Perched on one of the chairs, Juliette deliberately gazed at her feet. She had yet to be informed of why she’d been brought here, though she had begun to suspect who was behind it since the only criminal she could think of with this sort of wealth was Bartholomew. After all, this was precisely what Florian had feared, that his father would use his loved ones to seek revenge.
A door opened and footsteps approached with a soft tread. Juliette refused to look up, refused to give her captor the satisfaction of her curiosity, her interest. So she kept her eyes stubbornly on her feet until a black pair of fine leather shoes, freshly buffed, came into view. Silence followed, keeping her escalating heart rate company. And then, the distressing stroke of a finger sliding firmly over her jaw.
“My, my, my...” A low chuckle followed. “You certainly are a pretty one, even though I suspect you look much better with hair.”
A palm crept under her chin, tilting it back and forcing her gaze up until it collided with blue steely eyes. The nose between said eyes was narrow and delicately shaped, the mouth beneath well hidden behind a finely trimmed beard.
“Do you know who I am?” His silky voice made her shudder. She clenched her jaw, thought of Florian and tried to ignore the ripples of fear flowing through her. “My name is Mr. Mortedge, but perhaps you know me best as Bartholomew.”
So she was right. This was Florian’s father, and he had deliberately taken her in order to hurt his son. A fine plan, one that would likely work as long as Bartholomew thought she was Florian’s weakness.
“What do you want?” She forced as much venom into her tone as she could muster.
Bartholomew gave her a syrupy smirk. “Retribution.” He withdrew his hand and took a step back, his gleaming eyes sliding over her body until she felt dirty and violated. “First, Florian betrayed me, then he ignored me. Informing the world of his heritage isn’t enough. He needs to suffer and learn that I must be heeded.”
Dread slithered through her, curling around her insides and snapping at her sanity. She had to stay calm, no matter what. “You assume any harm you inflict upon me will have the effect you desire, but Florian isn’t a man prone to deep emotion. He is guided by logic alone.”
“Except when he is with you.” Bartholomew spoke with the confidence of a man who was well informed, and that made Juliette’s confidence wither. “His affection for you has been made quite clear. The look in his eyes when you are together is oh so touching. And let’s not forget the risk he took on your behalf.”
“He would have done the same for anyone else.”
Bartholomew looked at her with condescension. “Unlikely. He gave up everything he held dear in order to save you, Juliette. I bet he would do so again by offering marriage... yes... I see I’m correct. He hopes to salvage what remains of your reputation!” A dull bit of laughter tumbled from his chest. “Ha! Imagine how upset he will be when I take away his chance to do so—that incessant need he has to be a knight in shining armor, waving his noble sword in the wake of my destruction.”
“You’re mad.”
“No.” All trace of humor vanished from his face as he leaned in close, his light blue eyes driving straight through her own. “I am fueled by hatred and severe disappointment and I have suffered my son’s disobedience long enough. The time has come for me to teach him a lesson, by making him watch you die.”
Juliette’s stomach dropped. A cold shiver scraped her spine. “He will not come.”
“Hmm...” He studied her closely, then lowered his gaze to her breasts and allowed it to linger. “Perhaps not. Perhaps...” His hand was suddenly between her legs, pushing them apart so he could stroke along her inner thighs. “I could teach you a thing or two about pleasure.”
She tried to clamp her legs together while wriggling back in her seat. Bile rose in her throat. “My brother will kill you before you have the chance.”
He straightened himself and seemed to consider her warning with calculated care. Eventually he grinned, wide and mockingly. “You underestimate the speed with which I am able to accomplish the deed.”
She stared at him in horror. “You’re a monster!”
“No. I am wronged!” He bellowed the words, letting them bounce off the walls with violent fury. Glaring at her, he squared his shoulders and smoothed his jacket. “I believe our guests will arrive soon—it’s a gift, you know, sensing your child’s nearness.” Moving away, he went to the door and paused there to smile at her as if all was well and he was the most incredible host in the world. “You may want to start praying if you’re the religious sort.” And with that ominous piece of advice, he left her to do precisely that.
“Are you absolutely sure we shouldn’t alert the authorities?” Huntley asked. Sitting opposite Florian in a hired hackney, they’d been discussing the situation at hand and their approach to it during their drive over to the Red Rose. Unsure of what they were up against, Florian wanted as much support as possible and intended to ask Henry for help.
“Absolutely. Doing so would only put Juliette in additional danger.”
“Because Bartholomew might decide to take her down with him if he starts to feel threatened,” Huntley reasoned.
Florian nodded. “Let’s not forget how easily he murdered your driver. And he is not the only man Bartholomew’s killed over the years, I assure you.” Why the devil were they moving so infernally slowly? Shifting, he glanced out the window and saw to his relief that they were almost there. “The worst part is we’re not dealing with a lunatic who belongs in Bedlam, but with a calculated evil-doer whose mind is sharper than most. Our only chance is to try and reason with him, though I can assure you it will not be easy.”
“Because he believes he is right and you are wrong.”
“Precisely.”
The carriage drew to a halt and Florian sprang out, not waiting for Huntley, whom he sensed was following close behind. Without breaking his stride, he almost ran through the Red Rose’s entrance and down the hall to his brother’s office.
The door stood open so Florian entered without knocking, greeting Henry with a quick nod before getting straight to the point of his visit.
“Bartholomew has her.” Florian strode forward until he stood face-to-face with Henry. “The bloody bastard has taken Juliette and we need your help in getting her back.”
“Christ!” Henry’s eyes sharpened, lit by a kindred fury. He stood, rounded his desk and followed Florian from the room, talking as they went. “If we had only alerted the authorities when you discovered he poisoned Armswell then—”
