A woman’s voice and . . . he recognized Morgan.
Stephen peaked around the edge of the wall. Anger sliced his gut. A red haze filled his vision when he saw Kat tied to a chair. From what he could tell, she was unharmed. Then he nearly swallowed his tongue. For a woman stood beside his sister with long auburn hair, vastly similar to his own . . . damnation. She looked like Kat.
Good God!
Giles had told him the story while they were on the ship. How the two women had the same remarkable hair. How men snatched Kat because of her resemblance to this woman. After seeing her with his own eyes, he now understood. The unbelievable story made sense.
“I’m in no mood for games.”
“A man of your reputation surely has a weapon. Please remove it.”
While Morgan and the redhead battled words, a form moved from the shadows.
Ahh. There is one of her henchmen. Just my size.
“You don’t want my man to have his pistol go off by accident.”
“Harm a hair on her head, I will kill you.”
“There’s no need to be dramatic.” With a casual wave, the red haired woman stepped closer to Kat. Then she lifted a lock of Kat’s hair.
He had to keep his mind on the brute in front of him. Morgan would handle the woman.
While he searched the room, he committed every detail to memory. Giles appeared on the other side. Their gazes locked and Giles gave a nod. Both men moved at once.
Stephen slapped one hand over the big brute’s mouth while his other hand clasped the kidnapper’s throat. At least he’d regained some muscle working with the crew on the return voyage to England. Giving the right amount of pressure, the man slumped without much struggle. Stephen caught him before he hit the floor. Quiet as death, he maneuvered the body behind a curtain, and quickly took the man’s place. Since they were of the same size, he hoped the woman too busy to notice.
He glanced over to see Giles had subdued the guard on the other side of the room and was making his way to the woman. With stealth, he wormed his way to her back while Morgan and the redhead continued their heated discussion. Morgan had to see Giles, but he gave no indication. He held Juliana’s gaze.
“You were gone so long, we thought you dead.” Juliana continued, unaware of their presence. “Of course, I gave my father the idea. Once we moved to Whetherford Manor, he became the man he used to be. Full of life. Full of power. I actually think the title meant more to him than the wealth.”
“But not to you. What happened? Did he not spoil you enough? Did he not give you your every whim? Why didn’t you take the blasted jewels and keep on going,” Morgan asked. “Why did you come back?”
Juliana gave a brittle laugh. “I knew you’d follow me forever.”
“You have the necklace. What do you think you’ll gain by taking Miss Radbourn?”
“I find it interesting Miss Radbourn is a replica of me.”
Standing directly behind her, Giles grated close to her ear, “Pure coincidence.”
Juliana’s eyes flew open in shock. When she whirled, Giles grabbed her and pinned her to his chest.
“Sorry to spoil your plans, my dear.” His arms tightened, imprisoning her resisting body.
Juliana screamed. “Let me go, damn you.”
Stephen made a mad dash for Kat. Her eyes wide with surprise, tears trickled down her cheeks. As fast as his fingers would move, he quickly untied her bonds. Free at last, Kat hurled herself into his arms.
“Kitten,” Stephen whispered and held her close.
“Stephen. Oh, Stephen. Thank God you’re alive,” Kat cried. She buried her face in his chest. He rested his chin on top of her head while his hands stroked her back.
“I’ve got you, Kitten. You’re safe.”
Leaning back, Kat placed a palm on his cheek. “Oh, Stephen. You’re here. You’re really here.”
“Are you hurt? Has anyone harmed you in any way?” God, how his chest squeezed. If she’d been harmed the blasted harridan would deal with him.
“I’m fine, now that you’re here.” She hugged him tighter. Then her cries turned into whaling sobs.
He glanced at the other woman. It appeared Giles and Morgan had her well in hand. By the look in Morgan’s eye, the woman might not live long enough to regret her actions.
Stephen’s concern now was his sister. She’d been through enough. Time to take her home. He tried easing Kat back, putting space between them, but she burrowed into his chest. With his arm around her, he strode to Morgan.
“I’m taking her home.”
Pain filled Morgan’s eyes. “Kat?”
“She’s been through enough,” Stephen continued.
Morgan said her name again. “Kat?”
Her fingers tightened on Stephen’s coat, her lower lip trembled. “Please, Stephen. Take me home.”
Stephen caught Morgan’s gaze above her head. Hearing the desperation in his sister’s voice, he gave a negative shake to Morgan, and mouthed the words, not now.
He led Kat to the hallway. Her legs wobbled. He bent down, placed an arm under her knees, and hefted her up into his arms. When he carried her outside, Wesley was there, waiting. Again, Stephen shook his head. Wesley gave a whistle and Jeremy pulled a landau to the steps.
“Katherine will be more comfortable in this.” Wesley gave a nod toward the house, presuming the woman inside. “She won’t be needing it.” He opened the carriage door and Stephen placed Kat inside.
He turned to Wesley. “You have my thanks.” They gave each other a hardy shake and sent a silent message with their eyes, reminiscent of their bond as comrades from years ago. Then he climbed in beside his sister.
He’d missed Kat. She’d kept him sane during his confinement of inhumanity. He had dreamed of his sister. Dreamed of seeing her again, holding her in his arms—but never imagined her sobs would rent his heart so.
He could only imagine the rendering of the heart of the man who held hers.
Chapter 25
The headache that threatened all night pounded in earnest. With a pensive sigh, Jennifer stared out the window of her bedchamber. A favorite spot of hers, she’d spent many nights on the cushioned seat pondering her thoughts. Thoughts of marrying Johnny. A lifetime ago.
Now her contemplations dwelled on a man with a lion’s mane, red as the deepest sunset blazing on the horizon of an evening sky. Green eyes that could sear the skin of her flesh, and delve into the center of her heart, demanding she give her all. And she had. He may not have wanted her love, but she’d given it just the same. He drained every ounce of her energy, he’d conquered her soul. She was lost without him.
How could he leave her and walk away without a care? She had not seen him in weeks. Not heard one word from him. Tossing pride to the wind, she’d sent him notes. Still he’d not responded. Her trusted maid swore she took them to his residence. Handed them personally to another maid. Still, no answer.
Her heart ached.
A light tap and her bedchamber door opened.
“Jen. Are you awake?” Isabella slipped inside.
“Yes,” she called from her alcove under the window.
“What are you doing? You didn’t come to breakfast.”
“I’m not hungry.” She stared through the lace covering the window.
“You must eat. You’ll waste away to nothing. Then what will your captain think?”
A twinge plucked her chest. “He’s not my captain.”
“Of course he is. I’ll warrant he will not want a skinny, bony woman.”
Isabella was a romantic. She would not give up on the foolish notion Stephen was her sister’s happily ever after.
“I have not seen him since he brought me home.”
“Well, you won’t see him as lo
ng as you continue to hide in your room.”
Let her think what she wants. I don’t care.
“Anyway, I have something to tell you.” Isabella plopped on the seat beside her. “You could at least pretend you’re interested.”
Jennifer looked at her sister. “Very well. What is it?”
“It’s about your captain.”
A spark flickered. She ignored it. “I told you, he’s not . . . ?”
“You really should have come to Lady Delgrave’s ball last night. It was the height of the season.”
Jennifer wanted to grab her sister by the arms and shake her. Instead she pretended to be bored. “What do you have to tell me?”
Isabella frowned in irritation. “Aren’t you interested? Guess who was there?”
Certainly not Stephen.
“Who?” Her voice betrayed her anxious curiosity.
“Thought that might get your attention.”
“Isabella.” Her sister love to play games. “You’re bursting to tell me something. Out with it.”
Isabella skewed her nose in the air.
“Is-a-bell-a.”
She giggled. Then she grabbed Jennifer’s hands. “The talk was of your captain. His sister was kidnapped.”
“What?” She ignored the your captain part. Kidnapped commanded her immediate attention. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. The gossip of the ton is alive and running like wildfire. His sister was kidnapped by Lord Whetherford’s mistress and Stephen left to rescue her. Maybe that’s why your handsome captain has not answered you letters.”
Jennifer raised her fist to her mouth and bit down on her knuckle. “Oh my. He must be beside himself.” She jerked her hand down. “Stephen has a horrible temper. He is bound for trouble.”
“I heard he is the man to give trouble. Not be on the receiving end of it.”
Little did Isabella know. Stephen had been tortured and starved. That was a secret she would never reveal. For it was not her story to tell.
“You have a discerning look on your face.” Isabella studied her. “Have you told me everything? What are you keeping from me?”
“It’s incomprehensible you expect me to divulge years of my life in as many weeks. Tell me. What else did you hear?”
“Lord Thornton is Stephen’s uncle. A very important man. Father speaks highly of him.”
“If he is a man of Parliament, of course Father would know him. I never thought of that.”
“Stephen’s mother was Lord Thornton’s sister. When their parents died, killed in a carriage accident I believe, he brought his sister to live with his uncle. They are here for the season, but his sister is older than me.”
“Older? I thought she was younger. Stephen speaks of her as a child.”
“Well, she caught Lord Whetherford’s eye. Which is another story. He’s the Dark Lord.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Evidently he has a shady past. I told you the rumor mill was thriving.”
“Good Lord. You learned all of this last night?”
“Yes. And if you had gone with me, you could have heard the news firsthand.”
Jennifer jumped from the window seat. A million thoughts circling through her head. His sister kidnapped. He must have been in a rage to receive such news.
“Stephen is very protective of his sister. If this Lord Whetherford is a shady character, and with Stephen’s temper, someone is bound to get hurt.”
“My money is on your captain.” Isabella’s smile was more of a smirk.
Fear settled in her gut.
“He’s recovering. He’s not strong enough to go chasing after ruffians.”
Isabella stood. “What do you mean he’s recovering? He looked fine to me.”
Now she’d done it. Oh, my wayward tongue.
“He was injured. I don’t know if he regained all of his strength back.”
“What kind of injury? What happened?” Isabella stepped closer.
“It doesn’t matter.” Jennifer waved her hand and paced the length of her bed. She whirled around. “Did you hear anything else?”
“That’s pretty much everything. Unless you want to hear more about Lord Whetherford and his mistress.”
“You know about the man’s mistress? Good Lord, Isabella. What kind of company are you keeping?” She paced to her bed. “No, thank you. I want to know only about Stephen.”
“Lady Marsdale is giving a ball tomorrow night. If you want to know what’s going on among the ton, a ball is the place to find out.”
Jennifer halted. When she turned, her sister rolled her eyes in a mocking gesture of innocence.
Isabella swiped her fingers across her chest and held up one hand. “It’s the truth.” Her mouth formed into a crafty smile. “You must want to go to a ball. You’ve been gone three years. Don’t you miss it?”
Heavens no.
But then, once she had loved dressing up in fine gowns and dancing at lively balls. For the last several years she’d labored, slaved, worried for her next meal, and been scared the life she lived was her curse for survival. Now, she was home. Free of her former life. Still young. Didn’t she deserve to laugh? Didn’t she deserve to be happy?
And didn’t she crave news of Stephen?
“Yes. Yes, I’ll go.”
Isabella ran to her, squealing. She threw her arms around her and bounced up and down in delight. “Come.” Isabella took her hand and led her to the clothes closet and threw open the doors. She grabbed gowns by the arm full and threw them on the bed.
“Isabella, what are you doing?”
“Even if these gowns fit, they are out of date. We must get rid of them. Then, we will go shopping.” She gave a cry of glee. “Shopping, Jen. We’ll find you the prettiest gowns, the latest fashion in all of England.”
She ran to the door and flung it open. “Marie!”
Jennifer stared in amazement. She’d forgotten how excited her sister got when they went shopping. Marie rushed through the door.
“Yes, mum.”
“Marie. Take these gowns and put them in the donation box. Jennifer and I are going shopping.”
Jennifer had not a vain bone in her body, at least not for the last few years. Before she’d left London she had dressed in the height of fashion. Being a Marquess’s daughter, it was expected. She’d been told repeatedly that she was beautiful, but the only one whose words she had cared about was the man she married. What a foolish young girl.
Experience had taught her the value of life, making her realize how shallow she and her friends had behaved. She glanced at the jars of cream littering her vanity. Balm to keep her skin smooth and creamy, safe from the blistering cold English weather. She’d needed them more in the harsh sun while she labored about her tiny house, to keep her sun-bronzed skin from turning to leather.
Her body may have aged only a few years, but in her mind, she’d grown much older. The little-girl-look was gone, and in its place a mature woman had developed. Standing before the mirror, she studied her reflection. A stunning creature with soulful eyes stared back at her, with full, pouting lips. Her fingers traced their outline. Memories emerged of Stephen’s kisses. Soft and gentle, then eager and consuming. Life was full of twists and turns. Luck had brought her home to her family.
She tightened her corset, achieving a fullness that came to her naturally. She had no desire to have some gentlemen ogling her breasts, drip syrupy compliments expecting her to fall at his feet. But the modiste and Isabella argued fashion dictated a lower décolletage. Although, the only man for whom she would willingly display her wares had no interest in her.
A pair of vivid green eyes sprang to mind. Eyes that glowed with mischief, then burned with desire. Her blood heated. A fine
blanket of reddish-chestnut hair sprinkled across a masculine chest. Her fingers tingled.
Closing her eyes, she rubbed her temples, driving the image away. She took deep breaths. A headache building, she needed to come to grips with the facts. Stephen left her. He would not be coming back. So she had to go after him. Agonizing over how to manage that feat only produced another headache.
Once again she glanced into the mirror. Her hair, done in the Grecian mode, also considered the height of fashion. The blue silk was cut so low in the bosom, she was about to fall out. She grabbed the top of her gown and pulled. Humph. She dug through her chest looking for a piece of linen, anything to use as a fichu. Finding a handkerchief, she grabbed the thing and stuffed it under the edge of her bodice.
“What are you doing?” Isabella met her eyes in the mirror.
A flush of heat rushed to Jennifer’s face.
“Turn around. You look ridiculous.”
“I know. That’s why I need a fichu.”
“You do not.” Isabella jerked the cloth from her bosom. “That’s better. You’re used to ugly garb and rags for clothing.”
“You make me sound like a beggar.”
“You no longer need to live like a pauper.”
Even though Isabella hadn’t meant the offence, her slur had hurt. Self-supporting had been Jennifer’s way of life. Her surroundings in her parent’s house of luxury seemed like a fairytale.
“You look beautiful.” Isabella took her hands. “You will have your choice of gentlemen this night.”
The True One (One and Only Series Book 2) Page 20
