Chapter 24

The brief meeting, she had with Ralph had shaken her. It was not just the confirmation that both Lavorel and Melrose knew who she was, it had been the tender way he had held her in his arms. She had been sorely tempted to go with him. To forget about Lavorel and finding the identity of Le Renard, and, to forget about the promise, she had made all those years ago to Haverstock. She just wanted to go back to the safety of Ralph's arms and remain there forever. It was a lovely dream, but it could never be a reality.

There was one thing of which she was sure; she had no future with Ralph. The announcement of his forthcoming marriage had made any chance of that happening impossible. And, of course, she had the responsibility of securing Georgie's future. She had heard that Brentford was failing fast, and did not have long left before he died. Finding the identity of Le Renard had never been so important to her.

This evening, she had noticed a dramatic shift in Lavorel's attitude towards her that she had found disconcerting. The jealous protectiveness he usually portrayed towards her in company had vanished and had been replaced by a cool aloofness. The hairs on the nape of her neck prickled with fear as Ralph's words sprung to her mind. "You are a mouse being played with by a cat." The analogy seemed apt. She felt like they were planning her ultimate downfall. These were dangerous men, and she had betrayed them. Betrayal was the ultimate infraction of their rules. It was an act they would never be able to forgive.

At the beginning of the evening, the group had only contained four gentlemen, now there were five. All of them wore masks that were similar to those worn during the carnival season in Venice. They were predominately white with intricate gold trim and covered their faces, making identification nigh on impossible. There was something very sinister about the blank expressions that the masks gave the men. It only added to the fear she already felt. She could still identify Lavorel and Melrose, but the other three men were still unknown to her. However, there was something oddly familiar about the gentleman that had just joined their group.

'Countessa,' he said smoothly, holding out his hand to her, 'will you do me the honour of allowing me to lead you into the next set.'

Helen took his hand, and he led her onto the middle of the dancefloor. The previous dance had been a vigorous country dance, and many of the couples had left the floor to get some refreshments. The refrain of a sedate waltz had begun, and he held her close in a tight hold.

He did not say a word as he expertly guided her around the ballroom. He just held her tightly and looked continually at her with hard eyes that she could just see glittering through the mask. Helen could tell that he was yet another very dangerous man.

She shook her mind free from the fear that could easily cloud her judgement. She was here to find the identity of Le Renard, and she was dancing with another suspect. She took a deep breath and steadied her nerves. Once her mind was a little clearer, she began to compare his physical attributes to those she remembered from her previous encounter with Le Renard. He was the right height and build, and she was certain that they had met before. The mask he wore, that had a large hooked nose, made it quite impossible to gauge his age.

'I am surprised that you have not yet guessed who I am, Helen Wakefield,' he said softly as he spun her around the edge of the ballroom.

The icy fear crept deeper. As soon as he spoke, she recognised the voice.

'Le Renard,' she whispered back.

He had used her real name, Helen Wakefield. During her time in Spain, when she had been Lavoral's mistress, she had been known as Helena Smith. She had never used her real name in front of Lavorel, yet this man knew. However, she knew that there was no point disguising her identity. If Melrose had had her followed for months, just like Ralph had told her, there was no point denying it. They knew who she was and, more importantly, what she was doing here at Torrington Place.

Helen had to concentrate. She could not allow her fear to cloud her judgement. She still needed to discover the identity of the man behind the mask. Helen took a deep breath and focused on the dance and concentrated on the job at hand.

As they continued to twirl around the ballroom, she tried to think where she had heard his voice before. She knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that she had spoken to him recently. She had to think carefully about where and when that could have been.

'I must say, Helen,' he said with hauteur. 'When I first saw you at Belmont Hall, I thought that you were a very pale imitation of your former self. Though you did show a little promise of the woman, you were in Spain, when you visited the lake with Huntingdon.'

'You were at the house-party,' she said, unable to hide her surprise. She tried to think of who he could be, but still, no one sprung to mind.

'Yes, Helen,' he said, very much in control of the conversation. 'I watched you and the touching affair you were having with Huntingdon with great interest.'

Helen did not reply, she was still concentrating on the voice of the man behind the mask. It was so familiar, but she could not bring the image of its owner to the front of her mind.

'Do you really think that you ended up at the house-party by accident?' he said, with a flourish as he spun her around the far end of the ballroom. 'I made sure that Lady Helford knew about the ball. The old harridan could be trusted to find a way to invite herself. Though I never imagined that you would end up seducing Huntingdon. I only wanted you there to keep an eye on you myself. I knew Haverstock was sniffing around and I wanted to be there when he made contact with you.'

Helen still did not say anything. Her mind was racing and going through all the guests who were present at the house-party. Who could he be?

'Mind you,' he said lightly, 'I really do have you to thank. I thought my chances of marrying my hopeless daughter to Huntingdon were nonexistent. However, when he returned to London, heartbroken by your rejection, I became more successful. In fact, I really do have to thank you for pushing him in Agatha's direction. He is shaping up to be a good choice as my son-in-law.'

'Hepworth,' she said, stunned at the revelation.

'Bravo,' he said, his voice mocking her, 'you have got there at last.  I always thought you were more astute.'

She had been listening to him too intently that she had not noticed him leading her out of the ballroom. In fact, she did not notice the change in location until the strains of the orchestra were in the distance. They were in a long deserted corridor that she did not recognise. 'We should go somewhere a little more private to discuss your future,' he said dangerously as he grabbed hold of her arm.

Helen knew that this could be her only chance of escape. If he got her alone in a room by herself, she would be trapped. She twisted her arm and elbowed him hard in the stomach. She must have taken him by surprise because she felt his iron grip loosen. She then turned away and began to run down the corridor in the direction of the music. If she could get to the ballroom, she knew that there would be safety in numbers. Perhaps she would even be able to find Ralph.

She had almost reached the door to the ballroom when she slammed into a wall of muscle. She looked up and saw a tall man dressed as a liveried footman, standing over her. She thrashed wildly to try and break free from his hands that had clamped around her shoulders, but to no avail. She then attempted to kick him in the shins, but because he held her so tightly, she was unable to swing her legs back far enough to cause him any damage.

'Helen,' she heard Hepworth say behind her, 'there really is no point struggling. Believe me, you are no match for Jacobs.'

Helen stilled at his words. There was no point exhausting herself when she knew that she would never be able to free herself from Jacobs' powerful grip.

'Good,' Hepworth said, 'Jacobs restrain her hands, I do not want a repeat of that escape.'

Helen began to struggle again in a futile attempt to stop Jacobs from tieing her wrists together behind her back, but it was hopeless, he was far too strong. Within less than a minute, he had secured her hands tightly behind her with what felt like a length of silk. The material bit painfully into the flesh of her wrists as she tried to break free.

Jacobs then grabbed her upper arm and thrust her unceremoniously down the corridor towards Hepworth. He then grabbed her by the arm, throwing her off balance, and led her up the back staircase onto the first floor. They walked partway down a deserted corridor until they reached a door that Hepworth unlocked. 'In here,' he said to Jacobs.

Jacobs seized Helen roughly by the arms and thrust her abruptly into the room. She lost her balance and fell onto the carpeted floor. Hepworth then grabbed her arm and hauled her upright. As soon as he had hold of her again, she began to struggle. She was not going to let them take her without a fight, so she tried one more time to break free from Hepworth's grasping hands.

She heard a crack, then nothing. Sudden darkness, as black as night, enveloped her. When she finally regained her faculties, she was lying on a bed with her hands still tightly tied behind her. Her feet had also been bound, and she suspected that they had been secured to her hands with another length of silk. She had been trussed so tightly together that she could not move. The strong metallic taste of blood filled her mouth, and she felt a sharp pain across her jaw and temple. She had been struck hard across the side of the head by Hepworth's fist.

Hepworth came and sat on the bed next to her. He took out a handkerchief and dabbed at the blood on her upper lip. 'Now, now, Helen,' he said in a patronising tone. 'I do not want to destroy that pretty little face of yours quite yet.'

Once he had wiped the blood away, he put the handkerchief back into his pocket. He had removed his mask and Helen was now able to see his face clearly. His dark eyes glittered dangerously as he raked over her body with his stare. Helen could see the lust in his eyes, but there was also something else lurking in their depts that she could not identify. She was rarely fearful, but the way he looked at her had made her blood run cold. He then reached out his hand and touched her hip. Helen felt repulsion at his touch and tried to move away, but the silken bounds that had been fastened tightly around her wrists and ankles only bit painfully into her flesh.

He smiled at her wolfishly as his fingers skimmed up her body, over the mounds of her breasts and slowly around to the back of her neck. He undid the clasp of the necklace she wore and removed it slowly from around her neck.

'You will not need these anymore, my dear,' he said, his voice low and menacing.

He continued to look at her with that dangerous, malevolent look in his eyes. She tried to stare back at him, not wanting him to know how much she was frightened by him.

Helen, you are a very beautiful woman,' he said as his fingers continued to rove over her body, 'it is such a shame that you betrayed us. You do realise that such treachery has to be punished.'

Helen had remained silent up until this point. She had not wanted to give him the satisfaction of knowing just how much he had scared her. She had naively thought that they would have killed her quickly. However, she knew the truth of Ralph's warning, he was toying with her both emotionally and physically.

'You don't frighten me,' she said, trying to give her voice the confidence she did not feel.

'You should, my dear,' he said coldly as his fingers pinched hard into the delicate flesh of her breasts. Helen had to use all her self-control not to wince with pain.

'I'm not afraid to die,' she said, trying to match his steely stare.

He laughed and moved his hands away from her breasts. 'I am not going to kill you, my dear,' he said, amusement still in his voice, 'that would be far too simple for a traitorous whore like you.'

He looked at her, his eyes full of victory. 'The problem,' he said coolly, 'is that if I kill you, it is not sending the right message to anyone else that may be tempted to betray our organisation. I am going to have to make an example of you. I want everyone to know what will happen to a treacherous whore who thinks she can betray me.'

'How did you find out about me?' she said.

'Remember when we met in Spain. In the stables that belonged to Lavorel,' he said deliberately.

Helen nodded. She remembered the encounter only too well.

'You may not have seen my face, but believe me, I saw you,' he replied. 'You are a stunningly beautiful woman with a face, not many men forget. I certainly never forget beauty like yours.'

There was a moment's silence before he spoke again. 'Imagine my surprise when I saw the beautiful Helena Smith, who had mysteriously vanished in Spain not long after our encounter, in a fashionable drawing-room in London as a dowdy lady's companion. It did not take me long to learn your real name and discover that you had been in Spain at the time I knew you,' he said with a flourish.

'After a few enquiries, I had also discovered that you had worked for Haverstock,' he said triumphantly.

Helen continued to look directly at him. She did not want him to know how much he continued to frighten her. Any fear would only prevent her from being able to think clearly, and she needed all her wits about her.

'Just to make it perfectly clear,' he said firmly, 'you now work for me, and you will do everything I say.'

Helen continued to stare at him. 'I will not cooperate with you,' she said defiantly.

'You don't need to,' he said nonchalantly, 'for what I have planned for you, your cooperation is not at all necessary. In fact, I was rather hoping that you would put up a fight. Let me tell you what I have planned for your future,' he said with relish. 'Tonight, you will entertain a couple of my very special guests. You met them in the ballroom this evening, and after watching your performance earlier as you danced with Melrose and me, they are eager to meet you again. However, I must warn you, they have very niche tastes that you will not like. Once they have finished with you, I will send you to one of our more seedy establishments in the East End. There you will work day and night like a common whore servicing the needs of the lower classes. Your beauty will quickly fade. If you last more than a couple of years, I will be astonished.'

His eyes continued to glitter dangerously at her. 'If you think that carrying Huntingdon's bastard will save you, you are very much mistaken.'

She looked at him with disbelief in her eyes. How did he know about the child?

He laughed softly. 'Did you think we had not noticed?' he said amusement in his voice. 'You forget, Helen, we have been watching your every move. Did you think Lavorel would not notice? The sickness in the morning, the enlarging of your already ample breasts and the slight thickening around your waist. And, it did not take a genius to work out who the father could be.'

His eyes continued to glitter dangerously. 'If Huntingdon's bastard manages to survive tonight, we have plans for that child. If she is a girl, she will follow in her mother's footsteps and become a common whore. If it's a boy, he will join one of our criminal gangs and be nothing more than a cruel thug.'

'I am going to use you as an example to everyone that works for me,' he said, for the first time letting his anger show. 'No one betrays me, especially not a whore like you.'

He stood up and took another length of silk out of his pocket. Helen knew that he was going to gag her, but she wanted to show him just one more act of defiance. It could well be her last. Just as he bent forward to put the gag around her mouth, she twisted her head and spat in his face. He ignored this act of rebellion and continued to tie the gag tightly in her mouth so that her teeth sunk into the taunt silk.

Once he was done, he stood up and wiped the spittle from his face with his handkerchief. 'You will regret that when you beg me for a little mercy,' he said, through gritted teeth.

She wanted to tell him she would rather die than beg him for mercy, but the gag prevented her from talking. Instead, she glared at him with contempt.

'Goodbye, Helen,' he said as he walked towards the door, 'next time we meet, I hope that some of that misplaced defiance will be gone. I will leave you now to have a little think about your future.'