Page 114 of An Unwanted Spinster for the Duke
“She did,” he confirmed, realization crashing upon him. Slowly. Steadily. Heavily.
“Well, we need to get to Grisham townhouse now. Her father was just seen leaving Hensley’s house dead drunk.”
Dominic knew what that meant. Linpool could make a move, or had already done so.
Marianne’s head throbbed as she regained consciousness. She was still in the carriage. It rocked beneath her, and she was startled when she saw Linpool’s face illuminated by the dim light. He looked like the devil himself.
“Welcome back, dear Marianne,” he said.
She wanted to move, to deliver another slap to his smug face, but she soon realized, with horror, that her hands were bound. The rope was tight and thick.
“Where are we now?” she demanded, squinting to no avail. The curtains were still drawn.
“We should be near Oakmere now,” Linpool replied. “You have been out for hours. You woke up at just the right time. You’ll be alert enough to help me find out what things your husband has been hiding. Of course, I want to see the coin and gold.”
“I won’t help you, Linpool!” she insisted, trying her best not to pull at the rope around her wrists lest she tightened the knot.
She had heard about the possibility of that happening, but she also knew her captor was smart enough to tighten it hard.
“You know you will, Duchess. You had been agreeable for hours. You can be again,” Linpool declared with a chuckle. His threat and laughter sounded terrifying as a combination.
The carriage finally ground to a halt, jolting Mariane slightly forward. Linpool did not waste time. As soon as the door opened, he dragged her out. She half-stumbled after him. He persisted, pulling at her until they reached the servants’ entrance.
The halls were deathly dark. The staff had long gone to bed, especially during nights when the master and mistress were absent. Linpool led her to the study, where he began opening and rifling through drawers. Marianne sobbed in frustration as she helplessly watched him stuff a bag with valuables.
The study was a special place for Dominic. It was where he found some quiet. It was where he did most of his work. She wondered if she had a way to stall the Viscount.
“You won’t get away with this.” She echoed what she had said in the carriage. Her heart hoped for the truth in those words.
“I already have, darling,” he drawled.
He continued his search while Marianne prayed for rescue. Her eyes darted left and right, hoping to spot anyone so that she could warn them.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
It was one of the longest nights of Dominic’s life. Still feeling battered from the brawl, all his senses became alert at the mere thought of Marianne in danger.
Simon instructed the coachman to drive for the Grisham townhouse. The man quickly agreed, their journey guided by the moon’s silvery glow.
At this time of night, London was eerily silent. There was a distant hoot from an owl, but somehow it felt displaced. All Dominic could truly hear was the pounding in his chest. He could not help the sinking feeling that something was amiss.
As soon as they reached Grisham townhouse, he pounded hard on the door. The sound echoed through the night, but somehow, there was no answer.
How could they not hear it? If nothing was wrong, someone would have already run down and shouted at him. Yet, he tried again.
This time, he banged on the heavy oak door harder. Louder. But like the first time, he was met with silence.
“Something is definitely wrong,” he muttered, glancing back at Simon.
He stepped back and looked up at the townhouse as if he’d see anything wrong by scanning all the windows. He tried, anyway.
Simon nodded in agreement. His body was stiff, as if he’d do anything for his friend at that moment. Seeing his support, Dominic took a few steps back. Then, he charged at the door, letting his full weight collide with the heavy wood.
The door creaked, but it was so strong that it held. He tried again, using more force, and the door burst open. They stared at the dim interior with disbelief.
It was not just the darkness that startled them. The whole place looked like a quieter version of a tavern, the air thick with tobacco. The smell inside was worse than the one he had left at the gentlemen’s club.
Here, the smell of tobacco stung his nose, and the spilled ale had drenched the rug. Then, he heard a noise.
