“Anyone see you at the brothel?” the rough voice continued.
“No one who matters,” Lockwood said dismissively. “Mrs. Bellamy’s establishment isn’t the sort of place where respectable witnesses congregate. A few whores and drunkards, perhaps, but who would believe them? And who would care enough to investigate?”
The casual way he dismissed the lives of people he considered beneath his notice made Courtney’s hands clench involuntarily. She forced herself to relax, to maintain the illusion of unconsciousness while her mind raced.
Lucien would care. When he discovered what had happened—and he would discover it—his rage would be terrible to behold.She’d seen glimpses of the harder man he’d become during his years in Ireland, the steel beneath the gentleman’s polish. Lockwood had no idea what he’d unleashed.
But Lucien would also blame himself. She knew him well enough to understand that he would see this as the consequence of his own choices, his own secrets. The knowledge that Lockwood’s victims had died because of information about his past would torment him.
She had to survive this. Not just for herself, but for Lucien, for Ava-Marie, for the life they were trying to build together. She couldn’t give a toss if society knew he was never married. They had each other, and their true friends, and that would be enough. She had to find a way to escape or at least delay their journey long enough for rescue to arrive.
The carriage hit a particularly deep rut, jarring her against the seat and making her stomach rebel violently. She couldn’t quite suppress a small groan, and immediately felt all attention focus on her.
“Ah,” Lockwood’s voice held satisfied amusement. “Sleeping Beauty awakens. How are you feeling, my dear? I do apologize for the dramatic departure, but you left me little choice.”
Courtney opened her eyes slowly, blinking as if disoriented, though her mind was razor-sharp with purpose. She let herself appear weak, confused—exactly what Lockwood would expect from a gently bred lady who’d been drugged and kidnapped.
“Where…” she managed, her voice convincingly hoarse. “What have you done?”
“Merely expedited our engagement, darling,” Lockwood said with false cheer. “I decided waiting until tonight’s ball was unnecessarily theatrical. This way is so much more…efficient.”
Courtney struggled against her bonds as if only now discovering them, letting real fear show in her eyes while her mind catalogued every detail of her surroundings. Two men satacross from her—the scarred brute from her drawing room and a younger, leaner man with cold eyes and quick hands. Both were armed, she noted, with pistols visible beneath their coats.
Lockwood himself sat beside her, impeccably dressed despite their hurried departure, his pale eyes holding a mixture of triumph and calculation that made her skin crawl. He was watching her with the focused attention of a predator with cornered prey.
“You’re insane,” she said, putting genuine conviction behind the words. “My father will never consent to this marriage.”
Lockwood’s smile was cold and confident. “I think you overestimate your father’s principles, my dear. Once we’re wed, once you’re thoroughly compromised, and with child, and I keep you hidden with the threat of harm hanging over you, he’ll find it expedient to accept the situation and pay me.”
The awful thing was, he might be right. Her father was a good man, and he’d do anything to protect his daughter. “There is nowhere in England you can hide me that Lucien and my brother won’t find. They’ll never stop looking.”
“Who said I’d hide you in England. Perhaps the Americas,” Lockwood continued conversationally, “I’ve heard the lands are so vast, you’d never be found.”
She briefly closed her eyes as the fear built. She had to escape this hell. Lost in her thoughts, she barely heard him say, “Your virtue is quite safe with me during our journey. I have no desire to sample damaged goods. Once we’re properly wed, of course, things will be different.”
The threat was delivered with such casual cruelty that Courtney had to fight not to show her revulsion. Instead, she forced tears to her eyes—not difficult, given her circumstances—and let her voice break convincingly.
“Please,” she whispered. “Let me go home. I swear I won’t tell anyone what happened. We can pretend this never occurred.”
“Sweet child,” Lockwood said, reaching out to stroke her cheek with one gloved finger. She flinched away instinctively, which seemed to amuse him. “But that would defeat the entire purpose, wouldn’t it? I need your dowry, you see. My creditors have become most insistent.”
“I’ll give you money,” she said desperately, though part of her recoiled at the idea of rewarding his crimes. “Whatever you need. I have investments. My allowance, my jewels—”
“A few hundred pounds?” Lockwood laughed. “My dear girl, I need thousands. Tens of thousands. Only marriage to you can provide that kind of security.”
“My investments amount to almost five-thousands pounds. My father doesn’t know of them. Tiffany has been investing for me—”
“Tiffany? What rubbish. A woman? Stop lying. Your dowry is worth considerably more, and come to think of it, if what you say is true, you’re worth even more to me.”
The casual way he discussed her reduction to a financial asset made Courtney’s anger flare, but she forced herself to maintain the appearance of a terrified, helpless victim. Let him underestimate her. Let him think her weak and compliant. When the moment came to act, surprise would be her greatest weapon.
“My father won’t pay,” she said, injecting a note of defiance into her voice. “Even if you force me to marry you, he’ll find a way to withhold my dowry.”
For the first time, genuine uncertainty flickered across Lockwood’s features. “He’ll pay,” he said, but she heard the forced confidence in his tone. “Men like your father always pay in the end. The alternative is simply too costly.”
“And if he doesn’t?” she pressed, sensing weakness. “What then? You’ll have a wife with no fortune and creditors still demanding payment. How does that solve your problems?”
The scarred man leaned forward with interest. “She’s got a point, gov’nor. What if her family cuts her off complete-like?”
