by Jenna Jaxon
Heart beating almost out of her chest, Georgie raced forward and grabbed the lead. She pulled with all her might, and Lulu slid back toward her, out of danger. Gathering the dog into her arms and thanking heaven for her salvation, Georgie glanced up at the riders who had just missed her pet. The party of four rather rugged-looking men was dismounting. Grooms bespeaking lodging for their master, perhaps, for she could see their mounts were costly. One fellow with a round, jowly face and a flattened nose glanced at her and nodded.
Too distraught to even acknowledge him, she turned away, holding Lulu tight against her chest.
“My lady, are you all right?” Face pale as snow, Clara ran up to her.
“Perfectly fine.” Georgie’s shaken voice belied her words, but she couldn’t help it. Trying to breathe normally, she headed for the inn, relieved the incident had ended with no harm to her save some mud on the hem of her pelisse. Once they were free of the inn yard, she put Lulu down again, and the dog trotted happily in front of her, tail waving like a fringed white flag.
The innkeeper was a pleasant red-faced man who took them to a private parlor where they enjoyed hot tea and biscuits, while Lulu relished a bowl of chopped chicken. When they were through, Georgie handed the leash to Clara. “Will you take Lulu into the yard? I must use the necessary, and then I’ll join you in the carriage.”
Some little time later, Georgie emerged from the inn then stood in the doorway, looking for Clara and Lulu. The yard hummed with activity, but her maid was nowhere to be seen. A glance told her they were not in the carriage. Had Clara gone around to the stable to let Lulu relieve herself? Surely any patch of ground would do. She started toward the stable when, out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of the man with the jowly face who had almost trampled Lulu; he was watching as she strode across the yard. Normally, she would have paid him no mind, but something about his intent gaze, turning his head to follow her as she crossed the yard, made the hair on the nape of her neck prickle. What had sparked such interest in her? The fellow had almost killed Lulu, so she certainly wanted nothing else to do with him.
Suddenly Clara appeared, Lulu at her heels, tail still proudly wagging.
Thank goodness. Georgie hurried toward her maid, who smiled and handed over the leash.
“Here you go, my lady.” She nodded toward Lulu. “She needed a bit of encouragement as she couldn’t decide just where she wanted to squat.” Clara stopped and frowned. “What’s wrong? Your face is all in a knot.”
“It’s nothing, I suppose. That man over there—” Georgie pointed surreptitiously toward the place where the man was sitting. Had been sitting, for now he had vanished. “He’s gone.”
“Who’s gone?” Face puckered, Clara looked around the inn yard.
“The man who almost rode over Lulu.” Georgie shook her head. Had she imagined the man’s interest? “I could swear he was watching me when I was searching for you.”
“I’m sure most gentlemen do.”
Heat rose in Georgie’s cheeks. “He wasn’t a gentleman. I think he’s a groom. And it wasn’t that kind of watching.” Although perhaps that’s all it was. An insolent servant ogling a lady and nothing more. She shrugged it off and put Lulu in the carriage then clambered in after her. Clara followed, and a groom shut the door. The carriage started with a jerk, and they were off on the next part of the journey. In several hours they would stop at Horley for luncheon.
Georgie settled herself in the forward-facing seat, drew Lulu across her lap, and stroked the long silky fur. That always had a calming effect on both her and her pet. The soothing motion together with the slight swaying of the carriage relaxed her until she fell into a doze, not quite sleeping, not quite awake. Just peaceful and warm.
A low whimpering slowly brought Georgie back to the edge of consciousness. Blinking, she gazed about the carriage. Clara had fallen asleep as well, but Lulu had her ears raised. Growling softly, the spaniel padded across the tufted leather seat and raised her paws to rest on the edge of the window. Her growls changed to barking, and Georgie yawned, then slid over to her.
“What is all this fuss about, Lulu? You can’t need to go out again so soon.” Peering over the dog’s head, Georgie looked at her father’s outrider cantering beside the carriage.
“Goodness.” The maid stretched and stifled a yawn. “I must have fallen asleep.”
“That’s quite all right.” Georgie’s attention was fixed on the rider. “Look at the man riding alongside us, Clara.”
The maid glanced out the window and shrugged. “What about him?”
“He’s not one of my father’s outriders.” Frowning as she pressed her face against the cold window pane, Georgie moved her head this way and that, seeking a better look.
“He’s not?” Clara slid over to gaze out the window as well. “Then who is he?”
“He’s the man I told you about, the one with the flattened nose who was watching me in the inn yard.” Georgie bounced over to the other side of the carriage, panic rising at the sight of another unfamiliar outrider. “This one too. Folger!” She leaped to her feet and banged on the trap. “Folger! Who are these men? What is going on?”
The chilling silence that ensued was punctuated by the high crack of a whip. The carriage shot forward, throwing Georgie back into her seat, where she narrowly missed Lulu, who was barking wildly.
“What’s happening, my lady?” Eyes wide and wild, Clara clutched her arm.
Georgie’s composure slipped, and dread threatened to engulf her, but she took a deep breath to steady herself and announced, “I am very much afraid we are being kidnapped.”
Chapter Two
Whistling a rather bawdy drinking song, Robin Kerr, Marquess of St. Just, smiled as he strode down the crowded streets of Portsmouth. It had been good to be out on the water again after all this time. The last day of his journey had dawned clear and cold, wonderfully bracing as his ship cut through the choppy waves just off the shore. The brisk air did a man’s heart good. He’d made the run from Cornwall to Portsmouth countless times during his life, more since his grandfather’s death two years ago. Not that he had to captain the ship, but he liked to. Fetching equipment and supplies for the family’s tin mining business wasn’t strictly the duty of a marquess, but Rob had always enjoyed sailing the sea, especially with his grandfather when he was a young lad.
He’d taken to sailing like a young hawk takes to the skies. Good thing too, as the remote location of the family’s primary seat, St. Just in Cornwall, meant a certain amount of isolation, save for journeys that could be made by ship. His present trip had been of utmost urgency, else he would not have attempted it in the rough January waters of the Channel. But the package he had sent his crew to fetch could not wait.
Turning into a tavern he frequented when in town, Rob strode to the counter and motioned to a pleasantly plump barmaid. “A pint of your best, mistress.”
Her smile growing, the lass gave him a thorough look, taking him in from the top of his tall hat, dark brown unruly hair likely sticking out from beneath the brim, to his well-worn black Hessians, the only footwear he’d wear when shipboard.
“Right away, milord.”
Rob smiled, then sent an appreciative look at the retreating figure, her round hips swaying seductively as she headed through the doorway to the kitchen. He sighed and shook his head. Time enough for such distractions after his package arrived.
Waiting for his ale, Rob gazed out the window at the busy docks, then rummaged beneath his frock coat and withdrew a letter from the breast pocket of his blue superfine jacket. A letter he’d read several times since it had arrived at Castle St. Just last week. His great friend, Lord Brack, had asked his opinion in regard to the dilemma facing Brack’s youngest sister, Lady Georgina Kirkpatrick.
The lady, a widow he’d met last autumn at a house party given by Lady Cavendish in Kent, had been betrothed by her father to a certain Lord Travers. No one else of Brack’s acquaintance liked the match at all
, including the lady herself. Nor did Rob, if anyone had asked his views on the subject. Travers was a bad apple, rotten through and through. What the woman’s father was thinking passed all understanding.
The barmaid set his tankard before him, and Rob tossed a coin down on the bar. “Much obliged.”
“Anything else you’d be wanting, my lord?” The girl’s gaze had fastened on his chest, then strayed quickly downward.
“Nothing at the moment, thank you.” Another time and he might have taken her up on the obvious offer. Today, however, he must keep his wits about him.
The maid’s downcast expression made him briefly regret his answer, as did the sudden swelling in his groin. But the lass turned and hurried off to her work, allowing him to cool his ardor in the cold ale. He had a duty to perform, and nothing, no matter how tempting, would keep him from it.
* * *
“Kidnapped!”
Clara’s face turned so pale Georgie feared she would swoon. She opened her reticule in search of her smelling salts.
“Why would you say that, my lady?”
“Because unfortunately that is the only thing that makes sense.” Despite an icy trickle of fear down the back of her neck, Georgie managed to keep her voice steady. “Drat it. Are you about to faint, Clara? Because I simply cannot find my vinaigrette.”
Wide-eyed, the maid paused as if trying to sense an approaching darkness. “N-no, my lady. I don’t think so.”
“Good.” Georgie tossed her reticule aside. The time for hysterics was not yet. “My father’s outriders have been replaced, and the coachman will not answer me. You know Folger would have responded immediately.” She stood and pushed against the trap door. It refused to budge. “See? It’s locked.” Her strength waning, Georgie sat down abruptly. “But why would anyone want to kidnap me?”
“I’m sure I don’t know.” Wringing her hands, Clara peered out the window. “Are you certain that’s what’s happening? The new outriders could be more of your father’s men, couldn’t they?”
“No, I don’t think so.” Georgie bit her lip, trying to make sense of this extraordinary turn of events. “If Father had sent additional outriders, they or Folger would have informed us when we stopped at The Running Horse. They are very well-trained servants. I only pray they were unharmed when these ruffians accosted them.” Unfortunately there seemed to be only one logical conclusion. “I believe the culprit must be Lord Travers.”
“Lord Travers?” The confusion on Clara’s face was almost comical. “You think Lord Travers is kidnapping you?”
“Nothing else makes sense.” Georgie could scarcely contain the disgust in her voice. The man had not one ounce of intelligence that she could determine. “Because I have refused to discuss or agree to anything regarding our marriage, he has most likely taken matters into his own hands. By kidnapping me he thinks he can force me to speak to him.” A wave of outrage poured through her. “I will very much like to see him try. I dare to tell you, he will not like what he hears.”
“That seems an awfully drastic thing for a gentleman to do.” Clara looked askance at her.
Georgie sighed and tried to relax her shoulders. They ached abominably. “The man hasn’t got a bit of sense, Clara. I doubt he’s managed to think the scheme through completely. He doesn’t realize that if he inconveniences my father, or disturbs his plans he’s likely to find himself unbetrothed. Father insists that things go his way exactly on schedule. If he has to discommode himself by having to fetch me from Lord Travers, it will go very ill for the man.” For the first time since entering the carriage, Georgie grinned. Serve Lord Travers right.
“I take your point, my lady, however—” Clara’s alarm didn’t seem to have abated. Her ashen face drooped, and her bottom lip almost bled where she’d worried it with her teeth. “What if it’s not Lord Travers? What if some stranger’s making off with us?”
“Pfft.” Georgie dismissed that worry out of hand. “Why would anyone do that?”
“For ransom, my lady.” Clara nodded so vehemently the bows on her cap waggled. “Highwaymen used to do that all the time.”
“Highwaymen used to stop carriages and steal the passengers’ money and jewelry. They didn’t kidnap anyone.” At least Georgie didn’t think they did that. Not these days anyway. “Besides, who would pay to ransom me?” Glancing out the window, Georgie gasped, her heart racing anew. Riding close enough to the carriage to leer at her was the odd man from the inn yard.
“Your father, of course, my lady. A marquess with all his wealth could pay a pretty sum to get his daughter back.”
Georgie laughed, a sharp, bitter sound. “If they are counting on that, I fear they have seriously mistaken their game. My father wouldn’t pay a farthing to get me back.” Absently, she pulled Lulu into her lap, stroking the silky fur. Holding her pet gave her a modicum of courage.
“But the kidnappers won’t know that, will they?”
That brought Georgie up short. Clara had a point. “Perhaps not. They may just assume that since he is my father he will pay. Or if he doesn’t, then Jemmy will pay.”
“Or that Lord Travers will pay, because you are betrothed to him.” Clara looked at her expectantly.
It was not a bad plan. Three chances to make money on her. “That does seem possible, but if someone were doing something like this, why wouldn’t he have found out the facts first?” Georgie shook her head, both in denial and to dispel the panic that was again rising. Better the devil you knew. “No, I still believe it is Lord Travers, and, I promise you, he will hear quite enough from me on this horrible behavior. I will give him a curtain lecture even before the first banns are read.”
“Well, I hope it’s nothing more than his lordship wishing to speak with you, then.” Drawing her cloak more snugly around her shoulders, Clara settled back, a glum look on her face, and deliberately shut her eyes.
Upsetting her maid was another topic about which Georgie would ring a peal over Lord Travers’s head.
The lengthening shadows out the window gave Georgie heart. They must stop at an inn yard soon to change the horses. When they did, she and Clara and Lulu would bolt from the carriage, run to the innkeeper, and inform him of what was happening. Even if they pulled into a smallish coaching inn, there surely would be someone—a groom or ostler at least—who would help her. Thank goodness horses had to be changed at regular intervals.
After what seemed an eternity, the carriage began to slow. Georgie tightened her grip on Lulu’s collar and nudged Clara. “When they let us out in the yard, I’ll make a run for the inn. You stay close by me. We’ll find the innkeeper and tell him the whole story. If I mention my father’s name in this part of the world, people will be more willing to help us. He’s got a reputation.”
“God be praised for that, my lady.” Clara sat up, suddenly more alert as she glanced out the window of the slowing carriage. “Do you see an inn?”
Peering out the other window, Georgie frowned, a new foreboding creeping into her mind. They were slowing, but there was no inn in sight. A forest of evergreens lined the road on both sides. No houses, no hedges, no fences even. Nothing to indicate a coaching inn at all. That was very peculiar. She shook her head.
“If there’s no inn, why are we stopping?” Twitching her cloak even closer, Clara sank back on the seat, mouth stretched into a tight line.
“Perhaps a wheel has broken, although I didn’t feel anything amiss.” Georgie sat up straighter, hope beginning to glimmer. “Maybe there is another carriage stopped in the road and we can call for help.”
“Oh, no, my lady.” Clara grasped her hand. “That sounds too dangerous. Those men won’t like if we try to escape.”
“I for one do not care what they like or do not like.” Didn’t Clara understand that they were in desperate straits? They must escape, no matter what. “They cannot kidnap someone and then expect her not to try to get away.”
Sinking back even further into the leather seat, Clara seemed ready to gi
ve up, which made Georgie’s decision even harder. If faced with the choice of escape without Clara or remaining with her, she would have to attempt escape by herself. Once she reached help she could come back for Clara and Lulu. It would be agonizing to leave them, but there was no other way.
The carriage ground to a halt. Georgie gripped Lulu with a frantic hand. “Be ready to run on my signal, Clara. Toward the other carriage as fast as you can go.”
Though fear shone out of her eyes, the maid nodded, gripped her reticule, and set her jaw.
The carriage had not even come to a complete halt when Georgie pushed open the door, flew down the steps, and landed miraculously on her feet. “Help! Help!” She dropped Lulu to the ground, then straightened and turned this way and that. Where was the other carriage? The road in front of the horses was smooth and clear.
Clara jumped down beside her, and Lulu began to bark.
Action was better than no action. Darting toward the front of the carriage, Georgie pelted down the road, her shoes slipping now and then on the rocky surface, until a rider cut her off, coming so close she had to stop and windmill her arms to avoid being run down. She stumbled backward and bumped into Clara, whose feet skidded out from underneath her, landing her in a mound of dead grass.
Still off-balance, Georgie swayed, trying to stay on her feet until she lost the battle and sat down hard, right next to Clara. Lulu strained at her leash, barking shrilly at the enormous bay horse that loomed over their heads.
The odd-looking stranger grinned down at them. “Thought we’d let you get away that easy, my lady?”
Struggling to stand, Georgie found her annoyance overcame her fear. “I think you have made a terrible mistake, Mr. Whoever-you-are.” Fuming, she slapped at the dirt that streaked her pelisse. “I am Lady Georgina Kirkpatrick, daughter of the Marquess of Blackham, and I assure you my father will have you drawn and quartered when he hears of this outrage.” She picked up Lulu and stared defiantly at the man. “I demand you take us back to The Running Horse.”
