The Marquess' Angel_Hart and Arrow_A Regency Romance Book

by Julia Sinclair

  She walked blindly through the garden, feeling a kind of kinship with the desolate landscape. The beds, which should contain a riotous spill of color, were barren, and the shrubs were naked, revealing reaching scrabbling branches. Behind her, as if from a deep remove, she could hear the sounds of the Portings' ball.

  Maybe it's like the old fairy tale. I have wandered away from the world I knew, and now I am in an enchanted forest. If I am kind to the right witch, or if I can bribe the right woodland animal, I can win my heart's desire.

  She knew that indulging in foolish fantasies would only make returning to reality worse. If she were sane, if she were thinking clearly, she would return indoors and plead a headache to Tristan. He would take her back to the house, and then, even if she couldn't have Thomas, she would at least be out of this terrible crush.

  She took a deep breath, because returning to the crowd felt like diving back into piranha-infested waters, but she had to do it sooner or later. Her teeth were already chattering in the cold, and she wrapped her arms around herself as she made her way back.

  To Blythe's surprise, the doors that would allow her to return to the ball were locked, and no matter how hard she waved, no one would come and let her in. The dancing had started again, drawing all eyes, and she shivered.

  If I stay out here too long, I won't have to worry about my heart at all because it will be turned quite to ice.

  She cast around the immediate area, looking for a solution, and found it in the small gate toward the rear of the garden. In most houses, the garden opened directly to the rear entry, where the servants went with the garden refuse. Even if she had to deal with the indignity of being the lady crawling through the servants' quarters, it was better than staying and freezing.

  She strode toward the small gate, chilled to the bone, and thinking wistfully of the roaring fires that were doubtless kept in the kitchen.

  Did I ever have any dealings with a servant of the Portings? Perhaps they would be inclined to let me sit for a while in the kitchen. That sounds like heaven right now.

  Blythe's thoughts of warmth consumed her, but she had been walking the darker streets of London far too long to completely let her guard down. Some sixth sense, a trickle of sensation down her spine, a feeling that set her teeth on edge, made her look right as she passed through the gate. To her shock, a large man hid in the shadows there. Her body reacted faster than her mind. Instead of standing still as a statue, she took two fast steps back into the shelter of the garden. As she did so, another man who had been hiding to the left of the gate brought his arm crashing down, something heavy in it that missed her by a hair.

  That was a sap! It was meant to knock me unconscious or worse!

  For a moment, Blythe thought terror had frozen her after all, but then with a soft cry, she spun on her heel and started to run. She cursed the delicate heels that sank into the cold soil and the skirts that seemed to be gaining a dozen pounds with every step. Blythe hiked her skirts up in her arms, running for all she was worth, and behind her, she heard the thud of heavy feet as her pursuers came after her.

  I just need to get back to the doors to the ballroom. Someone will see me, or I can break down a window. I cannot let them catch me.

  She was breathing so hard steam rose up around her, nearly blinding her, but she could still see the glowing doors of the party. This time, it really did feel like another world, one of civilization and safety. Blythe knew keenly that she was in the dark forest, and if she faltered, she would stay there.

  She was so close. Her foot reached the brick steps to the door, she lunged forward to reach for the handle, and then there were hands on her, looping around her belly, grabbing her by the hair, pulling her back into the dark.

  “Christ, she almost got away.”

  “Come on, drag her back, we don't want anyone seeing her.”

  The words filled Blythe with dread, and she fought as hard as she could. She sent her fists flying out as hard as she could, and when she could feel one of her assailant's feet close by, she tried to drive the heel of her shoe directly into it.

  For one brief moment, she thought she was going to be able to win herself free, that she had gotten them both to release their hold on her and she could resume her struggle for the door. Instead, Blythe cried out as she felt herself lifted entirely off the ground. One man bear-hugged her and pinned her arms to her side and the other stepped forward to stuff a rag into her mouth. She screamed but found it muffled, and she had to stop or risk choking on the rag.

  “His lordship said she were a fighter, but I never expected that. She fights like a cat from the stews.”

  “Shut up, we got to get her in the carriage before someone notices.”

  Her blood ran cold. Wherever they were taking her, she knew that her chances for escape were going to dip to non-existent if she could not escape them before they got her in the carriage. Instead of fighting, Blythe went limp. She sagged in their arms, making them curse. For a few steps, they held her more tightly, but then, as she had hoped, they loosened their grips when they thought she was in a dead swoon.

  She didn't attack. Instead, she wrenched herself away from the hands that gripped her so tight, and in one blessed movement, her hands were free, and her feet were on the ground. The men shouted, but she was dashing back for the light, spitting out the rag they had used to gag her, this time sure she would make it.

  Blythe was struck from behind so hard she went sprawling. One of the men had tried to tackle her, but she still fought to move forward, even if she had to do it on her hands and knees.

  “Help! Help, someone please help me!”

  In some distant corner of her mind, Blythe was shocked by how very small and weak her voice sounded. It would never penetrate the locked doors to the ball, the doors she could now so clearly understand had been purposefully locked against her.

  In a pitifully short amount of time, the men had scooped her up, and this time, it seemed as if they were done struggling with her.

  “Damn it, get the chloroform out, we might as well keep her still until we get back to his lordship's house.”

  She smelled something astringent and foul as the thug not holding her uncorked a bottle, using it to soak the rag she had spit out. She struggled to turn her head away, but the man holding her brutally moved her face toward it. Even from a distance away, the fumes made her dizzy, and her mind scrambled for something, anything, to keep from losing consciousness.

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  24

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  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-FOUR

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  Thomas lost sight of Blythe almost immediately as she slipped through the crowd, and his greater bulk and lesser speed prevented him from diving after her. He couldn't help but try, however, but then he found himself at the edge of the room again.

  Robert came up to him with a worried look on his face. “I found Georgiana. She said she could make her own way home. What in the devil happened to you?”

  Thomas offered him a crooked smile. “I suppose I got distracted.”

  Robert raised an eyebrow at that. “And who was it that distracted you?”

  Thomas shook his head. “That's something I am sure you are going to hear about as we drink ourselves into a stupor.”

  “Then you're ready to leave?”

  Thomas opened his mouth to say yes. It was, he knew, the far wiser thing to do. If he stayed, he was going to find himself at the center of a scene of one sort or another. He was a Martin, and no stranger to scandal, but it would either involve upsetting Blythe or actually brawling with Tristan Carrow, and he didn't want to do either. He should have been ready to leave with Robert and to try to find some kind of comfort at the bottom of a bottle.

  “Let me just walk around the room once more. There's someone I want to say goodbye to.”

  Robert'
s skeptical look told Thomas what he thought of that, but he followed Thomas through the crush, weaving between scornful dandies and hopeful Society girls with equal aplomb.

  What are you even looking to do? If you see her again, do you think you'll say anything that will convince her to see your point of view? Do you think you are just going to make her understand what is between you?

  Thomas supposed he hoped just that. Every time he thought he caught a glimpse of Blythe's small form, however, it turned out he was mistaken, and he was beginning to wonder if she had evaded him entirely and returned home. Then he saw Tristan having it out with what looked like some political types, and his frown deepened. She wouldn't have left without her cousin.

  “Sorry, this might take a little longer than I thought. You're welcome to leave if you want to.”

  “No, I think I'll stay. You look like you need the help.”

  Thomas’ grin felt ghastly even to him. “Well, I see it's become that obvious. Thank you. Keep an eye out for Miss Blythe Dennings.”

  Robert's eyebrows shot up. “The new heiress. You really do have some trouble.”

  “Like you wouldn't believe.”

  They strategically searched the hall, and just as Thomas was ready to give up, he happened to glance out the glass doors to the garden. He caught a flash of green and gold silk that gleamed in the light from the ballroom, and then to his horror, he saw Blythe's pale face for a single instant before she was dragged into the dark.

  With a maddened curse, he was at the door, and if the latch had given him more than a moment of delay, he would have gone through the glass. In the back of his mind, he noted that the gardens, no matter how barren, would usually be left open for guests who needed air. Indeed, it was a matter of safety given the tight conditions of the ballroom. That they had been locked made the hair on the back of his neck rise up.

  When he was clear of the ballroom, there was one terrible moment where he couldn't see anything at all. Then, remembering a trick his father had taught him, he closed one eye and then the other in rapid succession. His eyes acclimatized to the darkness more quickly, and when he blinked them clear, he saw two large men framed in the gate to the servants' entry, one holding Blythe while the second one thrust a white cloth at her face.

  Thomas didn't bother to pause to see more. Instead, with a shout, he roared toward the two men who were holding the woman he loved. With a strength borne of fury, he dragged the man holding the rag aside and spun around to strike down the man who held Blythe. The moment he got close enough, Thomas could tell that the area reeked of chloroform, and the sick fear in his belly turned to anger.

  “Blythe! Blythe, run back to the house!”

  Of course, she didn't. As he squared off against the man who had held Blythe, she scooped up a broken brick paver and hurled it with alarming accuracy toward the man who was sneaking up on Thomas from behind. “I'm not leaving you!”

  This was a terrible time for her to be brave, but Thomas couldn't tell her that because a man was taking a swing at him. Thomas shouted for help again even as he dodged the man's first hay-maker blow. He tried to keep his body between that of his two opponents and Blythe. The man she had thrown the paver at looked particularly ghastly, his face covered in blood.

  “We're going to need that little girl, gov. You go back to the party and pretend you never saw this, yes?”

  “I'll see you hanged. Don't lay a hand on her.”

  It looked as if the men were going to attack him at once, and then, like a miracle, they all heard the sound of feet on the path. Thundering toward them was Robert, and he carried what looked like a long-poled gardening rake in his hands. When he reached them, he didn't pause. Instead, he swung it high, and if the bloodied thug hadn't moved back, he might have split the man's head in two.

  This was apparently too much for the two thugs. They took to their heels.

  Robert glanced at Thomas. “Well?”

  “Follow them if you can. I want to know who wanted to kidnap Blythe. Blythe? Blythe, are you all right?”

  Thomas was shocked when Blythe turned to him with wild eyes, dropping her second rock to the ground with her teeth chattering.

  Shock. She's had a terrible fright and now her body is rebelling.

  Robert was past them and chasing the assailants, and that meant it was safe to bring poor Blythe to a place where she could recover safely. Thomas took off his jacket and dropped it over her shoulders. Distantly, he thought of how oddly gamine-like she looked in such an over-large garment, and then he simply concentrated on getting her to safety.

  They were closer to the servants' entrance than they were to the gates of the party, and right now, Thomas was only concentrating on getting Blythe to warmth rather than any kind of social propriety. The kitchen was a madhouse of steam and food being prepared for the small meal at midnight, and Thomas managed to buttonhole a harried young maid who directed them through the kitchen to the house itself.

  “Come along, love, just a little farther and then you can sit down and be warm for a spell, won't that be nice?”

  He managed to get a soft watery giggle out of her as he guided her down the halls to the drawing room the maid had told them was available and unlocked. “You sound like you're talking to a child who has had a long day.”

  “Well, I would never compare you to a child, but you really do seem as if you've had a long day.”

  “It feels as if they've all been long lately. Dreadfully, dreadfully long.”

  The room was as dim and cozy as promised, and by the light of the banked hearth, Thomas lit a set of candlesticks sitting on the table. Then all that was left to do was to settle a still shaking Blythe into one of the chaises close to the fire.

  When Blythe was seated on the chaise, she did not let go of his hand. Acting on instinct alone, Thomas came to sit close to her and tuck her underneath his arm, cradling her close. For a long moment, they were silent together, and then the shudders running through her body went on longer and longer until she was sobbing outright.

  “Oh, poor little angel, don't be afraid. I'm here. It's over. Nothing bad is going to happen to you, I swear.”

  “I barely know what happened to me! One moment, I was looking for a way back into the house, and the next, I was running for my life from a pair of thugs!”

  “Do you know them? Do you think they came chasing you out of Seven Dials?”

  Even as he said it, Thomas knew how foolish it was. Thugs from Seven Dials would stand out like sore thumbs in this London neighborhood.

  “They spoke of someone they called his lordship. Someone was paying them to do what they did, but I have no idea why.”

  Thomas stirred uneasily, holding Blythe a little tighter, as if simply by holding her he could protect her. “There are plenty of underworld low-lives that affect grand titles and who give themselves airs. Do you think it might actually have been a peer who had you assaulted?”

  “I don't know. I have no clue. It's hard to think right now, and I am so very cold.”

  Thomas bit down on his tongue, telling himself not to ask questions she couldn't answer. The more important thing by far was to simply be with her and make sure she was safe and comforted. Her small hand tangled in the fabric of his waistcoat, and his hand came up to cover it. She was still chilly to the touch, but slowly and gradually, she started to warm up.

  It may have been moments, it might have been hours, but finally, she looked up at him with a wry smile. “I'm sorry. I was quite a sniveling little rag all over your chest.”

  “I think that if two men try to abduct you from a goddamn ball that you have the right to snivel for a bit if you want to. Think nothing of it.”

  “Oh, I think I'm going to be thinking of it quite a lot. Who in the world wants to kidnap me? Who were those men?”

  “My friend Robert went after them. I have no idea if he'll find anything, but it'll be a start. Right now, though, all I care about is you being safe.”

  “I'm alwa
ys safe when I'm with you.”

  Her tone was light but then she looked up at him. In the candlelight, her eyes were dark and velvety, and Thomas couldn't resist. He leaned forward, and when his lips brushed hers, a shock like summer lightning cut through him. The pleasure of kissing her again, tasting her, was so sharp it almost hurt. Instead of drawing away, however, she clung to him harder, deepening the kiss with something like desperation.

  “You feel it, too, don't you?”

  Blythe raised her eyes to look at him for a moment. “Of course, I do. With every fiber of my being. With every breath and every heartbeat.”

  Her words sent a shudder of recognition through him. That was how strongly he felt her as well. They were so close, so intertwined that it felt as if being parted from her would tear something essential out of him, away from him.

  “Don't leave me again. Don't, angel, I can't take it.”

  Instead of answering him, she kissed him again, her soft lips against his, and he knew she couldn't say yes. Thomas felt the desire that always slept between them rising up again, coiling inside him and then forcing him to capture her in his arms. She felt so good, so amazing; he could lose himself in her and never think of being found.

  Somewhere in the back of his mind, Thomas was aware of the door opening and then a deep growl, a nearly bestial sound. His head snapped up, and he just barely registered Tristan Carrow crossing the room toward them before Blythe was out of his arms and standing between the two of them.