All resolve vanished at his words. She curved her hands around his neck. “I need you too.”
Too much probably.
Chapter Twenty- Six
“Is your mother settled at home now?” Guy heard Brown ask Freya.
Guy peered around the doorway, spying his butler in the dining room. Set for the dinner party, candles gleamed and cutlery caught the light, polished to perfection. They had left nothing to chance, even inviting several other guests in case Pembroke should ask around. Guy flicked open his pocket watch, snapped it shut when he noted a mere minute had passed since he opened it last and stuffed it back into his waistcoat pocket.
He ground his teeth together. Not long now and Russell would be snatching Louisa. His gut twinged. He didn’t like it for some reason.
“My mother is doing wonderfully, thank you, Mr. Brown.”
Maybe that’s the reason his gut twinged and had less to do with the kidnapping and more to do with Freya’s mother returning home this morning.
Meaning Freya had no legitimate reason to stay. Unless, of course, he gave her a reason to...
“I wondered at you not attending the dinner tonight, Miss Haversham. I should have thought His Lordship would wish for you to attend. I gathered Mrs. Russell rather enjoys your company.”
Guy shook his head. He did not know Brown had a liking for gossip. It seemed he did not know his butler at all, even after all these years of service. Guy moved into the room and cleared his throat. Brown met his gaze calmly, apparently entirely unperturbed about being caught with his nose in his master’s business.
“Is everything set, Brown?” he demanded.
The butler dipped his head. “Of course, my lord. The footmen shall be ready as soon as your guests arrive.”
“Thank you, Brown.” He glared at the butler. “That will be all.”
Brown glanced briefly at Freya, gave Guy a knowing smile and departed the room. Guy waited a few moments until certain Brown was not snooping around the corner just as he had been.
“Perhaps you should be home with your mother.” He yanked out his pocket watch and flicked it open. “I do not like the idea of you being around the baron. What if he should recognize you?”
“Well, that is precisely why I am not attending the dinner party.”
“I bloody wish you were. My guest list is a bore.”
She put a hand to his, urging him to put away the watch. “I shall stay out of sight.”
“I regret keeping up this dinner party pretense. How am I meant to enjoy the night when you are tucked away in some corner somewhere?”
“It was the right thing to do. If the baron had any queries about his sudden invitation, your guest list is comprised of several ambitious men and their wives. I’m certain a man like the baron should be interested in what you have to say. No doubt he expects you to be talking of some kind of speculation.”
“I shall have little to say indeed but with any luck the baron shall ruin it all with news of his wife’s kidnap and we can send everyone home.”
“You can send everyone home,” she corrected.
You. Yes. A bitter taste lingered in his mouth. He would be alone tonight for the first time in weeks. He didn’t like it one jot. He’d thought to wait until after the kidnapping to ask her but even after the dinner party seemed too far away.
“Freya—”
“If the dinner party goes ahead and all is well, I shall slip out later.”
He made a noise.
“What is the matter?”
“I do not like it. You slipping out like some sort of secret...” He waved a hand.
“Lover?” she suggested.
“Well, yes,” he said tightly.
“Guy, I am happy to stay to ensure all is well. I should not like to be at home worrying for you all.”
“Perhaps I should have gone and aided them.”
“You said it yourself, you are far too easily recognizable. Besides Russell knows what he is doing, does he not?”
Guy nodded grimly. His brother had commanded all the kidnappings, successfully too if one did not count accidentally kidnapping his now-wife. Guy always kept himself distant from it all and for good reason. Even masked, an earl like himself was easily identified.
“I still do not like it,” he muttered. “We have moved too quickly.”
“If we did not, Louisa could be killed.” She gave a tight smile. “I think it right that we act now.”
“I hope you’re right.”
She put a hand to his cheek and Guy forgot the tension tangling around him briefly. “All will be well,” she assured him.
It would be. Once this bloody thing was over and Louisa was safe, and he could ask Freya to be his. Always. He lowered his mouth to hers and she made a little sound of appreciation. Now was not the time to get lost in her but damn, she tasted too sweet, too tempting.
The tension snaking around him loosened and he slipped an arm about her waist to pull her closer then pressed the kiss deeper. She settled into his arms and he groaned. One kiss wasn’t enough. It never would be. He had to make her his, in every sense of the word. She might have more humble beginnings than most countesses, but she had wit, determination and the kindest heart he had ever seen. If that did not equal one impressive countess, he didn’t know what would.
When he drew back, her lips were rosy and plump, her lids slightly heavy. “This is going to be the worst evening ever,” he murmured. “I have no desire to send you away.”
“I have no desire to go away either.”
“Then do not,” he blurted.
Blast. This was not how one went about proposing to a woman as special as Freya.
“I cannot stay, you know that,” she said softly. “We did not discuss what would happen when my mother returned home but—”
“I’m not letting you go,” he said tightly.
“Well, I thought perhaps—”
“You could marry me.”
She blinked at him a few times, her lips parted. “Marry?”
A crash from the hallway prevented a response. He scowled. “Let me see what that was.” He gestured for Freya to remain. “We’ll continue this in a moment.”
He stepped into the hallway to find Brown crumpled on the floor by the door. He glanced at the three men in the room and met the baron’s gaze. “What the devil is this about?”
FREYA PRESSED A hand to her chest when she spied the baron, surrounded by men, all of whom would look more at home in the whorehouse than Guy’s elegant hallway. The three of them stood about as tall as Guy, their clothes refined but worn as though they were uncomfortable in such garments. One black-haired man had a scar across his cheek, a slice of white across a dusky complexion. The redheaded man’s face was riddled with evidence of surviving a bout of pox. Behind them, a third, wiry fellow with dark hair revealed gappy teeth when he tugged forward Louisa.
Biting back a gasp, Freya curled her hand around the edge of the doorway. Louisa stumbled forward and her husband gripped her arm, thrusting her forward.
“It seems you want my wife, my lord. Well, here she is.”
“What is this about, Pembroke, and why have you assaulted my butler?”
“I knew there was something odd about our invitation here,” Pembroke said. “And I knew my lovely wife was up to something. She was being unusually obedient, is that not right, Louisa?” He hauled her close, squeezing her tight against him until she gasped.
Freya swallowed hard. Something had gone wrong but what should she do? She couldn’t dash downstairs and demand someone run for help without being spotted.
Guy lifted his hands. “I am not certain what is going on here, Pembroke, but I think you should leave. You and your men.”
“I found some clothing outside my house,” Pembroke said with a sly smile. “A hat and coat. Expensive garments. The sort of thing an earl might wear.”
“What the devil are you talking about?”
“Items that belong to you when
you were sneaking in to visit with my wife, no doubt.”
“Lawrence, please,” Louisa protested, “that simply is not true. I would never betray you.”
“Shut up.” The baron gripped her hair and yanked it back, forcing her to meet his gaze. “You were hoping to run into his arms, were you not?”
Guy took a step forward. “I will not have you hurting a woman in my house.”
The three men behind the baron moved closer. Freya saw Guy glance between them, weighing up his options. Her heart beat a frantic pace. She couldn’t stay here and do nothing but how much help would she be against so many men?
“This woman is my wife,” the baron said through gritted teeth. “And she will remain that way. You can send all the men you like, Huntingdon, but you shall never have her.”
“I have no idea what you are talking about, Pembroke. I have no desire to claim your wife.”
“Oh.” The baron’s expression grew menacing. “So you did not arrange for your brother to hold up my carriage then?”
Freya’s heart dropped into her toes. Something must have happened to Russell and the others. She released a shaky breath. They could not wait in the hope that they turn up and help. It was just the two of them.
Guy drew himself up to his full height. “Pembroke, I do not know what you think you are doing, arriving at my house with these men and throwing these accusations about, but I can tell you that they will not stand. Should you wish to discuss your issues with me like gentlemen, I would welcome an audience with you at a more suitable time. As it is, I have a dinner party to prepare for, but I think perhaps you should return home. It does not seem that you are in the right frame of mind to be a guest in my house.”
Pembroke laughed. “A gentleman would not try to steal another man’s wife.”
“I told you, Pembroke, I have no desire to take your wife.”
“Did he visit you, my dear?” He tugged on Louisa’s hair again. “Met you in your bedroom perhaps while I was out. Did you make wild, passionate love?” Pembroke looked to Guy. “I knew it as soon as I unmasked your brother. You invited me here to get to my wife.”
“What the devil are you blathering about, Pembroke?”
The baron made a subtle gesture behind him, one Freya did not think Guy had seen. Her stomach rolled. One of the men handed over a pistol.
“I took care of your brother and I shall take care of you.” The baron curled his lip. “And my wife too, seeing as she cannot behave herself.” Louisa whimpered when he pulled harder on her hair.
Freya rushed forward when Pembroke drew out the pistol, aiming it at Guy. “No!” She pushed herself between the barrel of the gun and Guy.
“Freya, what are you doing?” Guy asked, grabbing her arm and forcing her back.
She remained unmoving and lifted her chin to view the baron. His gaze narrowed and she saw recognition spark. “The maid...” He looked to Guy. “Good God, you are a clever bastard. Hoped to get someone inside my household to help you with your sordid affair, did you?”
“It was nothing to do with him. I was there to investigate you.” Freya lifted her chin. “I’m a journalist.”
“I’m not interested in a silly little maid.” Pembroke shook his head, released his grip on Louisa and shoved Freya aside. She stumbled a few steps and righted herself. “It is you I want.” He gestured to Guy. “If you want my wife so badly, you can have her. Forever.” He gestured with the pistol. “First I shall kill you, then Louisa.” He sighed. “And looks like I’ll have to kill your pretty maid too.”
“Like hell,” Guy said through gritted teeth.
Freya darted forward as he lifted the pistol. She snatched Louisa’s arm and tugged her to one side while Pembroke was distracted. Guy stepped swiftly in front, using his body to shield them both.
Pembroke peered between them all and relaxed his finger on the trigger. “You cannot save her, Henleigh.”
“You cannot kill a peer of the realm and get away with it.”
The baron scoffed. “I’m only protecting my property and these men will confirm it was a matter of honor.”
Freya glanced at Louisa’s fearful expression and clasped the woman close. She had no doubt Louisa’s husband would kill all of them if he got the chance. The man was utterly insane. Somehow, they would have to make sure he didn’t get the chance.
“Go,” Guy muttered. “Run.”
Freya hesitated. She couldn’t leave him, but she had to get Louisa to safety.
Pembroke’s smile widened. “Or stay and we can have some fun.” He tried to inch around Guy to grab at Freya, but she darted back toward the stairs, taking Louisa with her. Guy put himself in front of them once more.
“You’ll have to go through me first,” Guy said, his jaw set. “Run!” he ordered.
“I’ll catch you,” she heard the baron call after them.
Freya didn’t wait any longer. Guy would save them. She knew this man and she knew how strong and heroic he was. He would protect them. She took Louisa’s arm and dashed upstairs with her, sparing the briefest glance back and uttering up a quick prayer for Guy’s safety. She could not lose him.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Gaze fixed upon the pistol pointed at his gut, Guy flexed his fists. His palms were clammy. He needed to buy as much time as possible for Freya and Louisa. Easier said than done when outnumbered and outgunned. He gritted his teeth. Why had he not been more prepared? Why hadn’t he gone with his brother? Damn it, he didn’t even know if Russell still lived. He’d been so wrapped up in getting this kidnap done and proposing to Freya, he’d lost his edge.
Well, he’d rectify that now. No matter what, the baron would not lay his hands on either woman.
“I suggest you move, my lord. I do not want to fire upon you, but I will do what I must to protect my property.” Pembroke motioned with his gun.
“If you really wished to protect your property, you would not harm her in the first place.”
Pembroke bared his teeth. “I am well within my rights to do what I must to discipline her.” His gaze narrowed. “Do not tell me you are one of those men who think women should be left unchecked?”
“Unchecked and untouched.”
The baron made a disgusted sound. “You might think that my wife would come running back into your arms with your soft words, but I know her. I know what she needs.” He gestured with the weapon again. “Now step aside.”
“Pembroke, you are in my home, aiming a weapon at a peer of the realm. This will not end well for you.”
“I’m protecting my property. Property that it seems you have been touching.”
Guy shook his head, easing both palms up. “I told you, I have no interest in your wife.”
“No man would go to such lengths to get to her otherwise.”
“We can do this like gentlemen,” Guy suggested. “A duel.”
He snorted. “So you can warm my wife’s bed when I’m gone. Not likely.” He lifted the pistol. “You cannot say I didn’t warn you.”
Guy tensed his every muscle. All he needed to do was live long enough for Freya to escape. She knew London well enough. They could hide out for a while and the others would help them.
If they were not all harmed, that was.
If anything had happened to them, he’d never forgive himself. Though, he might not live long enough to be able to regret it.
Movement from by the door caught his eye. A brow lifted, he watched Brown peel himself up from the floor with his usual elegance and calmness. “May I take your coats?” he offered.
Guy almost allowed himself a grin when the baron’s attention flitted to Brown. It was all he needed. Guy whipped the pistol away and it skittered across the tiled floor.
Pembroke cursed and scrabbled to retrieve it, but Brown kicked it nonchalantly under the gilded cabinet.
When Pembroke straightened, he gestured to his men. “Grab him.” He thrust a finger at Brown. “And him.” He motioned to Guy. “Keep them restrained until
I find my wife!”
Guy blocked Pembroke’s escape upstairs while Brown ducked being grabbed by one of the men and slipped around another. The tiny man darted between them like a rabbit escaping a hunt. Guy had to wonder where the man had learned such skills. If they survived this, he had some questions for his butler.
“You’re not having her,” Guy said, his jaw set.
“Move, damn it,” Pembroke spat at him.
The two other men came at Guy from either side. The baron inclined his head and Guy ducked the first punch, then blocked a second, responding with one of his own. His knuckles throbbed when his fist met solid jaw and the man gave a grunt, spilling back.
The redheaded fellow stepped forward and grabbed first one arm, then the other. He hauled Guy’s arms behind his back and a fist ploughed toward his gut—revenge for the hit on the jaw it seemed. Pain spasmed through him, air being forced from his lungs. He tried to gulp down a breath and break free, but Pembroke pushed past their fight and took the steps two at a time until he vanished from Guy’s sight.
He eyed the two men and spied the red mark appearing on the jaw of the man he struck. Brown avoided the third man by dodging back once more.
Guy twisted in the hold, his shoulder joints screaming in pain. He didn’t have time for this. He clenched his teeth, relaxed for just a moment then surged forward, barreling into the man in front of him and taking the man holding him captive with him. They all fell to the floor and the grip on his arms loosened. Guy clawed his way to his feet, striking out at anyone or anything in his way until free.
When he rose to his feet, the third man stepped forward.
A crash echoed about the room. Shards of pottery rained down around the man’s shoulders. His eyes rolled upward, and he collapsed to the floor amongst the remains of the priceless vase. Brown stood behind him, his expression placid.
“Excellent job, Brown.”
“Go, my lord. Miss Haversham may need you.”
Guy nodded, glanced at the prone bodies on the floor and gestured for Brown to leave. “Ensure the rest of the servants are safe.”
Taking the Spinster (The Kidnap Club Book 3) Page 18
