Page 83 of How to Capture a Duke

“She knows how you feel about fathering a child,” Lady Vere said. “She planned to tell you, but I suspect your argument prevented her from doing so.”

He couldn’t blame her. He’d treated her horribly. Thinking back, he’d known Olivia and her sister could not have been responsible. Someone else had been the anonymous source. He realized the comic didn’t bother him at all now. Not when Olivia was missing. Nothing mattered but Olivia.

Lady Vere set down her glass, and her expression grew grave. “The more I think of it, the more I worry. My sister would never leave town without telling me. I suspect foul play.” Her blue eyes captured his.

Dread seeped into his veins. “My God.”

“Who has to gain by Olivia’s absence?” she asked.

The question hovered in his mind. He couldn’t think; his fear for her was paralyzing.

She grasped his arm, her firm grip. “Who?”

A name pierced his subconscious and took hold along with a clawing dread. “Spencer, Lord Jeffries, my cousin.”

“Why him?”

“He’s known that I never intended to have children. He stands to inherit the dukedom.”

“Do you think Olivia told him about the baby?”

He scrubbed a hand down his face. “It’s possible.” Olivia had once said that Spencer was easy to speak with, unlike him. The two had spent time together gambling and gossiping, first at Keswick Hall then at the Raven Club. It was Spencer who had told Olivia about his decision not to father children. Spencer who had befriended her.

“The Raven Club has files on all the aristocrats that gain membership,” Lady Vere said. “Lord Jeffries has a fondness for gambling but not at the Raven. He prefers the gambling halls on Bennett Street in Pall Mall. One in particular is the Dandy House. Jeffries owes over five thousand pounds to that particular hell.”

Tristan looked at her in surprise. “It doesn’t make sense. He’s successfully invested in shipping and has a warehouse at the docks.”

“He came to my attention when he failed to pay his last debt to the Raven. I never mentioned it because I didn’t think it mattered to Olivia. Until now.”

If Spencer had concealed his debts, then what else had he lied about? Tristan knew all about secrets and how they could eat away at a man. Spencer’s charming nature could hide a dark side, one he never knew about.

Tristan’s worried gaze met Lady Vere’s. He needn’t explain more. She understood. Without an heir, his cousin would get everything, his title and his wealth. Only one person stood in his way.

Or two, if he knew of the baby.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Olivia knew she was running out of time. If she was to save herself and her baby, then she better think of a plan. And quickly.

Spencer pressed a heavy hand on her shoulder. “Stay and be a good girl, Olivia. I’ll be back with a friend.” He shut the door, and the ominous sound of a key in the lock made her jump. He was in search of a hired criminal. The door was locked, and there were no windows to scream out of for help.

She set to work. The bindings were coarse and irritated the tender skin of her wrists. Ignoring the pain, she ran her fingers along the wooden crate, hoping to fray the rope on the coarse wood. Desperation fueled her fear, and she cringed when the rope snagged on a loose nail. Frantic, she began to rub her bindings against the nail. Soon, her shoulders ached and her wrists were bleeding. She bit her lip to keep from crying out in pain but continued with her efforts.

She was working feverishly when footsteps sounded on the floorboards outside the door. The scrape of the key in the lock sounded next, then the door swung open and Spencer loomed in the doorway.

“It won’t be long now, Olivia,” he said. His fair hair gleamed from the lantern light he held high in his hand, and his eyes shone a feral blue. He turned and left her alone to pace just outside the room. She could hear him mutter beneath his breath that everything was her fault—that if she hadn’t tricked his cousin into marriage and into his bed, none of this would have been necessary.

She didn’t bother to plead with him. It wouldn’t have mattered. He was desperate, and a desperate man was dangerous. He was waiting for his hired criminal to come help him carry her to the riverbank and dump her into the dark, murky depths of the water.

She thought of Tristan, of everything she’d left behind. She wondered what he’d think when her body was found.

No, she couldn’t give up hope. She must fight for her baby’s life.

With renewed effort, she feverishly worked her bindings against the nail. Sweat beaded on her brow and between her breasts. Several times she slipped, gashing her hands, but she persisted. Her fingers were numb with cold and lack of circulation, and her shoulders screamed with the effort. Her hands were slippery with fresh blood, but her efforts were finally rewarded when the rope began to fray.

“Jeffries?” A strange voice reached her from the bowels of the warehouse, and she knew her time was running out. Her stomach churned in dread.

Spencer’s hired criminal had arrived to kill her.