Blackthorne's Bride (5 page)

"Your brother?" Miss Brittany asked, her voice sounding strained.

Jack raised a brow as the hatch opened and Nicholas poked his head inside. "Have you met Lord Nicholas Martingale?"

Maddie stared at the dark-haired man with his head through her carriage hatch, taking up the space where her coachman should have been.

"What have you done with my coachman?"

Lord Nicholas looked taken aback. "Your coachman? Never touched the man. He abandoned his post. Blackthorne and I simply filled a need."

"No you didn't," Ashley said. "We had a coachman, and therefore had no need of one. You stole our coach!"

"I resent that imputation of my character," Lord Nicholas said.

"What character?" Ashley cried. "You're a rogue."

Maddie blinked at this new information. She told herself she had to start reading the papers on a regular basis. First, she had no idea who the notorious Lord Blackthorne was, and by Ashley's reaction to the revelation of his name, Maddie knew he must be very wicked. And now, apparently, this Blackthorne's brother was equally scandalous.

Lord Nicholas bristled. "You'd better be careful with your unfounded accusations, Miss Brittany. You, of all people, shouldn't be the first to throw stones."

Ashley reddened, and Maddie's mouth fell open. Ashley was never embarrassed. Had something happened between Lord Nicholas and Ashley that she was unaware of?

"It's not unfounded, Lord Nicholas," Ashley said.

"Do you have proof?" he demanded. "You know I do."

"Then, by all means, expose me for the scoundrel I am."

Maddie watched as the two locked gazes. Amazingly, Ashley was the first to look away.

Lord Nicholas disappeared for a moment, presumably to check on the horses—an action for which Maddie was profoundly grateful, as careening along London's streets without a driver was not her notion of an ideal elopement—then reappeared.

"So where are we going?" he asked his brother.

"We are going no further," Lord Blackthorne told him. "Stop the coach."

"Done." He disappeared again.

Maddie peered out the window and didn't recognize a single building. She had no idea where they were, but by the looks of their surroundings, it wasn't Mayfair. And the smell ...

"Oh, no," she said. As much as she wanted these crazed men out and her calm, adventure-free elopement back, this wouldn't do. "We're not stopping here."

"Not my concern," Blackthorne said, without taking his eyes from the dingy gray shacks they passed.

She glared at Blackthorne. "It should be. You cannot think to abandon us here without a coachman."

He frowned at her. "As I said, that's not my concern."

"Take us back to our coachman," Maddie said, but Mr. Dover was already shaking his head.

He consulted his trusty pocket watch. "According to my calculations, we are now twenty-two minutes behind schedule. We haven't time to go all the way back, find the coachman, and then start again. That would put us approximately ..." He looked as though he were tabulating in his head.

"Your point, sir?" Ashley said impatiently.

"Lord Castleigh might already be looking for us."

Maddie knew he was right, and poor Mr. Dover had more cause to worry than anyone else.

If her father caught them, he was well within his rights to shoot Mr. Dover for absconding with his daughter.

She didn't want to believe that her father would act so monstrously, but undoubtedly he would take a different view of the situation. He wouldn't hesitate to shoot Mr. Dover.

Maddie sighed and stared at her clenched hands. All she had wanted was to marry and then pursue her charitable causes unfettered, as she and Mr. Dover had agreed. And now it seemed she couldn't even elope without trouble. She was a failure at adventure. A miserable failure.

She glanced up. Everyone was looking to her expectantly. She couldn't afford to be pessimistic now. The coach was slowing, and her friends needed her.

Her gaze locked with Lord Blackthorne's, and she steeled herself for opposition. "I am afraid, my lord, that I have to insist you drive us to Gretna Green. At least until such time as we can acquire another coachman."

Blackthorne raised a black eyebrow. "You can insist all you want, Lady Madeleine, but I'm not going anywhere close to Gretna Green. Especially not with two unattached females in tow."

Ashley snorted. "As though either of us would marry you!"

"Oh, the feeling's mutual, Miss Brittany. But I'm not taking any chances. You know my reputation. Throw Gretna Green into the mix, and you would be compromised. And don't think I'll marry you out of some misguided sense of honor."

"Obviously, you don't know the meaning of the word," Maddie shot back.

To her surprise, Blackthorne didn't grow angry at her impudence. Instead, he leaned forward, so close that she caught the scent of coffee and soap on his skin. His dark eyes bore into hers, their intensity making her insides heat. "Remember that, sweetheart," he said, voice dark and low.

Maddie didn't know why she was reacting to him. She couldn't stop her gaze from traveling to his mouth and wondering what it would be like if he whispered other, more scandalous words in her ear. She wondered what that blue-black hair would feel like under her fingertips. She wondered ... Jiminy, she wondered what he'd look like with his shirt off!

"Lord Blackthorne," Dover interjected. "I must ask you to refrain from taking a familiar attitude with either of these ladies. I
will
defend them."

Ashley laughed. "With what? Your pocket watch?"

"Ashley!" Maddie said reprovingly. Poor Mr. Dover. He was trying. Blackthorne would probably beat him senseless for it, but at least her fiance had honor.

But Blackthorne didn't beat Dover senseless. Instead, he nodded in agreement.

Maddie blinked in surprise. She knew a man like Blackthorne wasn't intimidated in the least by the likes of Mr. Dover, who though taller than Blackthorne, possessed nothing of Blackthorne's obvious strength or wiles.

But Blackthorne seemed to respect Dover. Either that or he couldn't be bothered by him. "I have no intention of becoming any more familiar with the lot of you," Blackthorne said. "Good-bye, and good riddance."

With that, he opened the carriage door and stepped into the ambush.

Jack felt the cold metal of the pistol at his temple before he saw the man holding it.

"Who the hell are you? And what are you doing with my daughter?"

"I didn't touch her," Jack protested. It wasn't the first time he'd said it, but this time it was definitely true.

He had stepped out of the carriage and was facing a small shop with a slab of meat painted on the sign above. He didn't dare turn his head—no need to make his attacker nervous—so he continued to stare at the slab of meat.

It wasn't a comforting picture.

"I saw you step out of this carriage, and I saw my daughter get inside. If you put just one of your grubby fingers on her—"

"I didn't even look at her. I swear," Jack said. Well, now that wasn't exactly true, but at this point Jack wished he hadn't looked at Lady Madeleine.

Wished he'd never even heard of the chit.

He didn't have much hope that Lady Madeleine's father would believe him. Fathers of girl children were a notoriously bad sort. He had seen even the sanest, most reasonable men turn daft when it came to their daughters.

The best he could hope for was that Lord Castleigh would shoot him in the head. Then it would be over quickly.

All over.

Unless he could figure out a way to distract Castleigh ...

Where the devil was Nicholas? Probably halfway back home by now. That was gratitude for you.

"Sir," Jack said, trying to buy time, "it was an honest mistake. I stepped into the wrong carriage. I had no idea your daughter was inside or that she was eloping to Gretna Green."

"Gretna Green!" the man exploded.

Jack winced as the pistol slammed into his temple. Perhaps he shouldn't have mentioned Gretna?

"I'm
not involved. That's why I'm getting out here. I don't want to marry your daughter."

"What's wrong with my daughter?"

Bloody hell, he couldn't say the right thing today. "Nothing. She's lovely."

The pistol dug deeper. If he survived this, he was going to kill Nicholas. Bloody coward bastard!

"She's lovely,
but
I don't want to marry her. Or any woman!"

"Yes, he does, Daddy!" a familiar voice called from the carriage. "That's my fiance, and if you shoot him, I will never forgive you."

"What?"

Pistol be damned, Jack couldn't stop himself from turning to look at the speaker.

The blonde smiled sweetly at him from the open window of the carriage.

Damn it all to hell! Was the woman mad? What the hell had she gotten him into now?

"Ashley Gweneira Brittany, get out of that carriage at once!" the man who'd been holding the pistol to Jack's head bellowed. Jack saw now that it was not Lord Castleigh at all but Sir Gareth, Ashley Brittany's father. "I forbid you to run off on your own and elope."

The blonde shook her head. "I'm not on my own, Daddy. Maddie's with me."

Lady Madeleine poked her head through the opposite window. "Good afternoon, Sir Gareth."

"Does your father know about this?" Sir Gareth wanted to know.

But Jack didn't hear her answer. Nicholas chose that second to emerge from his hiding place on top of the carriage.

Jack shook his head frantically. Trust Nicholas to pick the moment when they were finally getting things worked out.

But Nick either didn't see him or ignored him. With a whoop, his brother tackled Sir Gareth, flattening him.

Jack jumped out of the way just in time, watching as Sir Gareth's pistol skidded along the ground, stopping with a thunk against the wall of the butcher shop. But the loss of his weapon didn't deter Sir Gareth. He came up fighting. A hard left to Nick's jaw sent Jack's brother sprawling.

With Nicholas down momentarily, Gareth looked at Jack. "You think you can take me, boy?"

Jack tried to raise his arms in a gesture of peace—he had no intention of fighting an old man—but Sir Gareth charged, knocking him down and forcing him to defend himself.

Jack tried to be gentle, restraining the older man as much as possible. Sir Gareth fought hard and was soon out of breath. Jack released him and was stumbling to his feet when Ashley Brittany came flying across the road. "What did you do to my father? How could you hurt a helpless old man?"

Helpless? Jack lifted his aching shoulder, where the helpless old man had rammed him into the ground.

Ashley ran past him, and Jack reached out to catch her, but she evaded him, attacking Nick instead. "Don't you dare hurt my father. Don't make me repay that wrong, too!" she shrieked.

Jack took a step back. Repay?

There was obviously some unsettled business between his brother and Miss Brittany. Jack was prepared to let them reconcile it on their own. Nick had already caught the blonde's wrists and was trying to calm her when Jack noticed Sir Gareth beginning to rise.

Damn. "Nick! Watch out!" he called.

Nick turned to look at Sir Gareth, and the blonde kicked him. With a sigh, Jack interceded. He pried Ashley Brittany off his brother and propelled her back toward the carriage. "You wanted to go to Gretna Green?" he panted, still trying to catch his own breath. "We're going to Gretna Green."

Jack nodded to his brother, and Nick trotted up. His movements were a bit gingerly—when the Brittany family decided to do someone violence, it usually succeeded. But with one Brittany down and the other almost secure in the carriage, Jack figured his brother would survive another day.

Over Miss Brittany's curses—she was teaching him some rather inventive phrases—Jack called, "You don't have to come along. I can handle this."

Nick shook his head. "I'm coming. It's better if we aren't seen in London for a while."

"And it might be harder for Ble—" He glanced at Miss Brittany, who was listening now. "—for our
friend,
if we split up."

"What, and let you have all the fun?" Nick winked at the blonde, and she started cursing again.

A quick glance at Sir Gareth, and Jack knew they were out of time. The old man was shuffling toward his pistol.

"Fine, come along," he said, moving toward the carriage. Nick headed for the coachman's box. "But you know what this means?" He gestured at the irate Sir Gareth.

Nick grinned. "Better you than me, Blackthorne!"

Jack scowled. His brother said it so often, it was practically a motto.

Ashley Brittany yelled a last insult at Nick's back, and Jack shoved his new fiancee inside. He climbed in after her just as Nick whipped the horses into motion.

The blonde flew across the coach to complain loudly to Lady Madeleine, and Jack looked behind them.