Page 64 of Marriage with a Proper Stranger

“You’re the worst sort of man. Selling your only child…a thirty-year-old woman!” she cried.

The baron swung about to face her, his face thunderous. “You are nothing to me but property. I can do as I like, regardless of your age.” He stomped toward her, waving the paper in her face. “Well deserved, in light of this. You owe me. This letter came from you; do not deny it. I showed it to George and he recognized your bitch of a maid’s handwriting.”

“I don’t deny it. Someone had to warn the poor, innocent girl. You would have destroyed her life. As you have destroyed mine.” Tears welled in her eyes. “You are my father. You’re supposed to protect me. But you never have. You’re supposed to love me, but you never have. I still don’t understand why you act this way. Why treat me so miserably? What have I ever done to you?”

“You were born a female. I wanted a son to carry on my name. Not a sniveling, grasping daughter. What good are daughters but a millstone about a man’s neck? No, I never loved you. But don’t take it personally; I am incapable of the emotion.” His lips curled. “On top of that, you’re an interfering cow for ruining my chances with Lady Irene. For that alone, you deserve this fate.”

His words were spoken with cold indifference. Looking into his dead eyes, Sabrina saw the truth in his surprisingly honest statement of being unable to love. For years she thought there was something fundamentally wrong with her. Now it became clear: it was not her at all. She was not unworthy of love. Riordan had proved it. Especially last night. It had taken her this long to realize her father was soulless, with no heart, no morals. Evil to the core. The worst sort of man, out for his own selfish needs.

Purchased for Sutherhorne? Sabrina could not allow this to happen. She would do anything to return to her passionate schoolmaster. “I’ll give you the ten thousand pound settlement if you release me. I swear I will. No one need ever know what you’ve done. We will go our separate ways and forget this day.”

Her father laughed cruelly, then he sobered. “Here is the truth: there’s no money. Never was. Sutherhorne was going to pay for you again once you came out of mourning; it is why he came to Durning House a couple of months past, but that damned interfering schoolmaster ruined the plan. The man had me sign a paper claiming there is money…but there isn’t. He lied to you and married you under false pretenses. Why you stir such passions in men that they go to great lengths to claim you is beyond me.”

Sabrina did not think this situation could get any worse, but it had. Her heart shattered. Riordan would not lie. They sat in a solicitor’s office, signed official papers… Yet the solicitor was his friend. Was it all an elaborate plot? To what end? This made no sense whatsoever. She shook her head. “No. He would not lie to me.”

Her father shrugged. “Believe what you will, but think about it: if there was money, I would have used it to better my situation, not allow you to marry some upstart. I signed the paper because I wanted you gone. With Sutherhorne out of the picture, I knew I would be stuck with you. I let the schoolmaster have his way.” He stared at her. “You left a trunk full of gowns behind. I sold them for over two hundred pounds because I needed the money. Chew on that.”

Could all of this be true? She’d seen the proof on display at the dress shop. There had to be an explanation about the money. Riordan would not deceive her. “You’ve become a true villain. Kidnapping? Selling your daughter for profit?”

He tucked the letter back into his pocket. “Did you not hear me?” he sneered. “I have no choice.”

“We all have choices,” she snapped. “You will not take mine away ever again. My husband will come for me. I know it.”

The baron’s eyebrows shot up. “Why, because he’s the hero?”

“He is my hero. It’s all that counts,” she sniffed.

Her father snorted. “He won’t be for long, I’ll wager. Now cease your incessant chattering. I’ve sent word to Sutherhorne, he should be here presently.” He strode across the room and took a seat.

She felt sick to her core. There was no doubt Riordan would come after her, but how on earth would he find her? As far as her father’s statement about the money, she would not believe it. Not until she heard it from Riordan’s own lips. Oh, please find me, my love. Be my hero.

* * * *

They made it to London in record time, Garrett’s message arriving only thirty minutes before they did—but Edwin Seward had already sprung into action. Stopping at his small office on the outskirts of Whitechapel, one of his underlings informed them that Mr. Seward had placed men in Mayfair to keep the marquess’s townhouse under surveillance, and would they please make themselves comfortable as he would return directly.

“I will not sit around while Sabrina is in her father and Sutherhorne’s clutches,” Riordan shouted.

The earl laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Easy. We have to craft a plan. We cannot move forward until we know where she is.”

“I will tear London apart until I find her,” Riordan declared.

“Ah, the passion of youth,” the earl smiled.

A man strode into the small office. “Edwin.” Garrett took the man’s hand and shook it. This Edwin had the look of a former Bow Street Runner: tall, imposing, with shrewd eyes that studied his surroundings. A scar ran down the side of his face, from his left temple to the corner of his mouth. Danger exuded from him, but also an aura of confidence and competency.

“Allow me to introduce you. My father, Oliver Wollstonecraft, the Earl of Carnstone. Next to him, my brother Julian, Viscount Tensbridge. And this is my nephew, Riordan, Aidan’s twin. They’re not identical, but you can ascertain the similarities in features.” Garrett turned to face his family. “I gave Edwin the small painted portrait done on the twins’ twentieth birthday.”

Mr. Seward shook the men’s hands. When he came to Julian, he said, “We’re doing all we can to locate your son, my lord.”

“Excellent. Two days past, I instructed my steward to contact the bank and discontinue Aidan’s quarterly payments. If he resurfaces and tries to collect, they will inform me.”

Mr. Seward nodded. “A prudent plan, my lord. We will discuss it further soon.”

Riordan blew out a breath. Freezing the funds would anger Aidan. But if it helped locate him, all the better. His brother could hardly indulge in his vices with no coin. Riordan’s own quarterly payments had sat untouched since he’d accepted the teaching position.

“Now, why we’re all here,” Mr. Seward intoned. “It’s by sheer luck we caught Sutherhorne departing his townhouse. I followed him to a small inn on Cheapside. It’s not far from here, a few miles southwest. I’ve two of my men standing by. I would suggest we head there with all haste.”

Racing through the cobblestone streets, they reached the grubby little inn on Cheapside, nestled between a poultry market and a number of brick row houses. Riordan wrinkled his nose at the odor. Apparently the market had a number of live chickens, and the stench of poultry waste made his eyes water.