From behind a serving counter, the proprietor looked up then bustled over. Noting Colin’s sword and spurs, and the fine fabric and cut of his surcoat, he immediately took him for exactly what he was.
“May I be of service, my lord…?”
“Greystone. I’m looking for a man said to frequent this establishment, a Robert Stanley.”
The proprietor’s dark, intelligent eyes scanned the room. “Your information is correct. However, Mr. Stanley is not here now.”
“Perhaps someone here may know of his whereabouts?”
“That’s a possibility. He usually sits over there—men are creatures of habit, you know.”
The man indicated a table in the center of the room, crowded with jovial young men with tankards of ale before them. Their conversation ceased as Colin approached.
He did his best to put a smile in his voice as well as on his face. “I’m looking for Robert Stanley.”
Silence reigned for a moment, the faces around the table cautious and suspicious. “Is he in some sort of trouble?” one man asked slowly. “Lately, he’s been—”
His words were cut off when the man beside him dealt him a sharp elbow in the ribs.
The smile left Colin’s face. He surveyed the table, focusing on each of Robert’s friends in turn. “This is a matter of some urgency. It seems Mr. Stanley has abducted a lady of our mutual acquaintance. I’ll pay for information.”
Friendship apparently went only so far. Whether it was the severity of the charge or the offer of money, Colin didn’t know, but the men suddenly came alive.
“He’s been searching for his betrothed for weeks. Is it her? She may have gone willingly.”
“He paid someone to show him the Marquess of Cainewood’s house.”
“Yesterday, he asked where to find a privileged church. I told him St. Trinity, in the Minories.”
“I told him m’sister was wed at St. James.”
A privileged church. Colin wanted to kick himself for not thinking of the necessity—where else could a forced marriage take place? He could have saved hours by simply enquiring as to where such churches were located and riding straight there.
Well, at least Ford’s hunch had been confirmed.
He was on the right track.
“Might anyone know where Mr. Stanley is now?”
The men shook their heads. “He hasn’t been here since yesterday,” one of them volunteered.
“Where is St. James?”
“In Duke’s Place.”
“Thank you, gentlemen.” Colin dug in his pouch and threw a handful of silver coins on the table. He left without another word, at a run.
The two churches in question were just outside the City walls, and Amy had been taken last night. If Robert Stanley had timed it early enough, she might be a wife already.
FIFTY-ONE
ROBERT LEANED back, balancing precariously on the hind legs of the rickety wooden chair, picking at his teeth with a fingernail. “So…are you ready to talk?”
Watching him, Amy shuddered. She hoped he’d fall over and crack his head open. “You mean, discuss something? As though you still lived in my father’s house and we cared about each other?”
“I care about you, Amy.”
“You actually sound sincere.” She lifted her tied wrists, the skin red and raw. “You have an unusual way of showing it.”
He leaned forward, and the front chair legs met the floor with a loud bang. “That’s for your own good. We were meant to be together, and you refused to cooperate. After we’re wed—after you have my babe—you’ll agree.”
Dear heavens, could she even love a baby fathered by Robert? She prayed she’d never have need to find out.
“Where’s the jewelry?” he asked suddenly.
She stared at him, unblinking. “I don’t have it.”
“That is quite obvious. And unfortunate, as I’m sure you’d like to choose a few pieces to complement your wedding gown tomorrow.” He flashed a facetious grin, but it faded swiftly. “No matter. It will all turn up once the deed is done, won’t it?” He rose from the chair, walked to the bed, and leaned over her. “Won’t it?”
She spat in his face.
He hovered above her for a moment, disbelief marking his features. Then his hand shot out and slapped her across the face, snapping her head to one side.
Tears sprang to her eyes, but she wouldn’t cry. She wouldn’t allow him the gratification of seeing her reduced to a quivering bundle of emotion.
“That was a mistake,” Robert ground out through clenched teeth. “Care to try it again?”
She shook her head infinitesimally.
“Very well, then.” He turned and slunk back to the chair, stretching out his legs and crossing them at the ankles. “Now, you said earlier you were sorry we quarreled, and you were willing to work something out. Were you lying?”
She didn’t answer.
“Were you lying?”
“I won’t marry you,” she whispered to the wall.
“What? What did you say?”
“I won’t marry you, Robert Stanley!” she fairly yelled. “Not now, not tomorrow, not ever!”
She knew it was the wrong thing to do; she should act as though she were willing and wait for her chance to escape. But she couldn’t help herself.
He leapt up to stand over her again. “Oh, yes, you will marry me. I’m a second son. There are no jeweler’s heiresses lining up to wed me. If I don’t have you, I have nothing. That pistol”—he gestured toward the table—“will guarantee you’ll marry me.”
At that moment, he looked angry enough to use it.
“You’d never—“ she started.
“And as insurance,” he continued, his pale eyes flashing and wild, “I’ve a mind to take your maidenhead tonight.” He paused, seeming to consider the idea. “A consummated betrothal is as good
