by Robyn DeHart
“Indeed.”
“Yes, one can never know too much about the origins of plants.”
“Are you teasing me?”
He brought a hand to his chest. “I would never. I scarcely know how to jest.”
She grinned. She did appreciate his levity, although she would be damned if she’d put the book back, no matter how boring the subject matter. Perhaps someday she’d be called on to tutor a child about botany.
He stepped away from her and retrieved his stack of letters. “I believe I shall leave you to the books, then. Do let me know if you change your mind about having a bed moved in here and I’ll see to it straightaway.” He gave her a slight bow, then left the room.
Lord Ellis was a charming man. Was that the way with every gentleman in London? Certainly not. Lord Lynford had not been charming in the least, although her aunt had seemed to find something in him that appealed to her. Isabel obviously needed a larger sample to gauge an assessment of the overall charm of London gentlemen.
From outside the room, she heard a great thud, then something hit the corridor wall.
“Lord Ellis?” She heard no response. Curious. She walked over to the library door and peered out into the corridor. Viscount Ellis lay slumped against the paneled wall to her right.
“Good heavens!” She raced over to him, but never made it to his side. Large, viselike hands gripped her close to a hard body that smelled strongly of soured food and sweat. She pushed against her captor, but then he squeezed her neck, and everything went black.
Chapter Two
Jason ran outside his London townhome and peered in both directions, but the lady was nowhere to be seen. He swiped blood out of his right eye, then followed the hoof tracks to and from his house, noting a rock indenture in one hoofprint that crossed from well before his address to well after. In one direction, though, the tracks were slightly deeper, indicating a change in the weight of the rider.
He ran inside and scrawled a note to his fellow Brotherhood of the Sword members, then grabbed his pistol and raced out the door. He doubted he was that far behind Isabel and whoever had whacked him on the head. Still, he had no notion of how long he’d been unconscious and didn’t want to risk losing their trail. This was the skill he brought to the Brotherhood. If there was anything he knew how to do well, it was to ride and to track.
His friend, Gabriel Campbell, Duke of Lynford, had brought the girl to his townhome seeking shelter and protection. Jason had been entrusted with her safety, and she’d been in his care for less than twenty-four hours, and she had already been taken. He hadn’t realized the threat had been that great, or else he would have kept a closer eye on the road. As it was, he knew that someone had followed her to his townhome, broken in, struck him unconscious, and taken her. It seemed safe to assume that the danger was specifically aimed at Isabel.
His steed, Danger, thundered down the empty road. Thankfully the skies were dry, or else following the tracks would be infinitely more difficult. The trail led him directly into the heart of London, along the banks of the Thames to the docks.
He heard a female voice before he could see anything through the fog. He slowed Danger, then slipped off his back and crept forward.
“I said unhand me!” Isabel said, her voice full of the spirit he’d admired in her the previous day.
There was a gruff response that Jason couldn’t make out from his current position, but he’d finally crept close enough to discern the forms of two people in the darkened alley. Isabel stood next to a man, and he held her arms firmly in place behind her back. She was kicking at his legs and, even from this distance, Jason could clearly see that her assailant was rather large.
“Now, miss, settle down. My boss’ll be here soon, and I know he wants you unharmed,” the man said, his voice thick with a cockney edge.
Jason searched the area around him to see how best to make his approach. He picked up a jagged piece of a board that had been tossed out of whatever establishment held this address, then skirted around the alley to come upon them from behind.
The man who held her was easily a head taller than Jason, and perhaps twice as broad, but size generally made men slow and clumsy, whereas Jason was swift and strategic. He moved in and hit the man hard at the back of his knees so his legs buckled. Then, when Jason could easily reach the man’s head, he whacked him with the board. The man toppled forward.
Isabel shrieked, then stiffened as if readying herself to attack whomever had come from the darkness. Her green eyes were wide with fear, but it was an active sort of fright, one that would allow her to fight back. He could appreciate such an instinct.
Jason snaked an arm around her. “Isabel, it is I, Jason. Calm yourself. I assume you would appreciate rescuing. Unless you intended to run away with that man. Am I intruding upon a romantic rendezvous?”
She frowned. “What? No, don’t be ridiculous.” She shook her head, then promptly wrapped her arm around him. “Can you please get me out of here?”
In that moment with her clinging to him, he had the sudden and ridiculous urge to kiss her. He shoved the thought aside, climbed up onto his steed, and pulled her up in front of him. She could sit across and he could keep an eye on her this way. Once they were safely heading away from the docks and back into Mayfair, she shivered against him.
“I am very pleased that you are not dead,” she said.
“As am I.” He paused. “Why did you think I was dead?”
“Before he took me from your house, I found you in the corridor.” Her hand went to his forehead, and her fingers lightly brushed above the injury. “How is your head?”
“I’ve had worse. And at least the blood has stopped dripping into my eye.”
She shuddered. “I am sorry to have involved you in this. Whatever it is.”
“Is that the same man who tried to grab you outside of your school?” he asked.
She nodded against his chest. “I got away from him once, but this time I thought he had me for good. Thank you for rescuing me.”
Jason smiled. “You were trying to get away.”
“Yes, but my efforts were futile. That man is enormous.”
She might be a slip of a woman, but she had the heart of a fighter, which he supposed was good, considering Lynford had been right and she was, in fact, in danger.
“Did you know that man? Or why he is so interested in kidnapping you?” he asked.
“No. That night outside of St. Bart’s was the first time I ever saw him. As to the other…” Again, she shook her head. “I have no notion as to why. It doesn’t make any sense. I’ve lived nearly my entire life at St. Bart’s. The only people I know in the world live there, too, save for Lilith and now you.”
Perhaps not now, but Jason knew that with Lynford investigating the situation the puzzle would be solved, no matter how long it took.
…
Jason had told her that they would not be returning to his townhome. Instead, they’d go elsewhere for the night until he could be certain it was safe to return. They’d ridden through London, and, had she not been snatched by a strange man and carted off to a wretchedly smelling part of the city, she would have enjoyed this ride immensely. She’d never seen much of London outside the area of St. Bart’s, which was far away from the heart of the city. They cantered through the streets in the black of night, with only the gaslights illuminating their way and only the sound of the horse’s hooves clip-clopping along the road. The city was quiet, peaceful, and beautiful, but also dangerous. At least for her.
And, unfortunately, the peace allowed her too much time with her own thoughts. What precisely was going on? Who was after her and why? She was the most ordinary of girls, so why was someone going to so much trouble to kidnap her? Certainly, if it had something to do with Thornton, it would be Lilith who was in danger instead.
Jason reined his horse in and they stopped in front of a three-story red brick townhome with large white columns. He assisted her down and led her not to the
front door, but instead to the alley that brought them to the back of the house. The servants’ entry, if she wasn’t mistaken.
“Where are we?” she asked.
“In good time.”
It occurred to her as he opened the door that she didn’t precisely know this man any more than she knew the one who’d taken her. Although, he was infinitely more attractive and cleaner. All she knew was that the man who had come with her aunt to get her from St. Bartholomew’s had brought them to Lord Ellis’s house with the promise of protection. And then she’d been kidnapped.
Nerves clawed at her, and she fought the urge to turn heel and run, primarily because she had nowhere to go. And this man had come to rescue her. So she supposed for the time being she would do her very best to trust him. She swallowed hard against her hesitation as she accepted his hand and let him lead her into the house.
He spoke briefly to a wizened old butler who nodded sharply and led them upstairs to a room. Judging from the appearance of the room, with its heavy wood paneling and imposing desk, this was the gentleman of the house’s study. She had the question on her tongue again, to ask where they were, when a man entered the room. A bleary-eyed lady followed behind him.
“Ellis,” the man said.
Neither of their hosts seemed alarmed to have been awakened in the middle of the night.
“We need a place for the evening,” Jason said.
“Of course,” the gentleman said.
Jason took the man’s outstretched hand and shook it, but then stilled. “I’ll chastise you later for dishonoring my cousin.”
“We are to be married in but a handful of weeks,” the lady said. Then, as if she’d only just realized Isabel was standing there, she came forward and clasped her hands. “My apologies for not introducing myself sooner. I am Evelyn Marrington”—she tossed a wide grin to the man next to Jason—“soon to be Lady Somersby.”
“Isabel Crisp,” she said quietly. Frustration and fear mingled inside her, brewing a storm within. Her life had dissolved into turmoil in the last forty-eight hours, and she couldn’t make sense of any of it. She wanted to scream. Yell at everyone to stop. Stop talking. Stop moving. Stop everything until she understood the world again. But she knew no such thing would happen.
At least at St. Bart’s she knew where she had fit into the picture. Out here, she’d been dropped off at a strange man’s house, then kidnapped, then rescued, and now brought to yet another location. Her body and mind were fatigued, and she was filthy. For whatever reason, she was in danger, and these people, who were all but strangers to her, had held out a hand to assist, to protect. She was no ninny and not accustomed to the whims of emotion, but in this moment she felt helpless in the turmoil.
Unwillingly, her eyes filled with tears, and she just wanted to be anywhere else than standing in a stranger’s study crying.
Miss Marrington stepped forward. “I know precisely what you need.” She wrapped an arm around Isabel’s shoulder and led her out of the room.
…
Jason watched the ladies leave the room and felt a twinge of…what? Guilt? Protectiveness? He wasn’t precisely certain what the feeling was, but he couldn’t afford to feel protective of this girl he didn’t even know. At least not more than duty demanded.
“So, who is she?” Somersby asked from behind him.
Jason turned. “Lord Thornton’s niece.”
Somersby’s expression shifted in confusion.
“That is all I was told,” Jason said with a shrug. “Lynford brought her and Thornton’s wife to my house to hide. He said it was possible the girl was in danger, but no one knows why.”
“Do you want a drink?” Somersby asked.
“Desperately.”
“Where is Lynford now?” Somersby moved to the sidebar and poured them each two fingers worth of brandy.
“He and Lady Thornton left Isabel in my care to investigate the root of Isabel’s danger. That and Thornton’s involvement in the recent attacks on Her Majesty.”
Somersby’s brows rose. “Thornton.” He handed Jason a glass. “Isn’t he the man who killed Lynford’s brother in a duel?”
“The very same.” Jason relished the brandy as it burned his throat. This had been a hell of a night.
“So Lynford believes Thornton is somehow involved in all of this? And he swept in and rescued all the women in Thornton’s life?” Somersby chuckled. “That sounds precisely like something Lynford would do.”
Jason exhaled and dropped onto one of the leather chairs.
Somersby followed suit and sat in an adjacent chair.
“Not merely involved, he suspects Thornton of being the would-be assassin.”
Now Somersby leaned forward, primed to jump into motion. “You mean he’s the bastard who tried to kill Evie?”
Several weeks before, Jason’s cousin, Evelyn, had been brought in to pose as Queen Victoria since she bore an uncanny likeness to the young monarch. Her presence had brought to light an assassination plot that they’d initially believed was merely a one-man attack, but had demonstrated it likely went beyond that. And during all that, Somersby and his great burly self had managed to persuade Jason’s cousin, Evie, to fall in love with him. They stood to marry in a few short weeks and, while Jason was pleased that one of his closest friends had seemingly met the one woman who could keep him in line, Jason worried about his favorite cousin being in the midst of their potentially dangerous life.
She’d certainly taken it all in stride, though, as only Evie could. Masquerading as the queen had brought her face-to-face with extreme danger, and she’d scarcely blinked, it seemed.
“Lynford believes there’s a chance that Lady Thornton knows something that could assist in the investigation, but I don’t think that’s it.”
“You believe there is more there?” Somersby asked.
“Yes. She’s a very attractive woman, Lady Thornton, and they have a past.” Jason swallowed the rest of his brandy. “I think the timing of all this rather conveniently lines up with the danger that Isabel suddenly finds herself in.”
“Too many coincidences,” Somersby said.
“Precisely.”
“Lynford will put all the pieces together. This is what he does.”
Jason exhaled slowly. “I don’t suppose you saw Evie’s attacker’s face that night when you fought with him?”
Somersby shook his head. “You know I’m not one to be that careful. I tend to hit first and ask questions later. I think I would have recognized another peer of the realm, but I can’t be certain about that.” He swore. “That could mean this whole conspiracy to kill Victoria goes much deeper than we first thought.”
“Precisely. If Lynford is correct,” Jason said.
Somersby shoved his hand through his hair. “Yes, but when is he not correct? He might be a pain in the arse with his high morality, but he’s excessively smart and, as annoying as it may be, he’s usually right.”
Jason chuckled. “I know. Problem is Potterfield doesn’t see it that way. He’s already warned Lynford about staying away from Thornton’s wife.”
“Potterfield will want proof,” Somersby said.
“I suspect it will take conclusive evidence to convince Potterfield that a peer is responsible for the attempt on Victoria’s life.”
“More than likely, yes, but perhaps we should go and speak to him tomorrow. Potterfield has been willing to see things more my way recently,” Somersby said with a quirk of a grin.
“I told you he would come around,” Jason said. “Potterfield has always liked you.”
Somersby nodded. “That remains to be seen, but I shall take your word as truth.” He took a sip of his brandy, then swirled the glass. “Lynford left you with the girl?”
“Yes, well, Lynford and Lady Thornton left her in my care while they went to dig up information.” He leaned forward in the chair, bracing his elbows on his knees. “In truth, they did not give me very much information, and you know me, I didn’t ask e
nough questions.” Jason shrugged. “Needless to say, a man broke into my house, knocked me out, and took her.”
“I was going to ask about the gash,” Somersby said, motioning to the injury of Jason’s head.
“I was fortunate enough to track her quickly and get her back. But that’s why we came here.” He rubbed at the back of his neck. “I want to make certain my townhome is safe before we return.”
“I know it goes without question, but you were careful in your route here?” Somersby asked. “I’ve had enough of Evie being in danger.”
“Indeed. I did not take a direct route and went nearly an hour out of my way.”
Somersby nodded. “Do you know who took her?”
“No, other than he also tried to snatch her outside of the school where Lynford and Lady Thornton retrieved her. Someone is most assuredly after her.” He leaned back, stretching his legs out in front of him. “I would have stayed to question the brute who had her, but there was no way to ensure her safety while doing so. The man told her that his boss was coming to meet them. I simply knocked him out and we left.”
“Potterfield might have ideas of what to do with her. You can’t be expected to protect someone if you don’t truly know what you’re protecting her from.”
Jason wasn’t so certain.
Lynford had managed to prevent the girl’s first kidnapping attempt, while Jason had been ambushed in his own damned home. He still couldn’t believe he had let that happen.
So yes, at this point he felt strongly about protecting her. If for no other reason than to prove to himself that he could. From the moment he’d been recruited into the Brotherhood, he’d questioned whether he truly belonged. The centuries-old organization prided itself on being built upon the backs of the noblest families in England. They were serious about their bloodlines, and Jason’s were muddy. Granted, no one knew that, but it still had always left him wondering about his worth among the Brotherhood.
At least when his assignments had mostly consisted of tracking or riding, or training others in those areas, he knew he had much to offer. But protecting a woman from an unknown villain… He wasn’t so certain he had the necessary skills. He couldn’t help but think that had she been in the care of another member of the Brotherhood, this kidnapping likely would never have even happened.
