Page 41 of Marrying a Marquess (Widows of Mayfair #3)

T he day crept on. Nick forced himself to sit in his study and go over the accounts to his properties and reread several messages from his estate manager, but his eyes and mind didn’t comprehend a thing.

No matter how he tried to distract himself, he failed.

Several times during the course of the late afternoon, he thought about taking to the streets of London on horseback, yelling Priscilla’s name over and over like a town crier.

Around six in the evening a short, scribbled message came from Whitcomb, stating he had nothing new to report yet but hoped to later.

Anger and despair tore through him, he ripped the note to shreds.

He scribbled several notes of his own and rang for a footman to deliver them immediately.

One was to Emma begging his forgiveness for missing afternoon tea and stating he would stop by that night.

When darkness finally descended upon the streets of London, Nick’s body vibrated with the need to escape the confines of his study and his townhouse.

Fortunately for him, he had someplace to be.

He hurried down the hallway to his front door and mumbled, “Send for the carriage. I’m going out,” to Bradley.

When the carriage came around, he donned his jacket, flew through the door, and nearly tumbled down the stairs in his haste to be on his way.

As his coach pulled up to Blackstone Manor at half past nine, he hoped Langford, Caldwell, and Whitcomb had already arrived.

The three men hadn’t replied to his message, so he took that as an indication they were able to attend.

The only person he had heard back from, confirming having the meeting at Blackstone Manor, was Blackstone.

If everything went according to his plan, he would arrive at Norton Hall at half past ten and know something about Priscilla shortly after.

Before he could knock, the door opened, and the butler greeted him. “His Grace is expecting you. Come this way.” Blackstone was standing looking out a window in the drawing room Nick was led into. A room he’d been in many times before.

“See anything interesting outside?”

“Your carriage.” He turned briefly to his butler. “Send everyone else in when they arrive, Winters.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“How are you faring?” Blackstone asked Nick as Winters left.

“Not good.”

“What did you do all day?”

“Why don’t we wait for the others? That way I only have to explain once.” Nick went to the sideboard. “Can I help myself to your fine brandy?”

“Go ahead and pour me one as well,” Blackstone said as he pivoted to face him, his arms across his chest. “Do you have good news or bad?”

Not knowing how to answer, Nick handed Blackstone his drink and shrugged his shoulders.

The duke held up his glass and said, “Well, that sums up things, doesn’t it?”

“Winters said to see ourselves in,” Langford said as he arrived with Caldwell and Latham.

Christ, he wasn’t in the mood for Latham. But it seemed he couldn’t get away from the scoundrel. And he was a scoundrel no matter how he pretended otherwise.

“Help yourselves to a drink, and let’s hope Whitcomb arrives soon.”

“I’m here, Your Grace,” Whitcomb said as he went to the sideboard and took the glass Langford held out. “Thank you.”

“Please, everyone, sit,” Blackstone said.

“Thank you for coming on such short notice,” Nick said. “I was hoping you had good news to share, Whitcomb?”

The Runner sat, sipped his drink, and cleared his throat.

“Excuse me. I have a tickle in my throat today. This brandy should help nicely. And yes, I have much to share. My men have watched Viscountess Norton’s home for twenty-four hours, and she hasn’t left.

Although several people have come and gone.

” He paused and cleared his throat again.

“We have witnessed two large men who appear quite out of place come and go. Besides them, Lords Hollingsworth and Latham each made appearances.”

All eyes turned to Latham, but he remained quiet. Nick spoke up, “Why did you go there, Latham?”

“I told her I was joining her business venture and your threats of ruination be damned. I tried to get her to open up.” He downed the contents of his glass.

“She doesn’t trust me. Her trust doesn’t come easily.

She mentioned your visit, and how you want to replace me as her partner.

She suspects your motives behind it.” Standing, he went to the sideboard and helped himself to another brandy.

After he returned to his seat, he said, “Like I said, she has trust issues. It may take time to gain it.”

“We don’t have time,” Nick bellowed. “We don’t even know if she has Priscilla.” Nick turned to Whitcomb, his brows raised. “Do we?”

“Not for a fact, no.”

“Where does that leave us?” Blackstone asked.

Nick groaned. “She may not trust me completely, but it doesn’t matter. I’m visiting her tonight. I’ll tie her up if I have to, but I’m scouring that house one room at a time until I find Priscilla. And if I come up empty, we start over tomorrow with a new plan, new ideas.”

“I have something to add,” Whitcomb said. “My men and I will be outside by the servants’ entrance. When the viscountess is asleep, let us in. Those men who visited her are armed, and so are we. You can’t go alone in your search for Lady Priscilla. You are likely to become a liability.”

“I doubt that,” Nick shrugged. “But I’ll let you in.

I need all the help I can get. On another topic, Latham, we need your list. It has to be destroyed.

Whitcomb and I will find and destroy the viscountess’s list tonight.

Let us hope there are only two. If that list lands in the wrong hands, that person has the means to ruin or blackmail many members of the ton . ”

Latham glanced at Caldwell and shook his head. “Caldwell burned it.”

“Good.”

“Can I add something?” Caldwell asked. “I admit I scanned the list, and was stunned by the prominent names I read. Shocked, really, at how well Norton ran his scheme and how many well-known and connected gentlemen were bilked out of money.” He looked at Hollingsworth and winced.

“Apologies if what I said insulted you.”

“Not at all. Glad I was in good company.” He grimaced. “Not really. I’d rather it hadn’t happened to me or any of them.”

“The Duke of Avery,” Caldwell added, “was one of the first to fall for Norton’s scheme. Could that be why Lady Priscilla was taken? To collect a ransom?”

Nick hurried to speak. “I don’t think that is the most likely scenario.

Otherwise, why not just blackmail Avery?

Why take Priscilla at all? Not to mention there has been no demand for ransom, which doesn’t coincide with that logic.

” He took the last sip of his brandy. “Which comes back to the likelihood that she’s punishing me by taking Priscilla. ”

“I’m confused,” Langford interjected. “Why have no demands been made for Lady Priscilla’s return?”

“Right,” Blackstone added.

Nick threw up his hands. “Bloody hell, I don’t know.

All I do know is I have a gut feeling that Viscountess Norton took Priscilla to get me under her thumb.

She wants us to marry and continue what she and Norton had.

” He groaned. “That is why I’m heading there to seduce her, restrain her, and find Lady Priscilla.

” He stood and looked right at Whitcomb. “Are you coming?”

“Yes,” Whitcomb replied.

“Is there anything you need us to do?” Caldwell asked.

“If it all goes to bloody hell, and I die, promise me you won’t give up until you find Lady Priscilla,” Nick said with a shudder.

*

The darkness and airlessness of the room closed in on Priscilla.

She had never been afraid of the dark. Until now.

There was a significant difference between the darkness within the safety of one’s bedroom and the darkness of the unknown.

Yes, she knew what the room looked like, but it felt unfamiliar.

And the sounds and movements from beyond the closed door in the hall were unsettling.

Knowing that one of the giant men had access to her left her trembling and worried for her safety.

He could do anything to her anytime, and Esmeralda, Viscountess Norton, would be none the wiser.

“Stop it,” she moaned. “Don’t think such things.” It was far easier said than done. She had nothing but time for her mind to play all sorts of tricks on her. She’d always had a vivid imagination, and it plagued her like a curse right now.

To keep herself sane, she decided to play a game. For every sound, creak, or noise she heard, she would name what it was. She may be up in the attic but could hear many sounds from the corridor beyond her door as well as below.

Numerous footsteps creaked outside her door. Easy—her guards were exchanging roles.

The sound of his heavy footfalls descending the stairs came next.

Priscilla closed her eyes and concentrated on the flow of movement and sound unique to this house.

Muffled voices traveled upstairs, along with very soft footsteps and a door opening and closing.

Her captor had a visitor. So it couldn’t be as late as she’d originally thought.

More muffled voices mixed with female laughter.

Footsteps on the second floor traveled to the third, right below her.

She sat up, her stomach fluttering with excitement.

Perhaps if she banged the floor repeatedly, her guest would demand to know.

.. something... anything. She blew out her breath—stupid idea.

Whoever was here probably worked with the lady and knew all about her.

She lay back down, thinking about tomorrow. She would inspect the windows which were nailed shut with boards and see if she could pry them off somehow. She couldn’t spend another day here without trying to escape.

*

“My dear, Nicholas,” Emma, said as she moved into the entry hall. “It is late. I was going to retire.”