Before she’d been gone too long to salvage her reputation.
“My lord, this abduction will do you no good. If you drag me to Gretna Green and bring me before the parson, I’ll simply refuse to marry you.”
“Nonsense. You’re a sensible woman. Given the choice between a respectable life with a war hero who adores you, and a future mired in scandal—”
“Yes, what about the scandal?” she said, preferring not to think of his disturbing claim that he adored her. “This will ruin your spotless reputation. Once people learn that you kidnapped a woman against her will, they’ll despise you.”
“The man who saved England from Boney?” He snorted. “Besides, we will be respectably married by the time anyone hears of it. It will merely be a romantic tale to be bandied about the card tables.”
“Romantic! When I’ve said repeatedly that I don’t want to marry you?”
He thrust out his bulldog’s chin. “If I thought that you truly felt that way, I would not be doing this. But you welcomed my attentions when we first met—”
“Only because you were an interesting fellow with interesting stories!”
He shook his head vehemently. “I saw how you looked at me—you were animated, excited…eager for me. I have been the object of many a woman’s affection, my angel. I can tell when a woman wants me.”
“Wants to strangle you, you mean.”
He ignored her. “Do not let my hoary locks fool you—I am as agile as any younger man.” He waggled one hairy eyebrow, which made him look even more like a bulldog. “I know how to keep a woman happy in the bedchamber.”
Oh, Lord. Now he fancied himself a Casanova. “I’ve no doubt of your ability to be a good husband,” she said, attempting tact. “But despite what you think, I can’t see you in that role, in the bedchamber or anywhere else.”
He stared at her stony-faced. “It’s only because those harpies at Mrs. Harris’s school filled your head with false tales about me. If you knew how far that woman will go in trying to separate us forever, my angel, you’d be appalled. Why, only this morning—” He broke off with a frown. “I shall not speak of it until you are ready to hear the truth.”
Oh dear, he thought Mrs. Harris responsible for the purgative. Should she set him straight? No, perhaps honesty wasn’t all that wise under the circumstances.
“You would not think so ill of me,” he went on, “if that woman had not indoctrinated you against men of a certain sort.”
“Fortune hunters, you mean,” she said dryly.
“I am not a fortune hunter!” he thundered, making her shrink back. He gave a shuddering breath. “Forgive me, but I thought you should know. While your dowry will be welcome—”
“If Papa lets you have it,” she spat.
“He will, when he learns of the more than generous settlement I mean to give you. I intend to treat you as you deserve, my angel.”
If he called her “my angel” one more time, she would treat him as he deserved and throw up all over his “specially built rig.”
He patted her knee, and she jerked it away. He frowned. “Eventually,” he said in a chilling voice, “you will recognize the wisdom of the match. Because we will be married. And you will not dispute it by the time we reach Scotland.”
The fear in her belly twisted into terror. She could think of only one way he meant to ensure her compliance. “I’m not going to marry you! And if you plan to force my hand by stealing my virtue—”
“Certainly not!” He puffed up his chest. “I am not like your rude American friend, pushing my way into a woman’s affairs after knowing her only a few days.”
“No, you wait a reasonable length of time before kidnapping her,” she said with heavy sarcasm. “At least Major Winter would never do that. And he won’t stand for your doing it either.” She hoped he wouldn’t, anyway. “He’ll hunt you down before we even reach Scotland. I’m expected for dinner at Lord Kirkwood’s. When I don’t arrive, he will investigate—”
“No, he won’t, or at least not until it’s too late. I have taken care of that.”
The ominous words sent panic clawing at her throat. Frantically, she writhed against her bonds, but despite the silky fabric, they held very well.
Seeing her struggle, he turned solicitous. “Perhaps you would feel better with some refreshment, since you missed your dinner. I brought provisions. Would you like cheese and bread? Some wine perhaps?”
That might be a way to get him to free her. “Actually, I would. If you’ll just untie my hands—”
“I’m sorry, but I cannot do that,” he said in the indulgent tone of a father to his recalcitrant child. He unscrewed the top from a flask of wine. “You will have to settle for my help instead.”
He held the wine to her lips, and she hesitated, remembering the purgative. As if guessing her thoughts, he gave her a patient smile and took a sip himself. “You see? Perfectly safe. I would never hurt you.”
“These bonds say otherwise.” She drank some of the wine, a sickly sweet port she didn’t care for.
“If you would not struggle so, my angel, your bonds would not chafe you. I chose them carefully—soft fabric for a lady’s soft skin.”
He urged more wine on her, and she drank it eagerly. She hadn’t realized how thirsty she was until now.
He smiled approvingly. “I thought you might like the wine. You ladies prefer sweet things.”
Even a soldier can use something sweet from time to time.
Despair gripped her. How she wished she could take back the harsh words she’d thrown at Lucas that afternoon. He might be a scoundrel, but until then, he’d never forced his attentions on her. And even his courtship scheme was partly her fault. If she hadn’t made him kiss her the night they’d met, he might never have tried to use kisses to get information out of her.
“Shall you have more wine?” Lord Pomeroy asked.
“No.” The wine he’d already given her sat heavy in her belly. And why was he so sure Lucas wouldn’t follow?
Screwing the cap back on the flask, the marquess turned to rummage through his provisions. “Some food then, some bread with butter.”
“I only want you to release me!”
“I know this is vexing, but I’ll do my best to make your trip comfortable.”
“Comfortable! If you call being trussed like a pig for market comfortable—”
“It’s only until the laudanum takes effect,” he assured her.
She froze. “Laudanum?” When had he given her—Oh no, please, no…“The wine had laudanum? But I saw you drink it, too!”
“Indeed. But I am less susceptible to the effects of laudanum than some.”
Panic made it hard for her to breathe. Or did the laudanum cause shortness of breath? She had never taken it—how did it work? Was it that unfamiliar warmth seeping into her blood? Or the way her eyelids began to feel heavy?
Suddenly she wanted so badly to sleep. “You have…poisoned me…”
“Certainly not. I gave you just enough to calm you. Do not fear, my angel. I’m very familiar with laudanum. I was given it to assuage my pain years ago, when wounded in battle. I have been something of a connoisseur ever since.”
She blinked. “Y-You’re…an opium eater?”
“If you prefer to call it that.”
That almost made the man more interesting. No, what was she thinking? This cursed drug was fogging her reason. “I don’t prefer to call it…anything…” She shook her head to clear it. “What was I saying?”
“Nothing, dear.”
He caressed her cheek. Or was she merely remembering when Lucas…
She drew back, and nearly fell off the seat. “I don’t want…I don’t…”
He smiled. “Rest, my angel. You’ll feel better later.” His voice seemed to come from within a tunnel. Through a haze, she saw him lift her feet to his lap and begin to undo her bonds. “Now let’s see about making you more comfortable…”
And sleep overtook her.
Dear Cousin,
The most awful thing has happened—we are keeping it quiet until we learn more, but I know I can count on your discretion. Lord Pomeroy has carried off my poor charge! I wish I had listened to you—he’s clearly a monster! And now I am the most miserable of chaperones for having neglected my duty so egregiously.
Your desperate friend,
Charlotte
For God’s sake, Winter, settle down.”
Lucas stopped pacing the drawing room to shoot his cousin a foul glance. “She’s late.”
“Women often are,” Kirkwood said. “Even Mother hasn’t come down yet.”
“Yes, but Amelia is generally on time.”
“And you know this from a week’s acquaintance?” His cousin snorted. “I take it your investigation is proceeding well.”
“Not as well as I’d like.” Lucas sat, then rose again, too agitated to stay still.
“Well enough you won’t need me after tonight, I hope.” Kirkwood set his feet up on the ottoman. “I’m getting married.”
Lucas swung around to face his cousin. “What? When?”
“In a few days, I hope, depending on how long it takes me and Miss Linley to reach Gretna Green.”
“What’s Gretna Green?” Lucas asked.
“It’s where a dastardly fortune hunter like me takes an underage heiress he can’t marry in England without her father’s permission. The town is just across the border in Scotland, where legal weddings are ridiculously easy to obtain. I’ve made arrangements for me and Miss Linley to head there tomorrow.” He scowled. “Before I have pockets to let.”
Lucas stared at him. “Do you even like Miss Linley?”
Kirkwood shrugged. “She’s a bit of a goose, but I can put up with it if it means pulling my estate out of debt. Besides, she’s too absorbed in her own affairs to worry about mine—so my life will be little different than it is now, as long as I let her have all the fripperies and jewels she wants.” He grinned. “And I don’t think consummating the marriage will be too much of a hardship, do you?”
Lucas didn’t answer. He couldn’t imagine bedding the snooty Miss Linley no matter how pretty she was. She’d probably worry about mussing her hair.
Unlike Amelia, who’d worry only about driving him crazy. Just the one kiss that afternoon had set fire to his blood. If he even imagined what she’d be like in his bed, he—
A footman entered the room to hand Lucas a folded sheet with his name on it. “Forgive me, sir, but we found this in the hall. Someone must have delivered it while the servants were otherwise occupied.”
Not surprising, considering how Kirkwood had been forced to cut his staff after his late father had lost a fortune at the card tables.
Opening the note, Lucas read it swiftly. Anger gripped his chest. “I don’t believe this. Mrs. Harris writes that Lady Amelia has a headache and won’t be here for dinner.” He frowned and read it again. Something about it bothered him. “I saw her a few hours ago, and she was fine. How can she now be so ill that Mrs. Harris has to make her apologies for her?”
With a shrug, Kirkwood settled back in his armchair. “You know ladies.”
“Lady Amelia isn’t the kind for vapors. And not tonight for sure. She insisted on having a chance to talk to me privately.”
Kirkwood raised one eyebrow. “Perhaps she changed her mind.”
“No, she’d never—” He stopped short. His kiss that afternoon had really angered her. Might she have decided not to see him because of one reckless kiss?
Damnation. He couldn’t let her do that when he was getting so close. He started for the door. “I’m going to talk to her.”
Kirkwood jumped to his feet. “The devil you are!”
Lucas strode out into the hall. “We argued this afternoon, and she gave me no chance to apologize. So now I’ll make her listen.” He called for his hat. “Tell your mother not to wait dinner for me.”
“I’m going with you,” Kirkwood snapped. As the footman brought him his hat, too, he told the man, “Inform my mother that Major Winter and I are off to fetch Lady Amelia.”
“Very good, sir. Shall I call the carriage round?”
“We’ll walk,” Lucas said. Maybe that would settle the sudden queasy feeling in his gut.
But although Lucas set a punishing pace toward the Tovey town house, his unease didn’t abate. Maybe it was ridiculous…but this just didn’t feel right. And he’d learned years ago not to ignore his instincts.
When he spotted the town house, he saw no lights in the upper windows. If Amelia really had a headache, she might have gone to bed, but Mrs. Harris ought to still be up. It wasn’t even seven yet.
The butler answered their knock at once. “Major Winter? Lord Kirkwood? What’s wrong? Is my lady hurt? Did something happen?”
Lucas exchanged glances with his cousin. “Lady Amelia didn’t stay home with a headache?”
Hopkins looked confused. “Certainly not. I put her in a hackney nearly an hour ago, headed for dinner with you gentlemen and Lady Kirkwood.”
A chill shot down Lucas’s spine. “She never arrived. But this did.” He thrust the note at the butler.
The man read it, then paled. “This is not written in Mrs. Harris’s hand. Besides, she left for an engagement with a friend nearly two hours ago.” He lifted a distraught gaze to Lucas. “I told Lady Amelia not to take a hackney, but she said it would be all right since she had John with her—”
“The footman who delivered her acceptance this morning?” The acceptance had been waiting for Lucas when he’d returned from the tea. But John had taken his sweet time getting it there. Lucas had a sinking feeling he knew why.
“Yes, John handed her into the hackney himself.”
“Why did Lady Amelia take a hackney?” Kirkwood put in.
“She insisted, sir. When our carriage proved to have a broken wheel, I offered to send for you, but she said not to bother.”
This sounded worse and worse. A slow footman, a sudden need for a hackney, notes that lied. Something bad was afoot.
Lucas forced himself to stay calm and gather information; otherwise, he’d be no good to Amelia. “This hackney. Did you summon it?”
“No, John did.”
Of course. “What did it look like?”
“I didn’t see, sir, but surely we could find it if we head into the street—”
“It’s probably on its way out of town by now. Pomeroy saw his chance to kidnap Lady Amelia and took it.” Lucas cursed foully.
As the butler groaned, Kirkwood shot Lucas a skeptical glance. “How on earth did you come to that conclusion? And how would Pomeroy even know about our dinner—”
“The footman. This morning, he said he stopped to help a lady while delivering Amelia’s note of acceptance. Something about that struck me wrong.” He fought down the panic rising in his gorge. “Now I realize what: I should have run into the man on my way here. I didn’t, because John lied. He was really bringing Amelia’s note to Pomeroy to read. The man’s probably been spying on her for a while.”
“It might be someone other than Pomeroy,” Kirkwood ventured.
Lucas shook his head grimly. “Pomeroy’s carriage was leaving when I arrived here this morning. And this has been as well executed as any military operation. He didn’t just carry her off—he left that note to allay suspicion until he could get well away. He didn’t count on my temper sending me over here.” His panic twisted into a raging anger. “But he chose a night when Mrs. Harris would be out. He probably hired John weeks ago—”
“That means John won’t protect my lady.” Dropping into the chair by the door, Hopkins buried his face in his hands. “This is my fault. I should have insisted that she wait until the carriage was fixed.”
“It wouldn’t have mattered.” Lucas clenched his hands into fists. “Pomeroy was determined to have her. When I catch up to them, I’ll tear him limb from limb.”
He turned toward the doo
r, but his cousin stayed him with one hand. “If you’re right, then he’s carrying her to Gretna Green.”
“If that’s what it takes to marry her, then probably so.” Lucas shrugged off his cousin’s grasp. “And unlike you, he doesn’t care if she’s willing.”
“Even in Scotland, the woman must consent, or the ceremony isn’t valid.”
Lucas scowled at him. “You and I both know there’s a thousand ways a man can force a woman to consent.”
Kirkwood paled. “True. And, if she stays gone beyond tonight, she’ll have to marry him to protect her reputation. It’s difficult to hide this sort of thing, and in society’s eyes, spending the night with a man is as good as sharing his bed.”
Lucas’s stomach roiled at the thought of Amelia having to marry that ass Pomeroy. He glanced at Hopkins. “Do you have a mount I can borrow to go after them?”
“You’re better off with my carriage.” Kirkwood led him toward the door. “You can travel faster and save your strength for when you confront Pomeroy.”
“You’ll need it yourself if you and Miss Linley—”
“I’ll hire a rig.” Kirkwood cast the butler a furtive glance, then waited until they were out the door before adding, “The viscount’s crest that will serve you well will only help Miss Linley’s father track me .” They hurried down the steps. “Unless you want me to go with you.”
“No need.” Lucas broke into a brisk walk at the street. “Someone should stay to let Mrs. Harris and Amelia’s parents know what’s happened.”
They fell silent as they raced down the street. But as they reached Kirkwood’s town house and headed up the steps, his cousin said, “I’m surprised you want to do this. It’s to your advantage to let Pomeroy have her; it will bring the Toveys back to London. You could take advantage of their crisis to interrogate Dorothy Frier.”
Lucas glared at his cousin as they strode inside. “What kind of soldier would I be if I stood by while that ass Pomeroy ruined an innocent female?”
Never Seduce a Scoundrel Page 15
