Alice laughed, Olivia was right, how could she not fall in love with a man like that.
“A title,” her mother said with a shake of her head as if it were a fatal flaw not having one.
“Mother,” Alice replied sharply. “We have talked about this. Nathanial’s lack of a title is of no concern to me. I prefer to judge a man by what he does, who he is. Not what one of his ancestors did a hundred years ago.”
Lady Weston put her book aside and slowly shook her head. Obviously, her daughter would never understand.
“He could have had one,” Olivia said, sending a shock through the room. “A title, I mean. The Prince Regent offered to get him a Barony a few years ago. Something about the work Nathanial was doing for the war effort. I’m sure all that money didn’t hurt. You know the aristocracy. The idea of a wealthy man without a title upsets the balance.”
“Why didn’t it happen?” Lady Weston said as she leaned forward.
Olivia shrugged her shoulders. “Something about Nathanial not wanting the distraction of a title. He said that it wouldn’t increase his wealth. Not significantly and would only take up his time that could be better used. Besides, I think the Prince wanted to add members to the house of Lords who would support him, and as we know, Nathanial despises owing anything to anyone.”
Lady Weston snorted as she looked up at the heavens for help. How would she ever understand this man? her expression said.
The thought that Nathanial had been offered a title and denied it shook Alice to her very core. There was so much she didn’t know about him. They had not shared their deepest secrets or desires. They hadn’t ever really been alone enough to talk. Their brief liaisons had focused on physical fulfillment, not on learning about each other's true being.
The memory of their last night together brought a warmth to her cheeks.
He’d turned down a title, she thought as she tried to change the thought running around in her head.
Nathanial was off conducting some kind of business with Lord Warwick. What more did she not know? What other secrets did the man have? And how was she going to discover them? For one thing, Alice knew with certainty, never again would she be left in this situation. Not knowing where he was or what he was up to was killing her inside.
But for her to learn about the man, he needed to return to her. He needed to come back so that she could love him and he could love her. Nothing else really mattered.
Sighing she took up her work as her mother and Olivia started talking about a future wedding. Both of them acting as if Nathanial would return. Both of them assured that he would still feel the same way about her and still want her to marry him.
The sudden thought of him changing his mind sent a bolt of fear straight through her body.
What if?
A sudden knock at the door pulled her out of her worried nightmare.
“Lord Bradford, My Ladies,” Benson said as he held the door open for their guest.
Alice’s heart jumped as she immediately searched the man’s face for any clue as to Nathanial’s fate. Unfortunately, the Earl’s sad expression and quick shake of his head let them know that he didn’t have any news.
Her stomach tightened up into a ball once again.
“My Ladies,” he said with a quick bow. “Miss Olivia.”
“Bradford,” her mother replied, as if the man had stopped by for tea.
Alice continued to hold her breath, waiting. Why was he here? Had he learned anything?
“Nothing new,” he said as he glanced at Olivia. “I am sorry. But my inquiries at the foreign office were of no use. No one will tell me anything. I even cornered Lord Canning, the Foreign Secretary at Westminster. But the man acted as if he didn’t know a thing. He probably didn’t. No one at Whitehall tells him anything.”
Alice’s heart began to beat again. No news was better than confirmation of the worst.
“Why the Foreign Secretary?” her mother asked.
Lord Bradford took a deep breath and held it for a moment. “Lady Alice mentioned that Jocko said something about needing to catch an evening tide. When I add that to some of the things I’ve heard about Warwick. I thought the Foreign office might know something.”
“You mean France, don’t you?” Olivia said. “No need to couch it in mystery. We are not children, Lord Bradford.”
The man winced as he nodded. “Yes, Miss Olivia, I do believe they had to enter France for some reason. And, as a result, they are delayed. I assure you however, there could be a hundred different reasons for their delay. The winds might be contrary, they may have been held up in accomplishing their goals. There is no telling.”
Olivia nodded as her lips formed a tight line. “And what of my brother’s business?”
Lord Bradford frowned, obviously bothered at the idea of discussing business with a woman. At last, he sighed and said, “Johnson is handling things until your brother returns. He assures me that he has been given guidance on what to do until then.”
“And if my brother doesn’t return?” the young woman said.
Alice gasped, how could Olivia even think such a thing.
The young woman glanced at her and offered a slight smile. “Please Alice, I do not think that will be the case. I pray each night that it is not so. But I must know.”
Bradford hesitated, Alice could tell the man did not wish to discuss the matter, but the stern look from Olivia would not let him off the hook.
“Years ago, your brother made arrangements. Just in case.”
“What kind of arrangements exactly?”
Lord Bradford took a deep breath, “You needn’t worry, you will be taken care of, I assure you. Caldwell’s business interests would be placed in a trust. He asked both Lord Warwick and myself to administer that trust for you.”
“For me?” Olivia said as she gritted her teeth. The young woman studied Lord Bradford for a long minute. As if he were a bug and she was trying to decide whether to crush him or not.
Alice couldn’t believe the discussion was occurring like this. Didn’t they realize that Nathanial might be hurt? Or worse?
Olivia’s brow narrowed in concentration until, at last, she seemed to force a calmness over herself as she smiled at him.
“I can promise you, Lord Bradford. I will ensure my brother makes other arrangements upon his return. We will not need to burden you with my welfare, I assure you.”
Alice noticed a quick look of displeasure as Lord Bradford turned away. Perhaps the look had been one of pain, she thought. As if he was upset about Olivia not being pleased that he was willing to help.
Lord Bradford turned back to Olivia and dipped his head in acknowledgment. “Of course,” he said. “That is a matter between yourself and your brother. As for the moment, I wanted to let you ladies know that I had made inquiries and to learn what you wished to do tomorrow night. Will you still be attending Lady Cambridge’s gala? And, will you be needing my escort?”
“No, I don’t …” Olivia began to say.
“Yes,” Lady Weston interrupted. “You must.”
Both Olivia and Alice frowned at the older woman. Why was it so important? Especially at a time like this.
Her mother sighed heavily as if unable to understand their lack of intelligence.
“With Caldwell away on business, it is imperative that people not know of his growing absence. Not only is it important that we keep Olivia at the front of the lists of prospective brides. But I believe it is important for Mr. Caldwell’s business interests.”
She frowned when they both looked back at her with a lack of understanding.
“Really, have you two learned nothing?” she said with a sad shake of her head.
“If you doubt me, ask Mr. Johnson. I am sure that there must be a dozen jackals that would love to take advantage of this situation. As for Olivia. I am sorry, but one of your richest assets is your brother. If people believe he is gone, they will be less likely to put you on that pedestal. I am sorry, but it is t
he truth.”
Olivia looked at Lady Weston for a long moment then laughed slightly. “Of course, My Lady. I understand. It seems my worth to the world is through my brother.”
Lord Bradford frowned and said, “I am sure that you are being too hard on yourself. Surely, somewhere, someone knows your true worth.”
The two of them stared at each other for a long moment. Alice frowned to herself as she tried to decipher the messages they were sending each other.
“Well then,” her mother interjected. “It is settled, we will attend the gala. Lord Bradford will escort us. In the meantime, we will act as if nothing is amiss. Caldwell is away on business. He will return soon, and our world can return to normal.”
Alice felt her mother’s eyes on her and knew she was thinking about the pending proposal. A sick realization washed over her, it was obvious her mother had decided not to broach the subject yet. Her mother’s tough calculations had determined that there might be no need.
If Nathanial didn’t return there would be no proposal. And therefore, no obstacles to be overcome.
Please, she prayed internally. Come back to me, Nathanial. Please come home.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Alice fanned herself as she watched Olivia dance with Lord Eastbrook. The room was too hot. Someone should open a window and let in a little fresh air. But no, Lady Cambridge would rather her guests suffer than let them be exposed to the night air.
Sighing heavily, Alice tried to push away the fear that continued to eat at her insides. Nine days. Surely Nathanial should have been home by now.
Nine days of pure misery.
The dance ended, the couples bowed and curtsied. Lord Eastbrook held out his arm for Olivia to escort her back when Lord Bradford stepped in front of them and said something that made Olivia frown. What was that all about? Alice wondered as she studied the young woman for any clue.
“Excuse me, M’Lady,” a footman in gray livery said as he approached and then bowed.
Alice forced her concentration away from Olivia for the moment.
“Yes,” she responded as her curiosity began to rise.
“Lady Alice Weston?” the footman asked with a frown.
“Yes.” What was this about. Surely, Lady Cambridge wasn’t upset that she was attending her ball. The invitations had been explicit. Besides, now that Cousin Johnathon had accepted them. There should be no concern.
“I have a message for you.”
Her heart began to quicken.
“A Mr. Caldwell, ma’am, he asked me to inform you that he was waiting for you.”
“Nathanial?” she gasped. “Where, is he here? Why didn’t he come in?”
The footman looked back at her as if she were asking for information he could not fathom to know.
“In the garden ma’am. He said he wasn’t dressed for a party and that you should come to him in the garden.”
Alice turned, desperately searching for the nearest door that would lead to the gardens.
“By the willow tree, ma’am,” the footman said after her with a look that he was not pleased with the thought of a Lady meeting a man in the gardens at night.
Alice ignored him and rushed to the door. Weaving her way through the crowd. Nathanial, here. Safe. Her prayers had been answered.
The cool night air braced her as she stepped outside, her eyes desperately searching for a willow tree. Torches had been lit, casting a weak yellow light across the gardens.
There, in the far corner. A willow. But no one stood near it. Leave it to Nathanial, she thought. Always questions. Things were never easy. Why wasn’t he where she could see him. Where she could know that he was all right.
“Nathanial,” she called as she lifted the hem of her dress and raced down the garden path towards the willow tree.
“Where are you?” she hissed as her heart pounded in her chest. Please, she thought. Show me. Let me know you are safe.
“Nathanial,” she called again. Was there another willow tree? Was he even now waiting for her at another spot?
“Nath…”
A hard hand covered her mouth as a strong arm wrapped around her waist.”
What? Why? Surely Nathanial wouldn’t do this. Not here.
A fear flowed through her as she realized the man wasn’t tall enough to be Nathanial, and the arm wasn’t strong enough. Besides, he stank of old sweat and sweet tobacco.
No, it wasn’t Nathanial. She realized as a frightful feeling of loss overcame her. Twisting, she tried to get a look at the man holding her. But the arm was too strong and kept her in place. No not Nathanial. Yet the man was strong enough to easily control her.
A rush of adrenalin poured into her as she began to kick and squirm. No. this must not happen. Not now. Twisting and turning she tried to break free but the arm around her middle only clamped down tighter as he lifted her up and began to carry her away into the darkness.
She had to get free. Now, before he took her away. Desperate, she tried to bite the hand over her mouth, but it was fruitless. She couldn’t get the right purchase.
Screaming with frustration, she kicked back at him and was rewarded with a solid “Umph” when her heel connected with her attacker's shin. The man however only grunted as he shifted her in his arms and continued on.
No, this couldn’t happen. Please God, she begged, help me.
But her prayers went unanswered as the man held her tightly with one hand while using the other to stuff a cloth into her mouth before pulling a bag over her head. Once he had it in place, he pulled her hands behind her back and roughly tied them together. The scratchy fiber bit into her wrists with a sharp pain.
Alice felt her world coming to a sudden end. Who was doing this? Why?
A soft laugh behind her gave her no clue as to the man’s identity. It did, however, tell her how much he was enjoying himself. The thought sent a cold shiver through her body.
Once again, without warning the man picked her up and shoved her into a carriage, banging her knee against a step and her head against a seat hard enough for her to see stars. She tried to rise but a strong hand pushed her down.
Mumbling, she tried to curse him as he climbed up after her and pounded on the top for the coachman to be on his way.
As Alice lay there on the floor of the coach, blind, she tried to think. Tried to force her mind to analyze and work it out. But the only thought that kept returning over and over was that Nathanial was not here. He had not returned. The frightful loss inside of her would not be eased.
The coach took a quick turn, rolling her across the floor and into the attacker’s legs.
Her world was darkness. The bag over her head kept out any hint of light. The cloth in her mouth tasted of cotton and soap and sucked away any moisture.
“Plllls” she mumbled as she scrambled into the corner, as far away from the man as possible.
But it was useless. He ignored her.
Alice’s heart sank as the rocking coach, the taste of old cotton, and complete darkness became her new world.
Where were they going? The reason why was not as important as the where. If she was to escape she needed to know where she was and how to get home.
Opening her ears, she tried to discern every sound. Catalog every smell. She tried to keep track of the twists and turns the coach made, but it was hopeless. No, she must focus on what she could sense.
A distant gull called. The rotten smell of the Thames at low tide seeped through the bag over her head. They were near the docks, she realized. Was she going to be put on a ship? Why? To be sent where? The thought of the Barberry Pirates in Olivia’s story jumped into her head and refused to leave.
Was this her fate? To be sold into slavery?
No, it didn’t make sense. None of it did.
The coach came to a quick halt and rocked back and forth as her attacker stepped outside.
Was he going to leave her here? Perhaps this was her moment to escape. Lifting her head, she tried to rub the bag
covering her against the seat, desperate for the return of her sight. Only then could she get away.
But her effort was ruined when a hand clamped onto her ankle and pulled her from the coach.
“No,” she cried through the cloth as she tried to twist away. However, before she knew it, she had been lifted and tossed over a man’s shoulder like a bag of potatoes.
The indignity mixed with her fear to send a searing shame through her. She was Alice Weston. Things like this did not happen to people in her world. To be treated as nothing more than an item. A thing. Not a person. Not anything of value. Something to be used and discarded.
Her stomach threatened to rebel as the man firmly held her in place, refusing any chance of her escape. Please, she begged any and all gods. Please stop this.
A sudden shift in the air pattern let her know they had entered a building. The echo from the man’s feet let her know it was a large building. But otherwise, she was clueless.
The man stopped and lowered her down onto a hard wooden chair. Alice twisted her head back and forth as she desperately tried to get a sense of her surroundings. But there was nothing. She was as lost as a babe in the woods. So lost that her heart felt as if it were being crushed.
How? Who? It was all she could think about as she heard him strike a flint and steel. He’s lighting a tinderbox for a candle she thought. Her proof occurred but a moment later when a little weak yellow glow seeped in under her hood when he placed the candle on the floor next to her.
Holding her breath, she waited. What would happen to her now? Desperately she tried to think of something to say, but even if she had, the dam cloth would have stopped her. Trying to stop her racing heart, she sat there and waited.
The wait didn’t last long. Without warning, a rough hand pulled the hood from her head while another removed the gag in her mouth.
“Go ahead and scream, no one will hear you,” the man said as he stepped back.
Alice squinted as her eyes tried to adjust to the sudden light. That voice, she recognized that voice.
Her entire body went stiff with fear as she looked up to see Lord Brookstone standing there with an evil grin. Dressed in workman’s clothes, bloodshot eyes, and a general unkempt look. The man appeared as if he had been just released from Bedlam itself.
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