CHAPTER 15

Lottie did not fully regain her senses until she felt herself being half-dragged, half-carried into Lord Radnor's London home. Her head pounded viciously, and her throat ached as she struggled against his unrelenting grasp. Somewhere beneath her fear and fury, she was aware of a deep relief that Ellie had been spared. Her sister was safe, and now everything had boiled down to the confrontation that Lottie had always known would happen, between her and the man who had dominated most of her life.

Although Lottie was aware of a few exclamations from nearby servants, none of them dared to interfere. They were all fearful of Radnor, and they would not lift a finger to prevent him from doing as he wished. She wondered what his purpose was in bringing her here. His London residence was the first place that would be investigated when it was discovered that she was missing. She would have expected him to take her to a remote place where they could not easily be found.

Radnor hauled her to the library, locked the door shut, and shoved Lottie into a chair. Holding one hand to her bruised throat, she crumpled into the seat. A few moments later, she felt something hard and cold prod against her temple, while one of his hands pulled her head to the back of the chair.

Lottie's heart stopped beating as she understood the reason that Lord Radnor had brought her here. Since he could not have her, he intended to destroy her.

"I loved you," Radnor said quietly, sounding perfectly sane, even as the end of the pistol barrel trembled against her head. "I would have given you everything."

Strangely, Lottie found that she was able to answer in just as rational a tone, as though they were having an ordinary conversation and her life was not about to end with the pull of his finger on the trigger. "You never loved me." It hurt her throat to speak, but she forced herself to continue. "You don't know the meaning of the word."

The pistol shook harder. "How can you say that after all that I have sacrificed for you? Are you really so ignorant?"

"In all the years that we've known each other, you've demonstrated domination, obsession, and desire...but those things aren't love."

"Then tell me what love is." His voice was thick with scorn.

"Respect. Acceptance. Selflessness. All the things my husband has shown me in just a few short weeks. My flaws don't matter to him. He loves me without conditions. And I love him the same way."

"You owe your love tome," he said harshly.

"Perhaps I could have felt something for you had you ever tried to be kind." Lottie paused, closing her eyes as she felt the pistol nudge harder into her temple. "Strange, but I've never thought it mattered to you, whether I cared for you or not."

"It does," Radnor said furiously. "I deserve that much from you, at least!"

"How ironic." A humorless smile tugged at her dry lips. "You demanded perfection from me-something I could never attain. And yet the one thing I might have given you-affection-you never seemed to want."

"I want it now," Radnor stunned Lottie by saying. Keeping the pistol pressed to her head, he moved in front of her and knelt until their faces were level. His face was ruddy with color that burned not on the surface of his skin but from deep underneath. His eyes were black with rage, or perhaps despair, and his thin mouth was contorted by some powerful emotion. Lottie had never seen him like this. She did not understand what moved him, why he should seem so ravaged by loss, when she knew to the bottom of her soul that he was not capable of love.

His clawlike hand took hers, brought her resisting fingers to his perspiring cheek. She realized with amazement that he was trying to make her caress him...here, like this, with a gun held to her head. "Touch me," he muttered feverishly. "Tell me that you love me."

Lottie kept her fingers still and lifeless in his. "I love my husband."

Radnor flushed with baffled anger. "You cannot!"

She almost pitied him as she stared into his uncomprehending eyes. "I'm sorry for you," she said. "You can't conceive of loving anyone who is less than perfect. What a lonely fate that must be."

"Idid love you," he shouted, his voice striated with rage. "I did, damn your cheating soul!"

"Then you loved someone who never existed. You loved an impossible ideal. Not me." She licked at the beads of sweat on her upper lip. "You don't know anything about me, my lord."

"I know you better than anyone," he said vehemently. "You would be nothing without me.You belong to me ."

"No. I am Lord Sydney's wife." She hesitated before giving voice to the thought that had occurred to her more than once in the past few days. "And I am fairly certain that by now I am carrying his child."

Lord Radnor's eyes became two wells of utter darkness in a face that was skull white. She perceived that she had shocked him deeply, that the thought of her being pregnant with another man's child had never even occurred to him.

Delicately Radnor's fingers withdrew from hers, and he stood. The cold barrel of the gun never left Lottie's temple as he moved behind her once more. She felt the perspiring flat of his palm catch slightly on her hair as he caressed it. "You've ruined everything," he said in a curiously flat tone. The pistol cocked, the heavy click reverberating against her skin. "There's nothing left for me. You'll never be what I wanted."

"No," Lottie agreed softly. "It was always futile." Cold sweat trickled down her face as she waited for him to pull the trigger. In the face of such absolute defeat, Radnor would surely kill her. But she was not going to spend the last moments of her life cowering in fear. She closed her eyes and thought of Nick...his kisses, his smiles, the warmth of his arms around her. Tears of regret and gladness prickled behind her lids. If only she could have had a little more time with him...if only she could have made him understand what he meant to her. A slow sigh escaped her, and she waited almost peacefully for Radnor to act.

At the sound of her exhalation, the barrel of the pistol lifted from her head. In the weighty silence that followed, Lottie opened her eyes, perplexed by the absolute stillness. Had she not heard the faint rasp of Radnor's breathing, she would have thought that he had left the room. As she began to turn, she was suddenly assaulted with an explosive sound that made her ears ring. She fell backward, her backside hitting the floor, while a curious hot splatter landed on her skirts and arms.

Dazed, she tried to catch her breath, and wiped numbly at the red droplets on her arms until they made long, wine-colored smears. Blood, she thought in amazement, and looked at Radnor's crumpled form. He was lying on the floor a few feet away from her, his body spasming in the throes of death.

Agreeing reluctantly that they would have to report to Morgan, Nick and Sayer went to Bow Street. Nick was in considerable pain, the strained muscles on his side burning, his broken fingers swelling beneath the handkerchief he had bound them with. He was tired and aching, and he could hardly wait to go home to Lottie.

As soon as they entered the comfortably shabby building on Bow Street, they headed straight for Sir Grant's office in the hopes that he had returned from the afternoon court session. The court clerk, Vickery, jumped up from his desk as Nick and Sayer approached. His bespectacled face registered astonishment at their filthy appearance. "Mr. Sayer, and Mr.... er, Lord Sydney..."

"We had a bit of an altercation near Fleet Ditch," Sayer said. "Is Morgan available to see us, Vickery?"

For some reason, the clerk gave Nick an odd stare. "He is questioning someone at the moment," he replied.

"How long will that take?" Nick asked with annoyance.

"I have no idea, Lord Sydney. The matter appears to be one of some urgency. Actually the visitor is your footman, my lord."

Nick shook his head as if he hadn't heard correctly. "What?"

"Mr. Daniel Finchley," Vickery clarified.

"What the hell is he doing here?" Instantly concerned, Nick went to Morgan's office and opened the door without knocking.

Morgan's face was grim as he glanced at Nick. "Come in, Sydney. Your arrival is well timed. What happened to your hand?"

"Never mind about that," Nick said impatiently. He saw that the visitor was indeed Daniel, his face bruised and one eye blackened, his livery torn. "Who did that to you?" he asked with a frown of concern. "Why are you here, Daniel?"

"I couldn't find you at home, my lord," the footman replied in agitation. "I didn't know what to do, so I came to tell Sir Grant. Something has happened to Lady Sydney."

A jolt of alarm went through Nick, and he felt his face turn white. "What?"

"Lady Sydney went to visit her family this morning, to fetch her sister. She bade me accompany her, and warned me that there might be some kind of struggle, as the Howards would not want to relinquish the girl." He fumbled in his pocket and produced a crumpled note, handing it to Nick. "Lady Sydney left this in the carriage."

Rapidly Nick scanned the note, his gaze lingering on the first line.

Please help me. Mama says that Lord Radnor is coming to take me away...

Cursing, Nick lifted his gaze to the footman's pale face. "Go on," he growled.

"Just a few moments after Lady Sydney and I arrived at the Howards' home, Lord Radnor appeared. He entered the house, and when he came out, he seemed to have taken leave of his senses. He had his arm around Lady Sydney's throat, and he forced her into his carriage. I tried to stop him, but his footmen overpowered me."