Candice Hern (24 page)

Eleanor, I love you
.

She refused to believe him, though heaven knew she would like to. It would be so easy to take those words and hold them close to her heart. Yet his brother had said Simon fell in love routinely, so they were no doubt facile words, often spoken. He had not repeated them during or after their second loving, so Eleanor was convinced he had merely murmured well-used words in the dizzy afterglow of lovemaking, thinking perhaps that was what every woman wanted to hear at such a time. She would not consider them. She would not fall victim again to a practiced seducer. She might allow her body to be seduced, but she would not let her heart be broken again. She was older and wiser this time. She would take what Simon had to offer, and she would enjoy it immensely, but she would expect and ask for no more.

Besides, there was still Belinda to consider.

Belinda!

Good Lord, she had become so involved in her own pleasure, she’d forgot that Belinda was now well and truly missing. She scrambled out of bed, scattering the blasted lilac everywhere, and heard
something fall to the floor. It was a folded piece of parchment. She bent to pick it up and immediately saw the big sprawling S at the bottom. It was a letter from Simon. She sat back down on the bed to read it.

Eleanor gave a little shriek. She was found! Thank the heavens above, she was found at long last. She clasped the note to her breast and gave in to the emotion that threatened to overwhelm her. Tears fell unheeded down her cheeks. Bless Simon for riding off to collect her. Eleanor could not wait to fold the girl in her arms and hug her close. Afterward, she might be tempted to throttle her, but first, a hug. She took a deep, shuddery breath and resumed the note.

Eleanor looked to her naked wrist. Simon was welcome to the ribbon and she would remind him that it was meant to warn him against future frivolous advice. She hoped he had learned his lesson, that it is sometimes dangerous to chase after romantic fantasies.

She smiled and reminded herself to follow her own advice where romantic fantasies were concerned. Dangerous, indeed.

She ought to have expected a line or two of poetry from him. The silly, charming, adorable romantic. And here he was charging off to rescue Belinda, just as he’d promised. Probably found a white horse and a suit of shining armor, too. She was grateful to him, though, for taking the initiative. Simon Westover, starry-eyed dreamer, had turned out to be much more useful than she would have guessed a week ago.

Very useful, indeed, she thought as she retrieved the neatly folded gown and wrapper from the chair where he’d placed them. Useful in more wonderful ways than she could ever have imagined.

Simon followed the road south toward the village of Highthorpe where the Runner had located Belinda. He had been so excited at the news and so anxious to be the one to bring Belinda back to
Eleanor, he had not given much thought to what exactly he was going to do when he got there.

If the girl was still with Barkwith, as it sounded, what if she had no desire to be torn away from him? What would convince her to leave with Simon, a perfect stranger? It occurred to him that this might not be as easy as he’d hoped. He had better come up with a plan.

Yet each time he rehearsed the various possibilities in his mind, the vision would transform into one in which he rode up to the dragon’s lair on his powerful white steed, snatched the girl from the teeth of the dragon, and rode away with her clasped safely in his arms.

It was an epic image, and Simon could not shake it from his mind. He could feel the power of the beast beneath him as he charged toward the craggy, forbidding retreat of the evil dragon. He could hear the clatter and clank of his armor, glistening in the morning sun. He could see the swooning, helpless young maiden silhouetted against the fiery breath of the dragon. He could feel her grateful arms clinging to him as they rode away from danger.

The heroic images still spun wildly in his head when the village of Highthorpe was suddenly upon him. He had spent the entire ride immersed in his romantic fantasy, and now here he was with no plan at all. He was going to have to make it up as he went.

It was easy enough to locate the Cat and Fiddle.
It was the only inn to be found in Highthorpe. Simon rode into the inn yard and found it surprisingly busy for an inn off the main coach road. There was a yellow bounder being hitched to a fresh team, and his eye was drawn to a young woman standing near the carriage. Even with her face half shaded by her bonnet, he recognized the likeness. Though the hair was a shade darker and the eyes a shade lighter, she was the very image of her aunt Eleanor.

He pulled up his horse next to where she stood. “Miss Chadwick?”

She furrowed her brows and gave him a wary look, but in a tentative voice said, “Yes?”

He would never know what came over him that morning, what possessed him to do what he did. It must have been those epic images he’d conjured up in his head, with villains and dragons and damsels in distress. The heroic vision must have overtaken him completely. There was no other explanation.

For no sooner had she spoken that single word when Simon reached down, grabbed her beneath the armpits, and hauled her up before him on the horse. He held her tightly about the waist and turned his mount back toward the road. Several voices were shouting behind them at the inn, but he paid them no heed. The girl was shrieking and kicking, and he held her tight against him so she would not fall from her precarious perch in front of the saddle.

“What are you doing?” she shouted. “Put me
down!” She kicked him hard on the shin. “Put me down, I tell you. Put me down!”

“Stay still, Belinda. I’ll have you safe in no time.”

“Safe? What are you talking about.” She tried to wrench her arms free and jabbed him painfully in the ribs. “Where are you taking me? And how the devil do you know my name?” She pinched him hard on the arm. “Put me down!”

Damn. She was a fighter. “Please stay still. I’m not going to hurt you. You’ll be safe soon.”

“What are you talking about?” Each word was punctuated with a poke to the ribs or a whack to the shin. “Put me down at once! Oh. Oh, no. I know who you are! You’re one of those wretched Bow Street Runners who’ve been chasing us across the country. Well, you can’t just kidnap a person who hasn’t committed a crime. Put me down! Put me down!” She bent over and bit him hard on the hand.

“Ow! Stay still, you little termagant.” This was not turning out at all as he’d imagined. This spitfire of a girl was no damsel in distress. But he could hear her aunt’s words clearly in his head, telling him they would abduct the girl against her will if necessary. If that was what Eleanor wanted, he would suffer the short ride to Penrith with this little vixen.

“Please stay still. You will only fall and hurt yourself.”

“I won’t.” She bit him again. “I won’t be carted off by some infuriating brute hired by my aunt.”
And again. “Now, put me down or I’ll make you sorry you didn’t.” And again.

At this rate, he’d be lucky to make it to Penrith without her drawing blood. But this was what Eleanor wanted. She’d said so over and over.

Drag her away kicking and screaming. Bind her and gag her if necessary.

One more bite from her sharp little teeth and it would be necessary.

“Put me down!” She bit him especially hard that time, and Simon had had enough.

Somehow managing to keep one arm around her like a vise, he began to pluck at his neckcloth. “I had not wanted to do this,” he said as he struggled to unwind the length of cloth from his neck, “but you leave me no choice.”

“How dare you! Don’t you even try—mummppff.”

Her shrill cries were cut off as he covered her mouth with the neckcloth and nudged her bonnet forward so he could loosely tie the gag behind her neck. She kicked harder and flailed more wildly, and it was a wonder the horse didn’t come to a complete halt in all the confusion of directions. The ride going was obviously not going to be as quick and easy as the one coming.

“Try to stay calm, Belinda. I’m a friend and I’m taking you to your aunt. We’ll get there a lot sooner if you’ll just stay still.”

“Ugghh iiii owww!” Even the gag didn’t shut
her up, and for good measure she gave him another jab hard in the ribs.

He gave a groan of pain and wished he was wearing that shining armor he’d been dreaming about. He’d be black and blue before reaching Penrith.

This hero business certainly wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. But Eleanor needed a hero, and by God, he was going to be one for her.

If he survived the trip.

“I
wonder Eleanor paced the coffee room as she waited impatiently for Simon to return with Belinda. Her gut was churning with a dozen con?icting emotions. Was Belinda all right? Would she be angry? Or rather, how angry would she be? What would Simon tell her? How would he get her to come back with him?

And now that this whole wretched affair was almost over what, if anything, would happen between her and Simon?

“I should think he will be back very soon,” Edwina replied.

They had encountered each other in the corridor and when Edwina heard the news, she had decided to postpone her own departure to wait with Eleanor. Nicholas had joined them as well, and
Eleanor felt her cheeks color. He and Simon were to have shared a bedchamber. He would know, of course, where Simon had spent the night. He made no suggestive remarks, however, and sent no knowing glances her way. Perhaps it was not unusual for Simon to spend the night with a woman, and Nicholas thought nothing of it. One more reason for Eleanor to keep up her guard.

“I don’t understand why he left the carriage behind,” Nicholas said between mouthfuls of curried egg. “Why take a horse? It makes no sense. How’s he going to get the girl back here?”

Eleanor thought she knew the answer, and it made her very uneasy to consider it. Surely he had been joking. Could he really be that foolish a romantic?

She wandered once more to the window overlooking the inn yard and gave a little squeal. “There he is!” Simon had just ridden into the yard with a female perched up in front of him. Eleanor hitched up her skirts and dashed outside to meet them.

Belinda, for it could be no one else, was squirming on the horse, and she had something that looked suspiciously like a gag around her mouth.

What on earth
?

Belinda caught sight of her and gave a muffled shriek. Simon released his tight grip and Belinda reached up to push the cloth away from her mouth. “Aunt Ellie!”

Before an ostler could help her down, Belinda
gave Simon a hard punch in the stomach, then jumped off the horse and straight into the arms of Eleanor, almost knocking her to the ground. Eleanor regained her balance and enfolded the girl in her arms. “Belinda! Oh, Belinda, my love, I have been so worried.” She held tight and rocked her niece in her arms, just as she’d done so many times in the past. “I am so happy to see you. But you have frightened me to death, you wretched girl. How could you have done such a wild and reckless thing?”

“Me?” Belinda pulled away. “How could
I
do such a thing? Aunt Ellie, how could
you
do this to
me
?” Belinda’s voice was laced with tears. “How could you be so mean? Why did you send that horrid man after me like that?”

Eleanor looked over her niece’s shoulder to see Simon dismount and turn the reins over to a stable boy. She caught his eye and saw an expression of perplexity and frustration. What in the world had happened here?

“What horrid man, my love?” she asked, just to be sure.

Belinda pulled away and pointed to Simon. “That one. That horrible Runner. He swooped on me like a highwayman and forced me onto his horse. He had no right to do that. You had no right to ask him to do that, Aunt Ellie. He gagged me!” She reached down and unwound the limp cloth that still hung around her neck and flung it to the ground.

Eleanor looked to Simon. He was not wearing a
neckcloth. Could this be the same man who’d made such sweet love to her last night? This man who’d terrified her niece? It didn’t make any sense. “Simon? You
gagged
her?”

He gave a sheepish shrug. “She bit me.”

Eleanor’s confusion began to take on an edge of anger. “You forced her onto a horse,” she said through tight lips, “abducted her in broad daylight, and gagged her?”

“Well…yes. I did it just as you wanted.”

“Just as I…” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She tried to recall all their discussions about Belinda. What had she said to make him think
this
was what she had wanted? Yes, she had wanted Belinda removed from Barkwith’s clutches, but not like this. “What the devil are you talking about? When have I ever wanted to frighten the poor girl to death? Whatever has got into you? You terrified her, Simon, snatching her away like that.”

Simon’s eyes darkened with an unreadable expression. “That one is not terrified. I’m the one who’s shaking in my boots. She is little virago, and I’m lucky to have made it here alive. Besides, Eleanor, it was you who said she must be taken kicking and screaming, bound and gagged.”

“Oh, Aunt Ellie! How could you!”

Eleanor held on to her temper with difficulty. She
had
said those words. But no sane person would fail to recognize a figure of speech. “Simon, you surely cannot have believed I meant it literally.”

Simon looked somewhat abashed. “Well, actually, I did. I thought…I thought you’d be pleased.”

Eleanor wanted to shriek in frustration. Was this all her fault? For allowing a sentimental fool to twist her figurative words into a romantic quest? “Pleased? Pleased that my poor niece has been frightened, possibly even harmed, by your foolishness? Simon, how could you be so…”
Stupid.

Simon glared at her for a long moment and then his eyes softened as though willing her to remember their night together. But she did not want to think about that right now. It was too confusing. How could she reconcile giving herself to a man foolish enough to think she wanted her niece to be kidnapped by force?

“I beg your pardon,” he said at last. “I must have misunderstood. I did tell you, though, what I meant to do. You never objected.”

Her anger had increased from a simmer to a boil. She did not want the responsibility for this. It was not her fault. It couldn’t be. “Good God, was I supposed to take you seriously when you talked about knights on white horses?”

“I was perfectly serious, though I had to settle for a chestnut gelding.”

Belinda looked from Simon to Eleanor, a perplexed frown marking her brow.

“I ought to have known.” Eleanor’s voice rose
with righteous, fiery anger. “Leave it to the dreamy-eyed romantic to attempt something so unutterably stupid.”

He looked as though she had slapped him, and she suddenly wanted to reach out to him and apologize, tell him she hadn’t meant it, tell him it was really quite a sweet, if ill-advised, gesture. She could hardly bear the look in his eyes.

But something spurred her on. Niggling little wads of insecurity and doubt pressed against her heart, compelling her to put further distance between them, to push him away, and she could not seem to hold back the words.

“I was right about you from the very beginning,” she said. “You are nothing but a troublemaking meddler, with your starry-eyed advice to the lovelorn. Your foolish romanticism started this whole mess, and look where it’s ended. I should have known better than to trust a romantic.”

“Aunt Ellie, what on earth are you talking about? I thought he was a Bow Street Runner. Who is he?”

“This, my love, is your precious Busybody, that renowned dispenser of sage advice, that paragon of romantic wisdom from the pages of
The Ladies’ Fashionable Cabinet.
She is not the wise old woman you believed in, but this foolish, foolish man.
He
is the Busybody.”

A chorus of gasps made Eleanor aware for the first time of the crowd that had gathered. A crowd
to whom she had just announced the identity of the Busybody, loud and clear.

Simon’s eyes closed briefly and his shoulders sank. She had revealed his secret. She had betrayed his trust. He turned his back, but did not walk away.

Belinda stared at Simon wide-eyed. “Him? The Busybody?”

Eleanor lowered her voice and spoke only to Belinda. “Yes, and when I discovered his identity, I dragged him along so he could talk some sense into you. I thought you might listen to the Busybody and realize you’d made a mistake, and then come back home with me.”

“But Aunt Ellie—”

“That’s the only reason he’s here, but I see now it was a huge mistake to bring him along. He is the very last person I’d ask to give you sound advice. A man who abducts young girls like a pirate, for God’s sake. How very romantic.”

“But Aunt Ellie—”

“I can only hope you see what a fool he is and will ignore all the Busybody’s advice in future. Now, let us get you home and see what we can do about—”

“Aunt Ellie! You don’t understand.”

Just then a horseman came pounding into the yard at full speed, kicking up a huge dust, and reining in his mount so sharply the horse reared up before coming to a stop.

“Geoffrey!” Belinda’s eyes lit with excitement. “Oh, thank goodness.”

Geoffrey Barkwith, dark eyes blazing with fury, swung down from the horse, and Belinda flew into his arms. Good God, this drama had yet to play itself out. He had not abandoned Belinda, at least, or cast her aside. In fact he had come after her. That was not what Eleanor expected of him. She had assumed once he’d been caught, he would slink away and leave Belinda to face the consequences. But here he was, running after her in the face of an apparent abduction. This was not at all what was supposed to happen. He was supposed to be a cad, a scoundrel, a blackguard who would abandon Belinda as easily as Henry had abandoned Eleanor. A scoundrel would not come running after her. Something was very wrong here.

Barkwith gently extricated himself from Belinda’s grasp and put her to his side. “Is that the fellow?” he asked, pointing his crop at Simon.

Belinda nodded. Barkwith eyed Simon with intense hatred, all the while removing one of his gloves. He then marched up to Simon, and flung the glove in his face. “Name your seconds, sirrah.”

Eleanor gasped. The blood drained from Simon’s face causing ginger freckles to stand out against the pallor. “I beg your pardon?” he said.

“You have dared to lay hands on my wife,” Barkwith said. “You will answer for it.”

“Your wife?” Eleanor said, her voice rising in astonishment.

“Yes, Aunt Ellie. I’ve been trying and trying to tell you. I don’t need rescuing from Geoffrey. We were married yesterday in Scotland.”

“You’re married?” Dear God, how could she have been so wrong about everything and everyone? “Oh, my dear girl.” She took her niece in her arms and hugged her tight. Simon had been right. She was a cynic. But it had all turned out just as Simon had said it would. “I’m so glad.”

“You are?” Belinda squeaked.

“Yes, yes, my love. I had thought…well, I did not know Mr. Barkwith’s intentions, you see, and I expected the worst. I thought he had…other ideas. That’s why I came after you.”

“But I told you what his intentions were,” Belinda said. “I left a note.”

“Yes, but I…I had my doubts.”

“Well, that was just silly. You know I was determined to marry him.”

“Yes, I do know,” Eleanor said. “I ought to have known if he asked you to run away, you would not hesitate. How foolish of me.”

Eleanor’s eyes darted to Simon, expecting to see a smug I-told-you-so expression. But he was still white-faced. Dear God, he had been challenged to a duel. But surely it will not happen now. It was all a misunderstanding. On her part. It was all her fault.

“Oh, but it wasn’t Geoffrey’s idea to run away,” Belinda said. “It was mine.”

Eleanor stared at her niece. “Yours?”

“Well, you didn’t seem to approve of him. You were always pushing forward that old bore, Charles Pendleton. I didn’t think you’d ever let me accept Geoffrey’s offer, so I took the Busybody’s advice”—she looked warily at Simon—“and convinced Geoffrey we should elope. You mustn’t blame him, Aunt Ellie. He wanted to come to you nice and proper. I told him you would refuse, so he agreed to run away with me.”

Eleanor ought to have known it. She ought to have known Belinda, headstrong and willful, would be the instigator of such a scrape. There was so much she ought to have known. When had she grown so stupid? She looked up at Barkwith, who walked over to her.

“I am sorry if we distressed you, ma’am,” he said. “But I’m afraid your niece can wrap me around her little finger. I hope we may have your blessing?”

“Yes, of course,” Eleanor said, and offered her hand. Barkwith took it and, always the rake, kissed it. Lord, he would lead Belinda a merry dance. Or would it perhaps be the other way around?

“In the meantime,” he said, “I have to deal with this scoundrel.” He turned toward Simon. “I have not heard you name your seconds, sirrah.”

“Oh, but surely there is no need for such action,”
Eleanor said. “You see that it was all a misunderstanding.”

“That does not excuse this fellow from manhandling my wife. He will answer for it. I ask you again, sir, name your seconds.”

Nicholas Parrish stepped forward. Eleanor had completely forgotten about him. “I’ll be his second,” he said, looking thoroughly disgusted. “Name’s Parrish. His, by the way, is Westover. Might be a good thing to know the name of the man you’re trying to kill.”

Eleanor’s heart lurched up into her throat.
Kill?

“Right. And I’ll ask one of the ostlers to second me,” Barkwith said.

“As Westover’s second,” Nicholas said, “I am compelled to ask if you will accept an apology and forgo the duel. As Mrs. Tennant has said, it was all a misunderstanding.”

“That man grabbed my wife, spirited her away against her will, and apparently bound and gagged her. There is no apology for such behavior.” Barkwith stood tall, glowing with righteous anger. “I will have satisfaction.”

Dear God.

Nicholas shook his head in disgust. “It is still Westover’s right to choose weapons. What will it be, Simon?”

Simon glared at Barkwith and straightened to his full, considerable height. “Pistols. I have a case in my carriage.”

Dear God, were they really going to go through
with this? “Mr. Barkwith,” Eleanor said, “Geoffrey, surely this is not necessary.”

“I am sorry, Mrs. Tennant, but this is man’s business. You would not understand. No one touches my wife like that. No one. Mr. Parrish, if you will be so kind as to locate the pistols, I will engage one of the ostlers as my second.” He turned on his heel to do so, and Mr. Parrish grabbed Simon and headed toward the carriage.