by Anna Bradley
That was another thing she hadn’t known about herself. Lucy shifted a little, squirming on her chair. Her body was alive with dozens of unfamiliar twinges and aches, each one more delicious than the last. She flushed as she recalled all the places Ciaran had touched her with his hands, his fingers.…
His mouth.
He’d given her so much last night. Pleasure, tenderness, that playfulness that was his alone. Then afterward, he’d held her in his arms, so closely his warmth became her own. To wake up every morning that way, with his arms wrapped around her, the gentle fall of his breath against her neck…
Tears burned behind Lucy’s eyes, but she squeezed them shut before any could fall. She didn’t want Ciaran to find her red-eyed and sniffling when he returned. It would hurt him to see it, and one broken heart between the two of them was enough.
She owed him that much, at least.
How could she have taken everything Ciaran offered her last night without sparing a single thought for tomorrow? How selfish she was, how thoughtless! She hadn’t been thinking of Ciaran at all. She’d simply wanted him for herself, and so she’d taken him, knowing he didn’t belong to her. That he’d never belong to her.
She knew him—far too well to persuade herself he would have succumbed to her awkward advances last night if he’d known she still didn’t intend to marry him. Even now she could hardly believe she’d succeeded in seducing him. She’d touched and kissed him and he…he…
Well, he’d touched and kissed her back.
She could marry Ciaran, just as he’d asked her to. She could return to Buckinghamshire and become his wife, and even then, he’d still never really be hers. No matter how much she wanted him, she couldn’t steal his chance at a love that took his breath away—a love that lived in every corner of his heart.
Before they’d become lovers, they’d been friends. What kind of friend would she be if she snatched his freedom away from him? Not the kind of friend Lucy had always promised herself she’d be.
No kind of friend at all.
She had to convince him a marriage between them would be a mistake—that she only loved him in the way a friend loved another friend. As much as it would hurt her, she had to try and persuade him she’d rejected his proposals because she didn’t care about him enough to marry him.
Not because she cared too much.
The idea of that discussion made her want to dive into the bed and pull the coverlet over her head. But she was no coward. As soon as he returned she’d say what she had to say, and pray he’d listen to her this time.
If he ever did return. Why hadn’t he returned?
He’d said he’d be back soon. In Lucy’s opinion “soon” meant in less than half an hour. She wasn’t quite sure how long he’d been gone, but it had been long enough for her to bathe, drink a cup of tea, take a few nibbles of toast and dress herself.
Lucy paced around the room for a while, then forced herself to resume her seat in the chair. He’d promised he’d return soon, and she trusted him. For once in her life she was going to do just as she’d been told, and wait patiently.
Five minutes passed, then another five, then Lucy was up from her chair again, pacing from one end of the room to the other. Perhaps she’d just slip out—just for a tiny moment, mind you—just to see if any of the servants happened to know where Ciaran had gone. She wouldn’t venture beyond the hallway outside the bedchamber.
Except there wasn’t anyone in the hallway. It was deserted. She’d dismissed the maid Ciaran had sent to attend her, and the girl had promptly vanished.
Very well, then. She’d go just to the top of the staircase. No farther than that. Someone must be stirring on the floor below. She’d call to them, ask her question, then return to her room at once.
But when she got to the top of the stairs, she didn’t see anyone below. There was no sign of either Ciaran or Lord Vale anywhere.
Well, there was no help for it, then. She hurried back to her bedchamber, snatched up her cloak, and ran back into the hallway. She didn’t intend to go far, of course—no, indeed—but if Lord Vale was still here his carriage would be in the drive. It wouldn’t do any harm to creep down to the ground floor and have a peek outside the window.
Right, then. She’d just tiptoe down another flight of stairs, and have a bit of a look around the innyard. It wouldn’t do to venture any further than that, though. She’d promised Ciaran she’d stay—
“Begging yer pardon, miss.” The maid who’d attended her earlier was coming up the stairs.
Lucy paused on the landing. “Yes?”
“I’ve a message fer ye.”
At last, a word from Ciaran! “Yes? What is it?”
“A lady who says as she’s your cousin is in the yard in her carriage, waiting to speak to you. She says it’s important, like, and ye must come at once.”
Lucy’s heart dropped right into her stomach.
What was Eloisa doing outside the Swan and Anchor in Uncle Jarvis’s carriage? ? It didn’t make sense. How had Eloisa managed to escape Portman Square, and with the carriage, no less? It would have taken a near-miraculous stroke of luck. Uncle Jarvis would never have permitted her to leave the house.
Had something happened to her uncle then, or God forbid, her aunt? Had something happened with Lord Vale? Lucy had hoped Eloisa and Lord Vale would have peacefully concluded their tumultuous courtship with a happy betrothal by now, but perhaps they’d quarreled and Eloisa had followed Lord Vale here.
One thing was certain. If Eloisa was here, then something must be wrong. All at once Ciaran’s prolonged absence took on a more sinister cast. Ciaran was missing, and Lord Vale with him, and Eloisa had suddenly appeared at the Swan and Anchor.…
Lucy gathered her skirts, flew past the maid and down the stairs to the front door, her heart racing. As soon as she stepped outside, she saw it. Her uncle’s carriage, and perched on the box, her uncle’s coachman. She hurried down the steps and without any hesitation darted across the yard.
She was out of breath by the time she reached the carriage. She snatched the door open without a second thought, and—
“Oh!” Lucy let out a faint cry as someone inside the carriage grabbed her arm in a merciless grip and hauled her roughly into it with one vicious tug.
It wasn’t Eloisa.
Lucy scrambled instinctively for the door, ready to leap out and fly back across the yard, but before she could so much as twitch a heavy arm wrapped around her neck, and a low, threatening voice muttered in her ear. “Not happy to see me, niece? I’m certainly happy to see you.”
Lucy’s blood went cold.
No. It couldn’t be her Uncle Jarvis. He hadn’t any idea where she was, and no reason at all to look for her here, of all places. He couldn’t have found her. No, it couldn’t be him. This couldn’t be happening—
“What a pity you’re not pleased to be back in my company. I’m afraid you’ve no choice but to tolerate me, however, because we’re going on a bit of a journey together, you and I.”
A panicked gasp left Lucy’s lips and she struggled in earnest to get loose. She clawed at the arm pressed to her neck, her fingers digging into flesh until she felt a smear of blood against her fingertips. Uncle Jarvis dropped his arm, cursing, and for one breathless moment, she was free. She kicked out wildly and made another leap for the door. She managed to tear it open, but by then carriage was already moving.
Her uncle had her now, and he had no intention of letting her go. “No, no. Can’t have that, can we? You could get hurt.” He reached across her and slammed the carriage door closed. He wrapped his arm around her throat again, pressing hard enough to make it difficult for her to breathe. He shoved his hand over her face, pressed his palm against her nose and held it there until her head began to go fuzzy.
Lucy opened her mouth with a gasp, desperate for air, but as she sucked in a
breath she felt something cold against her lips. She instinctively jerked her face away, but her uncle grabbed her hair with his other hand and held her still. “Open your mouth, damn you.”
He squeezed until her mouth opened. She expected the sharp, bitter flavor of laudanum, but the liquid that rolled over her tongue was sweet, with a hint of elderflower.
Dr. Digby’s Calming Tonic.
“There. That’ll keep you quiet for a bit.”
His voice rang with triumph, and Lucy understood at once her uncle didn’t realize it wasn’t laudanum in the bottle. Thinking quickly, she forced her limbs to go lax. Uncle Jarvis loosened his grip and she let her body slump against the carriage seat, seemingly lifeless.
Her uncle thought he’d dosed her, and Lucy intended to keep it that way.
She was trapped in a carriage with a man who wished her ill—a man who would stop at nothing to get his hands on her fortune. There was no telling how long it would take before Ciaran discovered she was gone. Once he did, he wouldn’t have the first idea how to find her. After their argument this morning he might even believe she’d left him, and gone off to Devon alone. Would he even come after her? Or would he consider himself well rid of such a troublesome friend, and leave for Scotland and Isobel Campbell?
A chill rushed over Lucy as the gravity of her situation sank in. Her one advantage was her uncle mistakenly believed he’d rendered her insensible.
It wasn’t much, but it was all she had.
* * * *
“Something’s wrong, Ramsey.” Vale met Ciaran’s gaze across the inn’s small back parlor. “Something’s terribly wrong.”
Ciaran paused at the threshold, his shoulders sagging. Yes, something was bloody wrong, all right. He’d just left Lucy alone in the bedchamber where they’d made passionate love not half an hour earlier, looking so miserable his heart hurt to think about it.
He’d left his dearest friend confused, angry, and unhappy.
And ruined. Mustn’t forget ruined. Of all the terrible consequences of last night’s loss of control, that was by far the worst. Why wouldn’t she listen to him? He had to find a way to persuade her to marry him. He refused to be the man who ruined his best friend and then left her, alone and unprotected—
“Ramsey!” Vale’s voice was sharp. “Are you listening to me? Something’s wrong, I tell you. I’ve just been to Eloisa’s and the servant told me she’s left London!”
Ciaran’s head jerked up. For the first time since he’d entered the room he focused on Vale, and good Lord, his friend looked an utter mess. His coat was rumpled, his cravat askew, and his hair was standing up in every direction, as if he’d been clutching it in his hands.
“That’s impossible.” Ciaran strode into the room and steadied Vale with a hand on his shoulder. “She was in Portman Square just last night, Vale. She can’t have disappeared from London so quickly.”
Vale shrugged off Ciaran’s hand and began to pace, too agitated to remain still. “She could if that disaster of a father of hers decided to disappear her. I don’t put it past him to have shoved both Eloisa and Mrs. Jarvis into a carriage and sent them to God only knows where.”
Ciaran couldn’t help but agree. He hadn’t the faintest doubt the scoundrel would do whatever was in his own best interests, his family be damned. “Was Jarvis there?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t see him, or anyone else aside from the servant. It looked as if—” Vale broke off, his frantic gaze meeting Ciaran’s. “It looked as if the servants were closing the house, Ramsey. As if the entire family really had left London.”
Ciaran dropped into a chair and braced his hands on his knees as he considered the possibilities. “If Jarvis has left London, there can be only one reason for it. Godfrey’s found out Lucy’s fled her uncle’s protection. He’s told Jarvis there will be no marriage, and he’s after Jarvis to settle his debt.”
Vale let out a bitter laugh. “Jarvis is a bloody fool. He won’t escape the debt that way. Godfrey’s the sort who’ll chase him to the edges of England for a single shilling.”
Ciaran didn’t argue that point. He’d never come across a greedier man than Godfrey. “True enough, but it’s a good way for Jarvis to escape the London tradesmen he owes, and it gives him some time to think about what to do about Godfrey.”
“Do? What can he do? It’s a debt of honor. He’s obliged to pay it, unless he takes the coward’s way out, and…” Vale had been pacing again, but now he froze, his face going pale.
“Flees to the Continent,” Ciaran finished grimly.
Vale stared at Ciaran, horrified. “He’ll take Eloisa with him if he does. He’ll drag her off, and I’ll never see her again. I can’t bear to stand about helplessly while she’s left at the mercy of Jarvis’s sinister schemes. I can’t lose her, Ramsey.”
The anguish in Vale’s voice, the torment…
Ciaran understood it. He recognized it as the same anguish he’d felt when Lucy had been at Jarvis’s mercy. It was unbearable. He’d have done anything, gone anywhere he needed to go to keep her safe.
To the edges of England, and beyond.
“Enough of this. I’m going after them.”
Vale turned on his heel and was halfway out the door before Ciaran caught him, stopping him with a hand on his arm. “Vale, wait. We can’t be sure where they’ve gone, or even if they’ve gone. Jarvis’s servant might be lying for him.”
“We have to find her, Ramsey. I’m in—” Vale’s voice broke. “I’m in love with her. I won’t lose her.”
Ciaran’s chest went tight. It did Vale credit that he’d fallen in love with a lady like Eloisa Jarvis. She would be the making of him.
If they found her.
“You won’t lose her. I promise you that, Vale, but it won’t do any good to go rushing off in whatever direction strikes your fancy. Just give me a moment to think.”
Vale didn’t argue, but he paced and sighed in an agony of impatience while Ciaran tried to sort out what was best to do. The truth was, neither he nor Vale had the faintest idea where Jarvis had gone. He might be on his way back to his home in Berkshire, or, if he truly did intend to flee England he’d be headed in the opposite direction, toward Dover. This was provided he’d actually left London at all.
“We need to return to Portman Square and question the servants before we do anything else,” Ciaran said. “You can depend on it, the servants know what Jarvis is about.”
Vale shook his head. “I already tried that, Ramsey. The fellow who answered the door was as tight-lipped as they come. I couldn’t squeeze a single word out of him.”
“They’re hired servants, Vale, and you can be sure Jarvis hasn’t paid them a farthing for their service. The man will find his tongue once we make it clear they’ll get their wages from us, not Jarvis.”
Vale blew out a breath, then wheeled around toward the door. “Yes, all right. That makes sense. Come on, then.”
Once again Ciaran stopped him. “Wait, Vale.”
“Damn it, Ramsey! What now?”
“Where’s Lady Felicia? If you’re obliged to chase after Miss Jarvis, what becomes of your sister?”
To Ciaran’s surprise, a slight smile rose to Vale’s lips. “There’s no need to worry about Felicia. Markham is taking her back to Lewes this afternoon. I don’t want her tangled up in this mess, and her season is over in any case. Markham offered for her again last night, and this time Felicia accepted him.”
“Ah. Markham finally came to his senses, did he?”
Vale waved a hand in the air. “Markham’s been in love with Felicia for years now. He simply didn’t know it, the fool. Why do you suppose I dragged him to London for Felicia’s season? I knew he’d come to his senses as soon as some other gentleman tried to take her away from him.”
Ciaran shook his head. “Poor Nash.”
Vale shrugged.
“Eh, Nash will recover. He isn’t in love with Felicia. He wants Miss Fisher. He has since the season started.”
“Miss Fisher?” Ciaran stared at him. “Good Lord, Vale. You seem to know a great deal about who’s in love with whom.”
“I’m more observant than you think, Ramsey.” Vale gave him a considering look. “Speaking of love, where is Lady Lucinda?”
Unfamiliar heat rose in Ciaran’s cheeks. “She’s, ah…she’s upstairs in her bedchamber.”
Ciaran was careful to say her bedchamber rather than our bedchamber, but he could see by Vale’s raised eyebrow his friend guessed the truth. Fortunately for Ciaran, Vale was too distracted at the moment to press him. He simply nodded, then asked, “Will you go up and tell her you’re going out?”
Ciaran hesitated. The moment he stepped into the bedchamber Lucy would read his expression, and she’d know at once something was wrong. “She’ll want to come with us, but it will only worry her if she has any inkling her cousin’s in danger. There’s a chance Jarvis is at Portman Square still, as well. Lucy’s much safer staying here.”
“Alone? I don’t think that’s a good idea, Ramsey.”
Damn it. Ciaran didn’t like the idea of Lucy being anywhere near Jarvis, but he liked the idea of leaving her here alone even less. “You’re right. I’ll go fetch her. Go to the carriage, Vale, and wait for us there, will you?”
“Yes, but hurry, Ramsey.”
Ciaran took the stairs two at a time. When he reached their bedchamber he threw open the door with such force it crashed into the wall behind it. “Lucy? Lucy!”
No answer.
He ventured further into the room. The bed was made, the coverlet neatly drawn up. The fire had burned down to embers in the grate. A breakfast tray stood on a low table, with the meal mostly untouched.
Ciaran’s footsteps echoed in the empty room. “Lucy?”
Silence, so loud his ears rang with it.
The bedchamber was deserted.
Lucy was gone.
Chapter Twenty-five
