by Buck, Gayle
The innkeeper hurried forward and positioned himself. “Aye, m’lord. The poor fellow looks quite knocked up.”
Thea hurried to throw open the door to the adjoining bedroom and stood aside for them to enter with their burden. As they slowly approached the door, the innkeeper remarked, “I am supposing you’ll not wish for your carriage to be brought round after all, m’lord. At least not until the physician has come.”
“You have read my thoughts precisely, sir,” said Cardiff, frowning with concern down at his still-unconscious valet. “You may send word down to my coachman and groom that we will not be traveling today after all.”
The innkeeper bawled at the housemaid who still stood watching in fascination on the threshold of the parlor. “You heard his lordship, girl! Be off with you!”
“Wait!” Philip stepped forward quickly, bringing forward the pistol which he had hastily thrust out of sight behind him upon the arrival of an audience. Made nervous by talk of the constable, he acted without thought of the consequences. The gun shook visibly in his tense hand.
The housemaid gasped in fright and slid ungracefully into a full swoon. She was not the only one profoundly affected.
The innkeeper started and nearly dropped the valet’s legs. Lord Cardiff brought him sharply to order and he apologized disjointedly. It was apparent from his starting eyes that he was petrified.
“What is it now, Stafford?” asked Cardiff in a clipped, cold voice.
Emboldened by the innkeeper’s obvious fear, Philip cleared his throat and straightened his shoulders. In a voice he meant to sound commanding but which sounded merely hoarse with tension, he said loudly, “Rather, call someone to carry word to his lordship’s men to bring round the carriage at once. We are going to leave! Now!”
“M’lord?” The innkeeper directed a helpless look at Lord Cardiff.
However, Cardiff was not looking at the innkeeper. His brows had snapped together as he stared across the expanse of the parlor at Philip Stafford.
It was Thea, however, who voiced the question that Lord Cardiff had not yet asked. “Have you gone completely stark-raving mad?”
Philip’s mouth tightened mulishly. “I am going to do what Papa said to do. Lord Cardiff and you and Thomas and I are leaving now, in his lordship’s carriage.”
“Don’t be ridiculous!” Cardiff was out of all patience. His voice cracked like a whip. “Do not interfere with me, Stafford, I warn you. Come, my good man, let us put my valet to bed.”
The innkeeper threw a hapless glance backwards but obeyed. As Lord Cardiff and the innkeeper disappeared into the bedroom, a spirited argument broke out in the parlor between Thea and her brothers.
When Cardiff returned to the parlor, followed by the innkeeper, it became clear at once that nothing had been resolved. Miss Stafford’s color was high and her eyes blazed dangerously, but she was holding her underlip tightly between her teeth.
Philip became aware of the hovering innkeeper. He sharply commanded the man to pull the bell rope and told him to relay the order that Lord Cardiff’s carriage be brought around to the door immediately. When the innkeeper glanced again in Lord Cardiff’s direction, Philip flushed. “You! Do as you’re told! Or—or I’ll shoot his lordship!”
Above Thea’s exclamation of horror and the cringing innkeeper’s gobbled reassurances, Cardiff’s voice rang out. “You’ll do no such thing and you know it! Innkeeper, ignore anything he might say. We will wait for the constable’s arrival to settle this matter.”
“I dare not refuse to do as he says, m’lord,” said the innkeeper, appealing for his lordship’s understanding of his position. He pulled hard several times on the bell rope. “If he did shoot you because I denied him, it would be as much as my head is worth.”
“I see.” Cardiff did indeed understand. He looked across the room at the purposeful Stafford brothers and silently cursed. Miss Stafford had spoken truly enough about her brothers. They were obstinate and thick-headed and foolish beyond belief.
Set on a course of action at last, Philip Stafford could not be moved from it. He was ably seconded by his brother, who enthusiastically repeated his admiration for Philip’s inspired notion to make use of Lord Cardiff’s own carriage.
“For there’s no denying that his lordship’s carriage and cattle are better than we could afford,” concluded Thomas complacently. His voice sounded peculiarly stuffy since his nose had swelled to twice its normal size. His injured appendage had stopped bleeding, but it was turning a distinct shade of purple.
It was Thomas’s idea to tie Lord Cardiff’s wrists together with a piece of cord taken from the drapes. He apologized for the necessity but excused it on account of his respect for Lord Cardiff’s pugilistic ability. “I shan’t hide from you, my lord, that I’ve rarely been hit so hard,” he said in congratulatory accents.
Lord Cardiff did not respond, but suffered the indignity with cold disdain. The expression in his eyes, however, left not a doubt in anyone’s mind of his temper. Philip was therefore cautious to never let his attention wander from his lordship, nor to allow the pistol to waver.
Thea protested furiously against this latest example of her brothers’ iniquity, but to no avail. It seemed nothing she said could sway her brothers from their stated course. She subsided in her arguments when she realized at last how useless her words had been. “I am very sorry, my lord,” she said in a low voice.
“Pray do not flagellate yourself, Miss Stafford. It is not your fault,” said Cardiff in an expressionless voice. It would not do to say so, of course, but he heartily regretted that he had not set out early that morning before ever Miss Stafford’s misguided parent and brothers arrived. This was what came of possessing an over-weaning sense of chivalry, he thought disgustedly, even though he knew well enough he could not in all conscience have driven off without having first assured himself of her safety.
A spark of perverse humor gave him a slight lift out of his black mood. It was a lesson to him, certainly. He should have taken a leaf from all the tales of yore, when the gallant knight rode off into the sunset directly after saving the fair maiden. It obviously saved the knight a great deal of trouble.
When all was ready, Thomas took his sister’s reluctant arm.
“No! I shan’t!” she exclaimed, at once pulling away.
Thomas sighed. “You don’t wish to make a scene, Thea.”
A martial light lit her eyes. “Perhaps that is just what I do wish to do.”
Thomas shrugged. “I shall throw you over my shoulder, then.” He advanced on her, purpose in his set expression.
Thea rapidly decided that she would far prefer walking to enduring the humiliation of being slung like a bag of grain over her brother’s shoulder. “Wait! I shan’t give you any trouble, Thomas.”
Thomas’s face split in a wide grin. “I am glad of it, Thea. I disliked the notion of carrying you.”
“Not half as much as I did!” retorted Thea.
Stiffly, she accepted her brother’s hand and Thomas escorted her from the parlor, with the long-faced innkeeper walking before them. Lord Cardiff followed, with Philip Stafford bringing up the rear. The common taproom was quickly traversed by the ill-assorted party, and this early in the morning there were only a few locals to witness the odd sight of a peer of the realm being herded out of the inn at pistol point.
Thea tried to hold back again when they reached Lord Cardiff’s carriage, straining against Thomas’s hand. It was useless, however. Her brother merely lifted her into his arms and deposited her somewhat ungracefully inside the carriage. Thea protested furiously at the callous treatment, but Thomas ignored her and climbed in after her.
Cardiff did not waste his breath berating his captors, deeming the case to be hopeless at that juncture. He paused only long enough to give the unhappy innkeeper instructions for the care of his valet, before allowing himself to be thrust after Miss Stafford into his own carriage under the outraged and angry eyes of his coachman and groom.
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br /> Philip shouted out the destination to the coachman, then leaped in after Lord Cardiff. He slammed shut the carriage door and latched it.
It was crowded in the carriage when Philip got in and seated himself beside his brother, opposite the two captives. However, the brothers did not appear to mind that they were seated with their backs to the horses. Flushed with success as the carriage started forward with a jerk, the Stafford brothers laughed uproariously together in almost a giddy fashion.
“We’re off to Gretna just like Papa wished!”
“We’ve done it, Thomas. We’ve actually done it!”
“You’ll be fortunate if you both don’t hang for this day’s work,” interjected Cardiff baldly, looking across the short expanse separating him from the two young gentlemen with patent disgust.
They looked at Lord Cardiff, then again at each other, and burst into renewed guffaws.
“I hope I die very, very soon,” said Thea decidedly. “I have never been more mortified in my whole life!”
Chapter Six
The initial stages of the journey were accomplished with the Stafford brothers’ continued self-congratulations on accomplishing their sire’s wishes. Eventually, however, some of their euphoria wore off and their talk became intermixed with ever-lengthening silences. Lord Cardiff and Thea, long since fallen silent, offered no distraction.
The carriage swayed over the road, making good time. As the miles passed under the wheels, the opportunity to contemplate their actions was having its inevitable effect on the Stafford brothers.
Characteristically it was Thomas who stated the obvious. “Er . . . perhaps we should have given more thought to it all, Philip.”
“I am giving thought to it, Thomas,” snapped Philip. His brow was furrowed by a worried frown. He still held the pistol leveled in Lord Cardiff’s direction and the firearm swayed gently back and forth with the movement of the carriage.
Under his eyelids, Cardiff regarded the young man’s grasp on the pistol. He wondered idly how long it would be before Philip’s fingers cramped. It was something to think about, for it could be advantageous to himself. It might be possible to wrest the pistol away from Philip when his hold became less certain.
There fell another silence while Thomas meditated some more. “I tell you what, Philip, I don’t care for the notion at all,” he said suddenly.
Philip was drawn out of his brown study by his brother’s unusual solemnity. “What don’t you like?”
“I don’t like the notion of hanging.” Thomas put a hand up to his throat and ran one wide finger under the edge of his linen cravat as though it had become tight. “It isn’t a comforting thought.”
“Shut up!” said Philip. He glared at his brother.
“Well, it will only be what you both deserve,” said Thea waspishly, entering the fray. “How could you do such an outrageous thing? Kidnapping! Of all the harebrained, idiotic starts!” Her voice momentarily deserted her and she could only shake her head at the thought of her brother’s stupidity.
Philip’s mouth compressed to a thin line. His expression was furious as he shot a look of dislike at his sister.
Thea stared back defiantly. “You may look as black as you wish, Philip. I shan’t regard it, I assure you!”
Philip jerked a shoulder and turned his head, pointedly ignoring her.
“Do you truly believe we shall hang, my lord?” asked Thomas anxiously, appealing to Lord Cardiff.
Cardiff did not have the chance to reply before Thea once more interjected. “Lord Cardiff is a peer of the realm. Doubtless he has scores of influential relations in high places, all of whom will clamor for your heads. You will be fortunate if you are not drawn and quartered,” said Thea roundly.
Thomas looked a bit green, and even Philip appeared to lose a little of his former assurance. Their obvious dismay served to rouse Cardiff’s unfortunate sense of humor.
“Actually, I have only one truly influential relation,” he said suavely. “My father is a duke and is known to have a bit of influence at Whitehall.”
All three of the Staffords stared at him with varying degrees of alarm and consternation. He controlled the smile that almost quivered to life on his lips, saying apologetically, “I just thought I should mention it.”
“There you are! You are patently doomed,” declared Thea. She was immensely satisfied that she had been proven right. She had known all along that Lord Cardiff was a personage of importance.
“It does look black for us, Philip,” said Thomas gloomily.
“I must think,” said Philip, gnawing at his underlip in a nervous fashion.
“Whatever is there to think about?” exclaimed Thea. She could not believe how dense they still were. “You must let Cardiff free at once and beg for his lordship’s mercy.”
“That is sound advice, gentlemen,” drawled Cardiff. He shifted, making himself more comfortable against the seat squabs, and stretched out his long legs.
The situation was peculiar, to say the least, and there was a danger that his two kidnappers were too stupid to realize fully the extent of their folly. However, he was inclined to view matters with equanimity rather than otherwise. Miss Stafford seemed an able enough advocate in the sowing of doubt into her brothers’ minds as to the wisdom of their ill-conceived actions. A few more minutes of her withering tongue and he rather thought the matter would be resolved.
Lord, but she was spirited, he thought with admiration, glancing in Miss Stafford’s direction. Despite the hurly-burly fashion in which she had been thrust into the carriage and her obvious distress over the situation, the scorn in her eyes and her bolt-upright posture showed her to have a backbone of steel. He recalled that he had believed Miss Cummings, the hostess of the houseparty he had recently quitted, to be the most self-possessed and bravest lady of his acquaintance; but now, he thought that Miss Stafford had completely eclipsed that lady in spirit. Lord Cardiff would back such a woman against any number of scoundrels and fools.
Cardiff did not believe that the Staffords were evil men. They were merely misguided and blindly loyal to their sire. He fully expected to be freed within a very short time, once the Stafford brothers got it through their thick heads that nothing but grief could come out of the kidnapping of a peer of the realm. And if not—
Cardiff gave a slight shrug. Already he had nearly worked loose of his bonds and he was confident enough of his own ability to create just the sort of diversion that his servants were probably straining their ears to hear. His coachman and groom were quick of understanding and would certainly act. Then, he thought with the touch of a grim smile, the tables would at last be turned. He would have the upper hand and would be able to put an end to the farce. It would give him great satisfaction to be able to bid adieu to poor Miss Stafford and her crazed family members.
Something of Lord Cardiff’s intentions must have been evident in his expression, for Philip suddenly exclaimed and steadied the pistol, centering it on Lord Cardiff’s waistcoat. “Thomas, examine his lordship’s wrists. And for God’s sake, don’t come between his lordship and the pistol.”
Thomas gave a bark of a laugh as though his brother had said something exquisitely funny. “Don’t be anxious on that count. I’ve no wish to have my head blown off my shoulders!”
Philip flushed, not liking his brother’s good-natured ridicule. “Just see to it!” he snapped irritably.
With the greatest care Thomas reached over to test Lord Cardiff’s bonds. “Why, you’ve nearly worked free! We can’t have that, my lord,” he said in a chiding voice. He proceeded to retie the cord, tighter than before. “There, that ought to do the trick.”
Cardiff did not move while his wrists were retied, but anger coursed through him. His instinct had prompted him to strike out at Thomas Stafford, but his good sense asserted itself in time. With Philip looking tensely at him from over the pistol, he felt that the least alarm would cause the man, already nervous, to unthinkingly pull the trigger. In such close qu
arters, and without the advantage of being able to catch Philip by surprise and thus knock aside the pistol, any action on his part would be disastrous. Cardiff knew himself able to act with bravery when circumstances demanded it of him, but he was not suicidal.
Thea had been holding her breath, perhaps even more certain than her brother Philip that Lord Cardiff was poised to take some action. She didn’t know what Lord Cardiff would do, but naturally it would be something spectacular, something breathtakingly heroic.
When Thomas sat back into his place, unmolested and his handiwork accomplished without incident, Thea felt an acute disappointment. She had hoped Lord Cardiff would at the very least have thrust Thomas aside and wrested the pistol from Philip, thus putting an end to the humiliating episode. She could not help sending a glance of reproach towards Lord Cardiff.
His lordship’s countenance was grim, but upon meeting her gaze his expression lightened. Apparently he found something humorous in her disillusionment in him, for his mobile mouth curved in the faintest of smiles.
“A thousand pardons, ma’am. I had no wish to be shot,” he murmured.
“Of course you did not, especially since you are still recovering from a wound,” said Thea at once in staunch support. She did not want Lord Cardiff to believe that she blamed him for lack of initiative, even though she rather wished that he had done something, and she wanted to reassure him that she still had faith in him.
“Exactly so. You understand me perfectly, Miss Stafford,” said Cardiff, a more pronounced glint of amusement in his eyes.
Thea wasn’t certain if she did so or not, but it gratified her that Lord Cardiff seemed to think so highly of her.
“Wound? Of course, I recall now! Thea said that you were on wounded leave!” Thomas regarded Lord Cardiff with sharpening interest. A fanatical light brightened his eyes. “Are you in the army, then?”
“Indeed; I am an aide-de-camp to Wellington,” said Cardiff, nodding.
Thomas appeared awed. “Oh, I say! Do you hear that, Philip? What I wouldn’t give to go into the army.” There was envy and respect in Thomas’s voice, while Philip acknowledged the revelation with only a grunt.