knot. Tristan’s words echoed in her ears— shoved over the cliffs? —each syllable landing like a blow. What was he talking about?

Her mind raced, but her body remained frozen, rooted in place by the weight of the situation spiraling out of control. She should act. She had to act. Scolding Tabitha for her role in this mess was high on her list, but right now, all she could do was stare, her breath hitching as Tristan and the maid exchanged venomous words.

Diana’s gaze flitted between them, her pulse quickening with every accusation that filled the air like sparks from a fire. What was she supposed to do? Tristan wasn’t just anyone—he was the brother of a duke, and if he took his grievances to the magistrate, there would be no escaping the consequences. Both she and Tabitha would be dragged to Newgate in chains, accused of kidnapping a man whose name carried too much weight for them to evade justice.

Think, Diana. Think. She needed a plan, an excuse, a way to smooth over this disaster before it imploded completely. But her mind betrayed her, sluggish and clouded by emotions she couldn’t suppress. Seeing him this close—seeing him vulnerable, angry, and wounded—was her undoing. The sharp planes of his face, the intensity in his eyes, the tension radiating from his posture—it all overwhelmed her.

Her chest rose and fell as she struggled to breathe evenly, to regain control, but her thoughts remained scattered, like autumn leaves in a gust of wind. The man she had once loved was here, mere steps away, but this wasn’t the reunion she had ever imagined. Instead of reconciliation, there was chaos. Instead of understanding, there was fury. And she had no idea how to fix it.

“My lord,” Tabitha continued, “you are making no sense at all. This is about revenge, but we will see it done our way.”

“You cannot be serious,” Tristan grumbled.

Tabitha laughed bitterly. “I am very serious, my lord. Men like you don’t deserve happiness when you take it from others.”

“Pray, what do you think to accomplish by kidnapping me?”

A grin stole across the maid’s mouth. “I plan to ruin you just as you have ruined Lady Hollingsworth.”

“Kidnapping is going to ruin my reputation?” He barked out a laugh. “I think you have figured this all wrong.”

“Actually, I have planned this out perfectly,” Tabitha snapped. “You see, your servants know you were hesitant about the upcoming marriage to Lady Fairbourne. Even the men you were drinking with at the tavern knew you really didn’t want to get married. Because of that, no one will doubt that you fled your own wedding.”

“What about my driver? Wouldn’t he be able to confirm that someone else took his place?”

Tabitha shook her head. “Not when you were the one who climbed in the wrong vehicle.”

Groaning, Tristan closed his eyes.

Diana gasped and stared at her maid. “Lord Tristan was that drunk?”

Laughing, Tabitha nodded. “Indeed, he was, my lady. When I saw him stumble out of the tavern and go to the wrong coach, I knew fate was lending me a hand.” Her grin widened. “And earlier, before that happened, I snuck into his townhouse and left missives on his desk that will lead his family to discover the purpose for his absence.”

She turned her focus back on Tristan, whose glare was now aimed at Tabitha. “The missive is from a woman you’ve been meeting secretly for the past few months.” She shrugged. “What other conclusion could they come to except you ran out on your own wedding? The last I heard, a gentleman’s reputation becomes tarnished by doing this.”

“Tabitha?” Diana asked in a harsh voice. “I thought you told me you were going into town for some supplies.”

A blush stole across the maid’s face. “Well, to be honest, my main goal was to set up Lord Tristan and kidnap him. Can I help it if fate lent me a helping hand?”

Diana blew out an agitated breath as doom began to close around her. She needed to think of a way out of this mess, and soon! “But it doesn’t hide the fact that what you did was wrong, and you could suffer greatly for this mistake.”

“Forgive me, my lady. I was only trying to get back at him. I only had your best interests in mind.”

Tristan’s face hardened and anger darkened his blue eyes. “I see you have thought long and hard about your revenge. And Lady Hollingsworth, I commend you for finding such a loyal servant.”

“Indeed, my lord. It wasn’t until now that I realized what a godsend Tabitha is to me.”

Diana’s breath hitched as she stepped closer, daring to brush the lock of dark hair falling across Tristan’s forehead with her trembling fingers. The moment her skin met the soft strands, memories crashed over her, drowning her in a tide of emotions she’d tried so hard to bury. It felt as if no time had passed, as if it were just yesterday that his arms had encircled her, holding her in a way that had made her believe the world could fall away, and they would still be safe together.

Back then, she had been so young, so na?ve—so utterly captivated by him. She had believed in dreams, in whispered promises beneath the moonlight, in the magic of forever. But forever hadn’t lasted, and the pain of that truth had shaped her into someone harder, someone who knew better than to believe in fairytales. Or so she thought.

But now, with her fingers brushing against him, her heart betrayed her. It fluttered wildly, refusing to obey the logic she had lived by for so long. She hated him. She had to hate him. The pain of their past—the betrayal, the heartbreak—was proof enough. And yet, in this fragile moment, with his warmth so close, the line between love and hate blurred, leaving her suspended in a dizzying limbo.

Her hand trembled as she pulled it away, her chest tightening with the confusion that swirled within her. How could he still have this effect on her after everything he’d done? After everything she had done? The answer eluded her, but one thing was certain: even now, standing on opposite sides of a battlefield they had created together, Tristan could still make her feel alive. And she hated that most of all.

“I’ve spent three long and miserable years wishing things were different,” she confessed, “and in all that time, I had such wicked thoughts of how I could humiliate you as you have humiliated me.”

The longer she toyed with his hair, the more the color in his eyes lightened, and the creases around his mouth relaxed. Could he feel the spark that had always happened between them when they touched? She hoped not.

“I heard you had left for Paris right after you and Ludlow were married,” he said in a softer tone.

She withdrew her hand and stepped back. “I did, but just as I’d gotten used to the routine of having a life once again, something always happened to ruin it. There was always someone who’d heard about the duel. Ludlow seemed to blossom because of what happened, but I wilted like a poisoned flower.”

He glanced around the room. “So where are we now? Who lives here?”

“This used to be my maternal grandmother’s house. She died three months past. A fortnight ago, I decided to come here and stay for a while. Ludlow’s murder was suffocating me, especially all the rumors.”

“I heard you were a suspect,” he said matter-of-factly.

She chuckled, but humor was the farthest thing from her mind. “And so are you. For that matter, half of the men he played cards with are suspects, as well as most the women he had affairs with.”

He shrugged. “So, you live out here alone?”

“Don’t sound so surprised. I’ve been alone since you publicly proclaimed to win my hand in marriage by dueling with Ludlow, and then ran away from the duel that morning.”

“Ran away from the duel? No, Diana, you cannot believe that. Hollingsworth—”

“Lord Tristan, please say no more. I don’t want to hear your lies.” Pain clenched her heart—a feeling she was accustomed to. She should also correct him for being so forward with her name, but she enjoyed the way it sounded on his lips. She recalled when he’d used it before. Diana, I want to hold you so badly it’s killing me… Diana, your lips are like wine—so pleasing to taste…

“Diana, please, you must listen. I don’t know what—”

She stuffed a rag into his mouth, muffling the words. “Gag him, Tabitha.”

“With pleasure, my lady.”

Diana took a deep breath, trying to remove her traitorous thoughts. Her head felt ready to explode, and she rubbed her temples again. Tabitha fidgeted with the rag, but was finally able to secure it around his mouth.

What am I going to do now? Diana needed a clear head to think logically, because obviously Tabitha had not thought this out before she acted. Until Diana could figure out a rational plan, Tristan would just have to remain tied to the chair.

“I’m tired and I want to return to my room.” Diana walked around him and tested the ropes on his arms and legs. “You shall be fine right here. I suggest you get some rest, too.” Peeking over her shoulder at the maid, she motioned with her hand. “Come, Tabitha. Let us leave him to wallow in his pitiful state right now. Perhaps the morning will be brighter for all of us.”

Tabitha kept the victorious grin on her face as she walked out. Before Diana could quit the room, she took one more look at Tristan. His eyes watched her as a frown deepened his expression. Being away from him for three years hadn’t been long enough, because his sad, helpless eyes still tugged at her heart.