And then she noticed that the cross was inverted, the altar was a bed, and the leaded glass was patently obscene. There was a brazier nearby, a fire burning, taking some of the damp chill off the air. Fire and brimstone. She must be in the blasphemous chapel of the Heavenly Host. The Church of Perpetual Erection, Lina had told her. Wishful thinking on someone's part.
She turned her head back, her eyes settling on Etienne de Giverney's bulky form. She glared at him.
but he merely watched her, unmoved, one leg swinging negligently as he perched on the edge of a table. Names for him swirled inside her head, and her inability to spit them out at him was almost worse than being tied up.
"Don't worry, mademoiselle. You won't be in this deplorable condition for long. Your noble knight will be rushing to your rescue momentarily, and you will have the chance to die in his arms like a true heroine. Just be patient, or I'll be forced to hit you again. "
She ignored him to look around her, her vision somewhat encumbered by her restraints. The chapel was a new construction, made of wood. Ecclesiastical-type hangings lay across the low-slung altar, blasphemous ones, and she wandered what Simon Pagett would say if he saw this place.
There were piles of wood set at intervals around the sides of the small church, and she could smell the resin scent of pitch. The place was set to go up in flames, and there was a certain poetic justice to it. A chapel dedicated to the fires of hell succumbing to a conflagration.
Her eyes met de Giverney's expressionless ones, but his smile was eerily affable. "Yes, mademoiselle, there will be a sad accident. You and your lover will die in afire. It will be a very great tragedy, do you not think? No? You look as if you were quite desperate to tell me something, but I think I will leave the gag in place for the time being. I'm afraid I have a very hard heart, and your tears and pleading will leave me completely unmoved. They will only annoy me. "
She'd been frightened and angry, now her fury overwhelmed any lingering fear. As if she was so poor-spirited as to beg for mercy! She glared at him, trying to put all her anger and contempt into her gaze, but he remained completely unmoved. "It won't be long, mademoiselle. I expect him to come charging up on a white horse—oh, no, he won't be able to do that, will he? He'll have to use the ornamental canal to get here, which will cut the drama. But I expect him to make any number of heroic declarations before I kill him. In fad, I think I hear him coming now. "
Charlotte's fear escalated, and she began to struggle anew, to warn him, when de Giverney's low, eerie laugh sent chills along her spine, and he called out, "We're here, dear boy. Your lady love awaits. "
She half expected Adrian to charge in, as he had into her bedroom earlier in the day, full of rage and demands, and she braced herself, ready for rescue.
Instead he pushed the door open and strolled in, seemingly at ease. "Etienne," he said in a charming voice. "What is all this?"
The comte laughed, amused. "Oh, I think you know, dear boy," he replied. "It should come as no surprise lo you. If you'd listened to your father's warnings you'd know that I never give up on what I want. But then, what headstrong young man ever listens to their elders? I suggest you put that pistol down on the chair. I have one trained on Mademoiselle Spenser, and she would be dead before you managed to get off a shot. "
Adrian's wry smile was all charm as he removed the dueling pistol from inside his riding coat and set it down carefully. "Of course, you knew I would have to try. "
"Of course," Etienne said with equal courtesy.
"So how can I convince you to let Miss Spenser go? She has nothing to do with what lies between your family and mine. "
"Ah, but she does. You think I don't know that she's carrying a possible heir? The moment you became infatuated with her I knew she was a potential problem, and I tried to dispense with her earlier. If I let her go now, not only would your father contrive to have your child inherit, but it would leave a witness. And they're much more likely to believe a silly English girl than a despised Frenchman, don't you think?"
Silly English girl, Charlotte thought, fuming. Now she was truly angry.
Adrian must have sensed her rage because he glanced over at her. "You've already tormented her enough. Trust me, being unable to talk is sheer torture for her. I know she's dying to tell you what she thinks of you. "
"Dying is. I'm afraid, the operative word," Etienne said, trying to sound regretful and failing utterly. "Go over there and untie her, but don't let your body get between her and the gun, please. "
"You're letting her go?"
"Don't be stupid, Adrian," Etienne said wearily. "Move slowly. I would prefer not to have to shoot you, but I'm willing to take the chance. "
Charlotte looked up at him as he towered over her. His back was to Etienne, and the expression on his face was startling, filled with regret and guilt and longing. "Am I allowed to talk to her?"
"Feel free," Etienne said grandly. "I'm afraid she won't answer. My tolerance for romantic declarations is minimal. ”
He knelt in front of her, his hands on her ankles, and began to untie the ropes that bound her there. "I'm sorry I got you in this mess, sweet Charlotte," he murmured. "If I had any idea there was insanity in the family I never would have come near you. "
Etienne made an angry sound, then managed a laugh. "Unlikely. You are too much like me, Adrian. You take what you want and be damned to the consequences. "
Her feet were loose, and he reached for her bound wrists. "I'm nothing like you. I'm not some pathetic old man whose empty life needs to be filled with other people's titles and money. " He dropped his voice to only a breath of sound, and if she hadn't been staring up at him she wouldn't have heard it. "When I turn, drop to the floor and stay there. "
At least, that's what she thought he'd said. His coat hung open, and she could see a tiny pistol tucked inside, and she let out a muffled sound of protest. That small gun would be useless against the firearm Etienne carried, and Adrian would die in front of her, and she couldn't bear it. She loved him—it was too late to deny it any longer. She'd been an idiot not to take whatever he offered—it was more than most people got in this life.
"What's she fussing about?" Etienne demanded sharply. "You wouldn't be planning anything, would you? Move to one side so I can see her clearly. "
Adrian did as he was told, keeping his back to Etienne, one hand working on the knots at Charlotte's wrists, the other reaching for the tiny pistol.
She lifted her gaze, turning to look at Etienne, and froze in horror. He'd lifted the gun and was pointing it straight at Adrian's back.