The Heiress Effect (Brothers Sinister 2)

“That’s not what I meant,” he said, his voice low. “I never forgot about you at all. So why is it that now that I’m here, I feel as if I’m recalling things I’ve never known?” He looked into her eyes. “I missed you, Jane.”

Oh, God. She looked back at him, wishing the entire world away. All those dreams she hadn’t wanted to let herself remember… They all came rushing back on a wave of heat. But all she said was, “I missed you, too.”

Dorling was already waiting for Jane in the side room where they’d agreed to meet. She paused at the doorway and contemplated the man. She would have felt badly about using him except that he was using her as badly, and had planned far worse.

“Dorling,” Jane said.

He turned, dropping a fob watch back into his pocket as he did so. It would be wrong to say that he smiled. That expression didn’t look like any smile Jane had ever seen. It was far too practiced, too sly.

“You’ve taken care of everything?” Jane asked.

When she’d talked to him earlier, she’d told him the bare basics. That she needed to leave. With him. That night—details to be determined later.

She’d never actually said she would elope with him, but she had strongly implied it.

He smiled at her. “I did,” he said. “Did you bring the money?”

Jane could feel that roll between her br**sts. “Yes. We need to talk.”

“Plenty of time for that on the way to Scotland.”

“Yes, well. That’s what we need to talk about. You’re under a misapprehension. I’m not eloping with you.”

He blinked at her, his smile dying on his face. “But I’ve already told your—that is, I sent your aunt a letter. Think of your reputation.”

She snorted. Her reputation? For a year, she’d cultivated the reputation of an abrasive, foolish, awful woman. She’d done it on purpose. Her reputation wasn’t black, but it was definitely stained. Another blot wouldn’t hurt.

“There’s no time to explain,” Jane said.

“But—”

“I’m not going to elope with you. I will give you money to pretend to do so. This isn’t hard. You can have nothing, or you can have a vast sum. Your choice.”

“Money?” He looked struck by this. “How much money?”

“Five hundred pounds. All you have to do is leave town tonight and not return for another three days. Five hundred pounds for that, Dorling.”

“But—”

“No negotiations. Just cash.”

He huffed. “That wasn’t the choice I wanted. Ah, well. Let’s see the money then.”

She turned her back to him. She had to take off one of her poisonous green gloves to worm her fingers between her br**sts. But it was lovely to get that roll of bills out of their hiding spot, to not have them digging into her skin. She rubbed surreptitiously at her bosom, and then realized belatedly that rubbing her br**sts with Dorling around, no matter how innocent her intentions, was probably not a good idea. She turned back to him.

As soon as she did, her breath caught in her lungs. She was looking into the shiny metal barrel of a gun. Her whole body went cold, the world narrowing to a barrel-sized pinpoint. Her hands seemed nerveless. She barely managed to keep hold of her glove.

“Hate to do this, sweetling,” Dorling said. “But I can perform basic mathematics. You’re offering me five hundred pounds to let you walk away, but I’ll have a hundred thousand if we marry. There’s really no comparison.” As he spoke, he reached out and plucked the roll of bills from her fingers.

“You can’t marry me at gunpoint,” Jane said.

“No.” He sounded ridiculously unhappy about that. “But I can make you leave with me. I know this looks bad, kitten, but I do mean to be a reasonable husband. You’ll forgive me eventually.”

“You mean that you’ll let me use my money to embarrass my uncle if he mistreats my sister?”

He smiled. “Ah, you must have overheard that this morning. Now it all makes sense. Sorry, darling. I gave my word to him on that point. If you couldn’t trust my word, why would you marry me at all?”

A curious question. He seemed unaware that he had just robbed her of five hundred pounds at gunpoint, that he was proposing to take her freedom by a similar method.

“How nice,” Jane said, “that you are a man of honor.”

Luckily, he didn’t hear the sarcasm in her tone. Jane glanced surreptitiously over her shoulder, but there was no sign of Oliver.

And what would he have done? She needed Dorling. He needed to disappear so that her aunt would think that Jane had eloped.

All Jane had to do was be smarter than him, and hope the opportunity presented itself quickly. Because there was only a narrow window of time they had, that time when her aunt would believe Jane was eloping rather than haring off on her own to rescue her sister.

“You leave me no choice,” Jane said.

Dorling smiled. “Good,” he said. “Then there’s no need for me to use the ether. Let’s get to the carriage.”

Ether. Jane tried not to twitch. “Of course,” she said. He took her arm—she managed not to flinch from his touch—and guided her down the hall.

She didn’t dare look back.

“Where are we going?” she asked bravely. “And what route are we taking?” The more she knew, the better she could plan.

Chapter Twenty-One

Abduction, Jane reflected several hours later, was deathly boring. Dorling sat across the carriage from her still holding his pistol. The carriage they were in was closed, the glassed windows on the door showing nothing in the night but the dark blur of woods. They’d been traveling for a good long while northward, and all Jane wanted to do was yawn.

“Is there an inn nearby?” she asked. “Are we stopping for the night?”

“Eventually,” Dorling snapped.

She yawned again and peered out the window. Silhouettes of big, knotty oaks flew past. She tried counting trees. At forty-seven, the carriage stopped—which surprised her, as there was no evidence of civilization nearby.

“What are we doing?” Jane asked.

But Dorling looked just as confused as she felt. He shook his head and gestured her back.

A few moments later, the carriage door opened. The driver was a dark, cloaked silhouette in the doorway.

“Is there a problem?” Dorling asked.

“Aye,” he responded. “One of the horses has gone lame.” The man had a broad farm accent. Jane wondered, idly, if he was bribable. There was still that roll of bills strapped to her thigh.