He ran into the house, past startled housemaids, and on up the stairs.
Jocelyn waited in a chair next to the fire. She stood in expectation of good news. “Well, did he approach you? Is everything settled?” She peered past him. “Where’s Jane? I thought she’d be here to tell me all about it. I am wildly disappointed that I had to miss it. She promised to give me every detail.”
“I want you to think, and your answers will be very important.”
“What is it? You’re scaring me.”
“Did Lord Aubrey ever tease you about running off to Gretna Green?”
Her eyes widened in astonishment. “Of course not. His speeches to me were proper and very pretty. He’s a romantic and would have wanted the perfect setting for his proposal. And such a man would want a grand wedding at St. Paul’s. He’s a duke’s heir.”
His panic was real now, and he couldn’t think. Remembering the night he and his friend Lord Cardmore waited for news from the abductor of Cardmore’s son, his apprehension grew. No word came, so they’d had to go in search of the child. He must do the same now.
“Where is your mother?”
“Downstairs, I presume.”
“I need to see her right away.”
“No. You need to tell me what has happened. Where is Jane? Why are you in a tither?”
He scratched his head and took a deep breath. She would not take the news well.
“Your sister has been abducted.”
“What?” Her hands flew to the sides of her head. “She’s run off with my fiancé? How could she?”
“You’re not listening, you silly, self-absorbed fool. I said abducted. Jane has no interest in your swain. He’s taken her, thinking she’s you. And listen carefully. I believe he never intended to marry you. But you as well as Jane will be ruined if we cannot find them before he has his way with her.”
“You’re wrong. He loves me. He kissed me once. I nearly swooned.”
Oh lord, the situation was worse than he’d thought. He hoped Jane had the good sense to forego her accent and tell him who she really was.
Not that he will believe her.
Chapter 30
Ralston found Lady Siltsbury scolding the cook about some triviality, an overcooked sauce or a burned tart.
She tugged him into the housekeeper’s sitting room. “Is Jane giving Jocelyn the good news? I haven’t seen her since she returned from the garden.”
“There’s a problem. Jane has not returned, and the Marquis of Leisterbridge is nowhere in sight. It appears he has taken her.”
She frowned and opened her mouth, her eyes widening in horror. “That conniving minx. How could she do this to her sister? Does she think the marquis won’t notice the difference? Oh, I could strangle her. Decided she’d make a better duchess, did she? Ran off to Gretna Green. Poor Jocelyn. What am I to tell her?”
The wail was unladylike, and if anyone would be throttled this night, it would be the woman standing in front of him.
Ralston brushed his hand over his face. “When I say taken, I mean abducted. He has run off with her, thinking she is Jocelyn. I don’t think he ever intended to marry the girl. I heard in my club his father would never have countenanced the match. Apparently your bloodline is not pure enough. I believe he is going to compromise her and then discard her. He is not the most discreet individual, and my inquiries have found that he has a lascivious reputation.”
Her eyes flashed, and she folded her arms. “I don’t believe you. He would be ostracized. He wouldn’t be received if he ruined an innocent maiden of his own class.”
Ralston grabbed the woman’s shoulders, wanting to shake her. “You and I both know that is not true. His father is powerful, and society is cruel. Leisterbridge won’t be lauded, but nobody will charge him. He’ll merely say she was willing and now has changed her mind. It will be Jocelyn’s fault. Only it won’t be Jocelyn, it will be Jane. Even if you confess that you used your daughter’s twin to carry out a scandalous deception, both girls will be ruined, and even you will be shunned. Now stop your baseless accusations and tell me everything you know about the cur. Where would he take her?”
She breathed in short gasps. He wondered if she was about to faint. “I don’t know. Jocelyn might.”
Ralston was not looking forward to this conversation, having left his ward blubbering into her pillow, but it was necessary for both women’s sake.
They burst through the door. “Jocelyn. Please stop crying. Does the marquis have any properties of his own?”
“Leave me alone!”
“I cannot until you respond.”
She rolled over on her bed and took a handkerchief from her mother. “He resides with his father.”
“He won’t go there. Where else? Where is this hunting expedition to be?”
“Scotland. The Duke of Gresham also has properties in various locations. He owns an estate near St. Albans and one in Nottingham. Aubrey speaks of them often.”
Ralston nodded. “Neither of those is his principal estate. His errant son would not hold someone against their will at his father’s hereditary seat, so one of those other properties might be the place he’s headed. I doubt he’s taking her all the way to Scotland, because it would require the use of public inns. Although he can well afford to pay for privacy and silence, Jane could try to get away in such places.”
He turned away and hastened down the stairs, Lady Siltsbury behind him.
“What will you do, Ralston?”
“Chase him. What else can I do? I am the guardian of both girls.”
“I’ll come with you.”
“I can go faster on my horse. For now, I will hurry home on foot. ’Tis quicker than sending for my carriage, since I live nearby.”
She twisted her hands in front of her. “I’ve made a mess of things, haven’t I?”
“Indeed you have.”
“Send word when you have found Jane. I-I do not wish her to be harmed.”
He harrumphed. She pretended she cared. To date, Jane’s fears had been correct. Lady Siltsbury had not acted like a mother.
“I shall.”
He fled out the door and ran all the way home. Spying a footman in his foyer, he scribbled a quick note and thrust it in the man’s hand. “Take this to Cardmore House. The earl is in residence. Make sure he sees it right away.”
When his friend Andrew, Lord Cardmore, had difficulties two years ago, he’d drawn on Ralston for assistance. Now Ralston needed him, and Cardmore would come without hesitation. He and his countess had been guests at the ball and were among only a handful of people who were aware of Jane’s impersonation.
He gave instructions about his horse and took his stairs two at a time to his chamber, telling his valet to help him change and to prepare a traveling valise. He didn’t know how many days he would be on the road. God willing he would catch them before damage was done.
When he was ready, he rode to Cardmore House and met Andrew in the stable.
“What’s going on? I was ready for my bed when my night footman brought your note. Emily told me to make haste. It must be important, or you would never have sought me at such an ungodly hour.”
“Jane has disappeared.”
“Are you sure? I saw her not an hour ago at the ball. Her portrayal of Jocelyn was brilliant. Not one gesture out of place, and her accent was perfect.”
As Cardmore’s horse was readied, Ralston told him about the events of the evening. He ended with his fear that Jane had been kidnapped and her reputation, or worse, could be in jeopardy.
“The scoundrel. I’ve heard rumors about him. Most dealt with opera dancers and housemaids. I’m surprised the old duke tolerates such behavior.”
“The man is interested in power, and his son can do no wrong,” said Ralston
. “He could murder a peer and probably get away with it.”
They mounted and headed out to the Great North Road.
Cardmore brought his horse alongside. “Where are we going?”
“To St. Albans first. It is the closest property owned by the duke. If they aren’t there, on to Nottingham, where he owns a hunting lodge. I daresay they’ll have to stop for the night if that is their destination.”
“Emily and I are appalled by this whole business, Ralston. The ball should have been called off, and Lady Siltsbury’s ambition for her daughter is partly to blame.”
“I don’t disagree, but now we have a mess to clean up. I fear both girls will be ostracized once the story gets out. Jane doesn’t much care. She’s told me she wishes to retire to her legacy property once she comes of age. Jocelyn will suffer. As well you know.”
“Emily has told me how malicious the gossips can be. I am sick at heart for both girls. It matters not which was taken. They’ll never recover their reputations. There will be those who will want to believe it was Jocelyn, even though it was Jane, and others who will give Jane the cut direct because they’ll believe whatever Leisterbridge tells them.”
They reached the outer limits of town and put their horses to a gallop. Their horses would be spent once they got to St. Albans, but time was of the essence. Gilbert wasn’t even sure where the estate was located. Something as grand as a ducal property would be well-known in the village.
Fury drove him, nearly blinding him with rage. His emotions rose from depths he hadn’t fully understood before. He was angry at himself for allowing this charade, at Lady Siltsbury for suggesting and orchestrating it. He was even angry at Jocelyn for being blind to the obvious—she would never be good enough for the Duke of Gresham’s family. Most of all he was furious at Jane, who had good sense. How could she have allowed herself to become a pawn in this dangerous game?
She did it for love. Didn’t she tell you? She felt something for Jocelyn, a thin bond that she’d never had with anyone else, that pulled her into this intrigue.
Damn, he was a fool. Fear threatened to swallow him whole, and he couldn’t fight its yawning jaws. Jane was in the clutches of a privileged, debauched bounder who cared not for the reputations of the women he seduced. Jocelyn and Lady Siltsbury had encouraged his suit in full sight of their friends, so whatever story the marquis put forth would be believed.
He drove the horse harder. He could not bear to fail her. Sweet, innocent Jane who looked to him for protection.
Was it only duty that drove him? The pain in his gut told him otherwise. She meant more to him than just a ward. What, exactly, she was to him had been dancing around the edges of his mind all too long. He’d closed the gap, not wanting feelings to intrude on his obligations, never thinking he, of all people, would covet something he shouldn’t want.
You do want her, don’t you?
Was he so stiff that he couldn’t even acknowledge his feelings when clearly she had invited his regard?
She was now twenty years old, certainly of marriageable age. If Aubrey had harmed her, Ralston could demand marriage, knowing it was his right to make such demands. But did he really want to see her tied to such a mongrel? No, he did not, and knowing Jane, she would rather die than wed—and bed—such a man.
Cardmore reached him and motioned him to slow his pace. “I believe the turnoff to St. Albans is about an hour ahead. Let us stop at the next inn to see if anyone knows where the duke’s estate is? We’d do better if we had a plan, instead of barging in with pistols drawn.”
Pistols? He hadn’t even thought to bring one.
“You’re right, of course, and the horses need rest. Do you think pistols will be needed?”
Cardmore laughed. “’Twas a turn of phrase. We’re not dealing with ruffians, although you have my permission to thrash the young buck if it comes to that.”
“Remember when you fought a duel? It led to another.”
“Duels are not countenanced by the duke. His son wouldn’t dream of calling out anyone, and I forbid you to challenge him. As scandalous as this is, a duel would be worse. When the Marquis of Leisterbridge’s perfidy is thwarted, he will turn Jane over to us and go on to another ripe plum.”
Just so the plum in hand had not yet been tasted.
He wanted to go on, but Cardmore was right.
Hopefully, Jane was using her wits.
Chapter 31
The carriage finally stopped. Jane kept her eyes closed and her ears open. The marquis jumped out, leaving her to a footman who gently poked her. She pretended to awaken and allowed him to assist her into a grand house where she was led to an immense dining hall.
Leisterbridge sat at a table and indicated a chair for her, as if she were a guest instead of a captive. While pretending to be unconscious, she had devised a plan.
Lordy, I hope it works.
She rubbed her head where a sizable bump had sprouted, despite the padding in the coach. “When are you going to release me and stop this nonsense?”
“Not right away. You intrigue me. Your story is even more fascinating. I never would have believed that dragon, Lady Siltsbury, could devise such a scheme. Tell me. What is supposedly wrong with, er, Jocelyn. The pox, is it?”
“Certainly not. She has hives. Probably ate something disagreeable.”
“Or maybe it was nervousness as she waited for my proposal.”
“She certainly didn’t want anyone to see her with red welts on her face.”
A parade of footmen brought in an array of hot dishes, as if she and the marquis had been expected. Leisterbridge ate with gusto. Jane eyed her food, grimly aware that she would not be able to put him off much longer. Her ruse in the carriage had kept her safe, but the moment she’d been ushered through the door, he told her he looked forward to “a nice warm bed for their first coupling.”
Sitting at the table kept him talking. She picked at her food, taking small bites, chewing endlessly, while her brain engaged in reconnaissance. Several retainers had appeared. Only one remained in the dining room. She’d been told no one would help her, so she might as well enjoy the games. Still, opportunities might exist.
When she’d entered the house, she’d quickly scanned the rooms they passed through to see if there were any weapons for disabling her captor, or any areas she might use for escape. Horses were in the stable, but she’d have to climb out a window to reach one.
The time also gave her an opportunity to study her captor, to see where a weakness might lie. Papa had taught her how to find them in an opponent during evenings in his study while he practiced his arguments for a case.
Surely Ralston was on his way. He must have figured out what happened.
“Tell me again about this supposed switch.” He leered. “I’m not convinced yet that you aren’t Jocelyn trying very hard to persuade me otherwise and perhaps playing hard to get. Not that it matters. But it amuses me to hear that awful American accent come out of your pretty mouth.”
“I’m not Jocelyn. I’m Jane, here from America. When I was a babe, my parents separated and each kept a twin. Obviously I have no details. I was sent here after my father died. Is there more tea?”
He gestured for the servant to bring another pot. “Where have you been all this time? Surely not hidden away at Siltsbury House. Servants talk, and I’ve heard no gossip.”
“I’ve been in Painswick. Visiting a relative. Until after Jocelyn’s ball.”
“How easily words roll off your tongue.” His toothy grin reminded her of a wolf. “Very practiced, aren’t you? Now why would a devoted mother not shout to the world that her long-lost daughter had been returned to her?”
Why indeed.
“You know her better than I. Perhaps you should tell me.”
He tipped back his chair and brayed like a don
key she’d once heard in the neighbor’s pasture at home. “If this is true, and I am not conceding yet, I can only imagine your dear sister didn’t want the competition.” He drained his second glass of ale. “Which would I choose? The pert, adoring Miss Jocelyn or the pugnacious, argumentative Miss Jane. Hmm.” He stuck a finger into his cheek and grinned. “Perhaps, if there are two of you, I shall choose both.”
At that moment she wanted to wipe that smirk off his face with a well-placed kick to his crotch. She might need that action later. She sighed and ate the last of her toast while he summoned the footman and ordered yet a third glass of ale. He’d need the necessary soon. She might get away.
One thing she’d learned was how much he loved talking about himself. She’d encountered a few macaronis in Baltimore, men who minced and preened before females to see their reaction. This was such a man, and her wits were telling her to use this information to her advantage.
“Let’s pretend I’m Jane. Tell me, did you plan seduction all along, or did you actually contemplate marriage to Jocelyn?”
“Back to this, are we? I like games.” He sat back in his chair and folded his arms, a smug smile on his face. “When I met you, er, your sister, I was smitten. She complimented my golden hair and sapphire eyes and bold chin.” He repositioned to allow her to see his face better, then turned so she could view his profile. “Soon she began admiring other body parts, my broad shoulders, my taut backside, my long, slender fingers.” A feral smile again displayed his even teeth. “I assured her, the unseen parts were equally spectacular, and you—she—blushed so prettily I knew my heart was truly engaged.”
“What happened? Why has it come to kidnapping?”
He frowned and shook his head. “Such a harsh word. Our first kiss in Lady Whitmer’s garden, on the night of her daughter’s come out, told me you—she—was as passionate as a man could want. A man likes a supple body under his hands, a firm breast that is larger than his palm, silky thighs beneath his fingertips, a moist pussy tight enough so my cock will feel its folds as I push my way in.” He glanced down. “Ah, my cock reminds me we have yet to explore your body. Only then will I know if you are Jocelyn, here to tease me, or Jane, the wicked sister.”
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