Kidnapping the Duke

by Killarney Sheffield

  “I shall be glad to help with anything, my dear.”

  Felicity leaned forward and confided her risky idea, after which the earl nodded.

  “I shall be pleased to help you. Meet me at Hawthorn Park tomorrow afternoon at two o’clock.” He stood with a crack of decrepit bones and kissed her hand. “Until tomorrow, my lady.”

  Chapter Twenty-five

  William tarried over breakfast their first morning home awaiting Felicity. Both had been tired from the long journey from the hunting lodge, so he had let her retire early and went to sleep in his own bed. It took the uttermost restraint, since he had gotten used to sleeping with her curled against his chest. Waking up to her scent every morning had become addicting. In fact, every waking moment he was consumed by her. The way her eyes sparkled when she laughed, the sweet scent of apples and cinnamon lingering in her wake, and the soft lilt to her voice left him a slave to her presence.

  His soft chuckle made Henry lift an enquiring brow as he brought the latest newspaper. “Is something amusing this morn, your grace?”

  “I just realized, Henry, I am hopelessly and madly in love with my wife.”

  The butler’s brows rose. “Well, in that case, congratulations are in order, your grace.” His face reddened. “And might I say, well done, my lord. Your choice is heartily approved by all in your employ. A lovelier bride one cannot imagine.”

  William tipped his head. “Why thank you, Henry.”

  “You are most welcome, your grace.” With a light step the butler retreated.

  William couldn’t help chuckling again. Yes, it seemed Felicity had charmed his whole staff. He was not in the least surprised by it either. His wife was not in any way a typical noble woman, and he realized he loved her for it. He had courted many ladies before her, not as many as Christian by far, yet enough to be bored by the usual debutantes churned out each year by the best finishing schools in England and France.

  The rustle of her skirts broke him from his fond reverie. His breath caught in his throat when she breezed into the room, caught the heel of her slipper on a lose thread on the carpet and stumbled. Grace was something she did not possess, but a down-to-earth persona oozed from her. Every day they spent together was like chumming with his best school friend, though she was definitely far better looking.

  “Good morning, Felicity, did you sleep well?”

  She smiled at him, one of those shy school girl grins which softened his heart. “I slept well, William, and you?”

  The footman filled her tea cup and he waited until the man left before answering. “I tossed and turned all night. My body missed yours beside.”

  A pink tinge along her cheek bones proved she was flattered by his sentiments, but she sipped her tea in silence.

  “I have a meeting this morning, but I thought we could spend the afternoon together, perhaps take a spin around the park in my gig? There will be few days left of nice weather before we shall have to travel to my country house for the worst months.”

  Her lips puckered as she set down her tea cup. “I am sorry, my lord, I have plans this afternoon.”

  “Oh.” He waited until a plate of coddled eggs and toast along with a small fruit bowl was set before her. “What delights have you arranged for the afternoon?”

  Tight-lipped, she fussed with her meal for a moment. “I was invited to a school chum’s for tea.”

  “I see.” He observed her take a small bite of her meal and chew without looking up. Something was amiss. She seemed cool upon their return to the city. Did it have something to do with her afternoon tea? Was she ill at ease to go out in public with all the public speculation about their marriage and incidents before and after? “You do not have to go out if you have no wish to.”

  She glanced at him. “I know.”

  “People will cease their gossip as soon as some other scandal captures their imaginations.”

  “Yes, the ton are remarkably fickle.”

  He puzzled her reaction. Something was definitely wrong. “I let you be last night because I did not want to over tire you after such a long carriage ride.”

  “That was very thoughtful of you, William.” She gave him a warm smile and returned to her meal.

  “Well, then I suppose I should be going. I will see you at dinner this evening.” He got up and gave her a kiss on the cheek before leaving for his meeting.

  * * *

  That afternoon he took Spartan out with the gig. The high-strung stallion needed more exercise than he seemed to get these days. He held the prancing sorrel in check until they arrived at Hawthorn Park. After finding a little-used path, he loosened the reins and let the horse run. Ten minutes later he had taken the spice out of the animal, and Spartan settled down to a perky trot. As he guided the horse onto the path parallel to a more populated trail, he spied Felicity and her maid sitting on a bench. He reined in, about to hail her, when an older gentleman drew up in a smart phaeton. His coachman stepped down, helped Felicity into the contraption and the maid to the coach seat, and then they moved on. Curious William drew Spartan in behind them and dropped back at a discrete distance.

  The mark on the crest was none other than the Carivale cross draped with holly vines. He surmised the older gentleman to be the elder Lord Carivale. Though he had never met him personally, he had seen the man on occasion at a meeting or social function. What was Felicity doing with the sire of her nemesis and would-be killer? The two appeared deep in conversation. Felicity laughed at something his lordship said and then he kissed her hand. After a full round of the park, Lord Carivale dropped Felicity and her maid back at the bench and rolled from the park.

  William sat in the shadows lost in the mystery of the development, as his own coachman arrived and handed Felicity and her maid into the coach. They rolled from the park in the direction of his townhouse. Felicity lied to him. There had been no tea with a school chum. The question was why?

  Without his usual finesse he slapped the reins on Spartan’s back. The horse tossed his head and snorted. William eased his grip. “Sorry, boy.” He headed home, lost in thought, mulling over every inane possibility his mind conjured. By the time he turned Spartan’s care over to one of the stable boys and went upstairs to wash up, it was time for dinner.

  Upon arriving in the dining room, he found Felicity already seated. “How was your tea this afternoon, Felicity?”

  “It was very nice, thank you.”

  He noticed the slight shake of her hand before her fingers curled around the steam of her wine glass. “I suppose it was a little awkward at first?”

  Her lips pursed and then she lifted the glass. “No, not at all, we had a lovely chat.”

  She took a sip of her wine without meeting his gaze. Should he call her bluff? “I took Spartan for some exercise in Hawthorn Park this afternoon myself.”

  Her gaze flitted to his and she set down the glass. “Oh, how lovely.”

  The servants entered to start the dinner service. They ate in silence for a while.

  William blew on a spoonful of soup. “Perhaps we can go for a stroll around the park tomorrow afternoon?”

  Her spoon clinked against the side of her bowl before she steadied it. “I was thinking of going shopping tomorrow. I am in need of a new pair of half boots to replace the ones ruined at the hunting lodge. I am not sure how long I will be. You know how we ladies are when shopping.”

  “I see,” he mumbled. He would follow her on the morrow and see just what she was up to.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Felicity rolled over the next morning and ran her hand over the cool indent left from William’s presence. They made love the night before and, while she enjoyed it, it seemed different than before. He gave the impression he was guarded and distracted when he kissed her body and brought her to heady fulfillment. Was he feeling the judging eyes of their peers? Was he rethinking their marriage in the face of it? Possibly. Yet what choice did he have? Perhaps her project with Lord Carivale was a mistake. It would s
urely put both of them more so in the public eye than they already were. Brushing the thought aside, she rose to dress. She had a busy morning ahead and it would not do to tarry.

  William was not at breakfast when she arrived below stairs. It was just as well, she mused, for she was not up to answering any questions. She ate in brooding silence and then summoned the coach to take her to her meeting place.

  When she pulled up on Wickingham Street, she was pleased to see Lord Carivale’s coach there. She waited for her footman to set the step and then descended to the cobblestones.

  It took a moment longer for her elderly companion to manage, but he soon joined her, looking up at the large building with boarded-up windows before them. “Well, Lady Lancastor, what say you to it?”

  She pondered the busy high end street, just a mere block from the well-to-do shopping district. “The location is handy. Can we look about inside?”

  “Of course, of course. My man of business is already inside. Come along.” Lord Carivale extended his arm and she placed her hand on the back of it. With his hobbling gait, it appeared he needed more guidance than she, but she followed along.

  The earl’s man of business opened a set of glass double doors into a large open floorplan. Two curving stairways on either wall led up to a railed mezzanine, supported by Greek style pillars.

  “Oh, my lord, it is perfect.” Felicity clapped her hands with glee.

  “Before you decide, perhaps we should take a look at the back room.” The old gentleman set off for a door in the rear of the room.

  She followed, hopelessly in love with the abandoned building already. The back she discovered was almost as large as the front and had a massive hearth and stone oven. With a little work, she decided, it would do very nicely for her purposes. “How long do you think it will take to clean and furnish the place?”

  Lord Carivale stroked his thin beard in thought. “I can have workers here tomorrow with all the necessary supplies. Mayhap a week, I think, to make it suitable.”

  “Perfect. See it done then. I shall go shopping this afternoon for the decorating touches I have in mind.”

  “Are you sure I cannot hire a designer for you, my dear?”

  She patted Lord Carivale’s hand. “Oh no, my lord, you have done too much already and besides, I should like to decorate it myself.”

  He chuckled. “Ah, I forget how eager you young ones are when it comes to your little projects. Very well. Shall I send out the invitations for the first night of the harvest week then?”

  “Oh please do.” Felicity bit her lip wondering if she was doing the right thing. “I do hope my husband will not be too angry at me for deciding his path for him.”

  Lord Carivale tut-tutted. “I do hope for your sake he accepts your decision with the grace and well-meaning it was intended, my dear.” He turned back and headed for the door. “Now if you will excuse me, this old fox needs his afternoon nap. It is bothersome to fall asleep in your tea you know.”

  Felicity escorted him to the door. “Thank you again, my lord, for all your help.”

  “Think nothing of it, my dear. ’Tis the least I could do after all the troubles the get of my loins have caused. My man Jarret will settle the paperwork with you.” He kissed her hand. “’Till we meet again, Lady Lancastor.”

  After Jarret handed her the paperwork and left, she stood admiring the building. Yes, it would do perfectly. There was nothing to do now, but visit the furniture and lace maker and then pick out some trendy figurines and decorations. The rest would be taken care of by the army of workers the earl would hire to make the place fit for nobility.

  By the time she returned home late that afternoon, her feet were sore and she was exhausted. Pleading a headache she retired to her room with a dinner tray. She was curled up on the settee in front of a crackling fire reading, when a knock sounded on her bedchamber door. Lizzy had taken a new gown downstairs to be ironed, so Felicity bade whoever it was to enter.

  William stepped into the room. “I missed you at dinner, Felicity.”

  “I am tired tonight and thought to have a simple light meal in my room.”

  He gave her a stiff look. “Rough day shopping, my dear?”

  “You would not believe how difficult it is to find a decent pair of boots in this city.” Though she kept her tone light, the duke’s lips thinned. “I am feeling fine, my lord, simply tired.”

  “It has not been long since your fever. You must take it easier.” He paused a moment and his gaze narrowed. “Are you with child perhaps?”

  Stunned she stared at him a moment before she managed to loosen her tongue. “No, I am not with child.” She could not tell if he was disappointed, or relieved by her admission. “Though I have given the idea some thought.”

  He took the seat beside her. “And?”

  She turned her gaze to the fire’s flames. “I hope to bear you an heir someday, but now would be too soon, do you not think?”

  “No. I would look forward to a child, Felicity.”

  She frowned. “But we are only just getting to know each other, and there are so many things to think on yet.”

  The mantle clock ticked away the silence.

  “So, you are turning me away from your bed this night then, my dear?”

  She shrugged, far too embarrassed to admit she wanted him to make love to her body, headache be damned.

  He stood. “Then I shall leave you be.” His footsteps crossed to the door.

  A tear trickled down her cheek. He was angry at her rejection. She wanted to call him back, but had not the courage to voice it.

  The door opened. “I shall be gone a week to see to the setup of my country house and choose the foals for sale. Goodnight, Felicity.” The door clicked shut and his footsteps receded down the hall to the stairs.

  A whole week without him in her bed was a terrible thought, but it would give her the freedom to put her plan in motion.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  A week away from his wife was almost William’s undoing. Sleep eluded him at night without her soft curves beside him, and his days seemed endless and lonely without her laughter. A full day earlier than planned he pushed Spartan hard to make it back to London. It was late afternoon by the time he rode up to the townhouse. Leaving the horse in the care of the stable lad, he entered.

  The house was quiet. He headed to the parlor to inform his wife of his return, but found the room empty. A quick search of the library, dining room and his study proved fruitless. Taking the steps two at a time he headed upstairs. His knock on Felicity’s door went unanswered. Disgruntled and disappointed, he went to his room to bath and change out of his dusty attire. He summoned his valet as he stripped off his riding clothes.

  The man arrived looking harried and apologetic. “I am sorry to be tardy, your grace, but it seems there is no one about today. I had to get the scullery maid to heat the water for your bath, as the houseboy is missing.”

  William scowled as two footmen arrived with the water from his bath. “Where in bloody hell is everyone? Do I not pay my servants to be here even in the event I am not?”

  “Yes, your grace.” The valet agreed with an overly enthusiastic bob of his head.

  “Where is Henry?” William groused stepping into the tub of heated water.

  “He is out with Lady Lancastor, your grace.”

  William stared at the valet as if he had grown two heads. “He is what? Whatever for? For God’s sake, he is my butler, not my wife’s escort.”

  The valet blanched. “Yes, your grace. Apparently her grace needed his help and did gather a few servants as well to assist her today.”

  “To do what?” William snapped irritated he had rushed home to see Felicity and settle things between them, only to find her gone and his house out of sorts.

  “To help set up her place on Wickingham Street.”

  William stopped soaping his head. “Her what? She has a home on Wickingham?”

  “I do not know the dwelling, your g
race.”

  Dunking his head William scrubbed the soap out and scrambled from the tub, much to his valet’s chagrin.

  “Your grace, you are soaking the Persian rug!”

  “Get me a damned towel and some clean clothes,” William barked.

  The valet did as told.

  William dried off and then yanked a clean shirt over his head and tugged on a pair of trousers. Leaving off the offered cravat, he pulled on a pair of stockings and boots before heading down stairs, calling for a fresh horse.

  Once mounted, he headed for Wickingham Street. His fury built as he prodded the fresh grey gelding faster down the cobblestones. How dare Felicity purchase her own place, and with his own blunt too! They were man and wife until death do them part, and he meant to honor that. After all, they agreed to set the past behind them. Would the woman ever forgive his father and let him be in peace? It appeared not. As if the tongues of London were not wagging enough, now his wife moving out of his townhouse would surely set them afire.

  He guided the horse around the corner onto Wickingham Street and slowed it to a more sedate pace. He scanned the buildings on either side of the crowded thoroughfare. Upscale shops instead of homes gave him pause. He glanced at the upper levels, where some of the shopkeepers lived above their livelihoods. Was his wife in one of them? Then he spied his coach in front of a window-filled building.

  Pulling up his horse he tossed a loitering boy a shilling to hold him, and he dismounted. The sign above the entrance proclaimed the place to be ‘The Turnip Pot.’ Curious, he pushed open the double doors. A large open space was filled with lace-draped tables, each graced with a candle in a silver holder. Greek-like pillars, wound with garlands of gold and silver ribbons and sprigs of dark green holly, lent a festive air to the room. His gaze travelled up to the mezzanine, where more tables and decorations abounded.