Page 53 of A Night of Forever
“Then will you allow Maitland and me to accompany you to the bank?” He watched her reaction carefully. Puzzlement, but not concern. “We thought we’d inform them that she’s missing—possibly kidnapped—and we are searching for her at your request. If they get demands for money in her name, they are to contact us. Victoria will have to have funds delivered to her somehow, or moved elsewhere. Setting this plan in place means the bank will not act without contacting either Maitland or myself, as your fiancé, first.”
Isobel had been nodding her understanding as he spoke. “She may have already requested money.”
“True. However, it’s unlikely that she’ll move all her funds at once, as it would arouse suspicion. She’ll need more.”
“But…” She hesitated. “What if she has left England already?”
“Then I’ll follow her.” There was no question about it. He would not, could not rest until he’d found and destroyed her. “I’ll dedicate my life to finding her, if it means my friends and their families are safe.”
She reached out and rested her hand on top of his as he continued to rub his knee.
“Suddenly you do not seem so formidable,” she said. “You love your friends deeply. I cannot fear a man who has the capacity to be that selfless.”
Her praise did not sit easy on his shoulders. Money allowed him the luxury to be a better man, but he doubted it would make up for his past sins.
“I don’t want anyone to fear me, but neither do I need anyone to admire me simply because I wish to help my friends.”
“If you’re willing to put your life on hold, even risk your life for them, then I believe you are both selfless and noble.”
She did not understand that he had no life without them. That he was unworthy of her admiration or those of his friends. He didn’t wish to drag past memories into his head, so instead he focused on the present. “Will you help us?”
She did not hesitate. “Of course.”
“Thank you.” He rose. “The bank won’t open until Monday. In the meantime, we must face the scandal caused by the kidnapping in Richmond Park. Everyone believes I raced off to the rescue. Now I must be seen to stand by you. I shall accompany you and Their Graces to Lady Fraser’s ball tonight.”
“I have invited Lieutenant Colbert too.”
“Colbert?” Arend’s fists clenched at his side. “Are you courting gossip?”
She shook her head. “Society thinks Colbert a hero because they believe he rescued me. Marisa has started to circulate the story that I was kidnapped by an impoverished Scottish chieftain who intended to wed me for my money. It is believable enough.”
And what red-blooded man would believe her to still be a virgin after such an escapade? “Then we shall stay engaged until the scandal dies down, and I will do everything possible to restore your honor. It would therefore not be wise to encourage Colbert.”
Her chin came up. “I have no intention of encouraging the lieutenant. He is a friend, and, quite frankly, I’m in desperate need of a friend who doesn’t see me as a pawn or a liar.”
“I’m merely concerned for your reputation.” It sounded weak, even to him.
She shrugged her delicate shoulders. “I’m ruined anyway, but we all know money restores many reputations and covers many defects.”
Her offhand response to her predicament made him want to punch something, preferably Dufort. “You shouldn’t have to pay for Victoria’s evil deeds. You deserve to marry a man you want and admire. A good man,” he added under his breath.
“Arend.” Her eyes filled with compassion, and that compassion hurt like a blow. “You are a good man. Every one of the Libertine Scholars knows your goodness for a fact. If you were not a good man, you would not be their friend.”
You are a good man.
Little did any of them know.
An image of a man’s hand gliding down his bare torso pounded behind Arend’s eyes. He tried to block the nightmare vision, but Isobel’s words had triggered past memories, ones he had tried to forget but knew he never would.
He was not a good man. He was tainted. Dirty. He was a dead man fighting to hide the ugly soul rotting inside him.
Why did she not see it?
Chapter 13
Humiliating memories hit before Arend had a chance to block them.
A man’s hand glided down his bare back as he writhed away, frantically trying to push through the bed, through the mattress, through the floor—anything to escape from Angelo’s disgusting questing fingers. But the bindings held him securely in place. There was no escape.
