“Victoria, where are we going?” he demanded, stumbling over his feet as she hustled him across the carpet and into the hall.
“I will show you,” she promised, not slowing her pace as she moved up the stairs and down the upper hallway. Reaching her chambers, she threw open the door and hurried inside.
“Good heavens, Victoria,” Thomas said as he stubbornly halted just outside the door.
“What is it?”
“I cannot enter your bedchamber.”
“Oh for goodness sakes,” she muttered, leaving him behind to move toward the tiny table beside her bed where she had placed the figurine. Grasping it, she hurried back to where Thomas waited. “Here it is.”
“The figurine?” Thomas demanded in surprise.
“There must be something ...” she muttered, studying the figurine with a searching gaze. At last she turned it over to discover that in the back of the gown was a small latch. With trembling fingers, she tugged it upward to discover a clever door cut in the porcelain. It was obviously designed to hold a woman’s personal belongings, she realized with a leap of her heart. It was also obvious that someone else’s belongings were already tucked inside. “Oh!”
“What is it?” Thomas demanded.
Barely able to make her shaking fingers work properly, Victoria tipped the figurine so that the gaudy diamond necklace and matching earrings tumbled into her open palm.
“Look,” she breathed.
“Mother’s jewels,” Thomas exclaimed in shock. “But how did they get into the figurine?”
Not quite believing that her wild suspicions were now indeed confirmed, she gave a slow shake of her head. “I would say that only Andrew could answer that question.”
Thomas abruptly stepped backward, his brow creased with a fierce scowl. “No, it is not possible. Andrew would never be involved in such an unsavory thing.”
Not about to waste time arguing with the ridiculous man, Victoria swept past him and headed down the stairs.
“I must find Claredon,” she said, nearly trembling with the need to find her husband and reveal what she had discovered.
“Victoria, wait . . .” Thomas called from behind her.
Victoria did not even bother to turn about as she flew over the steps and through the lower hall.
Her only thought was finding her husband. He would comprehend the importance of her discovery. More importantly, he would know precisely what was to be done. He was a man she could depend upon utterly, she realized with a vague stab of surprise, not quite certain when she had begun to lean upon him for support. It could not just be since she had given herself to him in a physical sense. She must have known all along that he was a gentleman of strength, despite her determination to keep him a distance.
It was rather a disquieting realization.
Shaking her head at the absurdity of her thoughts, she moved through the hallway, desperately hoping that Claredon had returned.
She saw no sight of him until she at last reached the foyer, where the young groom was just entering. “Oh, Peter, I am so glad you have returned,” she exclaimed as she hurried toward him. “Do you know where I can find Lord Claredon?”
Astonishingly, the servant gave a low moan as he wrung his hands together. “My lady, he has been taken.”
Too shocked to fully comprehend his agonized words, Victoria regarded him in blank confusion. “Taken? What do you mean?”
“We were riding through the woods when a masked rider appeared with a gun.”
Pain that nearly sent her to her knees sliced through Victoria as she reached out to clutch onto a heavy side table. No, it could not be possible. Claredon had promised to take care. He had promised he would return to their bed that night.
“Dear lord, he isn’t . . .” She could not even bear to utter the gut-wrenching words, afraid that speaking of her terror would make it true.
“He is well,” the servant was swift to assure her, “but the bugger . . . beg pardon, the scoundrel forced him to go with him. He said that the jewels and a thousand pounds were to be left by three this afternoon at the precise spot where he abducted his lordship.”
Only sheer effort kept Victoria from swooning in relief. Claredon was alive. At the moment that was the only thing that mattered.
Several minutes passed as she struggled to regain her wits enough to contemplate what was to be done. She had to be strong, she sternly reprimanded herself. Later she could have her hysterics. For now, her only thought must be for saving Claredon before it was too late.
“We must organize a search,” she at last managed to command in surprisingly steady tones. “And I must send for the magistrate ...”
“My lady,” Peter abruptly intruded into her thoughts.
She offered him an impatient frown. “What?”
“He said that you were to come alone or he . . .” The young man’s voice abruptly broke.
Victoria’s blood ran cold. “Or what?”
“Or he would kill his lordship.”
Fourteen
Victoria hovered on the edge of panic.
Dear heavens, what had she done? Pacing the length of the library, she battled the tears of fear and frustration that threatened to overwhelm her. Why had she listened to Humbly and the others?
Her only concern was ensuring her husband was brought home safely. But rather than heeding the whispers of her heart, she had allowed herself to be swayed by the arguments of the vicar and the servants.
They had urged her not to give in to the demands to leave the jewels and money in the clearing as had been ordered.
Humbly had worried that once the villain had what he desired, he would put a swift end to Claredon. After all, Andrew Banfield did not yet realize that they had discovered his identity. To his mind, only Claredon could finger him for the crime. It would be foolish to leave behind a witness.
They had insisted that she allow the servants to position themselves throughout the woods so that the thief could be caught when he came for his bounty. That way, they could follow him back to his hideout and save Claredon from a certain death.
So while she had desperately searched the house to discover the necessary funds, Humbly had organized a covert means of slipping the servants from the house to the outlying buildings and eventually to a variety of hidden locations throughout the woods. He had insisted each servant leave at least a half an hour apart so that no one watching the house would be suspicious.
At precisely a quarter till three, Victoria had taken a small bag filled with the jewels and money to the location that Peter had described. She had left the small fortune behind and returned to the house to await word of the thief’s capture. It was not until nearly dark that Humbly had given up hope, retrieved the bag, and returned to the house with the servants.
Now she and Humbly paced through the library with no notion of what was to be done next.
“I knew that I should have just left the jewels and money.” She at last broke the thick silence, her heart twisting with a sick dread. “Dear God, what if Claredon is already injured?”
Humbly swiftly crossed to her, his expression set in grim lines. “No, Victoria, this gentleman is clearly determined to collect a fortune. He will be far more dangerous once he has what he desires. Until then, he must keep Lord Claredon safe.”
She twined her fingers together, wishing she possessed the vicar’s faith. “But now we do not even know what we are to do.”
“The scoundrel will no doubt send a message of some sort,” Humbly comforted. “And if he follows true to form, he will be adding another thousand pounds in the bargain.”
Victoria waved a dismissive hand. She did not care if he asked for the deed to Longmeade. She would give up everything she possessed to have Claredon home safely. She would give up her own life, if necessary.
Her eyes slipped closed as she battled the rise of hysterics. Until she had been forced to consider the thought of losing Claredon, she had not realized just how vital he had bec
ome to her life. So vital she was not at all certain she could go on without him. “I do not care what he asks for, as long as Claredon is safe.”
As if sensing how near she was to a complete collapse, Humbly reached out to kindly pat her arm. “All will be well, my dear.”
Tears flooded her eyes, despite her determination to be strong for her husband. “No, it will not be well until Claredon is home. I could not bear to lose him now.”
There was a brief silence as Humbly carefully regarded her taut features. Then a faint smile curved his lips. “Because you love him?”
To have her feelings put into words made Victoria momentarily stiffen. She had claimed to love Thomas. It did not seem quite right to compare her feelings for Claredon in the same fashion. After all, what she felt for her husband was nothing at all like what she had felt with Thomas.
With Claredon she was not the mothering caregiver who must solve all problems. Instead, he made her feel respected, cherished, and utterly desirable. They were equals in a way she never could have been with Thomas. And while she had been furious when she had been forced into marriage, it had been more the fact her life had been taken out of her control than true grief that she had lost Thomas. Now the mere thought of losing Claredon left a gaping hole in her heart she knew beyond a doubt would never heal.
“Yes, I love him,” she at last admitted in tragic tones. “And I haven’t even told him.”
Humbly placed a comforting arm about her shoulders. “You will tell him, Victoria. You must have faith.”
Salty tears streamed down her cold cheeks. “It is very difficult.”
“Well, at least we know he is in the area. He had to have been close by to have noticed the servants hidden in the bushes.”
A shudder raced through her at the thought of the villain creeping through the woods, perhaps even stalking around the house itself. And all the while he had poor Claredon bound and perhaps even gagged in some horrid place.
Blast, but she wished she could get her hands upon him. She would make him very, very sorry. She clenched her teeth in frustration. “But we cannot even search for him without putting Claredon at risk.”
“It is a difficult situation,” Humbly agreed with a sigh.
“It is impossible.”
Dropping his arm, Humbly firmly turned her to face him. “He will send another message.”
She realized the vicar was only attempting to ease her coiled fear, but her nerves were too brittle to keep her temper in check. She wanted to screech out her rage and hurl the books about the room.
“But then what will we do?” she demanded in sharp tones. “He managed to sense a trap before.”
“Yes, it is odd,” Humbly grimaced, obviously knowing he had no answer to her logic.
“What is odd?”
Humbly clasped his hands behind his back, his brow furrowed in thought. “We kept the servants well away from the place you were to leave the jewels, and they were hidden in the bushes. We were also very careful to slip them from the house so they would not be noticed.”
Victoria gave a shrug, not following his obvious confusion. “He must have been hidden close to the house.”
“And risk being caught?” The vicar gave an impatient click of his tongue at the villain’s strange behavior. “If he intended to be so close, surely he would have chosen to meet at night? It would have been a simple matter to grab the jewels and slip away before he could be caught.”
Victoria herself had been surprised that Mr. Banfield would be so bold as to seek an appointment during the day. As the vicar had pointed out, it would be far safer to expose himself in the dark of night. “What else could it be?” she demanded.
“I do not know.” With a sharp movement, Humbly returned to pacing across the room, his head bent as he attempted to sort through the various possibilities. “Unless . . .”
“What?”
He came to a halt, turning to face her. “Maybe he was hiding in the top of one of the trees. I doubt the servants thought to glance upward, and certainly he would have had a clearer view of the house without exposing himself.”
Victoria was about to dismiss the absurd notion when her breath abruptly caught in her throat.
The top of the trees.
Of course.
How could she possibly have been so stupid? No wonder the villain had demanded that they meet in that particular location in the woods, and why he had made the appointment during the day.
If he were hidden in Claredon’s cottage, he would not only be out of view of others, he would have the telescope to keep a constant watch on the woods. It would be nearly impossible to sneak up to the small clearing without being spotted. And of course, it would be a perfect location to hold Claredon prisoner.
“Victoria, what is it?” Humbly demanded in worried tones.
“The top of the trees,” she said in a breathless voice.
“I know, it is absurd . . .”
“No, it is brilliant.” She rushed toward him and clasped his hands in a tight grip. “I know where Claredon is.”
The vicar regarded her in shock. “You know?”
“It is the only possible place.”
“Where is it?”
“I will tell you in a moment, but first we must gather the servants,” she said as she was already hurrying from the room. “We must be prepared as soon as it is dark enough to hide us.”
* * *
Claredon had never been so furious in his entire life.
Gads, he had been a fool to lower his guard just because there had been no sign of Mr. Smith over the past week. It did not help to know he had been mooning over thoughts of his wife when the villain had unexpectedly stepped into pathway with a pistol pointed at his heart.
He was worse than a fool, he told himself. Because of his stupidity, he did not doubt that the crazed man holding a pistol to his head would soon lodge a bullet in him once he had received the treasure he had demanded. He had made no attempt to hide his identity after they had reached the cottage, nor the fact that he was indeed a gentleman of Quality. He could not possibly risk allowing Claredon to live and reveal he had kidnapped and demanded ransom for a nobleman. Even worse, Claredon had put Victoria in danger.
What if the lunatic became angry and decided to punish the innocent woman for preparing a trap to capture him? Or if he realized that Victoria had no jewels to hand over?
Breathing in deeply to fight back a ready sense of panic, Claredon discreetly tested the ropes that bound him to the chair. He already knew they were hopelessly tight, but he had to do something to take his thoughts off the horror of how this night might end.
Careful to keep the pistol pointed at Claredon, the scoundrel folded the note he had just written. Although the man was somewhat younger than Claredon had expected, he bore a remarkable resemblance to the man Victoria had sketched. There was also something faintly familiar about the line of his jaw and the deep set of his eyes, some recognition that tugged just at the edge of Claredon’s mind.
“You had better pray your wife shows a bit more sense on this occasion, my lord,” he growled, with a desperate edge that sent a chill down Claredon’s spine. The man was clearly in dire straits and willing to go to any length to save his worthless skin. “The next time she attempts to be clever she shall discover herself a widow.”
Claredon refused to show the fear that pulsed through his blood like a poison. “You’ll hang for this, you know.”
The man gave a shrill laugh. “Oh no, I have no intention of hanging.”
Claredon did not doubt he would do anything to avoid that dreadful fate, including murder. Unfortunately, at the moment he could do nothing more than keep the man talking and hope that rescue eventually came.
“Tell me, Mr. Smith, what jewels are you so desperate to get your hands upon?”
“My dear Aunt Margaret’s.”
Claredon arched his brows. “You stole from your own aunt?”
The thin lips curled into a sneer
at his distasteful tones. “She refused to give me the loan I was in rather desperate need of, so I helped myself to her heirlooms. Unfortunately, her clod-headed son arrived just as I was taking them from the safe, and I was forced to hide them in a figuring that was set on a nearby table. Thomas may be stupid, but even he would notice a bulge of jewels marring the line of my coat.”
The gentleman shrugged, unaware of Claredon’s suddenly narrowed gaze. “I knew it would be a simple matter to return later and take the figurine. I could not know that the dolt was sending the ugly ornament to his fiancée. It took me weeks to realize that it was no longer in the house.”
Claredon sucked in a deep breath, realizing that the man had revealed far more than he intended-not only that the jewels he had stolen had come from Mrs. Stice, but that he was Thomas’s cousin. If he could ever get out of here, it would now be a simple matter to track him down.
If he ever got out of here . . . he battled the wave of frustration.
Just keep him talking, Claredon, he told himself. Victoria was incredibly resourceful. If anyone could figure out where they were hidden, she would. He had to hang on to that hope. “And so you came in search of the jewels,” he said in remarkably calm tones.
“Oh, yes,” he rasped, a dangerous glitter in his pale eyes. “The jewels belong to me. And for my troubles, I have demanded an extra thousand pounds. Perhaps I should make it three thousand.”
Claredon frowned at the man’s blatant greed. “We do not have three thousand pounds lying about the house.”
He smiled with an ugly humor. “Then your sweet wife had best be quick about obtaining a loan. I should hate for her . . .” His taunting words came to an abrupt halt as he whirled toward the closed door. “What was that?”
“What?”
“I heard a noise.” Suddenly appearing like a cornered rat, he waved the pistol dangerously in Claredon’s direction. “Do not even twitch, my lord, unless you desire a hole through your heart.”
Claredon had no intention of moving. Although he had also heard the faint noise, he had faith his servants would not have so clumsily given away their presence unless it was a clever trap. He sincerely hoped that they were deliberately leading the gentleman out of the cottage. He also hoped the man’s sudden edge of panic did not force him to presume it was better to do away with his one witness.
Love and Marriage Page 52