The Kidnapped Bride

by Amanda Scott

  “I shall obey you, my lord,” she said quietly.

  Nicholas said nothing more but released her bridle and swung into his own saddle. The ride back to the stables was accomplished in silence. When they arrived, he helped her to dismount, but when she would have turned away toward Dower House he held her arm.

  “One moment, my lady.” He called to the head groom and, when that worthy stood before him, gave strict orders that in future no horse was to be saddled for her ladyship unless he personally gave the command. Nicholas spoke loudly enough so that Sarah was certain everyone in the area could hear him, and then, satisfied that he would be obeyed, he turned back to her. “You may go up to the house now, Countess, but I shall want to speak to you again shortly.”

  Utterly mortified, Sarah could feel the warmth flooding her cheeks as she turned away, but conscious that even the lowliest stable boys were watching her, she managed to hold her head up until she reached the shelter of the trees. Then, the tears began to flow. She heard Nicholas shouting for Jem, but she scarcely spared a thought for the poor groom, so wrapped was she in her own shame and fury. How dared he speak to her so! She could not understand him at all. First, to scold her, then to kiss her, then to humiliate her in front of the stablehands. The man was clearly unhinged! And to think that earlier she had been hoping to discover some means by which to make him approve of her. She must be as daft as he was himself!

  She was kicking rocks from the path in a savagely unladylike manner by the time she reached Dower House, tears streaming unnoticed down her cheeks, obscuring her vision. Thus it was that she failed to observe the figure perched on the top step.

  “My lady! Cousin Sarah, what happened? Oh, I was afraid something would happen when I saw him ride out!”

  Colin hurried down to meet her, and Sarah made an attempt to collect herself, rubbing her eyes with the back of her sleeve. “Your uncle is altogether abominable!” she fumed.

  “What did he do?” Colin demanded. “Surely, he didn’t—”

  “He sent me up to the house like a child!” Sarah muttered, “and in front of them all! And he said that I am no longer to ride without his express permission! I am his prisoner!”

  “Miss Sarah, I believe your feet are damp. Surely, you will want to come up at once and change your boots.” It was Miss Penistone, standing in the open doorway, her features unruffled, her voice perfectly calm, and her words brought Sarah back to earth with a thump.

  “Yes, Penny,” she said at once, striving to achieve that same ladylike calm. “I am just coming. Excuse me, Colin.”

  “But I want to know what happened!”

  “Her ladyship will speak with you later, Master Colin,” Miss Penistone interposed kindly. “But, just now, you must run along and allow her to change her dress.”

  “Yes, do go, Colin. Your uncle will be here shortly, so you’d best make yourself scarce, else he’ll know you’ve had a hand in this.” The boy needed no further urging but took himself off immediately, leaving Sarah to seek comfort from her companion.

  Miss Penistone listened calmly to the recital of woe, asking a pointed question or two and receiving answers that were, at times, a bit stilted. But when Sarah declared angrily that Nicholas was an insensitive brute and cruel besides, she dared to take exception.

  “I think you owe him a sincere apology, my dear.”

  “Penny! How can you say so, after I tell you of his abuses to me!”

  “His behavior was not exemplary,” Miss Penistone agreed gently, “but he has been sorely tried. I truly believe he fears for your safety and is displeased only because you have defied orders meant to protect you.” She gave Sarah a straight look. “I think you had better go upstairs, Miss Sarah, and wash your face. And whilst Lizzie is helping you change, I trust you will think seriously on my words and try to see matters from his lordship’s point of view.”

  Sarah was dismissed just exactly as she had been dismissed to think on her sins as a child. And if anything was needed to put the final touch to her misery, it was having Penny revert to governess. It was enough to set one’s teeth on edge! Nevertheless, she let Lizzie change her dress and went downstairs again half an hour later, when Betsy informed her that his lordship wanted a word with her in the drawing room.

  Penny was in her favorite chair near the window, occupied with more of the interminable mending. Observing gratefully that she showed no inclination to leave her alone with Nicholas, Sarah dropped a stiff curtsy and waited mutely for him to say his piece.

  “I wanted to speak with you, my lady, only because I feared you may have thought me a trifle harsh.”

  Sarah looked up into his eyes, widening her own in mock innocence. “Harsh, sir?”

  “I have no wish to seem so, ma’am,” he went on doggedly, “but it is my duty to see you safely through this business. I am certain you find my orders restricting, and I am sorry for it; however, until that villain can be brought to book, you will have to abide by them.”

  “And if I do not?”

  His features hardened. “I trust you will find it difficult to flout them, ma’am, and I should certainly not advise you to try it. My patience is limited. I should be sorely tempted, should you continue to be reckless of your own safety, to deliver you to Lady Hartley with my compliments. I believe I could trust her to keep you safe enough.”

  Sarah’s jaw dropped, and the color drained from her face, for although she was nearly certain he would never carry it out, the threat alone was enough to curb any inclinations toward further rebellion. No matter how restricted she felt at Ash Park, it would be much worse in London. Her aunt would scold, her uncle would be made uncomfortable by her very presence, and they would certainly never let her keep Penny. In short, it would be utterly dreadful.

  “I hope you would never do such a thing, my lord,” she said tightly. “I shall endeavor to give you no cause for it.”

  He smiled, his eyes softening. “Then I am sure I shall have no further reason for complaint, Countess, Come, do not look so gloomy. ’Twas not my wish to frighten you. Well,” he amended, “perhaps that is not quite true. I do mean for you to understand that I am determined to protect you. There may be no cause for it, as I have said before, but I would prefer not to risk it.” He stood to take his leave, and obeying a gesture, Sarah walked with him into the hall. He pulled the front door open but stood looking down at her. “Sarah …” He paused, and she looked away. The tender look in his eye and the matching note in his voice were nearly as unsettling to her nerves as his anger had been.

  “Uncle Nick! Uncle Nick!” Colin was fairly flying down the path, his eyes alight with excitement, and the moment was broken. “You’ll never guess who’s here! It’s Gram! Gram’s here! Her coach is still at the front door!”

  Nicholas smiled ruefully at Sarah. “I think you are soon to experience the privilege of meeting my mother.”

  “Your mother! But she is in Yorkshire!”

  “Not, it seems, at the moment. Indeed, unless Colin has gone round the bend—which I’ll grant you his present behavior would indicate—she appears to be on the premises. Would you like to come along now to meet her?”

  But this Sarah could not agree to, despite Colin’s adding his persuasion to his uncle’s. Her mental state was still anything but calm, and she was certain that Nicholas’s mother would wish to be private with him at least long enough to catch up on all that had occurred at Ash Park. But she agreed that she and Miss Penistone would come a little early so as to make her ladyship’s acquaintance before dinner.

  In honor of the guests, dinner was put back to the more civilized hour preferred by town folk, and as she dressed for the meal, Sarah was conscious of a wish that she could appear to better advantage. She wished it even more when she entered the library with Penny to discover the presence of two strange gentlemen. Colin grinned at her from his place near the fire, as the earl and the two strangers got somewhat hastily to their feet.

  “My lady, may I present Sir Perci
val Packwood and his son, Lionel. Sir Percival is recently become my father-in-law. This is Lady Moreland, Darcy’s widow.”

  Sarah made a brief curtsy to Sir Percival, but her eyes returned involuntarily to his son. Lionel Packwood wore bright yellow pantaloons under a coat of bottle green, but it was primarily his waistcoat that made Sarah stare. That startling article was fashioned of bright yellow-and-red-striped satin and was certainly a wonder to behold. Lionel himself had more nose than chin, auburn hair, and eyebrows a shade or two lighter above pale blue eyes that were set a touch too close together. The generous nose and his cheeks were daubed with liverish freckles, and though his teeth were fairly even, his lips were too full for Sarah’s liking, particularly the lower one, which Lionel had a tendency to push into greater prominence whenever he wished to appear meditative.

  His lordship’s actual words finally penetrated, and she dragged her eyes away from Lionel, who was grinning fatuously at her. “I beg your pardon, my lord, but did you say Sir Percival is your father-in-law?” Nicholas nodded with a glint of amusement, and she turned to the older gentleman, her hands outstretched. “Then, congratulations are in order, sir. I collect you have married Lady Moreland.”

  “Lady Packwood now, ma’am,” corrected Sir Percival with a smile rather unfortunately like his son’s. There the resemblance ended, however, for where Lionel put Sarah in mind of a bantam rooster, Sir Percival looked much more like an emperor penguin. He was a biggish gentleman, conservatively dressed in buff pantaloons and a dark coat, and broader amidships than above or below His round, pale face was framed by dark, tufting sidewhiskers and bristling, salt and-pepper eyebrows. Now that she thought about it, perhaps it was a walrus he reminded her of. She would ask Penny for her opinion later. Sir Percival, still talking, informed the room at large that, her ladyship having taken it into her head at long last to get riveted, he hadn’t given her time for a second thought.

  “Quite right, my love!” trilled a voice from the library threshold, and they all turned to greet her ladyship. Lady Packwood might have been buried for years in the wilds of Yorkshire, but one would never know it to look at her. Though Sarah knew the woman to be nearing the half-century mark, she was dressed in the height of fashion and looked ten years younger in a copper-green satin dinner gown that would have looked very well on Sarah herself. On her ladyship, it was stunning. She had kept her figure, and the color of the gown was particularly good with her hair, which was light brown with deep golden highlights. The puffed sleeves were perhaps a trifle fuller than Sarah would have had them, the lace trimming a trifle longer, but on the whole, she decided as she made her curtsy, Lady Packwood was a very well-preserved specimen.

  “How do you do, my lady?”

  “Very well, I thank you. So you are Sarah. How pretty you are, my dear, and how lucky to be rid of the deplorable Darcy! You must be ever so much more comfortable without him. And don’t look at me like that, Nicholas, for I am still your mother, and that scowl is definitely impertinent. You may pour me some Madeira instead.”

  “As you wish, ma’am,” he replied stiffly.

  “Oh, isn’t he impossible?” she twinkled at Sarah, as she took her seat with a graceful swish of satin. “Here, sit beside me, my dear. I wish to become better acquainted. I must say at the outset,” she added as Sarah obeyed, “that I hope you don’t hold me responsible for Nicky’s absurd sense of propriety.”

  “Certainly not, ma’am,” Sarah said quickly, then feeling his lordship’s eye upon her, she flushed, adding, “that is, I—”

  “Oh, don’t give it another thought,” laughed Lady Packwood. “I assure you I have been listening to him prosing on most of the afternoon, and I cannot for the life of me think how he came by such starched-up notions.”

  “Can you not, ma’am?” Sarah encouraged sweetly, avoiding Nicholas’s eye and Colin’s as well, albeit for vastly different reasons.

  “Not at all,” replied her ladyship, “for you must know that I am not at all nice in my notions, and his father, may he rest in peace—though I doubt he’d find a peaceful situation very amusing—was a rake of the first stare.”

  “He was!” Sarah was astonished, for she had thought of Darcy’s grandfather as rather a stuffy old man, an early replica of Nicholas at his most censorious.

  “Indeed,” chuckled Lady Packwood. “He was dashing, outspoken, and outrageous right up to the end. I daresay he would have abducted me, had I not been entirely willing to marry him.”

  “Mother!” Nicholas expostulated. “Surely, we might change the course of this conversation. It is not at all suitable for either Lady Moreland or Colin.”

  “Oh, fiddle-faddle,” replied his mother. “You are becoming positively fusty, my dear. I daresay you hadn’t noticed, so you will thank me for dropping a hint in your ear. And pray do not call poor Sarah Lady Moreland in that stuffy way. It sounds positively puritanical. What a good thing I thought to marry Percy before coming down. It would have been quite dreadful otherwise.” She glanced around brightly at the circle of puzzled faces. “Well, my dears! Two dowager countesses of Moreland! It wouldn’t have done at all. Too, too confusing!”

  Noting the storm warnings in Nicholas’s eye, Sarah hastily inquired about the recent nuptials and discovered them to have been very recent indeed.

  “Four days, my dear,” informed her ladyship. “Why, as soon as I received word of the deplorable Darcy’s death—dear me, what a brat he was as a child, a whining, puling brat, I promise you. Where was I? Oh, yes. Well, as soon as word reached us, I ran to Percy and said, ‘The time has come, my love.’ Those were my very words, were they not, my love?” She turned to her spouse, who had moved to stand behind her chair. He patted her shoulder comfortably.

  “Indeed, yes, my sweet. Your very words, indeed.”

  “There, I knew he would remember! But it had to be immediate. You understand that, Sarah. One simply cannot be married in black gloves, so I had to accomplish the deed before ever the tattle-mongers had the tale.”

  “They must not have had it yet,” stated her son ironically, “since you still have not put on your black gloves or any other sign of mourning.”

  “Do you truly think I should wear mourning for the deplorable Darcy?” inquired her ladyship, wrinkling her lovely nose at him. “I cannot think why. I am only his grandfather’s second wife, no kin to him at all, which I always counted among my blessings, of course. I daresay I shall unearth my black gloves for the brief time we shall be in London, as a sop to the tabbies, you know. I think I must have packed a pair somewhere or other. At least, I daresay my woman probably remembered to do so.”

  “Do you go to London, then, ma’am?” Sarah asked, in another hasty diversionary attempt.

  “Indeed, yes,” replied her ladyship on a note of ennui. “It is too bad of Percy, but he insists that he has matters of business to attend before we can leave for the Continent. And, of course, we will leave Lionel there. He would be a trifle de trap on our honeymoon, don’t you agree?”

  Sarah nodded, refraining from speech for fear of overstating the case. The idea of Lionel on anyone’s honeymoon, including his own, was nearly more than her sense of the ridiculous would tolerate. Lady Packwood watched her closely, and her merry hazel eyes began to twinkle.

  “Just so, my dear. I expect he will get into all manner of mischief, but he can only learn from his mistakes. Percy is leaving his finances in the hands of a very competent man of affairs, so Nicky will not be expected to tow him out of River Tick as he did, more than once, I’m sure, for the deplorable Darcy.”

  “I wish you will stop calling him ‘the deplorable Darcy’!” snapped Nicholas.

  “Pish tush. He was deplorable—grew from a detestable child into a contemptibly insignificant little dandiprat—and Sarah is very much better off without him, as I am certain she would agree, were anyone to inquire.”

  “Damn it, Mother, that has nothing to do with the matter—”

  “Begging your pardon, my
lord, and no wish to shove my oar in. Bad form, don’t you know.” It was Sir Percival, and the astonishment Sarah felt at his voluntarily putting in a word of his own seemed to be shared by everyone. Even Nicholas stopped midsentence, as Sir Percival went blandly on. “Well, stands to reason, don’t it? Oughtn’t to speak to your doting mother that way. She is doting, y’ know. Told me so herself. Well, anyway, free country, ain’t it? Lady can say what she wants. Particularly, if you’ll pardon my sayin’ so, about her own relatives. Lot of dirty dishes, more ’n likely. Stands to reason, don’t it? Most folks’ relatives—” He turned a jaundiced eye toward his heir. “—well, most of ’em put one to the blush at best.” He paused, looking around for confirmation.

  “Don’t they just!” exclaimed Colin. “Well, uh—” He stammered, as his words caught him up. “—I mean to say, not you, Gram, or Uncle Nick or Cousin Sarah—Lady Moreland, I mean—I suppose she’s one of mine now since she married Cousin Deplor—”

  “Colin!” Nicholas half rose from his chair, but as Colin began to back away from him, stammering a hasty apology, Lady Packwood burst into merry laughter.

  “Do, for heaven’s sake, relax, Nicky! The boy merely suffered a slip of the tongue, and it was my fault entirely. I know you’d dearly love to tear a strip off me, but that is no reason to rake poor Colin over the coals.”

  “Well, it’s the very reason I wanted you to stop all that improper talk,” retorted Nicholas, taking his seat again, much to Colin’s visible relief.

  “Of course it is, and I daresay you were perfectly right. I expect it comes of not having to worry about proper conversation. Your father said most other females talked nothing but missish drivel, and Percy doesn’t mind my unruly tongue at all. Do you, my love?”

  “Not at all, my sweet,” he responded gallantly, adding with more truth than tact, “Don’t notice it.”

  But her ladyship was not offended in the least. She merely chuckled. “There, you see, Nicky! It does not unsettle the people I care about, except you, of course, dear boy. But it needn’t, you know. And, come to think of it, it never used to do so.”