The Marquis and I

by Ella Quinn

  Lying down on the small bed, she tucked her cat next to her. It would behoove her to get as much rest as possible in preparation for a full night of travel, and a nap before dinner would be just the thing.

  She was not a light sleeper, but if someone knocked or called her name she would wake immediately. That probably came from being the second oldest of a large family.

  Yet, before she could lull herself into unconsciousness, sharp steps struck the floor in the corridor, and a door near hers opened. “Here ye are, my lord. You’ll find water waiting. Dinner will be ready in a half an hour.”

  There was a brief silence before the gentleman said, “Are you absolutely sure this is your best chamber?”

  Charlotte stifled a giggle. Whoever was impersonating Lord Braxton must know him well.

  “I am sorry, my lord, but this is the best I can do.”

  A loud sigh followed. “I do hope you set a better table than this room would indicate.”

  Slapping her hands over her mouth, she tried to hold back her laughter. The poor gentleman would be lucky if someone didn’t spit in his food.

  At the mention of food her stomach began to grumble. Fortunately, a knock sounded on the door and the maid entered with her dinner. She was pleased to find it more than sufficient as well as tasty. She ate the soup and vegetables, but shared the meat, fish, and cheese with Collette.

  When Charlotte and the kitten had eaten their fill, she wrapped the remaining bread, cheese, and meat to sustain her on the journey to Town.

  As she glanced out the window, several men strolled down the street toward the inn. It might be quite some time before the innkeeper and his workers settled down for the night.

  Chapter Three

  An hour later, the maid, accompanied by Burt, came to Charlotte’s room for the dinner dishes.

  As the girl quietly cleared the table, he glared at her. “She’ll be back up later to help ye change.” He shoved a large cotton garment at her. “The landlady offered you one of her nightgowns.”

  “Thank you.” Charlotte wanted to groan. As luck would have it, she could not manage to put this particular gown back on without help. If forced to change, she’d be making her escape in the nightgown. That would not do at all. “Please convey my gratitude to her.”

  “There’s a toff here ye don’t want to meet if you’re smart,” Burt said. “So don’t get any ideas about callin’ fer help. Wouldn’t want him getting hurt.”

  “Thank you for warning me.” She kept her eyes demurely lowered, attempting to convince the blackguard that she was intimidated by him and his accomplice.

  He held the door open for the maid, then closed and locked it. As soon as she heard them go down the stairs, she drew two pins from her hair.

  Sleep would have to wait. It was time to practice unlocking the door.

  After pulling a chair next to the door, she sat down and began to slide the pins into the lock. Fifteen minutes later, her neck was clammy and droplets of water slid down her face. A damp curl fell over her eyes and she tried to blow it out of her way.

  Every time she expected to hear the snick of the lock opening, it slipped. “Drat it all.” She stood and stretched. “I shall never get it open at this rate.”

  “My lady?” a man whispered through the door.

  Thank God! With a voice that cultured, it must be the gentleman Jemmy told her about. No one else, other than the inn’s staff and her abductors, knew she was here. “Yes?”

  “I wanted to tell you that your groom is on the mail coach to Town. I instructed him to hire a hackney to take him to Mayfair and gave him the necessary funds.” Now that he was not attempting to act like Lord Braxton, he had a deep and almost melodic voice. Who could he be? Charlotte was almost certain she had never met him. She would have remembered that voice.

  “Thank you very much.” She brushed more damp curls away from her face. “I was so worried he would be caught and injured. The blackguards who abducted me are dangerous.”

  “Have—have they harmed you at all?” There was an urgency in his tone that had not been there before.

  “I have a few bruises on my wrists. That is all. I have been trying to pick the lock, but it’s not working. Do you have any ideas as to how to get me out of this room?” She prayed no one heard them. She did not want the gentleman to be captured or hurt. Even if he had a pistol, that only gave them two shots between them.

  “No,” he replied flatly. “Unfortunately.” Charlotte dropped her face into her hands. If neither of them could figure out a way to get this door open, how was she going to escape? “I have managed to reduce the number of scoundrels by one.” He sounded a little more assured than before. “The black-haired one is too inebriated to stand.”

  That was good news. “Well done. What about the other man?”

  “He’s not downstairs. Does he always come with the maid?”

  “No.” Come to think of it, that was a little strange. “He only came one time to help her take my dinner remains away. Earlier he warned me that if I attempted to have a conversation with the girl, she would be injured, but he spoke through the door.”

  The gentleman made a harrumphing sound. “I doubt the young woman will be harmed. It is my belief that most of the staff here are related to the innkeeper. I also think the landlord is helping the scoundrels.” Another reason to keep their voices down. “Will she return to you this evening?”

  “Yes. In fact, she should be here soon.” Charlotte straightened. She did not wish to hurt the maid, but she did have to escape.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll think of something,” the gentleman said confidently. Shortly thereafter the door across the corridor opened and closed.

  Yet by the time he had reentered his bedchamber, an idea immediately came to her. She opened the basket, drew out her pistol, and made sure all was in order. Then she lay back down once again with her kitten curled up next to her, and waited.

  * * *

  Con gazed consideringly at the door behind which Lady Charlotte was imprisoned, and wondered how in perdition he was going to get her out of it. He thought about telling her to rip up the sheets, tie them together, secure them to something, and climb out of the window. But she had probably never climbed anything but stairs in her life. There was also the real possibility that the other miscreant would see her if his room was on the same side of the building as hers.

  Fortunately, she was not the type of young lady he had expected to find. Even her voice was not that of a lady just coming out. It sounded more mature than seventeen or eighteen. He remembered Worthington saying it was her first Season—surely she was not older.

  At least she had not seemed as if she was in a panic or about to swoon. He’d almost laughed when she’d told him she was trying to pick the lock. It would never have occurred to him she would be so inventive or intelligent.

  Con wondered if she had the signature dark Vivers hair and blue eyes that Worthington had.

  Not that it mattered. He was not looking for a wife. He and his mistress, Aimée, had excellent relations. He was fond of her and considered her a friend. At times he had the feeling Aimée was in love with him, yet she knew her place and would never enact him a scene, unlike other mistresses he’d had.

  That, though, was the problem with women. They fell in love too easily. It was the reason he had stopped dallying with widows and married women. Come to think of it, he hoped Lady Charlotte would have the good sense not to fancy herself in love with him.

  Con trusted Aimée was not overly concerned about his failure to take her to the theater this evening. He’d have to remember to purchase a trinket to make it up to her.

  The sound of heavy boots, most likely the other villain, walking down the corridor and stopping at Lady Charlotte’s door, brought his attention back to his immediate dilemma: how to release her from the bedchamber.

  He could probably overpower the one brute who was left, but with the landlord in an alliance with the scoundrels, Con might find
himself beaten and locked up, not to mention the scandal it would cause if Lady Charlotte were found here in the company of ruffians.

  He had taken a good look at where the keys were stored, yet he doubted the key to her room was there. One would have to be extremely sloppy to lock a woman up and leave a key where it could be found.

  No sound came from Lady Charlotte’s room and soon he heard the man walking down the corridor to his chamber. It was a shame the villain was not as fond of gin as his companion.

  Con smiled to himself. Jemmy had done an excellent job of ensuring the black-haired man had sufficient funds to make the man as drunk as David’s sow.

  There was also the problem of harnessing his pair to the phaeton so Con and Lady Charlotte could leave in an expeditious manner. Chances were he would have to do it himself and be very quiet about it so that anyone sleeping in the stables wouldn’t waken.

  He scraped his hand down his face. Dear God, what had he got himself into?

  The whole thing would have been much more straightforward if she had eloped. He could have returned to Town immediately. It was none of his bread and butter who eloped with whom. Yet, this did not have any of the hallmarks of an elopement or an abduction for marriage. The problem was that he didn’t know what the deuce it did seem like.

  The only thing he was sure of was that he must rescue her ladyship and return her to her family before word of the kidnapping got out and her reputation was destroyed.

  But first he had to get her out of the blasted room.

  * * *

  “My lady?” Charlotte’s eyes shot open.

  She had not remembered falling asleep, but she must have. The room was dark except for the one candle she had left burning, and the inn was quiet. “Enter.”

  The lock clicked open, and the maid walked into the chamber. “I come to help you undress.”

  “Thank you.” Rubbing her eyes, Charlotte smiled warmly. “I am absolutely unable to remove my gown without help.” She paused, assuming a rueful look. “I do not suppose you would be able to bring me some bread and cheese? Dinner was excellent, but I am still extremely peckish, and I shall not be able to sleep if I’m hungry.”

  “I suppose so,” the girl said with reluctance. “I’ll go ask my ma.”

  A few moments after the maid left, the gentleman was back at the door whispering, “My lady, I have an idea.”

  “As do I.” She waited to see if he would actually listen to her scheme. Some gentlemen—Lord Harrington, the man who had been courting her, came to mind—would not.

  “Ladies first.” His voice was so rich and expressive she could almost see his hand gesture. How nice of him.

  “I have a pistol. I shall point it at her while you tie her up. She must be gagged as well.”

  “Much neater than my idea.” She could hear him shifting. “I believe she is returning.”

  Charlotte removed her pistol from the bedside table and placed Collette back in the basket. “Stay here, sweetheart. We will be departing soon, and I will not have time to crawl under the bed after you.”

  As the door swung open, Charlotte hid the weapon in her skirts. “My ma was in bed, so I just brought it up. I don’t suppose your husband and Miss Betsy want to starve you.”

  Charlotte was about to utter her thanks again when what the girl had said struck her, and her mouth went dry. Husband? Her whole being filled with dread. This was much, much worse than she had imagined.

  Her voice came out in a hoarse whisper as she gripped the chair with her free hand to stop her knees from buckling. “Miss Betsy?”

  “Your husband hired her to find you,” the girl said as she set out the bread, cheese, and fruit on the table. “My ma and pa don’t hold with wives running away, so they help her.”

  Charlotte tried to swallow, but was unable to get any moisture past the knot in her throat. “Does she—she . . . retrieve only wives?”

  “There’s no one to hear me now, so I can tell you,” the girl said as she set out the silver. “Children get lost and sometimes young ladies run away. She makes sure they all get back home.”

  Home, hell.

  Charlotte’s hand began to shake and she tightened her grip on the pistol. To a brothel, more likely.

  She had to get out of here and warn her family and Dotty that Miss Betsy had changed from drugging the wives of soldiers stationed overseas and making them work as prostitutes, to a much wider range of victims.

  Charlotte forced a smile to her face. As long as the girl was being chatty, she might as well obtain as much information as possible. “How long has she been doing this type of work?”

  “I dunno. We’ve been helping her for about two months, I think. You’re the fourth or fifth one.”

  Somehow, Charlotte vowed, she would find a way to rescue the women and children that woman had abducted. “Do you know where she takes them from here?”

  The girl’s eyes widened. “To their families. Where else?”

  Where else, indeed. Well, now was not the time to fight this battle. Once she was home she would work to stop the former madam.

  When the maid placed the large cotton nightgown Charlotte had left hanging over a chair on the bed, she leveled the pistol at the girl. “I am terribly sorry, but I must ask you to sit on that chair.” The girl’s mouth dropped open. “Please do not scream. I will shoot if I have to.”

  Not that she thought she could kill the maid, but she had to make the threat.

  The girl’s throat worked, and she nodded a few times, then sat on the chair.

  “Good, I’m just in time.” The gentleman who had been speaking with her through the door strode into the room. He had on a greatcoat and his hat was pulled down, shading his face.

  Even if the room had had more than one candle, it would have been hard to get a good look at him. All she could make out was that he was tall and at least as broad in the shoulders as her brother-in-law, and he had an almost square jaw with a dimple. She wondered what the color of his eyes was and if he was as handsome as she thought he might be.

  The pounding in her chest increased. Really, this was not the time to be having any sort of reaction to a man.

  He quickly tied the maid’s hands and feet. “If I may make a suggestion?”

  Charlotte blinked, bringing her attention to the matter at hand. “Of course.”

  The corners of his lips tipped up. “She can make a great deal of noise in this chair. I suggest we tie her to the bed.”

  “Very well.” She helped him move the girl and secure her to the small bed.

  When that was done, Charlotte put her bonnet on and tied the ribbons, then gathered the food in a napkin before placing it in the basket.

  “I do apologize,” she said to the girl. “But I do not wish to go where Miss Betsy would take me. Despite what you may believe, she is not a good person.” She tied a gag around the girl’s mouth. “I am sorry about this as well.”

  The gentleman slid a sharp glance at Charlotte, but said nothing. She retrieved the keys, locking the door behind them. “Is your carriage ready?”

  “Yes. That’s the reason I was a little late. I went to the stables and harnessed them myself.” He held out his arm and whispered, “My lady?”

  She placed her hand on his arm, and they quietly made their way down the front stairs and out into the yard. A pair of neatish bays were harnessed to a very dashing phaeton.

  “They are lovely,” she said, keeping her voice as low as possible. At the same time, her heart was pounding so hard she thought it might burst from her chest. At the rate she was going, she’d have apoplexy before she was twenty.

  “Come, we must hurry. We only have a few hours before it is light. I would like to have you back at your own home before then.”

  “What time is it?” She hadn’t bothered looking at her watch before they left the bedchamber, and, even with the moonlight, it was too dark to see it now. Still, it could not be past midnight.

  “Almost two o’clock.” Oh
, dear. She must have slept much longer than she’d thought. “Why would she have come to me so late?”

  “She was working in the common room. Their last customer left about a half hour ago.”

  “That makes sense, then.” She wondered what the maid and her parents would think if they knew what Miss Betsy truly did with the people she kidnapped. Perhaps Charlotte should have told the girl everything she knew, but if the innkeeper confronted the woman, Miss Betsy would merely change where she took her captives. As soon as Charlotte arrived home, she must write Dotty.

  Once they were in the carriage, he clicked softly and the pair began to walk. For the next several minutes Charlotte’s skin prickled with fear that someone in the inn would discover they had gone and come looking for them. She wished he would go faster, but she knew that making as little noise as possible would help them get away.

  Finally, he urged the horses to a trot, and she relaxed a little.

  Neither of them spoke, not, she thought, because they had nothing to say, but due to the fact that sound seemed to carry more at night. Charlotte wondered how long they had before the maid’s disappearance was noted, and prayed it was not until after the sun had risen.

  Still, she would not get the problem off her mind. How much sleep was the girl allowed after working until two in the morning? Her sister insisted that the staff be well rested, and Charlotte made sure that May, her dresser, napped if Charlotte was coming in late. Yet she did not think the innkeeper and his wife would be so kind, even to their own daughter.

  She and her rescuer passed an open field and Charlotte could see the horizon lightening. How long would it be before the sun rose?

  The road in front of them appeared almost white, and she murmured to herself, “It seems too light.”

  “The moon has not yet set.”

  Charlotte jumped. Really, she had to stop talking to herself, particularly when she wasn’t alone. Or be prepared to receive an answer.

  She glanced at the sky, which was a strange thing to do when the gentleman had already told her that the moon was still up. But people did that type of thing all the time. It could not be because they did not believe the other person, it just seemed to be a natural, albeit unnecessary, reaction. “So I see.” She could also see his lordship’s white teeth flash in a grin. “I have never been awake at this time of day. Do you know how many hours there are until dawn?”