The Undoing of a Libertine (Somerset Historicals 2)

That last time, when she’d recalled her attacker, Jeremy had been horrified that she was frightened of him in that moment. Jeremy didn’t like her afraid or scared—ever. This had always been an issue between them. He hated for her to fear the sex, or worse, fear him. And Georgina was always having to remind him that he didn’t scare her.

Then the unthinkable happened. She remembered. Everything. And for a few moments she was scared, but losing Jeremy scared her more. Much, much more.

Georgina remembered the panic she’d felt when he’d said he was going to sleep in another bedroom. She had willingly begged him to stay with her, and would do it again in a heartbeat.

Jeremy was a considerate husband. He probably didn’t want to make demands on her anymore because he believed his attentions would cause her to remember her attacker.

But that wasn’t true, and never would be. She loved Jeremy and wanted to be with him, wanted him to love her with his body, in the manner he needed from her. No matter what.

“Come, Frisk! We must pack.” Feeling possessive and suddenly jealous, she knew the urge to fight. She was his wife, for God’s sake! And she would not let her husband go like this. If she must follow Jeremy to London and make him understand, then so be it.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Mine is the most plotting heart in the world.

—Samuel Richardson, Clarissa (1747)

“Marguerite’s somewhere, Greymont. They’re keeping her somewhere in this city, and God only knows what’s being done to her!”

“Easy, mate, we’re going to get her back, and you’ll have your chance to go at Strawnly, as soon as your woman is safe.” Jeremy’s attempt to soothe the frantic Luc was only marginally successful. The man was a mess over Marguerite’s abduction. The big guard’s affection for her went far beyond a working relationship, as Jeremy had discovered. The two of them had been planning to leave England together when Strawnly managed to get her.

Two days ago, when Jeremy had summoned Luc to his grandfather’s townhouse, Luc was surprised at how fast Jeremy had been able to get to London. Apparently Jeremy wasn’t the only person being extorted for money by Strawnly. Gina’s reputation as well as Marguerite’s safe return to Madame Therese both carried a price.

Strawnly was in trouble though. Serious trouble. His predilections for brutalizing young women had won out over his humanity long ago, that was, if he’d ever had any to begin with. Strawnly had raped before, and it wasn’t difficult to locate other fathers and brothers who wanted justice for their loved ones. That, and the fact that Strawnly was looking for a way out of England, provided the perfect opportunity to make things right.

“All we have to do is let him walk into the trap. Think, Luc! If we jump him now, he won’t get on that ship. You want him on that ship and Marguerite safe, back with you,” Jeremy reminded the anxious Luc. “Therese will be here any minute. As soon as she hands over the money, he’s going to take off for the docks and we’ll go get her. This won’t work if Strawnly doesn’t get on that ship!” With victory so close, Jeremy didn’t want to lose their advantage.

“I know. I just can’t bear to think of him hurting her—” Luc scrubbed his face and dropped his head. “I love her. I want to be with her.”

Jeremy clapped him on the shoulder. “And you will be with her. I’m going to see to it.”

Jeremy remembered back to last night’s negotiation with Strawnly. It had been Luc who’d restrained Jeremy then…

* * * *

> …At number forty-four, Peake Street a boy waited outside in the moonlight. The waif leaned against the building, eager to capitalize on any opportunity that might be extended.

“Lookin’ for Greymont. That you, mister?” the urchin asked Luc. Luc poked out his thumb at Jeremy and kept silent.

Jeremy took the missive and passed the boy a coin. He read the note and then looked at the boy again. “Do you know the man who wrote this?”

Clever green eyes snapped to attention. “Aye, sir.”

Jeremy held up a pound note. “The location where he’s keeping a working girl, French and blonde, hazel eyes, called Marguerite, and this will be yours. Find her by tomorrow, and I’ll make it double this.”

“You’ll have it, sir. I’m on the job right now. If anyone will do, Danny can. Where canna I find you?”

Jeremy told him and watched the boy lope off into the twisting streets, silent as the faint mist which clouded the night.

Strawnly’s instructions brought Luc and Jeremy to a seedy pub on the outskirts of London. The sour smells of fermenting ale and the accumulated grime of unwashed bodies assaulted the senses, but seemed fitting considering who had summoned them here.

They found a dark corner and waited. Jeremy passed on the drink, or more precisely, the mug it was served in. Typhoid fever came to mind, and he felt the sudden urge to find soap and water for washing.

The cur came slinking up and sat across from the table. Dark hair hung in dank strings from an average-looking face. He wasn’t ugly, but his bones made for sharp features. His eyes were what made him evil. So dark brown they almost looked devoid of color, but it wasn’t the lack of pigment. It was the absence of humanity that made Jeremy recoil. Strawnly was an animal—vicious—soulless—and it didn’t take knowledge of the irrefutable facts to recognize this. His inhumanity was as visible as filth on a white shirt. He just provided further proof of it the second he opened his mouth.

“So this is the bastard who took my plaything away from me,” he said, giving Jeremy a full stare, his eyes flicking over his fine clothes, sizing him up, no doubt.

Jeremy felt the blood in his temples pounding through his veins as the muscles in his face tightened, his own humanity in full question right now.