Ten Ways to Be Adored When Landing a Lord (28 page)

As he’d expected.

He made a mental note to lay Leighton out for not trusting Nick alone with the task of finding his sister.

The kidnapper’s words only served to redouble Georgiana’s efforts. She thumped her feet against the floor of the old cottage, and Nick fleetingly wondered if the old floorboards would hold such a violent beating.

He imagined the captors would not much mind getting rid of their difficult prize. For the right price. He sighed.
Amateurs.

“What’s happening?”

Of course.

He should have known that Isabel would follow him. But her whisper at his shoulder didn’t make him any less angry. He turned to face her. “What did I ask you?”

“I—”

“No, Isabel. What did I ask you?”

“I’m not a child, Nick.”

“Really? Because you seem to be having trouble following directions.”

“That’s not fair! You can’t have honestly thought I’d let you come storming in here without my help? ”

“Did you even consider the fact that my worrying about you would only make this more difficult?”

Her big brown eyes widened in innocent surprise. “Why would you worry about me? I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

He shook his head. “I am tired of this conversation, as well. Stay here, if you must. But try to remain out of this, will you?”

He started around the corner of the cottage, toward the single entrance, ignoring her whispered “What are you going to do?”

He was going to put an end to this ridiculous exercise.

And likely bring Isabel’s wrath down on his head.

He approached the door and knocked firmly three times. “Open this door, gentlemen. I want the girl and I’m not leaving without her. So let’s have a chat, shall we?”

There was silence in the wake of his words, and Nick turned to find Isabel standing a few feet away, mouth wide open in shock. He raised a brow. “I prefer the direct approach.”

She closed her mouth. “So I see.”

The door opened, Isabel gasped, and Nick found himself at the business end of a wicked-looking pistol. He paused, considering the somewhat unsavory, wool-capped character who was holding the weapon. “I don’t think we need bring pistols into this, do you? ”

The man behind Wool Cap, inside the cottage, grinned a gray-toothed grin and nodded in the direction of Nick’s gun. “Apparen’ly ye did, milord.”

Nick looked down at his weapon, then back up. “Fair point. Well, let’s try to make sense of it without bloodshed, shall we?” The man shrugged one shoulder. Nick took it as a positive sign. “How much is he paying you?”

“I don’ know who yer talkin’ ‘bout.”

Nick’s gaze narrowed. “We neither of us are stupid, man. You do yourself a disservice to act as though you are. How much is the Duke of Leighton paying you to bring his sister back?”

He heard Isabel’s gasp behind him. Tried to ignore it. Had to ignore it.

“An ‘undred quid.” Wool Cap looked to Gray Tooth, then back at Nick. “Each.”

“I’m guessing that means he’s paying you a hundred pounds together, but I’m not going to quibble. I’ll give you both two hundred pounds right now if you leave the girl with me and take Leighton a message.”

The two men looked at each other, then to Georgiana, then to Nick. They knew a good bargain when they heard one. “Wot message? ”

“Tell him that St. John has her.”

” ’At’s it?”

“That’s it.”

There was a beat as the man considered Nick’s words. Then he motioned with his pistol, once. “The blunt?”

“Rock?” Nick called out, not looking away from the door.

There was movement in the trees behind him, and Rock was beside him in seconds. “Here.”

“Free these gentlemen from their weapons and escort them to the edge of the property. Once there, give them their money and send them on their way.”

Rock looked from one man to the other, each wide-eyed at his enormous size. He put out one mammoth palm, and Wool Cap placed his pistol there. Rock smiled. “With pleasure.”

Nick grabbed Wool Cap and thrust him against the wall of the cottage, lifting the smaller man from his feet. “Hear me. If you return to this land, I will use my pistol. And I’m an excellent shot.”

“F-fair enuf.” The little man nodded his head, and Nick dropped him to his feet, pushing into the house and crouching low next to Georgiana to untie the linen from her mouth. She worked out her jaw and said, “Thank you.”

He moved to the ropes on her hands. “You should be more careful, my lady.”

She blushed. “How long have you known?”

He considered lying. Decided against it. “Since before I arrived.”

“You came for me?”

Nick said nothing.

“Simon sent you?”

“He is very worried about you.”

Her eyes welled with tears, and Nick knew in that moment that she was not afraid of her brother. He recognized homesickness when he saw it. He had too often felt it himself.

“I have a sister myself, Lady Georgiana. I would not like to lose her.”

“Are you—Must you take me back? “ There was palpable fear in her voice.

“No.” Her hands came free, and he moved to her feet. “Your brother asked me to find you. Not to fetch you.”

“Thank you,” she whispered again, rubbing the raw skin on her wrists.

“You know you will not be able to hide from him forever? ”

She nodded. “No more than you will be able to hide from Isabel.”

He winced. “I don’t imagine I am much in her favor right now.”

“It does not appear so, no.”

He followed her gaze over his shoulder to find Isabel standing in the doorway of the cottage. Rock and the two men were gone, and Nick wished, fleetingly, that he had left with them.

He did not like the look in her eyes.

The look that accused him of the very worst kind of betrayal.

You will find it difficult to believe, we know, but even lords as landable as these will have a flaw or two. Perhaps he laughs a touch too loudly, or his eyesight is less than perfect! Perhaps he has a rogue lock of hair which falls distractingly despite all attempts to tame it!

Embrace these flaws, Dear Reader! For it is in these peccadilloes that we find the charm and joy at the heart of any deserved match!

These lessons, well used, shall ensure that he adore you despite your own failings!

Do you not owe him the same?

Isabel stood in her darkened bedchamber looking out the window over the heath—the land that had been owned by generations of Townsends before it had been slowly parceled off and sold until, ultimately, there was little left for the current earl. She watched as the last rays of sunlight disappeared and the sky turned a brilliant scarlet, then faded into a deep, inky blue.

She had been standing there for hours, her land changing beneath her unseeing gaze, a single thought repeating itself over and over in her mind.

He had lied to her.

She should have known, of course. Should have predicted that something like this would happen. Should have known that he was not what he seemed, but instead the final straw—the one that would break the back of Minerva House.

She placed one hand on the windowpane, watching as the cool glass fogged beneath her fingers.

He had asked her to trust him. He had coaxed her into caring for him.

And, against her better judgment, she had.

She had trusted him not to hurt the girls. Not to hurt the delicate balance of Minerva House.

Not to hurt her.

And he had.

He’d been their enemy from the very beginning. Sent by the Duke of Leighton to find his sister, to uncover their secrets. To betray them.

And he’d done it in the worst possible way.

By making her believe in him.

She took a deep breath at the thought.

What a fool she had been.

Tears threatened and she closed her eyes tightly. She would not cry over this man … whom she had known for only four days. Whom she never should have brought to Minerva House. Whom she never should have allowed into her life.

What a terrible mistake she had made.

She had let herself be wooed by his pretty words and tempted by the promise of his touch.

Just as her mother had been.

The girls would never forgive her.

She would never forgive herself.

She pressed her head to the window, feeling the cool pane of glass against her brow as she breathed deeply, willing herself to stop thinking about him. Urging herself to think, instead, about how she was going to save them all now that their secrets had been laid bare, now that it was only a matter of time before all of London—all of England—knew who and where they were.

For some reason, the fear of discovery was nothing compared to the pain of his betrayal—the keen awareness that everything she had let herself believe might come next…

Would never come.

There was a soft knock at the door that stayed the tears from welling again.

She had ignored several earlier attempts to gain access to the room, but she could not bear the thought of being alone any longer.

“Enter.”

The door opened slowly, and Isabel was surprised to see Georgiana, her riot of blond curls glowing in the candlelight from the hallway beyond. It took the girl a moment to spot Isabel in the corner of the room.

She entered tentatively, stopping several feet from Isabel, considering her surroundings for long moments before she spoke, hands clasped in front of her. “I am sorry to disturb you …”

Isabel gave a humorless laugh. “If one of us should be apologizing, Georgiana, I assure you it should be me.”

Georgiana’s eyes widened. “Whatever for? ”

“I brought that man down upon you.”

The younger woman leveled Isabel with a frank look. “I assure you, Lady Isabel, you did no such thing.”

“Oh? You think he would have found his way here if I had not invited him to come for a visit? You think he would have discovered you if I had not been so foolish as to trust him? ”

“Yes.”

Isabel looked away.

“You do not know my brother, Isabel. He is the most imperious, commanding person I have ever known, and he has never been denied anything in his life. He is the eleventh Duke of Leighton. Do you know how far back a family tree must stretch to make
eleven
dukes? Each one more arrogant than the last? “ Georgiana shook her head. “Simon would have moved heaven and earth to find me. I am honestly surprised that we only had to deal with Lord Nicholas and two idiotic kidnappers. I would have expected my brother to force King George to send in his personal guard.” Georgiana placed her hand on Isabel’s arm. “You did not bring Lord Nicholas down upon me. I brought him down upon you. And for that, I apologize.”

The words coursed through Isabel and she sank to the seat under the window where she had been standing for hours. Indicating that Georgiana should join her, Isabel said quietly, “I am sorry that you have had such a brother looming over you.”

Georgiana smiled. “Do not be. I have never doubted Simon’s love for me. He may be arrogant and domineering, but he protects his own.”

“Then why—” Isabel did not understand.

“There is more to my story than a girl who ran away.”

“There always is.”

“I would like to tell you. I think you deserve to know why all this has happened.”

It happened because I trusted a man I should not have trusted.

“I would like to hear it,” Isabel said, silencing the nagging voice.

“I am …” Georgiana paused, looking at the window, where Isabel knew she could see nothing but her own face reflected in the dark glass. “I fell in love. It is not important with whom.”

Isabel did not speak, waiting for the girl to find the courage to go on. “I made a terrible mistake. I believed that he loved me in return.” She stopped, looked down at her hands where they wrung the fabric of her skirts. When she spoke again, it was in a whisper. “But he did not.” She took a deep, stabilizing breath. “I suppose it is for the best … Simon never would have allowed us to marry. I was crushed. He left, without a word. And then—”

She stopped, unable to continue for the weight of her memories. Isabel leaned forward, clasping Georgiana’s hands in her own. “You do not have to tell me.”

“I want to,” Georgiana whispered. “I want someone to hear me say it.”

Isabel remained still, knowing what was to come.

“I discovered that I was with child. I could not tell Simon. I could not disappoint him. Weeks earlier, my maid had told me a story she’d heard of a house in Yorkshire. A place where young women went to start fresh. Run by Lady Isabel.” She smiled, small and uncertain. “And so I came here.”

She looked up, meeting Isabel’s eyes, her gaze wide and innocent … little more than a child herself. “I knew he would come after me. I did not think he would find me so quickly.”

Isabel squeezed the girl’s hands. “I knew he would come after you, as well. It did not change the fact that you are welcome under this roof”—she smiled a small, wry smile—“what little is left of it … with my protection. And the protection of the Earl of Reddich.”

“As much as I admire the earl, Isabel, I do not think he could do much in the face of my brother.”

“Nonsense. It is clear that my brother has a special place in his heart for his governess. I think he would happily do battle for you.”

The girl’s smile grew into a broader grin. “I am very fond of him, you know. And whatever happens, I will always be proud to say I taught the young Earl of Reddich his Latin.”

They shared a smile at the words before Georgiana continued. “There is something else. About Lord Nicholas.”

Isabel sobered, shaking her head. “I shall send him away immediately.”

“I do not think you should.”

Isabel’s mouth fell open. She could not possibly have heard correctly. “I beg your pardon?”

“He is a good man, Isabel. If I had not heard such for years from my brother and his friends—the way they spoke about St. John, as though he were a hero among us … If I had not heard such from ladies who sighed their longing for his return from the Continent, and who sighed their respect for him when his half sister arrived in London and he stood proudly by her side as the rest of the
ton
laughed at her … I would have known it today, when he could have turned me over to my brother, but he let me return here, with you, instead.”

Isabel’s heart ached at the words, so clearly a description of the man she thought he was. Perhaps he was loyal to his friends, and committed to his sister, and the best of catches for the vapid society ladies who saw only his handsome face and his fat purse. But he had proven today that he was not for her.

She felt tears prick and willed them away. “You are mistaken. It must be another St. John. For this one is a villain who deliberately preyed upon our trust.”

Upon my trust. Upon my feelings.

“I think he was very likely trying to be a good friend to my brother.”

Isabel shook her head. “It does not matter. He did everything he could to get close to me … to find you and reveal your location. I am afraid there is nothing about that man that even comes close to the noble St. John whom you describe.”

And then, as though she had conjured him with her invective, he was there at the entrance to the room, in the doorway Georgiana had left ajar. “I am sorry that you think that.”

Isabel caught her breath at the sight of him, silhouetted, tall and broad and overwhelmingly dark, against the small rectangle of light. His presence brought with it a flood of feeling—betrayal and anger and mistrust, but also sadness and something else that was nearly unbearable.

Longing.

She steeled herself, determined to keep her voice cold despite her roiling emotions. “I feel certain that I must be mistaken. You cannot possibly still be in my home after what you have done.”

She could not see his face, but he stiffened at her words, and suddenly it felt as if there was less air in the room. “I came to speak with you.”

“Well, that shall be something of a problem, I am afraid, as I have no interest in speaking with you.”

He took a long step into the room, the movement obviously born of frustration.

“And now I see that you are committed to insulting me as well as betraying me. You will leave my bedchamber at once.”

He turned his head slightly, focusing all his attention on the other woman in the room. “Lady Georgiana, I would very much like for you to leave us. Lady Isabel and I have things that we must discuss. Alone.”

Georgiana pulled herself up straighter—displaying herself in all the manner of a highborn aristocratic lady. “I cannot do that, my lord.”

“You have my word that I will not do anything to harm her.”

Isabel gave a little humorless laugh. “And your word holds such weight here.”

“I understand that you are angry, Isabel. I would like you to give me a chance to explain.” He turned to Georgiana again. “I assure you. She is safe with me. We are to be married.”

Georgiana’s jaw dropped at the announcement, which sent a flood of anger and frustration through Isabel.

How dare he.

“We are to be no such thing,” she protested.

He looked back to her again, and for a fleeting moment, she wished that she could see his face. Cloaked in shadow, he was more dangerous and unsettling than he had ever been before. Especially when he said, low and dark, “You said you would marry me, Isabel. I expect you to honor your promise.”

“And you said I could trust you, Nicholas. What of that promise?”

A rigid silence fell, neither one willing to be the one to speak after such a gauntlet had been thrown. Finally, Nick gave in, again pleading his case with the younger woman. “Lady Georgiana—I have assured you that I will defend you to your brother, have I not?”

“You have.”

“And I have given you my word—as devalued as it has become”—he paused, casting a long look at Isabel—“that I will not force you to return home.”

“Yes.”

“Please, allow me this.”

Georgiana thought for a long moment, considering first Nick then Isabel. Her decision made, she said, “I shall give you a quarter of an hour, my lord. No more.”

Isabel snapped her head in the direction of the girl. “Traitor!“

“Fifteen minutes, Isabel. Surely you can spare him that. I shall be just outside.”

Isabel scowled as the girl left the room, pulling the door nearly closed behind her, leaving a sliver of light coming into the bedchamber. Isabel moved to the side of her bed and lit a candle, unwilling to remain in darkness with this man, who had so quickly gone from ally to enemy.

She made quick work of lighting candles around the room until they were bathed in golden candlelight, and Isabel regretted her actions.

He had changed into new, clean clothing. He wore black now, an elegant coat and waistcoat that underscored his handsomeness. She noted the perfect knot in his cravat, and was distracted for a fleeting moment by the memory of him with James.

James.
Anger flared.

He’d even won over James.

She crossed her arms, warding off the chill of the thought. “I haven’t anything to say to you.”

“Yes. You’ve made that abundantly clear.”