“Good day to you, Mr. Lentworth,” the man, Mr. Christopher Crowley, called, addressing Edward by the fictitious surname he currently used. “It is a fine day, is it not?” The man gave Edward no chance to respond, adding, “The sun is bright, the sky is clear, and the birds sing praises of its majesty. In fact, my lovely wife here says that no finer day has been seen in some time, and I believe she could not be more correct.”
The newlyweds were several years younger than Edward’s thirty years, which made them ignorant in his eyes. He raised the bottle and then took a hefty swig of the brandy. The liquid burned down his throat, providing a feeling of comfort upon which he had come to depend. He wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his shirt, bringing a grunt of disgust from Mrs. Crowley.
“It is a fine day for a drink,” Edward called back. “And even a game or two of chance. Do you wish to join me? Or perhaps your lovely wife?”
Mrs. Crowley gasped, and Edward could not help but chuckle. It was nothing more than the woman deserved; she was a nosy woman who seemed fascinated with telling Edward everything concerning the life of her and her husband. They were not poor, but neither were they of the aristocracy, but it was clear that was exactly what she wanted above anything else.
“I am afraid I must decline,” Mr. Crowley replied. “Priscilla and I will enjoy our walk and then later I plan to read from a book of poetry that was delivered from London today.” The man would have splayed his feathers if he had been a peacock.
Edward had endured enough of the couple. Scratching at the stubble on his face, he said, “I do hope you enjoy your day, Mr. Crowley. And be careful, Mrs. Crowley. Highwaymen steal women at every turn, or so I have heard.”
The woman pressed against her husband in fear, and Edward had to keep from laughing aloud. An approaching carriage made the Crowleys move aside.
“Well,” Edward said in a dismissive tone, “I have a guest arriving, as you can see.”
Mr. Crowley gave him a wide grin. “Perhaps you would like to introduce them…”
“Goodbye, Mr. Crowley,” Edward interrupted, and he chuckled when Mrs. Crowley brought her hand to her breast in a most indignant fashion, as if he should be concerned for her feelings.
He took another drink from the bottle, again using his shirt sleeve to wipe his mouth. At least the liquor washed the bitter taste of bile from his mouth after being forced to listen to the insipid speech of Mr. Crowley.
Although he found Mr. Crowley a bore, he felt nothing but contempt for the man’s wife. Edward did not know the woman beyond the occasional greeting in passing, but the truth of the matter was all women deserved his contempt. It would not be long before her husband came to that same understanding.
The reality was he had no concern as to whether the man learned this truth or not, and he pushed the man from his mind as the carriage turned into the drive beside his cottage. Through a friend, Edward had received word that a man was in need of his services. He was well-skilled in many areas, specializing in thievery and blackmail, but no matter what the man needed, he would have the ability to do it.
A price of his services had yet to be discussed; however, the upfront fee had been agreed upon before this meeting could take place, and that in itself was an indication of the size of the monetary reward Edward would receive.
The carriage driver jumped down from his perch and opened the door. A man appeared, his coat of the best cut, denoting that he was a man of means. Edward did not know his name, nor did he care. As long as he was paid, anonymity worked best for both supplier and client. And anonymity it would be, for the man wore a low hat with a scarf wrapped around his face, his eyes the only part of the man’s body Edward could see.
The man glanced about before approaching Edward.
“A fine day for a man to dream,” Edward said, reciting the code he was given.
“Dreams are for fools and beggars,” came the man’s scripted reply. He looked about once more. “So, you are the one they call The Bandit?”
“That I am,” Edward replied. “Yet, I was not given your name.”
“You may call me Adam.”
“Very well, Adam. My name is Edward. Let us go inside where we can speak in private.”
Adam gave him a nod, and Edward led him into the cottage, a home vastly different from the one in which Edward had grown up. Yet, that life was well behind him. He was not one to live in the past.
“I was told you are a viscount,” Adam said after Edward closed the door. “Is this the estate of a viscount?”
Anger boiled in Edward as he rounded on the man. “This is a cottage. Do you see me in some lavish estate? Now, do you wish to discuss business or my personal affairs?”
The man chuckled, clearly unperturbed by Edward’s outburst. “Business if you please.”
Edward nodded and led the man to a low couch and took the chair across from him. The sitting room was small with an attached kitchen and two bedrooms. It was embarrassing to live in such a hovel, but the man before him could change all that if what he indicated in his letter was true. “You mentioned this girl. Annabel?”
The man leaned forward. “Yes. Annabel Lambert. She resides in a grand estate called Scarlett Hall. Are you familiar with the village of Rumsbury?”
“I have heard of it, though I have never been within an hour’s ride of the place. Tell me more about this young woman and the estate.”
“Scarlett Hall is unlike any estate you have ever seen,” Adam replied. “Think of the largest and grandest home you have ever laid eyes upon and then double that size. Only the estates of the Royal Family are grander.”
“How did this young woman come to be in control of such a place?” Edward asked in wonderment.
The man laughed. “Annabel does not run it. It is her aunt who is in control of it all. The estate is worth a lot of money. Businesses, lands, the reach of that home is great, and I wish a piece of it for myself.”
Brant lifted the bottle to his lips and drank before tipping it toward Adam. “Drink?”
“Thank you, but I must refuse,” Adam replied. “So, concerning the woman.”
“You requested in your letter to have her kidnapped. I am to hold her until the ransom is paid, correct?”
Adam nodded. “Indeed. And there will be a large reward in it for you.”
Edward chuckled. “Large is a relative term to those with and without money. How much is this ransom?”
“Ten thousand pounds.”
Edward had just taken a drink of the brandy, and he choked at the amount. “Are you serious? Surely they do not have that much cash on hand!”
“Secured at the house? Most certainly not. However, the aunt will pay anything for the girl; I am sure of it. It will take some time for them to collect the required sum; that is why you will keep Annabel at this location until the time the payment is due.” He reached inside his coat pocket, produced a document, and handed it to Edward. “It is located just a day’s journey by carriage from Scarlett Hall.”
“You seem to have everything in order,” Edward said, folding the document and setting it aside. “I would say you have been planning this for some time.”
“Everything I do is well-planned,” the man replied with a confident tone. “Now, will you be able to do this for me?”
Edward took a deep breath and considered what he was being asked to do—to take a young woman away from her home and keep her captive. He preferred simple thievery and deceit; they were easier and cleaner. It was not an act he enjoyed, but due to life’s circumstances, he had no choice.
Adam seemed to sense his hesitancy, for he said, “I will give you two thousand pounds when I receive the ransom money.”
“And my upfront fee?” His eyes widened when Adam produced a handful of notes.
“As promised,” he said as he placed the money in Edward’s hand. “Now, how long before you can do this?”
Brant shoved the money into the pocket of his breeches. It was enough to ready himself for wha
t needed to be done. And two thousand pounds? He would be able to return to the life he once lived. The tailored coats, the fine wine, the lavish living, it all created an excitement in him, but he pushed it aside. There was business yet to discuss before he reveled in his winnings.
“This will take some time if I am to do it correctly,” he said. “Kidnapping is no simple matter. I believe a month from now should suffice.”
Adam leapt from his seat. “A month? I thought this could be done in a week!”
“Of course,” Edward replied in a sardonic tone. “I shall simply walk into this Scarlett Hall and carry the woman out through the front door. With the family and servants watching. Surely that plan will not fail.” He leaned forward and glared at the man. “Or perhaps I should wait until the woman is alone, when I have earned her trust. A young lady is often by herself and without witnesses, correct?” He did not care if he sounded as if he was mocking, for the man was a complete fool, but he bit that thought back.
“No, she is not,” Adam said with a sigh. “I suppose you are correct in this matter.”
“I am. But do not worry. I will capture this Annabel and take her away. That you can count on.”
“Then I will wait patiently for you to act.”
Edward walked the man to the door. “This Annabel? She is but eighteen, correct?”
“Yes.”
“And what of her well-being? That is, while she is in my care?”
The man let out a heavy sigh, and as he turned, Edward found he did not like the idea of this man hiding his face. Anonymity was one thing, but it made Edward uncomfortable having no way to identify this Adam if he found the need to do so.
“If you speak of her virtue,” Adam replied, “then claim it for yourself if you so desire. I do not care. In regard to the ransom, once it is paid, she must die. Not before, mind you, for her life may be of use if we must bargain further due to some sort of resistance from Scarlett Hall. But after? I do not care.”
The mention of murder was unsettling, but what choice did he have? “I understand.”
Adam narrowed his eyes at Edward. “This is important. When the money is paid, she will need to die. I cannot have the woman ever seen again.”
Many questions swam in Edward’s mind, but the utmost was, why was this young woman’s death so crucial? Before Edward could voice his thoughts, Adam added, “I have my reasons, and they are of no concern to you.” He smirked as he gave the tiny cottage another look. “Kidnap the girl, claim her virtue if you’d like, do whatever you wish with her. But when the payment comes, you must end her life. This is nonnegotiable.”
The man spoke with such vengeance that Edward, for all his criminal ways, was taken aback. “Did I not say I understood?”
“Good. Once I hear word of her missing, I will see the ransom note delivered. Assume one month for the payment and at least another week in order to send notice that all is well.”
“I will wait for your letter at the destination you gave me,” Edward replied.
Adam walked outside, and Edward had to stop himself from slamming the door behind the man. He returned to the sofa and picked up the brandy bottle once more. Kidnapping. Although he had never committed such an act before, he had no qualms about it now. It was he idea of murder was what he did not like.
However, as he glanced around the room, his stomach ached as he recalled his own follies in life. He had once been a person of worth but he had fallen into despair. His life was all but in ruins, his title the only thing he still possessed. Yet, now there was hope, and it all rested with a woman named Miss Annabel Lambert. A young lady who would bring him happiness, whether she knew it or not.
Chapter Four
Miss Caroline Thrup was a friend to Annabel. Well, perhaps friend was stretching their relationship a bit far, for would a woman who termed her friend as ‘plain’ truly be called a friend? That was exactly what Caroline had done, bruising Annabel’s pride in the process. Not that Annabel had thought much of how she looked, but it was the principal of the matter.
When she told Juliet what Caroline had said, her cousin had marched right over to Caroline’s house to convince her to apologize to Annabel. That was the type of cousin Juliet was. What they had found was Caroline kissing a pillow as if it were a lover, and under threat of exposure, the woman had indeed apologized to Annabel.
Now, whenever Annabel was to encounter Caroline, like tonight at a party the girl’s parents were hosting, thoughts of that night came to mind. Annabel hoped she could maintain proper decorum, for the last time she saw Caroline, she had burst out laughing. And poor Caroline knew exactly what had made her laugh, for she gave Annabel a right glare that should have set her on fire on the spot!
The fact of the matter was that, besides her aunt, Annabel had no one else she would call a friend now that her cousins were gone. They had all been so close, Annabel never considered the need for a friend. Now, she wished she had more than Caroline. At least she had that, she supposed. She could have been without anyone.
Two weeks had passed since Annabel’s parents had left Scarlett Hall on some new adventure. They never told her where they were going, but they certainly had no issue in telling her where they had gone once they returned.
Lord Agar had also left to do whatever he needed to do, or so she assume for she had not seen him since the night he proposed marriage to her. Marriage! The thought made her shiver.
Aunt Eleanor had aided Annabel prepare for the party earlier, helping her into the various layers of clothing. Now she looked at her reflection in the standing mirror, looking this way and that at the lovely pink gown with white embroidered flowers across the bodice and bottom hem of her skirt. It was the most elegant dress she had ever owned, a gift from her aunt for her eighteenth birthday.
Although she and her aunt had gone to Rumsbury the day after her parents left, the new gown she had ordered would not be ready for at least another week, and that was after Aunt Eleanor paid the seamstress extra to have it finished as quickly as possible.
Annabel looked at her reflection once more. What she saw was worry around her eyes; although it was not as prevalent as it had been a fortnight ago. Each day that passed allowed her another day of repose from that awful Lord Agar, and although she was not a confident woman, Annabel did hope that her situation would improve. And soon.
However, she took notice of something more, something new, in that reflection. The dress brought out the color in her cheeks, and for the first time in her life, she felt beautiful. Let that horrid Caroline say she was plain this night!
But no. It was hard to imagine she was beautiful. Unlike her cousins, no gentleman of worth had paid her any attention before, why would they do so now? In fact, it seemed that only men who were scoundrels or who wished Annabel to be the object of their lust looked her way.
“Perhaps I am cursed,” she murmured. “I will probably either end up a spinster or be married to an old man like Lord Agar.” The thought made her shiver despite the heat of the night.
“You look wonderful.”
Annabel turned to see her aunt standing in the doorway. She had been so engrossed in her thoughts, she had not heard the door open.
“I knocked, but there was no reply,” Aunt Eleanor said. “It is time to leave. Are you ready?”
Annabel nodded. “Yes, Auntie,” she said with a smile. “I am ready.”
Her aunt walked over and stood beside her in the reflection of the mirror. “You have grown into a beautiful woman,” she whispered in Annabel’s ear. “Tonight will be your first party as a woman, your debut shall we say, and you will begin a path on which you will meet many men worthy of you.” She walked over and collected a shawl from the top of the chest at the end of the bed. “And one of those men will be a man with whom you will one day fall in love. Perhaps even marry.”
What her aunt said was kind, but Annabel knew better. “It is nice of you to say so, but I must be honest. I fear that no man will even glance my way. I
do not understand why, for I do not think I am hideous to look at. Yet, not one man of worth, one who is kind, has taken notice of me thus far.”
Her aunt sighed and took hold of her hands. “I shall tell you a secret only a few women know. I trust you will not tell anyone.”
Annabel smiled. A secret with which her aunt would entrust her would hold much importance. “I will never tell a single soul.”
“Good. Now, it is very important that you understand that, as a lady, it is an honor for any man to approach you let alone speak with you. The honor is his, not yours, for you should be held in the highest esteem. As long as you keep this in mind, you will find men will respect you much more than they respect women who titter and flutter their eyelashes at every gentleman who looks their way. Men will not admit this, of course, for most of them—gentlemen included—can be quite uncouth. But you do not want that type of man anyway, now do you?”
Annabel giggled and hugged her aunt. “I suppose I do not,” she replied. “And thank you. I will certainly keep what you say in mind.”
Her aunt gave her a strange forlorn look as she held her at arm’s length. Then she shook her head and said, “We must be on our way or we will miss the party.”
***
The ballroom at the Thrup estate had cream and white walls. The room was lit by two large chandeliers and a sconce between numerous paintings depicting Lord Thrup engaged in various hunts. Caroline had confided in Annabel that her father had never been hunting in his life despite the subject matter of the paintings. Apparently, the man feared horses to such an extent that he refused to ride, so rather than going hunting himself, Lord Thrup paid a man to bring him pelts to claim as his own. Everyone knew the truth, but none made mention of it for reasons Annabel did not understand.
It seemed every member of the ton within a hundred miles of the Thrup home was in attendance, or so Annabel suspected when she entered and looked down at the sea of heads that filled the ballroom. Some faces she recognized from parties her aunt had given over the years, but many more were people she had never seen before. Everyone was dressed to the nines. The women wore an array of colors—all various shades of red, blue, green, and gold—and the men wore tailcoats of blue, black, and brown, their cravats perfectly tied and the buckles on their shoes polished to a gleam.
Silent Dreams Page 3
