Saying I Do to the Scoundrel

by Liz Tyner

  He didn’t know what was wrong with him, but he didn’t want her running the streets searching out someone who would actually agree with her plan and somehow separate her from her chaperon and abuse her. Apparently the drink hadn’t clouded his mind as much as he’d thought.

  ‘You know you will have to tell me the particulars.’ He rubbed his hand across his eyes, wishing he were rested. He thought it ironic he would always feel exhausted and still have to fight to sleep.

  ‘Are we in agreement?’ She stretched her arm out and for a moment he expected her to touch his hand. He tensed. He wanted no closeness with her. Something inside himself warned him not to let her touch him.

  ‘Surely it’s not someone of aristocratic birth you would want kidnapped?’

  And for the first time, she looked guilty.

  ‘That’s frowned upon, you know.’ He could not believe he was having this conversation. Only his curiosity kept him speaking to her. He’d never abducted anyone. He’d spent too many years keeping his distance from people. The last thing he’d do was capture another person whom he might have to feed and water occasionally.

  She nodded. ‘I said I had a personal reason and I assure you it’s a just one.’

  ‘Someone in the royal family?’ he asked, eyebrows lifted.

  ‘Do not jest. Anyone could have listened to what I’ve said and figured out who I wanted kidnapped.’ She interlaced her fingers, letting them rest on the table.

  He paused, scowling. In this strange dream he was having he must have slept through one of the important parts.

  She touched her chest and leaned towards him. ‘Me.’ She spoke softly. ‘I need you to kidnap me.’

  Chapter Three

  He moved his head sideways, but his eyes remained on her. He stated, ‘You’re kidnapping yourself for the money?’

  He saw the prim set of her shoulders. The clothing she wore, too much warmth for the weather, hadn’t been cobbled together by a person saving on expense. The ridiculous lace around the edge of her cloak and her ribbons didn’t come without a price.

  ‘Yes. It’s only a pittance of what I should have. My stepfather’s taken it all.’

  ‘You believe he’ll pay the ransom?’ He was more than curious. He was interested.

  ‘Yes. He wants me to marry his nephew, Fillmore.’ She leaned closer. ‘My stepfather does just as his nephew says. They are closer than a father and a son.’ She waved her gloved hand.

  She shook her head. ‘Fillmore believes I should be his bride. I cannot take a step when he is in the house without watching for him and he is getting more and more determined every day. Rooms are being painted for him and furniture reupholstered. When that is finished next month, he is planning to move into the house—as my husband. I must be gone before then.’

  He eyed the chit. ‘All I need to do is kidnap you—but you will be willingly kidnapped. Secure the ransom. Take my half and we part friends.’

  Her eyes flickered when he said half.

  ‘How old are you?’ he asked.

  She backed away. ‘I am old enough.’

  ‘You’re on the shelf.’ He saw the quick dart of her eyes and the firming of her lips. She adjusted her gloves.

  ‘I have accepted one marriage proposal—’ She frowned at him. ‘I accepted a proposal which enraged my stepfather. I met a man when visiting my cousin. I thought the man a bit forward when he indicated he wanted to marry me the second time we’d spoken. But he was of decent family and excellent reputation. Bookish. A bit older than I had hoped for, but I saw no reason to decline.’ She gave a wistful smile. ‘I thought him sweet.’

  She shrugged. ‘My stepfather wouldn’t listen. He refused the match. Refused to let me call on anyone for a year or more. Had a load of manure delivered to the man’s door. He only lets me go about now because he’s encouraged by his efforts with Fillmore.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘This morning I’m buying hair ribbons so Fillmore might be impressed.’ She gave her bonnet a flick.

  Bending forward towards Brandt, she moved the bottle aside with the back of her hand. ‘My stepfather is not a kind man. Do not forget. If you have to hit him—’

  ‘It makes me no difference.’ Brandt put the bottle back in place.

  ‘It would if you were in my shoes. He expects gratitude on my part for his extreme kindness in allowing me to marry Fillmore. Stepfather says to be Fillmore’s wife is the most noble of goals and Fillmore is the best that can be found. I’m sure he’s not the best, even when comparing him with slimy things found under rocks.’

  ‘I don’t care if Fillmore is a snake or a saint.’ He didn’t. What she did with her life, or who walked through her memories later was not his concern.

  ‘Nor do I care as long as Fillmore’s far away from me. At first, when my stepfather sent a maid to summon me to see Fillmore, I would find him in the shadows outside my room waiting. Now Fillmore summons me himself and he barely knocks before the door opens into my bedchamber. He looks at me and my skin feels tainted.’

  Katherine watched as the scoundrel paused, then took a swallow and he didn’t speak.

  He moved the chair back a bit to stretch his legs and she noticed he was careful not to touch her. She thought he sorted the plan in his mind.

  He stood and she looked up at him and placed her hands in her lap. His size overpowered her. Her heart skipped a beat. But, that was why she had chosen him. She needed a man who could threaten with his presence. Who looked capable of violence.

  This man appeared suited to danger. The darkness about him didn’t stop with his clothes or his face. It seeped from the air he breathed. She couldn’t really examine him as she would have liked. If she tried, something tickled in her throat and she felt warmth in her chest, then she had to turn away.

  ‘I would need one more thing, of course, to agree.’ He stopped and gave a smile even a mother wouldn’t believe.

  She waited.

  ‘I would need to know the lady’s name.’

  ‘My name is Miss Katherine Wilder.’ She aligned her bonnet. ‘Miss Katherine Louisa May Wilder.’ She waited, the room silent.

  ‘As the one risking so much, on merely a lady’s word, you understand if I cannot agree to the methods used in our business, I will respectfully decline and never see or hear you again.’

  She made a clucking noise. ‘I agree as I do not see how you will be able to fault me in any way. I assure you, I have read many novels and have learned much about crime. I did not lie when I claimed I have the mind of a master criminal. This will be as easy as picking an apple from a tree.’

  ‘I believe a lady named Eve said something similar once.’

  ‘Yes.’ Katherine regarded him patiently. ‘Since I do want to be tossed out, you’ve nothing to complain about.’

  ‘No. No complaints at all.’ He crossed his bare arms in front of his chest.

  She averted her eyes again. The man should put on his shirt.

  ‘Tell me more.’ Brandt tapped his fingertips of his right hand against the muscles of his left arm.

  She dropped her eyes.

  ‘Continue.’ He kept tapping.

  She tugged her cloak around herself.

  ‘Are you chilled?’ he asked, his voice holding the innocence of a rector in church. ‘Wearing a cloak on such a warm day?’

  She didn’t answer immediately, but pulled at the edge of her glove. ‘I wish,’ she continued, ‘to be abducted from in front of Almack’s on Sunday morning.’

  She heard a strange noise from his lips and glared at him. She was certain he tittered. Men were not meant to titter.

  ‘Surely Tuesday or Wednesday night would be better. I can’t remember which night the lovelies race to Almack’s.’

  ‘It would be my preference as well.’ She kept her chin high and used the same distance she used when scolding a maid. ‘But the carriages swarm the street. They’d block the way as we left.’ She leaned a bit towards Brandt and lowered her voice. ‘To have a successful plan one m
ust anticipate all possibilities.’ Then she stood and her voice regained its command. ‘I am only about with my stepfather on Sunday morning. He insists we attend services as a show of our perfection. Besides, it’s the only time he doesn’t have a weapon at hand.’

  ‘A weapon?’ His brows furrowed. ‘That’s something I might need to take into consideration.’

  ‘I did for you.’ She made a fist. ‘I want him to be frightened as well. I want him to think that, in one moment, a blackguard could take him away.’

  ‘Why didn’t you choose to have him robbed and killed?’

  ‘They don’t hang well-born women,’ she spoke with a bit of a sniff. ‘But I wouldn’t wish to be the first and, while I don’t love the man, I can’t be responsible for his murder.’ Her eyebrows rose. ‘If you wish to throw in a few punches his way, I would not suggest more than six. He’s spindly.’ She held up one finger. ‘But absolutely no blood. Our laundress has no time for frivolities.’

  ‘How many punches would be the exact number you prefer?’

  ‘Let me see your fists.’

  He held up a hand, fingers closed.

  She examined his knuckles. ‘Perhaps you should not punch him. He’s thin, old and, well, I don’t know if he could survive.’

  ‘What if he decides to protect you and I must throttle him?’ Brandt lifted his eyebrows.

  ‘He will not.’ She gently shook her head. She tried not to let her face show Brandt how inept he was in the ways of crime. ‘Simply follow the plan. Don’t worry about anything else. I will be carried away by you and you will not deviate from my instructions.’

  He shut his eyes, waited a few seconds and then opened them.

  ‘This is life or death,’ she snapped out the words.

  He shook his head and moved back to the chair. He again propped an elbow on the table and rested his cheek on it. ‘Continue. I’m listening.’

  The raptness in his face didn’t fool her. He already overacted. She lowered her eyes and used one finger to touch the table and moved as if following the path of the carriage. ‘I’ll pretend illness to get my stepfather to stop the carriage. You’ll be waiting by the bookseller’s with a gig—out of sight.’ She indicated an intersection, touching the table. ‘When the carriage stops, you’ll wrench open the door and pull me out.’ She raised her eyes to his. ‘My carriage is not attended by anyone foolhardy enough to risk the plan by attacking you, but you may bring a discharged weapon to make sure of our success.’

  ‘I must have a gig and a weapon.’ He held out an open palm.

  She shook her head. ‘You may reimburse yourself from the ransom money. If—’ she leaned closer ‘—you purchase the necessary tools instead of stealing them.’

  ‘I must have blunt.’ He waved an arm around the room. ‘You see nothing to sell. And I’ll not steal a pistol or a horse.’ He again put his palm out. ‘No one would have a bit of trouble fashioning a rope necklace for me.’

  She leaned back and reached inside her cloak. She took a purse from the depth of her clothing, but paused before handing it to him. ‘It’s taken me four years to get this much.’ She raked her eyes over him. ‘Don’t squander it.’

  He took the leather, used a finger to loosen the ties and looked inside. He frowned and raised his eyes. ‘I suppose this will buy a knife and a saddle.’

  ‘You’ll have to manage.’

  ‘I can cut back on my own costs.’ His eyes had an exaggerated mournfulness. ‘But the poor lightskirts will have hungry children.’

  She reached to snatch the purse from his hands, but he moved the leather pouch aside quickly. She lowered her hand.

  ‘I will contact you soon to give you an exact date and make sure you’ve purchased the supplies.’ She said each word carefully. ‘Please be home in the mornings as it is the only time I can easily move from my house without any suspicion.’

  ‘You don’t ask much.’ He spoke so quietly he almost mouthed the words to himself.

  ‘I will need to be housed somewhere as I await the ransom.’ She looked around and shook her head at the same time. ‘You’ll need to find other quarters and you must always act as a gentleman in my presence.’

  He raised his brows and gave one long blink at her.

  ‘I will expect you to be thinking of how best to collect the funds, although I see no great difficulty.’ She looked at him, checking to see if he would disagree. ‘You’ll need to suggest a place not easily ambushed. I’m thinking you could watch my stepfather after he receives the ransom request and relieve him of the purse as soon as he has it and before he expects contact.’ She squared her shoulders. ‘Be prepared to repeat your plans to me when I return as I want to make sure we both are in complete understanding.’

  ‘Perhaps you should write this down for me.’ He raised his chin, his eyes bland.

  ‘Perhaps you should pay attention.’

  She barely took a breath before she continued. ‘By Sunday, I will bring—’ she dropped her eyes ‘—a few personal items I will be needing and that will not be missed and I will expect them to be stored—safely—’ she glared at him ‘—in your residence until I am kidnapped and the ransom is procured and I can leave. Of course, you will need to spirit me away once we have our funds.’

  Then she looked at him. She smiled and her lips parted, and she could already feel the success of her plan. She would not let him ruin it.

  ‘If you should even think of double crossing…’ She indicated the door with a nod. ‘The woman outside will turn you in to the magistrate.’

  ‘Are you sure the men in your life would not assist you to leave?’

  She clasped her gloved hands in front of her and spoke, stepping back. ‘Thank you for your time and I will send someone around with a parcel of soap as a memento of our conversation.’

  He picked up the bottle and blew across the opening to make the low, whistling sound.

  Miss Wilder captured his attention again as she brushed at her sleeve without thinking, and spoke. ‘Sir, I hope after we complete our business you use the money to find an honest endeavour.’

  With those words, she rose as if leaving her subjects. He didn’t even stand as a courtesy.

  The door closed softly when she left. Brandt walked to the door, took the key from the wall and locked the latch. That would teach him to come home with enough drink in him to splash up to his ears.

  He refused to get bathing water, or his razor.

  He settled back in his chair and put his elbow on the table, and made a fist but extended two fingers and put his forehead against them.

  Miss Wilder solicited him for a crime, the likes of which he had never even contemplated before, and then chided him to find honest work.

  And she made him feel something—something different than a peaceful drunkenness or the black crevasse of desolation. He preferred their companionship.

  He took another swallow. Then, he pressed back, again raising the front legs of his chair off the floor, trying to recapture a moment of sitting unconcerned and relaxed. But the image of the woman standing at the door, condemnation in her eyes, would not go away. Anger rolled throughout his body and he could almost hear emotion rumbling in his ears.

  He moved, letting the front legs of his chair jar the floor, and stood. Grabbing his hat from the peg, he pulled it on so it covered much of his head. ‘Not as much sense as a tavern wench,’ he muttered, not knowing if he talked of himself or her. He clutched his frock coat and slipped it over his bare arms. He unlocked the door and buttoned the coat as he hurried, hoping he could still catch sight of the bonnet. He wanted to know where she lived.

  He wouldn’t let Miss Wilder fashion a noose for him. He’d at least select his own rope for the hangman.

  Chapter Four

  As soon as Katherine turned the corner and knew she was away from the windows of his home, she grabbed the arm of the older woman and pulled her to a stop. She gulped in breaths of air, concentrating on the movement of her lungs. ‘You must
steady me as my knees are trembling.’

  Mrs Caudle put a hand on Katherine’s arm, and squeezed. ‘All of you is trembling.’

  Katherine closed her eyes, straightened her back and then looked into Mrs Caudle’s face. ‘I will not let Augustine destroy me. I will use him to grow stronger and then I’ll use that strength against him.’

  ‘You are as wilful as he is.’

  Katherine shrugged away the talk of her stubbornness and they crossed the street, moving towards the cared-for shops.

  The older woman kicked at a dried pod of horse dung. ‘You’ve got to move from your stepfather soon or Fillmore will have you in his grasp.’

  A carriage rumbled past, drowning the words.

  ‘I know,’ Katherine spoke. ‘And he is determined that Gussie be sent to a madhouse. As soon as I get the ransom, the very next time he tells you to take her away, do so. I will have a house for the three of us.’

  She shook her head. ‘Gussie’s his own blood and he wants her put away.’

  ‘He thinks she’s damaged because she doesn’t speak and hides from him,’ Mrs Caudle said. ‘But since she first toddled about, he would throw something at her or shout when she got in his way. She’s much better when he’s away, and he refuses to let her leave the house. I don’t know if it’s because he’s afraid someone will see her and think his blood tainted.’

  ‘Or because he thinks I will run away with her.’ Katherine nodded, stepping faster to hurry them past the windows. ‘We must separate her from Augustine. Otherwise, he’ll likely put her in St. Mary’s and she’ll be locked away.’

  ‘The sooner she gets away, the better,’ the governess said. ‘Another footman left the house this week because Augustine threw a dish at him.

  ‘If that wastrel doesn’t do this…’ Katherine tugged at her bonnet ties ‘…I will handle the kidnapping on my own. I just need someone who looks like a rogue and he does. I’ll prop him up if I have to. Augustine has to believe it is true.’