“Killing me won’t achieve your ends,” Matthew managed to say, even though every word hurt.
His uncle’s lips curved up in a faint, chilly smile. “You know better than that. I am skilled at inflicting maximum pain with minimal permanent damage. You’ll have some bruising but you’ll mend quickly enough. Now, once again, where has the slut gone?”
“I don’t know.”
This time Matthew was prepared for the blow. Or he thought he was until the dizzying pain shot through him. He tightened every aching sinew against the scream that rose from his belly and battered against his closed lips. If the beating continued, he knew he didn’t have a hope in hell of keeping quiet. He’d screamed before on this table, he’d scream again. But he wanted to delay offering his uncle the satisfaction.
“You know…” He paused to draw in enough breath to speak. After his collapse, he was in no fit state to withstand much more and he suspected his uncle realized that. Still he struggled to maintain the remnants of his defiance. “You know violence doesn’t work on me, Uncle. You’ve tried it before. Even if I knew where Mrs. Paget is, I’m less likely to tell you with every blow.”
“Yes, you’re a dumb ox under torture.” His uncle h
it him again, harder.
“I told you I don’t know where the bloody girl has gone!” Matthew shouted, writhing uselessly against his bonds. Although eleven years of captivity had taught him he’d never break their deathly grip, no matter how he struggled.
“Yes, but I don’t believe you,” his uncle said in a quiet voice.
“I don’t know where she is, you bastard!”
“Temper, temper.” Lord John’s lips curved in a chilly smile.
Matthew’s powerlessness was a physical pain in his gut. Every muscle coiled tight enough to snap. He gave up his futile attempts to break loose. A red hot rope of pain extended across his torso. Even the shallow breaths that were all he could manage threatened to hurtle him into unconsciousness.
Through the scarlet haze, he heard his uncle continue speaking. “You’ll be easy enough to break, nephew. You’re soft. You’ve always been soft. You hate to see creatures suffer. Especially creatures you love.”
“What do you mean?” Matthew gritted out through closed teeth.
“I wonder how long your air of heroic and silent suffering will last once your dog is howling with pain.”
Bitter nausea filled his mouth while his dazed mind tried to comprehend what his uncle said. Horror swamped even his physical distress.
Over eleven years, he’d watched his guardian test the boundaries of evil but this, this was beyond anything Matthew had ever imagined. Lord John couldn’t mean to torture Wolfram. Not if he still claimed any trace of humanity.
He injected every ounce of the contempt he felt into his voice. “Uncle, even you must shrink from abusing a dumb animal.”
“I don’t cause the pain, you do.” Then more sharply, “Tell me where the jade is or face the consequences. I can smell a plot a mile away. This plot stinks worse than you do.”
“You can’t do it,” Matthew said, even while he reluctantly accepted that his uncle would balk at nothing. “The dog has never harmed you.”
“In war, the innocent always suffer, don’t they?”
“Don’t do this, Uncle. For the love of Christ, don’t do this.” He hadn’t begged Lord John for anything in years, not since he was an ailing boy and unaware of the depths of his guardian’s evil.
“Tell me where the wench is and you have my word the dog remains unharmed.” Lord John paused. “You know, I would have thought you’d learned your lesson about defying my will the last time, when I had your nurse and her husband transported.”
Oh, yes, he’d learned his lesson. He’d learned this life wasn’t worth living. He’d learned he’d do anything to end this travesty and wrest control of the Lansdowne fortune away from his uncle.
Six months…
Grace, you don’t know what you ask.
Wolfram had been a loyal, undemanding companion. Since the day he’d arrived as a hairy, ungainly puppy seven years ago, he’d offered Matthew nothing but devotion and trust.
Now Matthew must betray that trust.
Because he couldn’t betray the woman he loved.
He kept his voice expressionless. “I don’t know where Mrs. Paget is.”