If Denis DeLacy had followed his father into the Con-
gregation just as Crispin had followed Jasper, then Denis would be bound by an oath of obedience to his leader. Hugo had been so busy worrying that Chloe would hear the truth about himself from her attentive suitor, he'd completely missed the real danger attached to any connection with the Congregation. DeLacy had seemed such an inoffensive lad… but then, hadn't they all- most of the time?
"Congregation?" Samuel jumped out of the path of an oncoming hackney, shoving Hugo with him. The jarvey leaned down from his box and poured forth a string of obscenities.
"It's a long story," Hugo said, his mouth grim. "A long story and an old one." He stood frowning, options and speculations chasing each other in his head.
Where would Jasper have taken her? In London, they'd have to find a priest who'd turn a blind eye to marrying a young girl against her will… and Chloe would make that fact very clear. She'd not go docile to the altar. It would take time to subdue her into an appearance of compliance, and Jasper didn't have that kind of time. He'd want her married and bedded without delay. Once it was done, Chloe's fortune would automatically come under her husband's control. It was the law of the land. What happened to Chloe after that probably wouldn't concern her brother unduly, although it would interest Crispin.
Hugo remembered the vicious temper Crispin had evinced that day in Manchester when Chloe had run to Rosinante's rescue. He remembered the sullen cowardice of his behavior when Hugo had squeezed the truth out of him on the road to Manchester. Such a contemptible character would enjoy revenge on a helpless captive. And if he was a member of the Congregation-and of course he was-then he would have learned by now the licentious pleasures of the drug-induced trance as he
pushed out the boundaries of sensation, crossing the thresholds of evil in the crypt. He and Denis would have learned it all by now, even if they were not yet as depraved as their leader.
They would be taking her to Shipton. Hugo knew it as clearly as if Jasper had told him. In Shipton, Jasper would have his own people, who knew how to keep their mouths shut, who knew what happened if they didn't. In Shipton, he could keep Chloe shut away from prying eyes and he would have his own priest. Jasper had sowed the seeds of his influence widely, using fear, intimidation, bribery, whichever power tool worked the best in each case. He'd have a priest willing to turn a blind eye.
And they'd have the crypt.
He saw Elizabeth standing in the crypt, terror in her drugged eyes as she at last understood what role her husband had devised for her. He saw Elizabeth… but it wasn't Elizabeth, it was her daughter, Chloe, standing by the bier in the light of the altar candles. The daughter in her mother's place… the feud come full circle. How it would please Jasper. Oh, what deep pleasure it would give him to avenge his father's death in that fashion.
A wave of nausea surged through him, a momentary sense of helplessness… and then came the cold conviction that if he had to, he would kill Jasper as he had killed Stephen.
When they took Chloe to the crypt, he would be there.
"We're going to Shipton," he said softly to the waiting Samuel.
"Shipton!" Samuel whistled. "You reckon that brother of 'ers is mixed up in this, then?"
"Up to his filthy neck," Hugo said softly. "And I am going to break every corrupt bone in his body. They've
a six-hour start. If I'm right, Jasper's plans will be centered on the crypt." He was talking almost to himself as he maintained his fierce pace back to Mount Street. "Crispin and young DeLacy will be with him."
They wouldn't hurt her until after the wedding. If it was necessary, Jasper would use drugs to keep her quiet on the journey. He wouldn't risk drawing attention to his party by marking her in any visible way.
Drawing comfort from this conviction, he said briskly, "The lass doesn't have the stamina to ride from London to Shipton, so they'll be using a chaise. We should pick up the trail soon enough."
They had reached the house now and he ran up the steps. "Samuel, are you prepared to ride with me? It's a long haul, but we'll make better time than in a carriage."
"I'm with ye," Samuel said gruffly. "We startin' out now?"
"At dawn. They're bound to stop for the night, and if we ride all night, we'll only have to rest in the day. We'll leave at first light and pick up the trail at their first halt."
They seemed to have been bumping along in the ill-sprung chaise for hours. Late afternoon had given way to dusk, and the chill in the air intensified. No one had spoken for a long time.
Chloe sat slumped in her corner, every inch of her skin crawling with the awareness of Crispin beside her. Occasionally his thigh pressed hard against hers and she knew it was no accident. How could she face being married to him… sharing a bed with him… doing with him what she had done with Hugo? She felt sick and swallowed desperately, praying her body wouldn't betray her, wishing she had her hands. She felt so helpless without them.
She forced herself to think clearly, to examine her
position, hoping that focusing her mind would ease the panic. If they forced her into this marriage, what would happen? What would Hugo do? Could he do anything? People did get divorced. The king was trying to divorce Queen Caroline, although without much success. But it wasn't unheard of. Presumably Crispin would keep her fortune anyway, so perhaps he'd be willing to divorce her.
His thigh pressed against her again and she knew with sick revulsion that she was indulging a pipe dream. Crispin wouldn't let her go until he'd had enough of her. And not even Hugo would be able to persuade him otherwise.
What did he think had happened to her? It was well past dinnertime. Would he guess? But how could he? How could he possibly connect Denis with Jasper? He'd assume there'd been an accident of some kind and that she was taking shelter somewhere. It was not unusual with the roads as bad as they were after the snowstorm. He'd wait for a message… how long would he wait before he'd begin to worry in earnest?
"I can't feel my hands," she said in a small, fierce voice as she fought with her tears, determined not to break down in front of her captors.
"Would you like your wrists untied?" Jasper inquired almost casually, as if he were offering her a second helping at dinner.
"What do you think?" she snapped.
Her brother merely leaned back on the opposite seat and closed his eyes.
Chloe bit her lip. The ache in her arms was becoming unbearable and the lack of sensation in her hands was frightening. "Please," she said.
Jasper opened his eyes. "You are an ill-mannered brat," he observed. Leaning over, he caught her chin
and examined her face in the fading light. "However, I intend to remedy that with all due speed. If you attempt to use your hands again in that fashion, you'll journey all the way to Shipton with your wrists bound day and night, do you understand?"
Chloe nodded. There seemed no alternative.
"Untie her." Jasper leaned back again and Crispin pulled her out of her corner, manhandling her across his lap again as he unfastened the cravat. His wandering hands were on her body, and she squeezed her eyes tightly, biting her lip hard to keep herself from screaming abuse at him, struggling to prevent herself from flying at him with nails and fists and feet.
But at last he released her and she sat up, shrinking back into her corner, massaging her wrists, her hands stinging with pain as the blood flowed back. She rolled her shoulders back to ease the knot between her shoulder blades and tried to think clearly.
When did they intend the wedding to take place? Presumably not until they reached Shipton. What methods of persuasion would Jasper use to get her to the altar? And how much could she endure?
She had no idea of the answer to the latter question and dismally decided that she would find out empirically soon enough.