The wind was sharp against her face as they walked swiftly toward the hunting lodge, and as Jaclyn stole a glance back at the estate, she could not help but feel a pang of sadness. Barrett had ruined the happiness she had found at Havenwood. It was unlikely she would ever see the school again. It had been more of a home to her than the manor she had grown up in. She had no way of knowing what her future held, but she felt at peace with this decision.
But, despite the sadness, hope bloomed inside of her. Now she could explore the lingering feelings she held for Kingston. She could not know when he would visit her, but she would be prepared for the moment he did. The path ahead for her was uncertain, but for the first time she was stepping into it with the knowledge that she could choose her own way. And that, more than anything else, felt like freedom.
As they approached the hunting lodge, Charlotte glanced at her with a mischievous smile. “We’re almost there, Jaclyn. You’ll be safe. I promise.”
But Jaclyn couldn’t help but feel the stirring of dread as they neared the hunting lodge. The next phase of their plan would soon unfold, and despite the assurances from her friends, a part of her could not shake the feeling that their escape was only the beginning. What would happen once Barrett realized she was gone? Would she truly be able to escape the life he had tried to trap her in?
She took a deep breath, steadying herself. The future was uncertain, but there was one thing she knew for certain now—she would never let Barrett’s temper ruin her life again. He had already done far too much damage to her reputation. She loved her brother, but she also hated him, or rather she hated how he acted. He thought he knew what was best and never listened to her.
Jaclyn wished that her brother was reasonable. That she was not forced to take such drastic actions, but he had not left her any choice. Much like Kingston, but with different reasons.
“Here we are,” Charlotte said. “We can’t stay long. We have to return so your brother doesn’t suspect anything…”
“Go,” Jaclyn said. “I will be all right. I promise.”
Charlotte nodded and then turned to Georgina. They walked back in the direction they had come from—back to Easton Abbey. Jaclyn was truly alone now.
Jaclyn smiled as she stepped inside the hunting lodge. It wasn’t much, but it would do for now. She liked the secluded location. It gave her ideas… The duke didn’t know it yet, but she was going to seduce him, and what fun that would be… She nibbled on her bottom lip as she plotted and schemed. Yes, the lodge was, indeed, perfect for seduction.
Her lips curved into a mischievous smile. Kingston, she thought, so rigid, so proper… how easily I might loosen his resolve, if only for a moment. The very idea sent a thrill coursing through her. Here, in the quiet of this hunting lodge, far from the any prying eyes, she could test the boundaries. She could play a dangerous game—and she intended to win.
Every gesture, every word would be calculated. Every glance, carefully measured... The thought of his dark gaze upon her send a thrill through her. She imagined the heat of his presence in such close quarters, and it made her pulse quicken. Oh, she would have her fun when she set her wiles upon him. Kingston would not know what had bewitched him until it was far too late.
For the first time in many weeks, Jaclyn felt a fierce, exhilarating sense of control. She was alone, she was free, and she had a scheme that thrilled her to the core. The lodge, humble as it was, had become her playground—and Kingston, the unsuspecting and irresistibly gorgeous man, was about to become her most delightful conquest.
Fourteen
Kingston stood at the billiard table, the cue in his hand, though he barely registered its weight. His mind was elsewhere, entirely absorbed with the woman whose safety had been on his thoughts for hours. Jaclyn. He couldn’t shake the worry gnawing at him—every moment they wasted was a moment Oakley could discover where she was hiding. He took a shot—well, it was supposed to be a shot—but the cue ball lazily rolled past the intended ball, hitting the cushion with a dull thud before rolling to a halt.
Lord Foxmoore, ever eager to goad him, chuckled from across the table. “A poor shot for such a fine duke. Perhaps your mind is elsewhere, Your Grace?”
Kingston didn’t respond. He wasn’t concerned with Foxmoore’s taunts. He wasn’t even concerned with the game of billiards, a game he typically enjoyed, but today he found the game exasperating. He couldn’t focus, couldn’t care less about the balls rolling across the table. His eyes wandered to the door, willing Charlotte and Georgina to return from the hunting lodge. They should be back soon from escorting Jaclyn there. Oakley wouldn’t know of the lodge’s existence and therefore would never think to search for her there.
Lord Easton, lounging in the armchair beside the window with a glass of brandy in his hand, glanced at them with a raised eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you’ve lost your touch, Kingston,” he remarked, though the tone was casual, more out of curiosity than anything else. “You do not even have the excuse of being foxed this time for that terrible shot.” Amusement was laced through the marquess’s tone. He lifted his glass of brandy to his lips and drew in a sip of the amber liquid. “You haven’t taken one drink of your brandy.”
Kingston leaned forward, took another shot, but missed again. “It seems I have,” he muttered, though his voice was far from affected. He simply wasn’t in the mood. His focus had shifted entirely to Jaclyn’s safety, and nothing—least of all a foolish billiard game—could sway it. He glanced at his untouched brandy and grimaced. He could not allow himself the pleasure of the drink. He had to keep his mind clear in case Jaclyn needed him.
Foxmoore grinned mischievously. “Something on your mind? Perhaps something that’s more important than a little game of billiards?” He wiggled his eyebrows playfully. “What has you so distracted, Your Grace?” Kingston ignored him, but Lord Foxmoore didn’t relent, as was his usual way. “Come now, Amberwood. At least make it interesting. What do you say to a little wager?”
Kingston didn’t even look up. He could feel the tension rising in his shoulders, the mounting anxiety threatening to consume him. Jaclyn’s safety had to come first—he couldn’t risk Oakley discovering her whereabouts. He had to be careful. He had to maintain the appearance of indifference, even though every part of him wanted to race to her side and ensure she was safe. He lifted his gaze to meet Foxmoore’s. “What sort of wager?”
Setting some stakes on the game might help improve his attention on the game. He did so hate losing and it would not hurt to trounce Foxmoore again. It would not do to allow the earl to believe he was more skilled at the game than Kingston. He did have a reputation to uphold, and he could do that, and keep Jaclyn safe at the same time. It wasn’t as if they were blurting out that they had found someplace to keep her hidden.
“I did not think you would be interested,” Foxmoore said. He tapped his chin thoughtfully. “I am already winning, you do realize that, correct?”
Kingston scowled. “You do not need to remind me,” he said through gritted teeth. His inattentiveness had taken them to this point. “Please join me in this moment, Foxmoore. The wager if you please. What are your stakes?”
The earl grinned. “If I win…”
It was then that the door to the game room burst open, and Lord Oakley stormed inside, his face a portrait of fury. His eyes scanned the room with an intensity that made Kingston's stomach tighten. They would have to get back to the business of that wager later. A reckoning had come. One they all had been waiting to appear.
“I demand you give me my sister,” Oakley bellowed, his voice full of menace. “Where have you hidden her?”
Kingston did not so much as twitch. His gaze remained fixed on the billiard table, his grip steady on the cue stick, though every muscle in his body was screaming to turn and face Oakley. He could feel Easton’s eyes on him, and though his friend said nothing, Kingston knew that he, too, was calculating their next move. Easton—ever the unbothered presence—casually sipped his brandy before addressing Oakley. “Lost her, have you?” His voice was casual, as though Oakley had simply misplaced a glove. “How very careless of you.”
Oakley’s eyes snapped to Easton. “This is no time for your damned humor,” he growled, but Easton was unphased, continuing to savor his brandy as if Oakley wasn’t standing in the middle of the room with fire in his eyes. Kingston refused to make eye contact with Oakley. He simply wasn’t interested in engaging with him—especially not now, with Jaclyn’s fate hanging in the balance. As long as he could keep Oakley distracted, he could wait. They had to wait.
Oakley shifted his attention to Kingston, his voice low and threatening. “Where is she?”
