Page 78 of The Baron's Reluctant Bride
Chapter 17
She gasped as rough palms dragged her forcibly into the chamber, the door slamming shut with finality.
"Well, well," Thorne drawled, rising to his full height. "Lady Brokeshire herself honors us with her presence. And I had believed you possessed no aptitude for matters of commerce."
Gemma struggled against her captors, her voice sharp with indignation. "Release me this instant, sir!"
"I fear you represent far too valuable an asset now," Thorne replied, approaching with measured steps. "Curiosity proves a hazardous inclination in a lady, Lady Brokeshire. Though I must commend your audacity. You nearly succeeded in deceiving me."
William surged to his feet, face contorted with horror. "For God's sake, Thorne, release her! She knows nothing of this business!"
Thorne did not deign to acknowledge him. "You know, Lady Brokeshire, you might serve a useful purpose in our endeavors. A well-placed whisper here, a signature upon select documents there. Your husband attends to your counsel these days, does he not? Quite an accomplishment, considering the notorious disregard he formerly exhibited toward—well, toward anyone's judgment save his own."
"I comprehend your scheme perfectly," Gemma declared, her breath unsteady but her voice resolute. "You engage in mere bluster. You act from desperation. Were it otherwise, you should have no need of my brother's involvement, nor any of these elaborate machinations."
Thorne's smile reappeared—but it held the warmth of a January frost. "No, my dear lady. I am merely methodical in myaffairs. And unfortunately for you, I now recognize precisely how methodical you are in yours."
Gemma's thoughts raced with feverish intensity.
She dared not permit him to discern the true extent of her knowledge—regarding Hawthorne Trading, concerning Jameson's role, about the counterplot even now unfolding in the glittering assembly above. She must delay him. Confound him. And, should necessity demand it, act with decisive courage.
William stood transfixed, fists clenched in impotent rage. "Release her, Thorne. If it is me you desire as your pawn, you already possess me."
"I have indeed secured your cooperation, William," Thorne replied with glacial composure. "And now, I have acquired hers as well."
"You presume overmuch, sir," Gemma said, her voice cutting. "My husband will not rest until—"
"Until what?" Thorne interrupted, moving closer still. "Until he discovers his wife meddling in affairs beyond her comprehension? Until he learns how his brother-in-law betrayed him? I rather think Lord Brokeshire shall be occupied with more pressing concerns than your whereabouts this evening."
Gemma drew a slow, deliberate breath. Then elevated her chin with all the aristocratic hauteur her lineage had bestowed upon her.
"Then I sincerely hope you derive satisfaction from engaging in chess matches with ladies, Mr. Thorne," she proclaimed with icy precision. "We are exceptionally adept at reversing the board when least expected."
For a fleeting moment, something flickered across his countenance—amusement? Irritation? Uncertainty?
Excellent.
She required precisely such distraction.
Now she need only discover some means of communicating with her allies above stairs... before time expired. And before Thorne discerned precisely how much she truly knew of his designs.
"You speak boldly for one in so compromised a position," Thorne observed, circling her like a predator assessing its prey. "I wonder, does your husband know of your remarkable talent for intrigue? Or have you concealed that aptitude from him as well?"
"My husband knows my every quality," she retorted. "Which is more than can be said for your associates, who believe you a man of honor rather than a common thief dressed in gentleman's attire."
His hand shot out, fingers gripping her chin with bruising force. "Mind your tongue, madam. Your position grows more precarious by the moment."
William lunged forward. "Take your hands from my sister!"
One of Thorne's men intercepted him, shoving him back into his chair with casual violence.
"William," Gemma said, her voice steady despite her racing pulse. "Be still. All shall be well."
"Indeed it shall," Thorne agreed with silken menace. "Once certain documents bear your signature beside your brother's. A unified front of the Montgomery family, transferring their interests to more... capable hands."
"I shall sign nothing," she declared.
"No?" Thorne's smile deepened. "Then perhaps your brother's continued well-being might persuade you otherwise."
