Barons, Brides, and Spies: Regency Series Starter Collection Volume Two

by Mary Lancaster

  “Beg pardon.” He loosened his grasp, his eyes glittering through the slits in his mask. He made a point of bending his head to ogle her bosom in the low-cut dress.

  When the music stopped, and he led her back to her chair, she was so affronted, she refused to thank him. Slightly tipsy, he wandered away, apparently failing to notice the snub. A masquerade, it appeared, was a license to engage in bad behavior.

  Letty looked about for Cartwright amid the sea of colorful costumes though it was impossible to spot him. Had he not come tonight? Somehow, she sensed he would be here. What better opportunity for a spy than a masked ball? Arietta had told her to wander at will, and confident no one would object, with only the few gentlemen who appeared at her side at every entertainment likely to approach her, Letty fully intended to.

  When the orchestra took a recess, she slipped from the ballroom. Her heart in her mouth, she peeked into the other reception rooms. In the library, three men smoked and drank spirits, chuckling over an anecdote; none of them tall enough to be Cartwright.

  She continued her search, determined to find him. Pleased that the domino and mask afforded her some freedom to eavesdrop, she went out onto the terrace and down the steps into the gardens. The path ambled through the topiary illuminated by braziers.

  A couple passed her. “Have you lost your paramour?” the gentleman asked. His companion laughed as they continued on to the house.

  Letty walked on past an arbor of fragrant roses in full bloom. The path wound its way through the shrubbery. Laughter came from amongst the trees, but she was relieved not to meet anyone, aware of how difficult it would be to explain why she wandered about without an escort.

  She emerged from the rhododendron walk onto the closely clipped lawns. An artistic array of rocks hung with creepers formed a grotto where a small waterfall fed into a pool.

  Men’s voices sounded nearby. Letty darted back in amongst the rhododendrons and crouched down, a purple flower tickling her chin. She peered through the branches, breathing in the honey-like aroma. Four gentlemen emerged from the side of the ruin, the hoods of their black dominoes pushed back, and their crow-like masks on top of their heads. Two of them smoked cigars, the smoke wafting toward her. As they gathered beside the pool, the moon cast off the fitful clouds and its rays alighted on a head of white hair. Lord Fraughton.

  Surely Cartwright can’t be far away? She didn’t fancy him finding her as she’d chosen to ignore his somewhat sinister warning. Letty didn’t mind fencing with him, in fact, she quite enjoyed it, but not when it would be so one-sided. Best keep to the shadows. She had no intention of missing this. It was an excellent opportunity to hear something of interest to convey to Arietta.

  “I am informed our cargo was landed in the marsh wrapped in oilskin bags,” a man said as he tossed his cigar into the pool. “It was then ferried up the creek on a moonless night to a waiting wagon, successfully avoiding the coastguard. The dragoons search all the houses and lands near the coast, but never venture as far as my estate. They won’t accuse a lord of smuggling unless they’ve clear proof. Not if they know what’s good for them.”

  “Unless the excisemen get wind of it,” a familiar voice growled. “They might be waiting until they have that evidence.”

  “You are a dreary fellow these days, Marston,” Fraughton said. He sounded quite jubilant. “Well done, Elford! Our first operation since we lost Napoleon’s support has been a success.”

  “The goods will be brought to London through the usual channels,” Elford said. “But the smugglers are asking for a larger cut of the profits.”

  “How much more?”

  Letty could never forget Marston’s deep voice. Not after she’d overheard him in the library with Fraughton’s wife. It shocked her, he was the lady’s lover, and they’d spoken, however frivolously, of wanting Fraughton out of the way. She wondered if Cartwright knew?

  They showed no inclination to leave. A painful cramp in her calf forced Letty to straighten slowly and carefully from her crouched position. She peered through the branches.

  “They want a cut of our profits,” Elford said.

  “Not a chance. Should we have them disposed of after the next batch arrives?” Fraughton asked.

  Marston made a derogatory sound. “A watery grave seems fitting.”

  “You don’t know who you are dealing with.” There was a warning note in Elford’s voice. “These men would slash your throat soon as look at you.”

  A chill down her spine made Letty shiver.

  Something brushed against her leg; taken by surprise, she darted back with a muffled cry. A cat meowed in outrage.

  “Someone’s in those bushes,” Marston barked.

  She gasped at the click of a cocked pistol. Letty backed onto the path, turned, and proceeded to hurry away. A heavy-set man pushed through the bushes and stood in her path. “What are you doing wandering around alone?”

  “A man’s boorish behavior upset me on the dance floor,” she said. “I wanted some peace and quiet.”

  “Well perhaps you should…”

  “I know this young woman.” Fraughton joined them. He reached over and tugged away the strings of her demi-mask which she’d hastily put back in place. “Ah! Miss Bromley, Lady Arietta is introducing her to society. Where is your patroness?”

  “Lady Arietta Kendall?” Marston queried.

  “She is dancing,” Letty said.

  “You stood suspiciously close to my wife’s reticule at the rout. I got the impression you were about to take it.”

  “Do you think me a thief?” Letty hated how her voice squeaked.

  “I don’t like this,” Marston said. Elford and Descrier joined them. “Sounds like too much of a coincidence to me.”

  “Are you not overacting?” Descrier asked.

  “Here you are, my dear.” Cartwright emerged from the dark, the folds of his cravat and waistcoat gleaming white, his domino pushed back over his shoulders and the narrow black mask dangling from his fingers. “Didn’t I tell you to be discreet?” He sauntered toward them. “Gentlemen. What bad ton. You are interrupting our, er, stroll together in the moonlight.”

  Decrier laughed. “There’s a lot of that going on tonight.”

  “I find that difficult to believe,” Fraughton said.

  “Really? I am but human.” Cartwright chuckled. “And this young lady is quite comely, as you see.”

  Elford frowned. “Lighten up, Fraughton.” He turned to Cartwright with a polite smile. “Please, sir, do not let us spoil your evening’s entertainment.”

  They appeared to have accepted Cartwright’s explanation. Greatly relieved, she slipped her hand through his arm. “I see I have made a terrible mistake. Kindly take me back, Mr. Cartwright.”

  “I tell you this young lady was snooping. She’s in cahoots with him,” Fraughton said in a hard voice. “Remember, Kendall warned us about Cartwright before he was….”

  Elford turned to glare at Fraughton. “Shut up you fool!”

  “Poor Kendall had lost his mind.” Descrier shrugged in apology. “You are more likely to be in pursuit of a pretty lady, is that not right, Cartwright? You wouldn’t wish to despoil that coat. Weston’s, is it not?”

  The four men stood shoulder to shoulder and observed her and Cartwright. Letty cast a smile of appeal at Descrier and Elford, the two more reasonable men.

  Cartwright dusted a sleeve. “Indeed, I have a particular fondness for this coat.” He took a firm hold of Letty’s hand. “Now gentlemen, if you have had your fun, you must excuse us.” He turned to draw her away.

  Suddenly, Marston darted forward, pistol raised. With a flash, he brought the butt down on Cartwright’s head.

  Letty screamed as Cartwright crumpled to the ground. “You devil! You’ve killed him!”

  “Will you never learn?” Elford shouted at Marston.

  “Nothing for it now.” Descrier groaned in disgust. “Grab her, Fraughton.”

  Fraughton spun Letty arou
nd, an arm across her chest, a surprisingly strong hand covering her mouth. She struggled to free herself. In a panic, she feared she would smother.

  “Let her go,” Marston said coldly.

  Fraughton released his hold as Marston stepped close. Letty watched helplessly as he raised his fist.

  A sharp blow to her chin, a shot of pain, and she sank into darkness.

  Brandon woke to a rocking sensation. A throb of pain radiated from a sore spot at the back of his head. His mouth dry, he licked his lips, needing water. He eased his eyes open and looked upon two, perfectly shaped, pale breasts. He moaned. Miss Bromley, her body lying beside him on the coach seat. In the dim carriage light, her long dark lashes fluttered, but she breathed well. Relieved, he put up a hand to cover her chest with the domino, and discovered as her hand accompanied his, that their wrists were tightly shackled together with rope. The seat opposite them was empty; it appeared they traveled alone. The horses moving at a measured pace, the coach rolled through the night, he had no idea as to where they went, nor who held the reins.

  The immediate question of escape was quickly dashed. Even supposing he managed to kick the door open, which would probably be locked, it would be impossible to act on it with any degree of safety while tied to Miss Bromley.

  “Miss Bromley,” he whispered, shaking her wrists gently.

  She stirred. “Ohh.” Her big brown eyes widened. “Cartwright! What happened? Where are we?”

  “In a carriage.” His concern for her warred with frustration. “I’m afraid we are in a nasty fix.”

  “I know, I…there was a cat.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “A cat?”

  “Yes. It startled me, and I leapt out of the bushes.”

  “The bushes?”

  “Where I was hiding,” she explained, watching him carefully. “Then they found me.”

  “I gathered that.”

  “Are you all right? You have suffered a head injury. Your understanding may have been affected.”

  “My understanding is perfectly fine, thank you, Miss Bromley. Although I would prefer it to desert me at this point.”

  She tried to sit up and fell across him. “Oh my God! We are tied together!”

  “So it would seem,” he said dryly.

  She attempted to ease her body away from his, a useless exercise on the narrow coach seat. “Your knee is touching my…are you doing that deliberately?”

  “I am not.” He eased his knee away from her thigh. “There, is that better?”

  “I’m sorry, Cartwright, I have no right to scold you.”

  He saw the panic in her eyes. “Best conserve your energy,” he said. “I give you my word, I’ll not hurt you.”

  “The word of a spy? Is that supposed to reassure me?”

  “I have no designs on your person, and even if I did, I doubt such an attempt would be successful.” No reason why he couldn’t look, however.

  She peered up at him through a loosened lock of dark hair. “I seem to have got us into an awful pickle.”

  “You might say that.”

  She raised her hand and his with it, grimaced, and gingerly touched her chin. “I remember now. Marston struck you with his pistol butt. Then he punched me.”

  Cold fury filled his gut. I’ll get even with him for that. If it’s the last thing I do. He might not even get to do that if he couldn’t find a way out of this. What did these ruthless men intend for them? They would not balk at murder.

  “Can you undo this rope?” she asked. “It’s very tight and hurts my wrists.”

  “I should love to. Do you have scissors?” he asked politely. He’d already had a good look at the knots.

  “I did,” she said bitterly, either missing or ignoring his sarcasm. “In my reticule. I always carry them, and needle and thread, to mend a tear, should a gentleman stand on my hem. But I must have dropped it in the garden.”

  “What a shame. I believe I have a loose button. We might spend the time with a little sewing.”

  She grimaced. “You are angry, of course.”

  “Let me see,” he said, relenting. She held up her wrists. “The twine is tightly tied with professional looking knots. I doubt we’ll even be able to loosen it.” He tested the theory.

  “Ow! Stop! That will never work. We can pound on the roof and make them pull up.”

  “Let’s not encourage them to shoot us. Best wait until we arrive at our destination. Wherever that is.”

  “It might be Kent. Lord Elford’s estate. I overheard them talking about smugglers.”

  “Tell me what they said.”

  Letitia explained, while he marveled at her self-control. He’d expected her to be in hysterics by now. “That explains a lot,” he said. “Pity I couldn’t alert my superior.”

  “Will he know where to find us?”

  “It’s possible. He is very good at putting two and two together.” Brandon tried to sound confident, but Willard would not expect to hear from him for up to forty-eight hours. Even if he grew suspicious, there was little for him to go on. “I have no idea where we are or how long we’ve been traveling, but I imagine a lengthy journey still awaits us.”

  “I expect so.” She tried again to sit up, pulling him painfully with her. “Arietta! She’ll be frantic. But if my reticule is found, she will alert Bow Street.”

  He had his doubts. “We need to rest while we can.”

  She flopped down again. “How can I rest, when I’m so uncomfortable, and…” her eyes widened “… so very frightened.”

  Her face was close to his. She was anxious, breathing too fast. He wished he could hold her. Impossible, and she might not welcome it. “You have a perfect right,” he said. “If it helps, lean against me.”

  “I can’t do anything but lean against you.” Her sweet breath fanned his neck. “And it doesn’t help at all.”

  It wasn’t easy for him either, in quite a different way, when her constant wriggles brushing against his nether region caused a certain amount of friction, but he refrained from mentioning it.

  “Once they stop, we’ll find a way to escape,” she murmured. “I’ll poke Fraughton in the eye, then you can punch Marson in the stomach. Hard,” she added through her teeth.

  “Sounds like an excellent plan.” He grinned at her in admiration, despite his fear this would end badly. She had no conception of the ruthlessness of these men who had taken them prisoner. That she was such a game girl somehow made it worse.

  He wanted to live through this not only to restore Letitia to her family, but to get his hands on Lady Arietta, if for nothing else than her careless attitude toward a girl in her care. He moved further over on his side to give her more room. “Cover yourself with the cape to keep warm.” He needed to think of something else other than Miss Bromley’s assets.

  She settled beside him and closed her eyes without a murmur of protest, despite the position of their hands, now nestling beneath the rise of her breasts. The delicate folds of her white dress hugged her slim body and long legs, her lustrous dark hair, escaping its pins, scattered flowers over the floor. Breathing in her sweet feminine scent, mingled with soap and violets, a sharp anguished pain stabbed him in the gut at his inability to free her. This helpless feeling was entirely new to him. To have to care for someone else besides himself. He would fight to his last breath to save her.

  He searched beyond the window, hoping for a sight of something he recognized, but the land lay in darkness. Would they pass through Canterbury? They would need to stop at a coaching inn somewhere to change horses. He’d have to remain on the alert.

  At least the constant throb in his head would keep him awake.

  Chapter Twelve

  Cartwright had been quiet for some time. In the dim light, Letty studied him, taking in his features at close quarters. His face was narrow, his nose straight, his well-formed mouth in repose was softer. A shadow of a beard now painted his sharp jaw. His eyes were closed, but she was unsure if he slept or remained stil
l to allow her to rest. Rest? How could she when the future looked so bleak? There was some comfort to be had by his large warm body beside her. The carriage jostled her, and her empty stomach churned with anxiety and guilt. Cartwright must hate her. This was all her fault. Although she still hoped he would find a way to save them, she feared those ruthless men intended they never returned to London. For what other reason had they whisked the two of them away from the ball?

  Cartwright opened his eyes. “All right there?”

  “Do you hate me. Cartwright?”

  “No, of course, I don’t, sweetheart. You should rest. They’ll have to stop soon to change the horses.”

  But when they finally did stop, any chance of escape while the horses were changed was dashed when a ruffian pointed a gun at them. The four villains were not to be seen, and no other carriages pulled into the inn’s stable yard while they were there. Were the men waiting for her and Cartwright like malevolent spiders, ready to draw them into their web of deceit? They must want something. Otherwise, why not just kill them?

  Cartwright had asked the armed man to fetch a drink and some food for her. He’d offered a handsome payment if the fellow would let them go. The man just laughed.

  That laugh had sent a chill rushing through her veins.

  Once back on the road, she closed her eyes and breathed in Cartwright’s clean, manly smell, which calmed her a little. If anyone could find a way out of this predicament they were in, it was he. She frowned, surprised by her blind acceptance of his prowess. She must find a way out of this herself. There was so much she didn’t know about him. She wasn’t about to die not knowing. Startled by a sudden thought, she inhaled sharply.

  “What is it?” Cartwright asked, removing his hands from where they’d fallen onto her breasts. She rolled over to face him.