He flung open a door. The atmosphere in the drawing room was oppressive. Perhaps it was the heavy dark beams or the oak panels on the walls. The room was inadequately lit by a branch of candles which threw dark shadows into corners. It was damp and cold. Logs were laid in the grate in the huge stone fireplace.
“You must be exhausted, Miss Harrismith. Sit down and I’ll see if I can find someone.”
He went out and closed the door. Beth pulled off her gloves. She hated being left alone, despite Ramsey’s detached manner, which had begun to worry her. She remained standing. She had little inclination to sit. The woodwork was dull with dust, the chair covers shabby. Beth called her sister’s name again and then Andrew’s. Her voice echoed back at her and was met with silence.
Jenny and Andrew were not here. She did not believe they had ever been here. She turned to quit the room. She must find Ramsey and insist he take her back to the ball. But when she tried the door, she found he’d locked her in.
Beth cried out and rattled the latch. Ramsey had tricked her. But how? And for what purpose? It seemed extraordinary that he would go to all this trouble to ravage her. And yet, what other reason could there be? Fear tightened her chest. She banged on the door and shouted, afraid her voice would barely register beyond the solid walls. The old house remained silent, but for a tree branch scrapping the mullioned window and the scuttle of vermin behind the walls.
Beth swallowed her tears. She was determined not to cry. She ran toward a set of doors at the far end of the room, but as she reached them, Ramsey unlocked the door again. He entered and gazed at her with a smirk. “You waste your breath calling out,” he said. “There’s no one here to come to your aid.” He shut the door and turned the key in the lock.
The sound terrified her. “What do you want? Why have you brought me here?” Beth backed away.
Ramsey crossed to the sideboard. He picked up the crystal decanter and removing the stopper, poured amber liquid into two glasses. “Some sherry to warm you?”
“Where is my sister?” Beth asked hating that her voice shook.
He shrugged. “At Castlebridge, I should imagine.”
She went limp with relief. “Then Jenny is not hurt. Nor William?”
“I shouldn’t think so.”
They were safe. Beth straightened her shoulders determined to find a way to deal with this man. He would have weaknesses. A man set on such a course could be easily distracted. “It is not too late to take me home. I will say nothing about this.”
He chuckled. “You think I’d believe that?”
She eyed him coldly her fingers curling into fists, wanting to hit him. “Why have you brought me here?” She feared his answer would terrify her. But she must know what she was dealing with.
He smiled as he strolled over and offered her a glass. When she ignored it, he placed the glass on the table. “Pity, a little wine would ease matters. Be patient, Elizabeth. There is nothing you can do. You will be returned home safely tomorrow. You have my word.”
He expected her to take him at his word? He must think she was featherbrained. “To… tomorrow? Why? I don’t understand.” Perhaps she should play that fool and wait her chance. Her voice obligingly trembled and her hands shook. She clasped them together and surreptitiously glanced at the door. Had he taken the key?
But Ramsey guessed her thoughts. He held the key up before pocketing it again. “If you don’t resist the night will go well for you.”
Go well? He planned to force himself on her. She eye
d him. It wasn’t passion which drove him, she was sure. There was no lust in his gaze. Chilled, she edged away from him, her gaze darting around the room. Like the hall, the walls were wainscoted. An ornate frieze surmounted the top of each panel. Where would those doors at the far end of the room lead to? Were they locked? If she ran for them, he would surely grab her, and she didn’t want his hands on her. “At least tell me why,” she said, her throat scratchy and dry.
Outside, the wind picked up, moaning about the house.
Ignoring her, Ramsey went to the fireplace. He struck a taper against the tinderbox and set the fire alight. Stirring the smoldering flames with the poker, he threw on more wood. “There,” he said, rising to his feet, and dusting his hands with satisfaction. “Much cozier.” With a glance of distaste at the sofa, he sat down and crossed his legs. “You shall learn it all in due course.” He picked up his glass and patted the sofa cushion beside him. “Come and join me. We can have a pleasant coze together.”
Beth remained where she was. “Have you escaped from Bedlam?”
He scowled. “Be careful what you say. My mind is as sound as a bell. I have planned this perfectly.”
“Planned what? Is this your house?”
“It is.” His fair good looks and charming manner had completely deceived her. She could see now that there was something cruel and cunning in the shape of his mouth. The strange gleam in his pale eyes unnerved her. A maniacal look of a man convinced he had succeeded in his aims.
“Ghastly place, isn’t it? Should be pulled down, stone by stone. Maybe it will be. There are ghosts here, you know.” His eyes widened, and he shuddered. “The house belonged to a great aunt who recently bequeathed it to me.” He recovered his composure and shrugged his shoulders with a sly grin, and she wondered how she’d ever found him attractive. “But for now, however, it has its uses.”
If Ramsey was a rake, he was not the kind Andrew had spoken of. At the ball, he had been unfailingly polite. He had not flirted with her during their dance, as Mr. Nyeland had done. If he had showered compliments upon her, she would have been wary of him. He had completely fooled her, his concerned, courteous manner masking an underlying hatred, for what or who she did not know. But he felt he now had her in his power and saw no reason to hide it. His fingers coiled into his palms forming a fist. Noting the violence in him, she feared for her life. Her frantic gaze searched the long drawing room for a means of escape. Sometimes these old houses had false panels. If she could get him to leave her alone for a time, she might discover a place to hide.
“You wrote the note. Why?” She stood watching him. “Why have you brought me here?”
“I have nothing against you, personally, Elizabeth. You are merely a means to an end. We have the rest of the night. We can spend it pleasurably. After all, your reputation has suffered whether we do the deed or not. You may as well enjoy our time together.”