A Curse of the Heart

Rebecca hesitated. “Are you going to tell me where we’re going?”

He reached around her waist and opened the carriage door. “I said get in.”

“Miss Linwood. Miss Linwood.”

The words were a distant echo, a cry, an appeal and Rebecca looked back to see Sarah Stone hurrying down the empty street towards them, waving her hand in the air to draw attention. The man cursed, the string of obscenities sounding vicious, venomous, and he shoved Rebecca into the carriage, climbed in behind her and slammed the door.

Before they’d had a chance to settle into their seats, the carriage jerked forward, causing them both to stumble, the sound of the knife skittering across the floor capturing their attention.

With lightning speed, Rebecca dived down, desperate to be the first to reach the blade. The tips of her fingers grazed against the metal. A mad scramble ensued. Using all of his weight, he crushed her against the seat as he knocked her onto her side, the rush of disappointment almost painful when he wrapped his fingers around the handle.

With a secure grip, he waved the knife at her face, and she scampered back up onto the seat. “Try that again and you’ll have an ugly scar. One to remind you of your stupidity,” he said as his mouth thinned into a menacing line, his eyes still shielded by the brim of his hat.

She imagined the reflection from the sharpened edge, bright and glaring as it sliced through her skin, sawed through her flesh, the scorching pain like nothing she’d ever felt before. When his arm twitched she winced, but he lowered the knife, and her shoulders sagged as she breathed a sigh.

They were silent for a moment. The threat of violence hung in the air, and she watched him with caution as he sat back in the seat opposite, removed his hat and placed it on the seat beside him.

With a clear view of his face, she knew she had seen him before, the familiarity banishing some of her fear. “I believe we’ve met,” she said, remembering the apprehension in his eyes when challenged by Gabriel, which gave her a little more confidence to be brazen. “At the Chelton’s, I recall. Were you not of the opinion that those with questionable lineage had questionable morals?”

Surely this act of revenge didn't stem from being passed over in the ballroom. Gabriel’s threat to knock his teeth down his throat hardly warranted kidnap and common assault.

He ignored her question, the black beads for eyes still hard and unreadable. “Why do you call yourself Linwood when you are obviously a Wellford?”

Rebecca wondered if the words tasted as sour as they sounded. She had a good mind to tell him to go to the devil but knew if she had any hope of escaping, she would need to be cooperative. “There are many reasons. To save my brothers the embarrassment of having a sister who works for a living. To save me the embarrassment of being associated with those who despise me.”

“You’re lying,” he spat. “Is that what you tell yourself when you want sympathy? That everyone despises you. Poor little Rebecca, all lost and alone with no one to love. Is that what you tell your scholar friend?” He shrugged. “Where is he now when you need him most?”

She struggled to follow his meaning, the thoughts lacking unity, flitting back and forth somewhat fragmented. Was his gripe with her or with Gabriel?

“If you believe I’m lying, why do you think I chose the name Linwood?” Perhaps if she got him to talk for a while, he would reveal his motive for kidnapping her in broad daylight.

He sat forward, his arms resting on his knees. “Because you refuse to acknowledge your father, you refuse to acknowledge his name. Oh, you’re probably not even aware that’s the reason, and so you find other ways to explain the shame he brought to your door.”

“Shame? I feel no shame. I loved my father. I still love him.”

Her words roused his temper, his face flushing red, his teeth grinding together. “Love!” he said with contempt. “Love is a term of endearment, of deep affection. What would your father know of that? Thanks to him your lineage is tainted, your reputation tainted. Everyone who associates with you is tainted.”

Did this have something to do with her father, then?

“You knew my father?”

“I hear the surprise in your voice. You ask a question, but you do not want to hear the answer. Yes, I knew your father.”

Rebecca stared at him. He was older than her by about ten years, which put him in his mid-thirties. She stared at his black eyes, black hair, olive complexion, at a face so opposed to her father’s sunny disposition. Surely this man wasn’t … surely they were not related. The thought caused a gigantic hole to open up in her stomach.

“Are you — was my father —”

He snorted. The fake laugh designed to express his contempt. “I am not your brother if that is what you’re thinking. I am not your father’s son. I’m some other lord’s by-blow.”

Relief flashed through her, but it was short lived. What other possible reason could there be for such a display of vehemence?

“What do you want from me?” she asked, dreading the answer. “Where are we going?”

A smile played at the corners of his mouth, although his eyes revealed no pleasure. “We are going to a playhouse. We will just be in time for the performance. The rest, well, it will soon become apparent.”

Chapter 24

Gabriel removed the iron key from the drawer of his desk and rolled it over in his hand. The palm of his empty hand twitched, eager for something heavy: for a mallet or a hammer. So he could go down the rickety stairs into his cellar and smash the glass domes, the wooden shelves, the bottles of chemicals, salts and oils.