Without deigning to reply, she elevated her chin at a haughty angle and moved past him. He was about to follow when something about her appearance jarred him. Grabbing her by the arm, he swung her around until she faced him. Then with the other hand he jerked away the shawl that was tied demurely around her shoulders.
It would appear, Dorie thought smugly, that her alterations to the neckline of her evening dress were sufficient for her purpose. Joanna was staring at her in speechless horror, her mother was loudly having palpitations and calling for the support of the footman and butler. And Nicholas? He was neither speechless nor hysterical. He looked, in fact, as if he were about to strike her for the first time in her life.
Picking up her shawl from where it had fallen, he wrapped it back around her. “You have five minutes to go upstairs and change into a decent gown,” he commanded in a voice that brooked no argument.
Undaunted, Dorie rocked back on her heels and returned glare for glare. “And if I refuse?”
“You are not appearing in public in that gown,” Nicholas said, his voice rising.
“I happen to like this gown. If you are objecting to the décolletage, then I must point out that many women wear dresses cut this low in front.”
Her mother gave a loud shriek at her words, and even Joanna began trying to remonstrate, but her voice was much too timid to be heard over Nicholas’s bellow.
“That dress doesn’t even have a front. If it were cut any lower, it would be to your waist! There is no point in arguing, because I refuse to allow you to go out in public looking like a kept woman!”
“Why not, since I am a kept woman!” Dorie yelled back with equal volume. “I am kept bored! Well, as far as I am concerned, I either wear this dress or I am not going to that blasted soiree!”
Instantly Nicholas became calm, though he still looked as if it would take next to nothing to start him yelling again. “Very well, if that is your attitude, you may stay home tonight, and perhaps you will find your own company fascinating enough to suit you.”
“But... but...” She started to protest, but he cut her off.
“No, we have waited long enough. You have made your decision, now live with the consequences.” Swiftly he herded the other two women out the door. “I wish you a pleasant evening,” he said before closing the door.
Mindful of the footman and butler still watching, Dorie was careful to continue her performance as a spoiled, willful brat—at least until she reached the safety of her own room. Then she quickly bolted the door and began to change her clothes.
She would have to write a note for Nicholas, of course. What was the point in flouting his authority if he wasn’t even aware that she was doing it?
She smiled to herself. Perhaps Glengarry would again ... But no, he seemed to be avoiding her ever since she had banished him from the terrace four evenings ago.
Shrugging, she found a sheet of blank paper. Well, if that oversized Scotsman thought he could capture her interest by playing least-in-sight, he hadn’t a hope in the world.
* * * *
“I say he should have beat her,” Davey, the second footman, was saying when Billy entered the servants’ hall. “A good thrashing is what that girl needs to straighten her out.”
“Or a good loving,” Polly replied, winking at the footman.
“Who needs a beating?” Billy asked with idle curiosity.
“Miss Dorie, that’s who,” Davey replied. “You should have seen what she did to her dress. Cut it down in front so low it was a proper scandal, then thought she could sneak out without anyone being the wiser. But Mr. Goldsborough wasn’t born yesterday. Before anyone else even suspicioned she was trying something smoky, he twitched off her shawl quick as a cat can wink. Lord, I thought his eyes would pop out of his head. I only got a glimpse of her myself, but it was enough to make you blush.”
“You, Davey? Give over,” Polly said.
“Never mind all this,” Billy said quickly. “Where is Miss Dorie now?”
“Why, she’s up in her room, ‘cause she flat out refused to change her dress,” the footman answered absently, his mind and attention obviously preoccupied by his female companion. “You know, Polly, you’d look mighty sweet in a gown like that.” For his audacity he was rewarded with a giggle and a playful slap, obviously designed more to encourage than to discourage.
Of course Miss Dorie was in her room, Billy thought, taking the back stairs two at a time. When pigs fly.
The door to her room was closed, and no one responded to his knock. A quick look inside confirmed his worst suspicions. The offending dress lay in a heap on the floor, but the owner of the dress had once again flown the coop. Why had he ever suggested to the duke that he be sent along to London to watch over such a troublesome young lady?
Chapter 12
Halfway down the main stairs, Billy saw the large front door soundlessly closing. Oh, aye, Mr. Goldsborough was a knowing one. Ha! He had fallen for Miss Dorie’s playacting without a suspicion.
Emerging from the house, Billy glanced quickly each way, and to the left at the end of the block he spotted a shadowy figure in a cloak turning down the side street. Running at full tilt, he reached the corner in time to see Miss Dorie, or so he assumed it must be, climbing into a closed carriage pulled by a team of horses.
Without wasting a second, the coachman cracked his whip, and the horses lunged forward, but by luck—good or ill, only time would tell—Billy managed to catch hold of the back of the coach and swing himself up and wiggle his way into the boot.
Women, he decided as he was jostled roughly back and forth, were more trouble than they were worth. After this “vacation” in London, he was going to stick with horses, which never did anything worse than bite or kick or throw you off their backs.
The carriage seemed to be driving on forever into the night, and when Billy finally pulled back the leather flap enough to peek out, he was disheartened by their surroundings. A glance at the moon was enough to tell him they were heading north, and the houses were already beginning to thin out.
Surely the wretched girl could not be eloping? Miss Dorie might be willful, but she was not at all stupid, even he would have to admit to that.
Well, the way the coachman was springing the horses, they would be reaching their goal soon, or they would need to stop for a fresh team. Either way, Billy would be able to discover what Miss Dorie was up to ... or what skullduggery she had gotten herself mixed up in.
* * * *
“Really, Nicholas,” his aunt admonished him, “if you were so worried about leaving Dorie home alone, you could have come back by yourself to check on her. There was no need to drag Joanna and me away. You are letting my wretched daughter spoil everyone’s enjoyment this evening. I, for one, am quite ready to let the girl sit in her room until she is willing to be more amenable.”
There should have been two of him, Nicholas thought wryly, sprinting up the stairs. That was the only way he would be able to please everybody—one of him to stay at the Seftons’ and watch over Joanna, and the other to check up on Dorie, who was not going to be pleased, no matter what he did.
Or better than two of him, he could solve his problems by simply wringing his cousin’s neck, he decided upon finding her room empty. The mutilated dress lay on the floor where Dorie had dropped it in her obvious haste to leave, but she had at least taken the time to pen him a note.
“‘Dearest Nicholas,’” he read out loud, “‘I have gone to the masquerade at Vauxhall Gardens. If you are reading this, then it means you are once again acting like my jailer, and you therefore deserve to spend the rest of the night worrying. If you are showing me any trust, then you will never know about my adventure this evening because I will destroy this note when I return. Your loving cousin, Dorie.’”
Jailer? Trust? Why should he trust someone who was going to such lengths to deceive him? Enraged as much by her total lack of logic as by her actions, he crumpled the note in his fist. “The devil take al
l females,” he muttered. “What have I done to deserve such punishment, that I have two of them on my hands?”
A gasp from the doorway drew his attention. Joanna was standing there staring at him, her eyes filled with deep hurt, caused, he knew, by his unthinking remark.
Before he could say another word, she turned and fled from him. He wanted to follow, to find her, to explain he had not meant he wanted to be rid of her.
But Dorie was in danger. Wretched child that she was, he could not take time for Joanna until his cousin was safely back under his protection. On the other hand, if he did not beat Dorie before this night was over, then he would qualify as a saint, and unfortunately for her, he was not feeling particularly kind or noble at the moment.
* * * *
The coach slowed abruptly, turned sharply, and before it even came to a complete stop, Billy had rolled out of the boot and slipped to the ground. It was as bad as could be. They were indeed in the courtyard of a busy posting house, and while he watched, the door to the carriage opened and a man descended—Blackstone, the infamous earl.
Billy not only recognized him but also remembered all the stories he had heard through the servants’ grapevine of the lord’s meanness and cruelty. Handsome he might be, but if Blackstone had any ounce of decency or kindness in him, he kept it well hidden.
The coachman who climbed awkwardly down from the driver’s seat was broad and squat, and as nasty a character as Billy had ever laid eyes on. He turned and looked directly at Billy, who immediately put a vacant look on his face, which was usually all a boy had to do to keep an adult from noticing him.
“You, there,” the coachman snarled at him. “Fetch out a new team for his lordship and be quick about it.”
Billy tugged at his forelock, feigning a subservient manner and in the process neatly hiding his face. Luckily the coachman did not wait to see if his orders were carried out, but followed his master into the inn.
Quick as a wink, Billy scooted around to the other side of the carriage, where he could not be seen from the inn, and opened the door. “Miss Dorie,” he whispered into the dim interior. “Miss Dorie, it’s me, Billy. I’ve come to rescue you.”
There was no response, and his groping hands found an arm dangling down to the floor—a limp arm, which did not react when he tugged on it. “Miss Dorie,” he called urgently again, even knowing it would do no good. His fingers touched her face, but her eyes were shut.
Drugged! The wicked earl had drugged her.
For a moment Billy wanted to sit down where he was and curse his own lack of inches. If only he were as big as the Scottish lord, he could simply throw her over his shoulder and carry her away. Although if he were as big as Lord Glengarry, he wouldn’t have to sneak away. If he had the Scottish lord’s breadth of shoulders, he could challenge the earl to a duel and slice his head off.
Well, since that opportunity was not likely to come his way, the only thing left that he could actually do was send for the brawny Scotsman, who would make quick work of the wicked earl.
Quickly scooting out of the carriage, Billy dashed to the stables and ordered the requested team. Then he accosted a stableboy near to his own age.
“You’ve got ter take a message to Lunnon for me,” Billy said. “It’s a matter of life and death.”
The boy looked at him as if he had taken leave of his senses. “Not on your life, guv. Baxter would skin me alive if I shirked my duties to go larking off to London.”
Standing up straight as he could, Billy said, “You would not be ‘larking off,’ as you put it. I work in the Duke of Colthurst’s stable, but the evil earl who is wettin’ his whistle inside the Green Man has abducted my mistress and is carrying her off to Scotland. It is up to me to stop him, so I will pay you to take a message to Lord Glengarry in London and tell him what has happened.”
“Duke? Earl? Lord? Someone should wash your mouth out for telling such fibs.” The lad tried to shove past him, but Billy caught his arm.
“Just look in the coach, that’s all I ask. He’s drugged her, that’s what he’s done.”
Faced with an unconscious lady, the boy, who admitted to the name of Tommy, agreed that there might be truth in what Billy was telling him. Upon being shown a gold guinea, he allowed as how whipping or no whipping, it was clearly imperative for him to carry a message to the Scottish lord waiting in London.
“You sure you can find his lodgings? He is staying with the Craigmonts in Berkeley Square.”
“You think I’m dumb? ‘Course I can find it. I knows my way around London better’n you, I’ll wager.”
By the time the earl reemerged from the taproom of the Green Man, Billy was safely back inside the boot, this time with an old horse blanket to help cushion his ride.
It would be a long night, he realized when the horses set off again at a gallop, and he could only hope Lord Glengarry would catch up with them before they had gone too far.
* * * *
The sky was becoming lighter in the east and Vauxhall Gardens was almost emptied of pleasure-seekers when Nicholas finally gave up his attempt to find his cousin, who was doubtless even now sleeping soundly in her own bed. Signaling a hack, he gave the driver instructions, then wearily climbed inside.
He was definitely going to beat her—drag her out of her bed, turn her over his knee, and whack her bottom until she cried for mercy.
The coach hit a bump and threw him sideways.
Bread and water for a week. That might help her see the folly of her ways. And he would threaten to discharge any domestic who contravened his orders and tried to smuggle any other food up to her. No, no threats. He would just fire one or two servants, and after that the rest would fall into line.
The coachman yelled something obnoxious at the driver of a lorry.
And the most diabolical punishment of all, he would set her to hemming a dozen sheets. With her abhorrence of all forms of needlework, that would be the punishment that would break her—that would cow her into a semblance of obedience for the rest of the Season.
He amused himself for the rest of the ride by imagining the ways she would try to soften his heart, how she would doubtless try to enlist Joanna to intercede for her...
Joanna ... he had forgotten what he had said ... his wretched tongue again ... first he would beat Dorie ... then he would explain to Joanna ... make her forgive him...
He slid into a light doze, which was troubled by dreams of Dorie eluding, taunting him, dancing away, always out of reach, and then somehow it was Joanna he was chasing, but she was fleeing from him, her eyes wide with fear, and no matter how he struggled to run after her, he could not catch up.
* * * *
The sun was hovering on the horizon and there was no village or posting house in view when the coachman abruptly reined in the horses, the door to the carriage was thrown open, and as Billy peeked through a hole in the side of the boot, the wicked earl dragged Miss Dorie out. She was awake, but her face was as white as a sheet, and she seemed dazed, as if not fully aware of where she was.
Afraid of what evil deed the man might intend to do in this out-of-the-way place, Billy prepared to leap out. There was little he could do against two men, especially when one of them sported a brace of pistols, but he meant to try his best. Looking around, he spotted a large stick he could use as a club.
Before he made his move, however, the reason for the unscheduled stop was apparent: after only a brief moan Dorie became violently ill.
Blackstone tried to keep his polished Hessians out of the way, but it was obvious she could not stand without support, so he was forced to hold her arms, cursing her all the time until the attack stopped.
“Water,” she croaked out. “Give me something to drink—water, wine, anything. I am so thirsty.”
“I have some very lovely wine,” the earl said with a cruel laugh. “But as you have doubtless realized, it is drugged. Still and all, you may have as much of it as you wish.”
“No, no.” She t
ried to shake her head, but the movement only triggered another attack of violent spasms.
“You may have water if you prefer, my love,” Blackstone said in a gloating voice, “although I do not drink it myself. But keep in mind that if you make the slightest effort to escape or try to enlist the aid of anyone to help you, I shall pour the whole bottle of wine down your throat. The choice is up to you.”
For a long moment she seemed to be debating in her mind. Billy tried to will her to make the right decision: Don’t drink the wine, Miss Dorie! It doesn’t matter what you have to promise him—just don’t let him drug you again. I can’t help you escape if you’re unconscious.
Screwing up his face, he thought about it as hard as he could, and finally was rewarded by hearing Miss Dorie say, “I promise I’ll not try to escape.”
“And you won’t try to persuade someone to carry a message for you?”
“I promise,” she repeated wearily, and finally the earl appeared satisfied. She was too weak to walk, however, and in the end he was forced to carry her the few steps back to the carriage.
* * * *
Joanna was waiting in the hallway, and as soon as he saw her face, Nicholas knew Dorie was not sleeping safely in her own bed. Joanna looked the same way she had when he had found her in Brussels. Her cheeks were pale, her eyes appeared bruised, and the fear emanating from her was almost palpable.
If it were possible, Nicholas became even more angry with his cousin for what she was putting Joanna through.
“You did not find her?” she asked in a low voice.
“No,” he said softly. Wanting only to comfort her—and perhaps needing some of her comfort also—Nicholas took a step toward Joanna. If he could just hold her in his arms for a few minutes ...
But she backed away, eyeing him with distrust—or fear? Was she afraid of him? Because of some careless words he had said in a moment of anger? Did she truly believe he considered her a burden to take care of?
Her actions hurt him more than he had believed possible, and he had to turn away for a moment to hide his weakness from her.
The Resolute Runaway Page 17