Taking the Spinster (The Kidnap Club Book 3)

by Samantha Holt

“I wanted to test the perambulator and your father kindly let me borrow The Brigadier.”

  She ran a hand over the wooden side. “It’s beautiful.”

  “It needs a few tweaks. One of the wheels is a little stiff.”

  She looked up at him and shook her head. Guy spending so long on something just for her was hard to believe. “It’s wonderful, thank you.”

  “Keep looking at me like that and I’ll make you a hundred perambulators.”

  She widened her eyes. “Looking at you like what?”

  He gestured vaguely at her. “With those eyes.”

  “I’m to stop looking at you...with my eyes?”

  “You know what I mean,” he grumbled.

  “I’m not at all sure I do but never mind. Shall we walk a little more? Brig looks as though he would not mind another loop.”

  “Just be prepared for stupid questions.”

  Freya chuckled and decided against asking him why he would say such a thing just in case that was a stupid question too.

  “What have you been up to today?” he asked.

  “Well, as you know, I was pursuing a story about this rather dashing earl, but it seems there is no story at all.”

  “I’m sorry about that.” He frowned. “At least sort of. I am not sorry you have decided to no longer write about me, that’s for certain.”

  “It would have made quite the story,” she said with a sigh. “Just imagine in it. Member of the ton kidnaps noble ladies. It would have made quite the stir.”

  “I’d rather not imagine if it is all right with you.”

  “It would have made my career.”

  He paused and eyed her. “I know. We’ll find you another story.”

  “You do not need to do anything, Guy.” She put a hand to his arm. “For once in your life, you need not come to someone’s rescue. Besides, I think I have found another story.”

  “Already?”

  “Well, I happened upon it when I was doing a little research into the awful baron.”

  “Indeed. What is it?”

  She pressed her lips together. She still had to speak with a boy at the stables in Banbury, but she was fairly certain with a few words, this story would unravel. “I need to do a little more digging first.”

  “So you are to keep me in suspense?”

  “I do not wish to curse myself.”

  He peered at her for a few moments, his expression unreadable. “You are quite the woman, Miss Haversham.”

  “Whatever makes you say that?”

  “All that time dedicated to a story and you were willing to drop it in a moment’s notice.”

  “As you said, those women would be put in danger if I revealed the truth.” She twined her hands together and glanced at the gravel path beneath her feet. “As would you.” She looked up. “I could not do such a thing to you.”

  He offered a half-smile. “I’m glad.”

  “Are you also glad I started following you?”

  “Let us not go too far,” he said with a teasing smile.

  Freya swallowed, her heart nearly up in her throat simply because he was too bloody handsome. She had been sorely tempted to remain in bed with him all day, but he had duties to see to and she really did need to pursue this story. There was an inkling of something foul in how the baron had made the majority of his money, most of it having come from selling horses. If she could find out the precise details, not only would she have her story, she could ensure the man never touched his wife again—a little insurance should they struggle to kidnap her before the dinner party.

  Her mother’s strength was returning too, and she had started to roam the house. The last thing she needed was for her mother to realize her daughter had spent the entire day in an earl’s bed. It was almost scandalous enough to be reported in her gossip column—London Chronicle columnist beds brooding earl.

  No. Thank. You.

  Her days as a columnist would hopefully be over soon enough anyway. The new story she had happened upon might even be better than the kidnapping.

  “How are plans for the dinner party?” she enquired.

  “Mrs. Bellamy is rather excited I think. It has been a while. I doubt she will have any problems putting it together and invitations will go out today.” He paused. “We’ll have to make a show of it should anything go wrong. We cannot have Lord Pembroke suspecting it is anything other than a real invitation.”

  Freya nodded. “And your brother? He will be able to take her with ease?”

  “I already spoke with him this morning. We’re used to doing such things on country roads but there are a few points in London where we could take his wife without being seen.”

  “Goodness, I do not know how you do this all the time.”

  “I have been meaning to ask. Um, what will you have me do on the day?”

  “Nash and Grace will take care of her once Russell and Rosie have her. Our role is to merely pretend. Should Lord Pembroke still come to the house after the kidnapping, we will act shocked and offer whatever aid we can.”

  “We?”

  “Yes. You’ll be at the dinner party obviously.”

  “Not obviously.” She shook her head vigorously. “Why on earth would I be attending an earl’s dinner party?”

  “Because the earl invited you, of course.”

  She held up a hand. “No, Guy...everyone will know.”

  “Know what?”

  “About...” She gestured between them, her cheeks warm. “They will know why you want me there.”

  “Because I find you beautiful and clever and charming and want you in my bed pretty much every minute of the day?”

  “Oh, how am I meant to argue with you when you say such nice things?” She sighed.

  “That was the secret, was it? I could have ended all arguments between us had I opted for flattery.”

  She gave him a look. “But it will not work. The baron has seen me if you recall?”

  “Blast. I had tried to remove that moment from my memory.” They continued toward the other end of the park, emerging through the open gates.

  “I shall still be there. I’ll just stay out of sight. I can even don that maid’s uniform again. There’s nothing to say I did not enquire for work at your house after leaving his.”

  His expression soured. “I would rather you were at your parents’ house.”

  “Doing nothing? I do not think so. Am I part of the club or not?”

  “You most certainly are,” he conceded.

  “Then it is decided. I will be there.”

  “I shan’t enjoy entertaining without you.”

  Closing her eyes briefly, she drew in a long breath. She wouldn’t enjoy it either, watching him dine with elegant people between a crack in the door. It served to remind her of their different worlds and she was not ready to acknowledge their differences. Not yet anyway. It spoiled all the illusions that they might be able to have a future together and she was not quite ready to give them up yet.

  Not yet.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Guy masked a grin as his brother made his way to the table in the rear of the dining room of Boodles. Despite Russell’s expensive clothing and the fact he only went and married a lady, he still looked unsettled in such settings.

  He supposed Russell would understand how Freya felt about such situations better than anyone. He’d gone from penniless orphan to wealthy businessman to the half-brother of an earl. He had likely accrued more money than he and Nash combined, considering he had no expensive estates to maintain, but Guy doubted Russell would ever truly change. At his heart, he was a rough man who had somehow won the heart of a beautiful lady.

  Russell tugged out a chair and sat opposite Guy. He glanced around the elegant dining room, designed specifically to appeal to masculine tastes with rich green and mahogany walls, lamps lit at a low glow and slabs of carved wood.

  Guy had never thought much about the opulence of these places—they were just part of the job of being
an earl—but Freya had him looking at everything with new eyes. How would it all appear to her? The woman who refused to let him have a new coat made for her wrapped in delicate silks and lace? It was hard to picture.

  But, damn it, was it wrong to wish to spoil her? Nearly two weeks of always coming together at night surely gave him a right to gift her beautiful things? They both had busy schedules, but regardless of what they did during the day, they always shared a bed. He pressed a finger to his lips. Perhaps gifts made her feel like a mistress. Blast. He was making a royal mess of this.

  It was an enjoyable mess, though.

  “What’s the odd smile for?” Russell asked.

  Guy flattened his lips together. “What smile?”

  “I knew you were falling for her.”

  “For whom?”

  Russell indicated for a drink by waving two fingers at the nearby waiter. “Miss Haversham of course.” He leaned in. “Our newest member. You do recall her, do you not? She resides in your house most of the time and I heard tell that you’d made her a”—he frowned—“perambulator for her dog.” His brows lifted. “Is that true?”

  “He needs it,” Guy muttered. “He likes to go to the park but cannot walk far.”

  Russell pressed his lips together, eyes crinkling. “I should have known you would fall hard.”

  “Damn it, Russell, I invited you here to ensure we were ready for tomorrow.”

  Russell nodded. “Everything is set. Rosie and I have it all in hand. I’ve identified several small roads in which we could surprise them.”

  “His men will be heavily armed.”

  “I know. Nash is going to assist too. Lord Pembroke doesn’t have access to a coach, so he’ll only have his driver and another man with him. Between the three of us, we’ll manage him just fine.”

  Trying not to grind his jaw, Guy took a sip of his whiskey, letting the warm liquor slide down his throat and quell the unease in his gut. The trouble was, he did not know if the unease was to do with recusing the baron’s wife or something else.

  More like someone else.

  “The duchess has purchased tickets to America for her sister. We’ll be escorting her down to Southampton once the search has ceased,” Guy told his brother.

  “We’re moving quickly on this, Guy. I have every confidence we can take her, but the baron seems a determined man. We’ll have to act with caution every step of the way.”

  “I know.”

  “And do not forget Miss Haversham connected you to these women. Eventually someone else might do the same.”

  Guy waved a hand. “Miss Haversham is exceptionally clever and nosey. I have my doubts anyone else could connect me to these disappearances.”

  “It might be worth you stepping back after this.”

  “Out of the question.”

  Russell leaned back as the waiter brought over his drink and he curled a hand around the glass. “Guy, I know our father was a bastard, but you do not need to pay for what he did. It’s not your burden to bear.”

  “I can hardly deny someone in need of help.”

  “And you will not, but you have Rosie and Grace and now Miss Haversham. There is no need for you to play anything more than a minor role in this.”

  Easing out a breath, Guy rubbed a hand across his jaw. Balancing The Kidnap Club with his duties had been tough, allowing little time for anything enjoyable. It wasn’t until Freya had come into his life that he even considered walks in the park and long dinners across from a beautiful, stimulating woman.

  Not to mention lazy mornings in bed with her.

  He wanted more of that, there could be no doubt. But would Freya wish to be a part of his life?

  “If you could go back and not be my brother and live life away from the eyes of Society and the gossip, would you?”

  Russell peered at him. “Whatever do you mean?”

  “Go back to being anonymous, with all the trappings but none of the burden.”

  “If I did that, I’d have to give up Rosie and I’d rather die,” his brother said firmly.

  “I thought so.”

  “This is about Miss Haversham, is it not?” Russell’s gaze narrowed. “Are you thinking of asking her to marry you?”

  “We did not have this conversation.” Guy thrust a finger toward him. “Understand.”

  He lifted his hands with a chuckle. “Wait until I tell Nash all about this.”

  “Russell,” Guy said tightly.

  “You gave him a hard enough time when he fell for Grace. I think he deserves this.”

  Guy groaned. He wished he hadn’t said a thing. Still, at least it confirmed what had been stirring in his gut. Once this kidnap was over, he was going to ask Freya to be his countess.

  A HAND TO her lips, Freya smothered a chuckle and paused at the door to listen to the disagreement between Brown and Guy. The dynamic between them always amused her. She hardly knew much about relationships between butlers and their masters, but she imagined not many butlers would be allowed to talk to their employer as Brown did.

  “Why would you throw out the newspaper, Brown?” Guy asked.

  Freya peered around the doorway to see Brown shrug. “I have no idea, my lord.”

  “Years of service and you know I like to read the paper when I get home.”

  “I know, my lord.”

  “So where is it?”

  “Perhaps Mrs. Bellamy threw it away,” the butler suggested.

  “So now the housekeeper threw it away. Brown, why exactly are you being so obtuse?”

  “I have no idea what you mean, my lord.”

  Guy pinched the bridge of his nose. “Find the paper, will you, please? That’s an order.”

  The butler paused a moment then sighed. Freya slipped into the room and tried to look as though she hadn’t been listening in. Brown moved past her and mouthed what looked an awful lot like sorry. Freya scowled. Why would the butler be apologizing to her?

  A smile lit across Guy’s face when he saw her. He waited until Brown shut the door then strode over, cupped the back of her neck and kissed her until she gasped for breath.

  “What was that for?” she asked when he eased back and rested his forehead against hers.

  “Does a man need an excuse to kiss a woman?”

  “Well...” She lifted a finger and frowned. “I suppose not.” She gestured toward the door. “What is going on with Brown?”

  “I have no idea. The man has been acting strange all day.” He motioned to the chairs. “Will you join me for a drink?”

  Freya laced her fingers together, aware of her heart fluttering in her chest. She didn’t want to say it or even think it, but their situation needed some...clarity. She licked her lips and swallowed. “I was just speaking with my mother.”

  “She’s not unwell, is she?” He moved to the door. “I’ll fetch the doctor.”

  “No, no.” She gripped his forearm. “She’s quite well. In fact, incredibly well. I think you might have saved her life, Guy.”

  “I didn’t do anything.”

  “You really did.” She eased out a long breath. “But I think it is time for her to return home.”

  His jaw hardened. “Her or you?”

  “Well, if she is not here, I can hardly stay as an unmarried woman without my mother, can I?”

  He moved back a few steps from her, his posture stiff. “So you no longer want to be here, is that what you are saying?”

  No. She wanted to be with him more than ever. Always. Every day. But how could she continue like this? “My father misses my mother.” She winced when his frown deepened.

  “I thought you liked staying here. With me.”

  The vulnerability in his voice dug deep into her chest. “I do.”

  “So why do you wish to go?”

  “We can still see each other.”

  His expression turned stony. “That sounds rather insipid.”

  The door eased open and Brown returned with the newspaper. “I found it in th
e kitchen, my lord. Perhaps one of the maids was reading it.” He spared Freya another apologetic look as he handed it over and swiftly departed.

  Guy glanced at the headline and scowled. “Why all this fuss over a blasted newspa—” He paused and flicked it open. Freya moved closer to peer over his shoulder. “What is it? Do not tell me the baron’s wife has been harmed.”

  “No.” The word came out harsh.

  She peered at the paper and her heart nearly dropped to her toes. “Guy—”

  He turned on her and waved the newspaper at her. “Is this why you wish to go? Because you were too busy writing about me? What next? Will you be writing of The Kidnap Club?” He made a disgusted noise. “I suppose I should be grateful you only wrote of my visit to the whorehouse and not of the women who needed help.”

  “That was not me!” she protested.

  “It says your name here. Miss H.” He jabbed a finger at the top of the article.

  “It’s another Miss H, clearly. I did not write that, Guy. Why would I?”

  “Because your career means everything to you.”

  “It does, that is true, but writing gossip never once meant anything to me.”

  “It meant a lot to me,” he muttered.

  “I know, and I am sorry for the hurt my column caused. Which is why I refused to write it this week.” She folded her arms. “I have given up my position there, Guy.”

  He eyed her for several moments, glanced at the newspaper then looked at her again.

  “Do you truly believe I would do that to you?” She straightened her shoulders.

  Perhaps she had been right in her desire to leave. She couldn’t play mistress any longer—it simply hurt too much to worry about when it might all come crumbling down around her—and they could never marry. Imagine her being a countess! Preposterous. She had rather hoped they might at least remain friends, though, and she certainly did not want to give up being part of The Kidnap Club.

  She took a step closer when he didn’t answer. “Do you really, truly believe I would do that?”

  His jaw ticked. He dropped the paper to the floor. She frowned at it when it landed on the carpet. “What are you—”

  Both hands settled about her face and lifted her chin to his. “No,” he murmured. “No, I damn well don’t.” His lips found hers, hot and desperate. “You’re not going anywhere, Freya. Not tonight at least. I need you too much.”