James's Lady (Regency Club Venus 5)

by Carole Mortimer

  The duke eyed him speculatively. “I trust it does not involve your…previous life of crime in St. Giles?” he finally murmured.

  “An’ what’s it to ya if it does, guvnor?” James answered in the Cockney accent he had adopted for the years of his estrangement from his sister and title. It had been necessary to fit in when living in the slum known as St. Giles.

  “Then I sincerely hope you know what you are doing,” Blackborne dismissed.

  “As do I,” James echoed. “But whatever happens, please reassure Benedict that Beatrix shall come to no harm.”

  “Whatever happens…?” the other man repeated doubtfully.

  James nodded. “As I said.”

  The duke continued to look at him for several long seconds before giving an abrupt nod. “Very well.” He left James to rejoin the other gentlemen still seated around the table.

  James continued to stare out the window, his gaze directed toward where he could see the terrace running the length of the sitting room. The room where he knew the ladies had retired to drink their tea.

  He sincerely hoped his goading of Beatrix earlier would encourage her to be brave enough to take that stroll out on the terrace.

  Several small lamps lit up the area, allowing James to clearly see Beatrix the moment she stepped outside, wrapped warmly in a cloak but not wearing a bonnet.

  Just as he also saw several dark figures moving stealthily along in the shadows at the side of the house.

  Once near enough one of those shadows leaped forward to place a hand across Beatrix’s mouth before tying a kerchief in place to prevent her screams, if she should make any, to be heard.

  Another of those shadows pulled her arms behind her back and secured her wrists.

  Gently, James hoped. It was not his intention for any harm to come to her from this venture.

  A third man threw a hood over her head before lifting her over his shoulder.

  The three figures, one carrying their captive, then disappeared quietly into the night.

  It was time James made is excuses to his host and hostess and joined them.

  Chapter Six

  Beatrix had never been so terrified in her life.

  Silenced, first with a hand over her mouth, and then a rag of some kind.

  Her hands bound.

  Before she was thrown over the shoulder of one of her assailants.

  She did not need to be able to see to know she was then carried away from Shaftesbury House and bundled onto the floor of a carriage, before being driven off into the night.

  All of it done without a word having been spoken by any of Beatrix’s kidnappers, to each other or to her. As well as terrified, she was astounded at the audacity of their having so blatantly removed her from the terrace of a much respected member of Society.

  Her disappearance would not go unnoticed for long, she felt sure. But the kidnapping had been done so stealthily that, despite the snow, she doubted either her brother or any of his friends would know in which direction to look for her. Instead, they would be forced to wait to receive a ransom demand from her kidnappers.

  What of James?

  Would he be worried and upset when he learned of her disappearance?

  Of course he would, if for no other reason than she was the sister of one of his closest friends.

  To expect him to feel anything more would be unreasonable after the way Beatrix had refused his marriage proposal and then shunned him at every opportunity since her arrival in London.

  Tears cascaded hotly down her cheeks inside the hood at the thought of perhaps never seeing James again. Of never having the chance to tell him how much she did truly love him.

  She knew from stories she had read in the newspapers that when people were kidnapped, in London or anywhere else, they were more often than not found dead. That sometimes they had even been killed before the ransom money was demanded or paid.

  James was a prime example of that, in that ten years ago he had been set upon by a group of thugs after visiting his London tailor. Believing him dead, his attackers had thrown him into the river. It had been pure chance that he had been rescued by three young Cockneys before he drowned.

  The fact Beatrix was still alive now perhaps boded well for her own continuing good health.

  She certainly hoped so.

  She made a promise to herself that if she returned from this terrifying ordeal, she would give up this ridiculous game and tell James how she truly felt about him.

  If she returned…

  In the meantime, she had to do everything she could to divert her kidnappers from the idea of killing her.

  * * *

  James’s groom steered the carriage assuredly through the quiet London streets to their destination.

  It was much later than James had anticipated. Beatrix’s disappearance had been discovered far more quickly than he would have liked and before he’d had opportunity to take his leave. Because of that, he had been forced to be a part of the search for her.

  Winter had been furious, the ladies upset, and the gentlemen baffled—except Blackborne—as to why someone should have even thought of intruding into Shaftesbury’s garden in the random hope of finding someone they might kidnap. The consensus finally agreed that perhaps burglary had been the initial intention, but finding Beatrix alone outside on the balcony had been too tempting to resist.

  James had received a piercing glance from Blackborne after a search of the grounds revealed three sets of man-size footprints in the snow leading into the garden and then out again onto the main road. The indentations of carriage wheels showed Beatrix must have been removed in that manner. The duke had not spoken his words of accusation out loud, but before James left he had reminded the older man he was at liberty to voice his suspicions, and also James’s assurances Beatrix would come to no harm to her brother.

  It had never been James’s intention to worry or upset anyone. But neither could he continue to be the rejected lover waiting upon Beatrix’s whim.

  By the end of tonight, their situation would be settled, one way or the other.

  There were only two ways that could happen.

  Beatrix would agree to become his wife.

  Or James would remove himself from her life forever.

  * * *

  Beatrix blinked rapidly as, the hood having been removed, she was able to see her kidnappers for the first time in the glow of the candlelight supplied by an ornate three-pronged silver candelabra. No doubt, judging by the men’s appearance, it was a stolen candelabra.

  There were three of them, their hair overlong and all of them dressed in the same ragged clothes she had seen on the many street urchins since coming to London.

  Except these men were much older than that, possibly her own age of six and twenty. Nor did they appear as dirty on the face and hands as the other street people she had seen. On closer inspection, their clothes, although old and torn, also looked relatively clean.

  “Do I know you?” she voiced slowly.

  “I some’ow dowts it, me lady,” the red-haired one answered her derisively.

  Her chin lifted. “My brother, Lord Benedict Winter, will pay whatever ransom you demand.”

  “Ain’t asked ’im fa one.”

  She swallowed. “Then what are you going to do with me?”

  He grinned. “That’s up ta the boss ta decide.” From the way the other two grinned their approval, it seemed obvious he was their leader and spokesperson.

  Beatrix frowned. “And when are you expecting this…boss to arrive?”

  “When ’e gets ’ere,” came the unhelpful reply.

  She looked at their surroundings. As far as she could see, from the extent of the candles’ glow, they were in what appeared to be an abandoned store that had once sold ladies’, or possibly gentlemen’s, apparel and accessories. There were several broken stands lying on the dust-covered floor, with more in the alcove windows that had probably once been used to display hats and gloves. Blinds were pulled d
own over those windows so that anyone walking by outside wouldn’t be able to see in.

  Her gaze returned to her kidnappers. “Would you mind untying my wrists? The ties are cutting into my skin.”

  “Are ya gonna try ta run if’n we do?” the redhead prompted.

  “Honestly? In all probability, yes,” Beatrix answered with a grimace once he’d nodded.

  He grinned, revealing several gaps in what were otherwise white teeth. “I likes ya,” he approved.

  “Under different circumstances, I might like you too,” she allowed. None of these men looked fierce or dangerous or as if they wished to kill her. “Will your boss be arriving tonight?”

  He tilted his head as if listening. “I fink I ’ear his carriage owtside now. Time fa ya to be blindfold agen.”

  Beatrix barely had time to let out a squeak of protest before the gag that had been about her mouth was now placed over her eyes. She didn’t like having once again been plunged into darkness, but at least she wasn’t completely enshrouded in the black hood this time.

  She heard the bell ring over the front door of the abandoned shop, as indication someone else had entered. There was the sound of a whispered conversation, and she thought she might have overheard the name Billy, followed by the sound of the door opening and then closing again.

  Leaving Beatrix in the tense and silent darkness. “Is there anyone there?”

  Surely they hadn’t just left her here? There might be mice or worse, rats, living in the derelict building. If they were hungry enough, they might even try to eat her whilst she was still alive. A horrifying thought that was enough to set her heart pounding and her pulse racing.

  Chapter Seven

  “The ovvers ’ad ta leave. I’m the one ’as is goin ta stay ’ere wiv ya fa now.”

  Beatrix stilled at the sound of that husky voice. Not the red-haired man, but someone else, talking in a tone of voice, if not the accent, which seemed vaguely familiar to her. “Who are you, and where did the other men go?”

  “They ’ad ta leave, me lady,” the new voice taunted without answering the first part of the question.

  “So you are the boss they referred to?” Beatrix persisted.

  “Must be,” he mocked.

  Her mouth tightened. “Your friends removed the hood but put this blindfold on when you arrived. They had no problem with me seeing their faces, but perhaps you are too cowardly to do the same?” It was, in fact, a little worrying that those other three men hadn’t feared showing her their faces, implying as it did that perhaps Beatrix would not be alive to recognize or incriminate them in her abduction.

  “Yers got spirit, I’ll give yer that,” the new man drawled. “Oo do we send the ransom note to? Ya farver? Brovver? Or maybe a luvver?” he added suggestively.

  “My father died years ago. But my brother is Lord Benedict Winter, and I am sure he would happily pay a ransom for my safe return.”

  “An’ ya luvver?”

  “I do not—” Beatrix was once again assailed with that feeling of…well, familiarity.

  Which was utterly ridiculous. She hadn’t been to London for many years until two weeks ago. Nor did she have any acquaintances who looked and behaved like the three men who had just left.

  But with sight denied to her, Beatrix’s other senses seemed to have sharpened.

  For instance, she could hear the even tenor of this new man’s breathing.

  Could smell the lemon and sandalwood of his cologne— Would a ruffian such as this one even know what cologne was, let alone go to the trouble of wearing one?

  Not just any cologne either, but one that Beatrix was well acquainted with.

  No!

  It couldn’t be.

  Surely James would never do something as outrageous as having his Cockney friends kidnap her?

  Yes, yes, he would, came the immediate answer. At least, the gentleman who had been glaring at her with frustration for the past week or more would almost certainly do so.

  Until recently, and for ten years, James had lived in the slums of London, carefully concealing his real identity, and allowing his family to believe he was dead in order to protect the only person who mattered to him: his sister Bethany.

  So, yes, she believed James was now perfectly capable of having some of his Cockney friends kidnap her.

  The question that needed to be answered was why he would go to such elaborate lengths to have her brought here.

  Beatrix could think of only one answer to that question.

  “Whatcha smilin’ abowt?”

  Beatrix couldn’t help but continue to smile as the tightness eased in her chest. The terror, that had held her in its grip since the hood was first thrown over her head and she was carried off into the night fearing for her very life, was also receding.

  “Your friends did not hurt me.”

  “I’d ’ave their guts fa garters if’n they did,” he snapped.

  “Why?”

  “’Cos I tolds ’em not ta touch an ’air on yer ’ead”

  Just as Beatrix suspected. “A few minutes ago, you asked if I have a lover.”

  The air about them seemed to still. “Yeah?”

  If Beatrix was wrong in her surmise, then so be it. But even if she was, at least this way her kidnappers might contact James and ask him for the ransom money. Knowing the slums of London as well as he did, and many of the people who lived in them, she had no doubt James would be more successful at finding her than her brother and any of his friends.

  Beatrix moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue before speaking. “There is a man I love, yes.”

  The man drew in a sharp breath. “’Oo is ’e?”

  “Someone who will see you and your cohorts pay dearly for having kidnapped me,” she voiced bravely.

  “Doesen’ arnswer me question.”

  Beatrix really would be taking a leap in the dark—literally—with her next comment. But truly, what did she have to lose?

  Either this situation was exactly as she had begun to hope it was and she and James would be able to dispense with the distance that had arisen between the two of them the past nine days.

  Or she had been abducted by four complete strangers and a ransom would be demanded if Benedict wished to have his sister returned to him alive.

  One thing Beatrix knew for certain, however this situation was resolved, she could no longer continue to hold James at arm’s length the way she had been doing since attending the Blackbornes’ ball.

  Besides, if James really had orchestrated her abduction, then he must already believe she was a strong and resilient woman rather than some damaged lily-livered milksop in need of his kindness and protection.

  It was all and everything Beatrix had wished and hoped for.

  “I wanna know ’is name,” her kidnapper grated impatiently.

  “Why?” she delayed.

  “Can’t contact ’im wivout a name.”

  “My brother is my closest relative.”

  “Not wha’ I arsked, no’ is it.”

  Beatrix drew in a deep and calming breath before answering. “The man I love is named Lord James Charles Malcolm Metford. He is the Earl of Ipswich.”

  * * *

  Joy burst inside James’s chest upon hearing Beatrix speaking his name as being the man she loved.

  Brave and beautiful Beatrix loved him.

  His original plan had been to kidnap her and keep her as his prisoner until he had seduced her into falling in love with him.

  But if it was true she already loved him, then that only left seduction…

  Once she had forgiven him for having kidnapped her, of course.

  If she forgave him!

  “Are you still there?” she asked uncertainly at his continued silence.

  “I am.” He spoke in his normal voice and accent as he moved behind her and began to untie the handkerchief Billy had secured over her eyes. It was one of James’s own silk squares and had been given to Billy and his friends in readin
ess for Beatrix’s abduction.

  Not that Billy, Arthur, and Sean lived in St. Giles anymore. Since resuming the Ipswich title James had ensured the men who had once saved him from drowning after he was attacked, and continued to be his friends during the ten years that followed, were now living together in a house owned by James. They were also now working for James on several different enterprises. James had every intention of always continuing to ensure the safety and comfort of his three friends.

  Having removed the blindfold, and beset by sudden nervousness as to Beatrix’s reaction when she saw him, James continued to stand behind her rather than in front of her. But he could not resist placing his hands on her shoulders, instantly feeling her warmth beneath his palms.

  He felt her draw in a long breath before speaking. “James, it was never my intention to hurt you by refusing your marriage proposal,” she told him softly, revealing she already knew exactly who was standing behind her. “I only wished to know that you were asking me for the right reasons.”

  “And they are?”

  “Love. Respect. The acknowledgment that I do not need anyone’s protection or pity.” She lifted a hand to touch the scars along her jaw. “That I am a complete woman and capable of being a partner and helpmate, and not a burden, to my husband. It is for that reason I decided to come to London and enter Society, after all those years of shunning it.”

  “And took the ton, and all the gentlemen, by storm,” he muttered in disgust.

  She huffed a small laugh. “I am not sure about that.”

  James’s fingers tightened on her shoulders. “Those gentlemen constantly vying for your attention would not agree,” he rasped his displeasure at that knowledge.

  “They mean nothing to me, James.” She turned to look at him over her shoulder. “You are the man I fell in love with the first time I met you. A man who has shown me nothing but kindness and caring from the beginning. The man I have no doubts I will continue to love for the rest of my life.”

  “But you required more from me,” he acknowledged. “A steadfastness in your strength to take care of yourself. Along with a need to know that I desire you beyond life.”