by Carla Kelly
Hal only had time to look at her, say her name, and then the horsemen were on him. He struck out, but one rider leaned over and enveloped him in a blanket while the other struck him with a dark object. As he collapsed, one rider gathered him up and helped the other sling the unconscious marquess across his knees. They were gone before Kate had time to draw another breath.
The clearing was silent. Only a puff of dust on the path and Will, groaning and trying to rise, indicated that anyone had been there at all. With a strangled cry Maria ran to the runner, throwing herself down beside him and clutching him to her. Ordering the little ones to stay where they were, Kate hurried to Will. Blood dribbled from a cut on his forehead, and a welt was already rising. He blinked and stared at her.
Tears streaming down her face, Maria dabbed at the cut with the hem of her dress. “Kate, do something!” she pleaded. “Call for Gerald! Oh, where is Davy?”
As she spoke, Davy came running from the river, his hair wet, clutching his pants, which were still unbuttoned. He took in the scene before him, his eyes wide. “Kate! I saw two men riding across the bridge. Was that Hal with them?”
She nodded, unable to speak. Maria looked up from Will. “Kate, it must be his nephew, and it is just as he feared! Do you think they will kill him?”
“Good God, I hope not,” she said and leaped to her feet, screaming for Gerald.
In another moment Gerald and Phoebe ran into the clearing. Will was getting to his feet, helped by Maria and Davy. The little Bladesworths still clung to each other, crying. “Got to get back,” Will gasped. “Someone has kidnapped Hal Hampton!”
Kate, her mind a curious blank, ran to gather up the picnic hamper. As she bent over, the ground seemed to spin about. For the first time in her life, she fainted.
Chapter 14
“Blast you, Algie, I don’t know why you had to hit him so hard!”
“Well, you try to wrap up someone that size in a blanket and send him off gently to the arms of Morpheus! And I don’t know why I am elected to do all the rascally things.”
“Because you started this, you blockhead.”
Hal groaned and the voices stopped, except that their words seemed to echo in the cavern that used to be his head. Even with his eyes closed he could feel the brightness of the lights through his eyelids, and he did not feel inclined to open them.
Someone shook him. He struck out with all his strength and managed a light tap across his own face.
“See here, Uncle, I wish you would open your eyes. We have rescued you.”
A rescue? Was that what it was? Hal reached up gingerly to touch his head, knowing that it must be laid open, with his brains, what few remained, exposed to view. All he felt was a significant bump behind his left ear and the growing conviction that he had been safer in Spain during three years of incarceration than he was in Yorkshire. He opened his eyes, wincing against the light.
Faces swam into focus as he watched them. At first there were two of Algernon Mannerly, and the thought of Algie as a twin made him shudder.
“Oh, here, you are cold,” said a voice, the body just beyond his vision. Before he could protest, he was bundled in yet another blanket. He looked down at the hands that patted the blanket into place. The hands, freckled but shapely, were definitely not Algie’s. With a sense of real foreboding he shifted slightly in the bed, and his worst fears were confirmed.
It was Pinky D’Urst’s sister Florence, she of the long nose and longer chin. The fact that she eyed him with tender consternation was little comfort. His eyes dropped lower. Yes, she was as flat-chested as he remembered. There was none of Kate Billings’s bounty. He closed his eyes again, weary beyond measure.
“Come now, Henry, where’s your gratitude? Maybe Algie and I bungled it a bit, but at least you’re out of the clutches of that low-life theatre troupe. Can’t imagine how you fell into such company and what hold they have over you. We’ll prefer charges, if you wish.”
Pinky D’Urst’s voice was hearty and loud and grated on his ears. He opened his eyes again to gaze at his best friend, Thaddeus D’Urst, he of the pale hair and rabbity complexion. Pinky sat on the end of the bed, dressed in riding clothes and tapping his whip against his boots.
Hal struggled to sit up, as Florence D’Urst, all flutterings and twitterings, pushed two pillows under his head. He stared hard at the whip. “Is that what you hit me with, Pinky? I call that infamous.”
Pinky laughed, a well-fed sound entirely in keeping with his over-stuffed person. “Lord, no! Algie used a blackjack. He didn’t want to bungle it.”
Hal groaned again as Algie pulled up a chair to the bed. The squeak of the chair on the wooden floor rocketed right to his brain and banged against the bump on his head. “So glad to hear it,” he muttered when the throbbing subsided.
“I knew you would be grateful,” Algie burst forth, leaning close to his uncle. “From the looks of things, we got there not a moment too soon. That shady character appeared about ready to run you through.” With a smile of vast satisfaction on his normally vacuous face, Algernon Mannerly sat back, as if waiting for his uncle to shower him with appreciation.
The marquess could only stare at his nephew and heir. I simply must convince Kate Billings to marry me at once and start breeding immediately, he thought, else this idiot might someday succeed to the family title. He paused, trying to straighten out his brain enough to select well-chosen words.
Algernon mistook his hesitation. He reached for his uncle’s hand. “You don’t need to thank me, Uncle. I was glad to do it.”
“Don’t be so kind to yourself, Algie,” he murmured, pulling his hand away. “I was merely trying to discover a socially correct way to break the news to you that you are an ass, and will always be an ass. I regret that there seems to be no polite way to put that. Pardon me, Miss D’Urst.”
Florence D’Urst squeaked and retreated to stand beside her brother, her face fiery. “Really, Lord Grayson,” she said.
“Yes, really,” he retorted, out of humor with all of them. “Did it ever occur to you, Algie, that I have no desire to be rescued? We were rehearsing a play.” He paused a moment, struggling to untangle the events of that noon. “You didn’t do any damage to that young man, did you, Pinky?”
“Other than give him a three-day headache, I doubt it,” Pinky said. “Henry, what’s gotten into you? We have been waiting nearly a month for you to arrive, and then we hear stories in Leeds about a missing marquess who fits your description. And out of the blue, Algernon shows up with a wild story about shooting you on the Great North Road.”
“It was only a prank,” Algernon interrupted, his voice sulky.
Hal sighed. “I don’t have time to talk about it!” He threw back the covers and stood up, clad only in his long-tailed shirt. He clutched the bedpost, while Florence shrieked again and galloped into the hall.
“I am going back,” he said, gritting his teeth against the dizziness and the added distraction of Florence in mild hysterics outside the door. “Really, Pinky, hasn’t she ever seen a man’s bare legs before?”
“I should hope not!” Pinky exclaimed.
“Well, they aren’t too bad,” Hal said, smiling for the first time. “I’ve trimmed down a bit since we last met, Pinky. Can you tell?”
“Henry!” Pinky burst out. “Have you lost your mind?”
Hal sat down on the bed, looking around for his pants. “No, actually, I think I’ve found it. Algie, are those my pants on the chair over there? Do something useful for the first time today and hand them over. Good God, what time is it?”
He caught the breeches Algie threw at him and tugged them on. “You two clunches can dashed well un-rescue me! There is a whole bunch of people at the Banner Street Theatre who are probably out of their minds with worry about me.” He tucked in his shirt and buttoned his pants. “I might add, Algie, that they need me.”
Pinky leaped to his feet and paced back and forth, the riding crop twitching behind his back. “N
ext you will tell us there is a woman involved.”
Hal found his stockings and shoes and pulled them on. “Actually, there is. She is a managing female with absolutely eyepopping bosoms, a beautiful face, and excellent brains. She’s inclined to worry too much and is yet a little timid to take charge. I intend to dedicate my life to giving her nothing further to worry about more than where to send our sons to school and the color of come-out dresses for our daughters.”
Slightly out of breath, Pinky stopped his pacing. “You can’t be dreaming of marrying a theatre doxy!”
Hal grasped the front of Pinky’s coat and lifted him off the ground. “If you weren’t my friend, I would call you out for that, Pinky! She’s no dollymop. Trust me with better sense than that.” He set Pinky back on his feet. “H’mm, I couldn’t have done that a month ago, fancy.” He shook his finger at his friend, who glared back at him. “You will leave me alone for another week until this play opens, and then things should have settled out the way I want.”
He eyed Algernon. “Well, are you taking me back to Leeds, nephew? Think about your answer, because I am fully prepared to cut you off without a farthing right now.”
“You’ve gone mad, Uncle,” Algernon said, even as he helped the marquess into his coat.
“Not mad, Algie,” Hal said. He regarded his nephew with an expression approaching affection. “Do you know, I have discovered there are people who like me, one in particular. She even gave me reasons why, which was more than you could ever do. And they don’t include my money.”
“I, for one, hope you regain your senses,” Pinky said.
“I have, Pinky, I already have. I have no desire to flee from this particular romantic attachment and into a Spanish dungeon.” He patted his friend’s shoulder. “Now, don’t stiffen up so! Trust me.” He chuckled. “They are forever saying that. Yes, trust me. You’ll like my choice. Good day to you, Pinky.”
Pinky D’Urst shook his head, but he appeared less irritated. “Well, if you are dead set on steering this course, at least let me loan you some money. You look as though you could use some.”
Hal nodded, his eyes merry. “Actually I could use some of the ready, Pink. I need to purchase a special license, and I fear they are not cheap.”
“I wouldn’t know,” Pinky replied, his voice virtuous.
“Amanda and I let them call the banns like normal people! I wish you would reconsider. This sounds too rackety by half.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it. Thanks, Pinky. Now, remember, give me at least a week.”
Hal and Algernon rode toward Leeds as the sun was setting, trotting along in silence at first. Hal’s head ached with a life all its own, but he clung grimly to the reins. Algernon sat stiff and prim for much of the journey, his eyes straight ahead. As they approached Leeds, he unbent enough to glance at his uncle. He cleared his throat.
“See here, Uncle, I tried to find you again, I really did. Have you any idea how many little roads there are in Yorkshire? Each of them seemed to lead off to someone’s smallholding or pasture.”
Hal leaned over and touched his nephew’s knee. “That is precisely what I thought happened. Algie, you haven’t the sense of direction of a chicken’s egg, have you?”
His words were kind enough, and Algernon sighed audibly and shook his head. “I tried to find you.”
“I know. I am truly glad you did not, or I never would have had this adventure.” He slowed his horse. “Tell, me Algie. How did you find me?”
For the first time Algie grinned. “Uncle, I went to a pawn shop to spout my watch, and there was your ring with the Grayson family crest.” He glanced at his uncle, and there was some affection in the look, as well as relief. “You can imagine I thought the worst! But when the proprietor described you as the seller, I knew you were alive, at least. It was only a matter of asking about town.”
He was silent then as they rode to Leeds’s outskirts. Hal reined his horse, dismounted, and handed the reins to his nephew. Algernon reached out impulsively and touched his uncle’s shoulder. “Be careful, sir.” He gathered the reins in one hand. “One week, and that is enough. You may not credit this, but my mother is worried about you, too.”
Hal laughed and then pressed his hand to his head. “You have my permission to tell my sister not to worry, but nothing more.”
Algernon nodded. He touched his hand to his hat and wheeled his horse around. “One week, uncle.”
Hal stood in the street, watching until his nephew was out of sight. I hope he will return to D’Urst Hall, he thought. Maybe Florence will look good to him. He stood another moment, Kate Billings on his mind, until his desire for her quite cast his headache into the shadow. He wanted her more than propriety dictated. “I have become so unfashionable in Yorkshire,” he said out loud, looking at the poster advertising Well Married. “Can it be good for the health of the nation for a marquess to actually want to marry and bed his own wife?”
He laughed softly to himself, pressed his hand to his head again, and let himself into the theatre. He stood inside the door, stopped by another thought. I wonder if she feels for me even a tenth of what I feel for her, he asked himself. That would be more than a man could hope for, but I shall ask it anyway. Each blow to my head this summer has only made me more optimistic.
The stage, smelling freshly of paint, was wreathed in shadows. Out of habit he looked up toward the ceiling and noted to his satisfaction that the bats no longer wheeled and zoomed overhead. He looked around. So much for the bats; where was everybody? They should have been rehearsing.
He thought of the runner, remembering the blow Pinky had struck with his boot. God, I hope he is not really hurt, he thought. It was hard to credit it, but he had become genuinely fond of Will Muggeridge, even if Kate still had her reservations. Besides, the man had a natural talent for the stage.
“Malcolm? Kate?” he called out, his voice uncertain. He walked toward the green room. It hurt to raise his voice, but he called again, “Malcolm?”
The door to the green room banged open and the youngest Bladesworth daughters threw themselves on him, crying and clutching his legs. Surprised, he regained his balance and knelt to hug them. “My dears, I am quite all right,” he assured them.
And then there was Malcolm, his frown replaced by a grin of enormous proportions, and Ivy, wiping tears from her eyes and clutching his arm, asking where he was hurt, and did he want anything to eat, all in the same breath.
“Come in, come in, lad,” Malcolm said, taking his other arm. “So you escaped your kidnappers? How resourceful you have become.”
“They were particularly inept,” he said, “which is hardly surprising, considering that one of them was my nephew.”
Malcolm frowned and shook his head. “It’s a dirty business, lad. I’m glad you are safe with us again and out of the hands of those who would harm you.”
Hal owned to a prick of conscience, but he easily discarded it. “What of Will? About the last thing I remember was one of those brigands giving him quite a kick.” His hand went to his head.
“Oh, he’s sleeping now, well-watched by Maria, Phoebe, Kate, and Gerald.” He tugged the marquess down onto a packing-crate stool. “I vow Maria is hanging on Will’s every breath and ready with a mirror to make sure he does not quit this earth without her knowledge. He’ll be fine, Hal.” He leaned forward in a conspiratory manner. “Kate’s beside herself. I tried to jolly her out of the doldrums by teasing her that she was overacting as Hal Hampton’s bereft wife, and we nearly came to blows. There is no understanding females.”
Intensely gratified by this piece of news, Hal nodded. “I don’t pretend to understand women, either, sir. Perhaps I should go find her and console her.”
“Plenty of consolation is in order, Hal!” Malcolm stopped. “But I think I hear them now. Save yourself the trouble of going in search.”
As the marquess waited, Kate came into the room, her eyes red-rimmed and filled with worry. She grasped a handkerchief that
appeared to have been wrung from hand to hand until it was practically a rag. Every line of her body seemed to droop. Hal regarded her with a gaze approaching reverence. Is it possible that anyone cares for me that much? he thought as he got slowly to his feet and held out his arms for his dear Kate.
She gasped when she saw him, and before he had time to react, her eyes rolled back in her head and she sank to the floor. Gerald, walking behind, caught her as she fell. He lifted her into his arms and handed her to the marquess.
“That’s the second time today, my lord,” he said. “You seem to be having a startling effect on Miss Agatha Rowbottom.”
Hal accepted the burden, amazed all over again at how light she was and moved almost to tears by his feelings for this woman in his arms whom he had known less than a month. She was everything to him. He would no more flee from her into a Spanish prison than vault to the moon. What is this power, he thought, as he gazed at her face. It fairly takes my breath away.
“Lad, carry her into our room,” Malcolm said. He laughed and shook his finger at the marquess. “And don’t bring her out again until she is much happier!”
“Carte blanche, if I ever heard it,” Gerald murmured under his breath. “Would to God he would feel that way about Phoebe and me.”
Hal followed Bladesworth down the hall and into the room he shared with Ivy. The marquess set her on the bed as though she were made of eggshells and tissue paper and took the lamp from Malcolm. The actor stood there a moment more, looking down at Kate.
“She cried all day when she thought none of us was looking.”
“I’m not sure I am worth that,” Hal whispered.
“No man is, laddie,” Malcolm replied, his own voice soft for a change, “but somehow they take us, even at our worst.”
Malcolm closed the door quietly behind him. Hal placed the lamp on the table and sat down on the bed next to Kate. He unbuttoned the front of her dress, each fastener like butter in his fingers. He found a sheaf of papers on the bureau, and holding her shirtwaist open, began to fan her with it. She was still well-covered by her chemise, but the outline of her breasts was so inviting that he turned the fan on himself.