Authors: Janet Kent
He’d stolen the virginity of his
own wife the night before their wedding day… He’d railed at her in the carriage
and tortured them both with distance all this time because she’d given away her
innocence – and he was the bastard who took it!
If she’d realized who he was at
that time, surely she’d have said. Something must have happened to make her
realize the truth. The note! No doubt she meant to meet him in the garden and
unveil herself to him there – and he’d been too pious to attend. Marvelous.
So much for plain country misses
or duplicitous London ladies. His wife was a beautiful, unbelievable, complex
woman – and he intended to love her until his dying breath just as soon as he
got home.
If he got there in time.
“May I borrow a bit of paper? I
need to write a friend.”
“What, now?”
“Immediately.”
“Help yourself. There are blank
pages atop my desk, although I must admit that I do not understand why–”
Ian motioned him to silence with
an impatient gesture and bent over the desk to scratch out a short missive for
Caspian without bothering to sit down. He folded the note and addressed the
outside. In his hurry, ink stained his fingers as they flew across the page.
Ian thought for a moment then dashed off a second note before handing the two
to Chadwick.
“I’m heading straight to Alicia.
Can you see that these get delivered by messenger as soon as possible?”
Chadwick didn’t have time to do
much more than nod before Ian was out the door and back in his coach. He
checked his watch. If he rode hell for leather, he might – if he were lucky –
make it back to Heatherley by noon.
Damn.
* * *
Alicia woke the next morning in a
much less optimistic mood than usual. Her husband still was not home, and she
hadn’t the slightest clue where to find him. She began to fear she’d said or
done something that had repulsed him to the point where he couldn’t even bear
to live in the same house with her.
After dressing and forcing down
some tea and toast, she spent a good part of the morning pacing in her
quarters, trying to come up with a plan of action. She could think of nothing.
Frustrated, she strode downstairs
to pace on the ground floor for a change of scenery.
A silver bowl housing a pile of
invitations caught her eye and she scooped the lot into one hand, picking up a
small knife for breaking the seals. The first was an invitation to dinner,
extended to she and her new husband. Well, it was going to be tough to get him
to escort her anywhere if she didn’t even know where he was.
She stalked up and down the
corridor as she finished reading the details, then set about opening the next.
Her frown must have been etched deep enough into her face to cause permanent
wrinkles because Mavis stepped from the library, took one look at her, and jumped
out of the way.
“Wow. I thought I was the only
one allowed to stomp about in a snit like that. You impress me.”
Alicia scowled at her
sister-in-law, who erupted in the first true grin she’d given since Alicia
married her brother. She hid behind a novel as if afraid Alicia might explode.
“Where is everybody?” Alicia
asked, pocketing the blade and unopened invitations and ignoring the sardonic
theatrics.
“What, and I’m nobody?”
“Mavis–”
“Poppy is outside painting, of
course. Julia’s probably writing letters because that’s all she ever does. I’m
right here enjoying a simply delightful conversation with you. Carlotta and
Beatrix haven’t come in yet, so they must be still out walking, although I
personally think three hours more than enough time for such exercise. And who
knows where my brother is – London, I think.”
“London! How do you know?”
“How wouldn’t I know? He rode off
in his carriage. The carriage required horses. The horses came from our
stables. Our stables employ all manner of souls, many of whom are not above
speaking with one of the ladies of the house, especially when she flashes a
half-crown. If you were wondering, he’s expected back in the next day or two.”
Alicia snapped her teeth together
with a loud click. Insufferable, perhaps. Impertinent, without a doubt. But Mavis
was nothing if not resourceful, despite her saucier qualities. “Thank you. I
was
wondering.”
With a false, over-bright smile, Mavis
slipped past Alicia to head up the stairs to her room.
“Wait,” Alicia called. “Did you
say Beatrix and Carlotta have been gone for three hours?”
“Nearly. It’s almost eleven now, and they left at
half past eight, right after breakfast.”
“They went on a picnic?”
“How do I know? They’re both a
little off.”
“What’s so crazy about going for
a picnic?”
“In our garden?”
“They’ve been in the garden for
three hours?”
Mavis shrugged. “That’s where
they said they were headed. Me, I could walk around it twenty times in half an
hour, and that’s nineteen too many. Glad they didn’t ask me along.” She started
up the stairs again.
Alicia took the first step to
follow her when a footman materialized at her side, again bearing the
unmistakable calling card of her cousin Louis. The disgusting thing even
smelled like him.
She turned and stalked back to
the front door, where once again Heatherley’s impassive butler trapped him
outside the house. When Louis caught sight of her, he started bouncing on his
toes, flailing his arms around and jabbering so quickly in his thin, shrill
voice that she couldn’t make out a word of what he was saying. Sensing her
approach, the butler turned and cast her a long-suffering look. Alicia decided
to take pity on him.
“Go on,” she said with a smile
and a gentle pat on his arm. “I can handle him.”
He looked at Louis doubtfully,
but at Alicia’s insistent gesture, he made a quick bow and exited the room with
alacrity.
“Now.” Alicia turned to her
cousin and crossed her arms over her chest. “What on earth is the matter with
you?”
“You’ve got to come quickly!” he
said, grabbing her by the upper arm.
Alicia twisted out of his grasp.
“I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“But it’s Beatrix!” he cried.
“She’s hurt! She needs you!”
“What? Where is she?”
“She came up to my coach when I
arrived. She wanted to wish me well. Something happened – I don’t know! She
fell! She’s hurt!”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Louis!
Why didn’t you tell the butler?” Alicia demanded, pushing past him and marching
toward his coach.
“I don’t know… I wasn’t thinking.
I was worried. I knew you’d know what to do.”
Alicia gave him a sidelong glance
as she rounded the back of the coach. Louis did look agitated. His face was
pastier than usual and bathed in an unhealthy sheen of sweat. She opened her
mouth to ask if he were quite all right himself, when he reached in his
waistcoat and withdrew a pistol, gripping it by the barrel.
Before she could move out of the
way or make a single sound, the butt of the gun whistled as it arced toward her
head.
She crumpled as the world went
black.
* * *
When Ian pulled into Heatherley,
exhausted and sore, his butler ran to meet him for perhaps the first time in
his life.
Ian leapt to the ground to greet
him, but any forthcoming salutations were preempted by the butler’s frantic,
“She’s gone.”
His skin erupted in tiny droplets
of icy sweat.
“Where? When?”
“An hour ago. I’m so sorry. She
told me to leave. It’s no excuse, but she insisted – I knew she’d never let him
in, but I never dreamed she’d leave with him–”
“Larouche?”
“Yes.”
Shit. “Any idea where they went?”
His butler hung his head.
Damn, damn, and triple damn. He
didn’t know if he’d be better off tearing down the street in chase of him,
despite not knowing which direction he’d gone, or if he should go inside and
see if they contacted him, or had left a note. Listening to his butler’s
recitation of Larouche’s many refused visits, Ian doubted his wife had gone
anywhere with him on her own volition.
Frustrated, Ian kicked one of his
wheels, coughing as he sent up a cloud of dust. He scowled at his butler,
scowled at Heatherley, scowled at his horses, and scowled down the road. It was
empty, save for some rocks, a wild cat, and a grubby boy scrambling barefoot
along the side. Larouche could’ve done anything, taken Alicia anywhere.
Ian grimaced. What was he going
to do? How could he get her back?
With a wave of his arm, he shooed
his butler back into the house and leaned against his coach, one foot propped
on the folding step. Why couldn’t he have gotten here a little bit sooner? Been
a little bit smarter? Lord knew, Larouche couldn’t outwit a rubber ball. He
should’ve seen this coming.
“Mister?”
Ian glanced at the dirty little
urchin at his feet. “Yes?”
“I got a note for you. The man
said as you’d give me a shilling for it.”
“Did he, now?” Ian lowered his
foot to the ground and fished a shilling from his pocket. “Here you go. May I
have the note?”
The boy shoved a wilted piece of
paper at his chest, snatched the coin from his hand, and ran off down the road,
oblivious to the many rocks under his bare feet.
Ian unwrapped the paper and
stared at the words enclosed.
“I’ve got all three,” read the
note. “Come alone to the cabin if you want to see them again. If you want them
back alive, bring as much as they’re worth to you – at least eight thousand
quid. I’ll give you three hours to draw the money.” On the reverse was a
hand-drawn map, indicating an abandoned cottage in the woods about a half
hour’s ride from Heatherley.
Larouche was crazy if he thought
Ian had eight thousand pounds to give away. But if he didn’t expect Ian’s
arrival for a few more hours, perhaps he could enact a surprise attack and
rescue Alicia before he even figured out what happened.
Wait. He hadn’t said he’d
abducted Alicia alone. Ian unfolded the note again to re-read the first line.
All three. All three what?
Ian stalked to the house and
threw open the door, finding the butler trembling just within.
“Where is everybody?”
“Er–”
“Excepting my wife. Where’s
everyone else?”
“Miss Poppy and Miss Julia are in
the yellow salon, awaiting your return. Miss Mavis is in the library. Miss Carlotta
and Miss Kinsey – that’s Mrs. Morrissey’s great-aunt – are out on a
constitutional.”
“Are they?” Ian asked, struggling
to remain calm. “When did they leave?”
“About eight thirty this morning,
sir.”
“And where did they go?”
“The garden.”
“And what time is it now?”
“Er… not quite noon, sir.”
“They’ve been walking in the
garden for three and a half hours? Bring them to me. Now!”
The butler jumped and scurried
from the room, alarm showing in every crease of his face. When he returned
several long minutes later with several footmen but no Carlotta and no Beatrix,
Ian handed over the ransom note and stalked from the house without waiting for
a single word of excuses.
If Larouche thought he could play
games with the Morrissey family and live, Ian itched to prove just how wrong he
was.
Alicia awoke with a splitting
headache and her wrists roped together in her lap. The coach seemed magnetized
to the deepest ruts in the road and every bounce jarred her throbbing forehead
worse than the last.
“Damn you, Louis!” she snarled,
struggling on the seat next to him.
“Now, now. That’s hardly
ladylike.”
“You said Aunt Beatrix was in
trouble!”
Louis cackled and urged his
horses faster. “Your whole family is in trouble.”
“Who do you mean? Ian?”
“Your father, stupid.”
Alicia stopped struggling. “What’s
wrong with Papa?”
“He’s going to die.”
“What! What’s wrong with him?
What do you mean?”
“I mean he’s going to swing.”
“Oh, quit bamming me. He hasn’t
done anything wrong.”
Louis smirked at her. “Stealing
jewels isn’t wrong?”
“He didn’t steal any jewels!”
“Of course he did.”
“How would you know?”
“It was my idea, of course.”
Alicia narrowed her eyes. “But
why would he ally himself with you?”
“He claimed he needed to refill
the family coffers.”
“But why would he ally himself
with
you
?”