Chapter 94

Then came the pain in her wrists. She tried to move them.

They would not move.

Panic erupted through her with such force that she almost could not breathe.

She twisted violently, only to feel the restraints bite deeper into her skin. Her ankles were bound as well, and something had been fastened tightly across her mouth.

A gag.

Mabel made a muffled sound and struggled harder.

The wagon lurched.

She hit the wooden side and cried out behind the gag.

There was no answer.

She had no idea how long she had been unconscious. She did not know where the ship had taken her, how she had come to be in this wagon or how far they had travelled.

Her mind returned desperately to the last thing she could remember.

The drink.

Mr. Crane.

The ship.

The realization came slowly, then all at once.

He had drugged her.

Mabel began to sob, not that it would be much help for her.

The sound was muffled by the gag, and the wagon continued along the road as though nothing had happened.

She pulled at the restraints until her wrists burned.

"Help," she tried to cry, but the gag reduced the word to an indistinct noise.

The wagon kept moving.

After some time, voices could be heard outside.

Mabel struggled again, hoping someone might hear her.

The wagon slowed and her heart leapt into her throat.

The rear door opened.

A man looked inside, peering straight at her.

Mabel stared at him desperately, tears running down her face. She tried to speak through the gag, tried to tell him that she had been taken against her will, that she needed help, that her family would be searching for her.

The man looked at the restraints, then at her beseeching eyes.

There was no surprise in his face. Only a cold amusement that made Mabel’s stomach turn.

She could barely breathe.

He reached inside and pulled the gag from her mouth.

Mabel immediately gasped for air.

"Where am I?" she cried. "Where did you take me?"

The man gave a low, humorless laugh.

"You really don’t know?"

Mabel shook her head frantically. "Please. I don’t understand. I was told I was going to Bellhaven. My family knows where I am. They will come looking for me."

Her words seemed to amuse him more than anything else.

He looked at her with the detached interest of someone examining something that already belonged to him.

"You should have asked more questions before you left home."

Mabel’s breathing quickened.

"What do you mean?"

The man leaned closer. "We just passed the road of no return."

Mabel stared at him, thoughts stuttering to a halt.

He smiled and it was mean looking.

"There is no escaping now." The words seemed to drain whatever strength remained in her.

She looked past him toward the road, toward the unfamiliar countryside stretching endlessly behind them. "Best get used to it," he said with quiet cruelty. "You’re not going back."

The door slammed shut. Soon the wagon began moving again.

– – –

By the fifth day of his stay, Draven had fallen back into the habits he kept since inheriting the duchy.

He spent enough time with his mother and Genie to satisfy their immediate complaints about his absence, endured his mother’s prying questions about Cassandra with as much patience as he could summon, and allowed himself a few hours in the company of his family before work inevitably reclaimed him.

There was always work waiting for the Duke of Norham.

After dinner, he withdrew to his father’s study. He still thought of it that way—his father’s study, never his own. The same was true of the castle. It belonged to his father in his mind, as though Geoffrey Montague might somehow rise from the dead one day and reclaim everything that had once been his.

It was an absurd notion, certainly, but his mind was not always rational. Perhaps that was why he had changed so little in the study or in his father’s chambers, which were now technically his.

Over the years, Draven had grown more accustomed to the life he had inherited. He no longer felt entirely like an imposter within these walls, but there were some things he suspected would never change.

Several stacks of correspondence had accumulated in his absence, and Draven was slowly making his way through them.

He had never been a man who enjoyed allowing paperwork to pile unnecessarily. One stack contained estate matters, another concerned petitions from tenants, while a third dealt with commercial arrangements requiring his approval.

There were letters from magistrates, reports from stewards, requests from merchants and several matters concerning roads, property boundaries and disputes between neighboring estates.

He worked through each patiently.

A document was read, considered and either set aside for further deliberation or marked with a brief instruction. Another followed. Then another.

It was tedious work, but Draven had never made a habit of shirking his responsibilities. A Duke who neglected small matters eventually found himself facing large ones that could have been prevented.

His secretary, Amos, stood nearby, waiting patiently while Draven worked his way through the correspondence. He had originally served as his father’s secretary, but over the years, he had become practically a member of the family. Like the study itself, Amos was another part of his father’s legacy that Draven had inherited.

The room remained quiet, disturbed only by the occasional rustle of paper and the scratch of the quill against parchment as Draven penned a response to one of the letters, which was to be delivered to the magistrate.

Draven had just finished reading a report concerning a dispute between two merchants when his secretary left and returned with another document.

"This arrived for you, Your Grace. I thought you ought to see it now."

Draven accepted the report without comment.

He glanced at the seal before breaking it. Quickly, he skimmed through the contents.

At first, there was nothing particularly surprising. The contents concerned several gatherings Viscount Theron Fenwick had attended since Draven’s return to Norham and long before that.

Fenwick had been speaking with some of the most influential families, including several wealthy merchant families whose fortunes had been established over generations.

And like he suspected, dear old Fenwick was back at it again, stirring up trouble for Draven.