But the man who moved over to her a few moments later and untied her wrists and ankles, and then removed the gag from her mouth, was not Sir Jason. Alexandra blinked in surprise as she stared up at her abductor, “You!” she said softly. “You vile, despicable, contemptible cad!”
“Now, now, my dear,” Edward Ponsonby admonished with a titter. “That is certainly no way to speak to your affianced husband. You must treat me with the respect I deserve. It is, after all, your wifely duty.”
“What are you talking about ?” Alexandra asked warily, but she feared very much that she already knew the answer to her question.
Her fears were confirmed when Mr Ponsonby said with obvious satisfaction, “We are off to Gretna Green, my dear, where we are to be wed.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Alexandra looked across at her kidnapper with an icy expression on her face. Suddenly all the pieces of the puzzle of the past few days fitted together neatly in her mind, creating a picture that was far from pretty. Alexandra said slowly, “You wrote me those threatening letters, Mr Ponsonby. You deliberately led me to believe that my brother’s life was in danger so that I would not become betrothed to the Duke of Stanford...”
Mr Ponsonby tittered. “A master stroke, was it not? I did not believe that Stanford actually intended proposing matrimony to you until the evening of the Ashton’s ball. However, the realisation was borne in upon me then that the ton believed the announcement of your betrothal to him to be imminent. Naturally, I could not allow such a state of affairs to continue. It is far easier to kidnap the unattached Miss Alexandra Grantham, than the future Duchess of Stanford, if you take my meaning? So, I set my plans in motion, and...”
“Succeeded in abducting me — fool that I am. Your actions are not only despicable, Mr Ponsonby, but cowardly as well!” Alexandra said scornfully. “An honourable man would never attempt to rescue himself from his financial embarrassments by abducting a woman in order to marry her for her fortune!”
“Careful now, my dear. Do bear in mind that you are speaking to your future husband,” Mr Ponsonby said pompously. “Besides,” he continued, “It is not only your considerable fortune that I desire, but yourself as well. You must know, Miss Grantham, that you are considered to be a very beautiful woman.”
Alexandra gritted her teeth, and her hand itched to slap the satisfied smile off her abductor’s face. She realised, however, that it would be foolish to do so. At the moment she was totally within Mr Ponsonby’s power. A thought occurred to her, and turning her head to look at him again, she inquired, “How do you know the details of my daily life so intimately, Mr Ponsonby? You knew that Sir Charles had invited my grandmother and me to Vauxhall Gardens, even though I had not mentioned the invitation to any of my acquaintances.”
Mr Ponsonby straightened his shoulders and puffed out his chest, reminding Alexandra forcefully of an extremely vain peacock she had once seen parading around the grounds of her grandmother’s country estate. Unfortunately he was not as well feathered, she noted, as her eyes skimmed over Mr Ponsonby’s poorly tied cravat, and the puce coat he wore that clashed hideously with his complexion. She would rather starve than marry such a sartorially inelegant idiot, she thought acidly as Mr Ponsonby said, “My dear young lady, I am a man of remarkable powers. Many of my acquaintances do not credit me with genius, but that is because they do not know me well enough.” Smiling in satisfaction, he continued, “A footman working in my household is engaged to be married to one of your grandmother’s parlour maids. It was simplicity itself for me to gain access to the information that I needed for my purposes.”
“Your nefarious purposes,” Alexandra said coolly. After a pause, she continued, “Has it not occurred to you, Mr Ponsonby, that you cannot force me to marry you? You can carry me across the border to Gretna Green, but you cannot coerce me into saying any wedding vows.”
“But, my dear Miss Grantham, think of the unfortunate consequences if you do not consent to marry me! You cannot come back to England unwed, after being alone with a man for several days. Mothers will drag their daughters across the street when they see you approaching them because you will be a fallen woman. So you see, my dear,” he finished complacently, “You have no other alternative but to agree to become my wife and enjoy the position of remarkable consequence in Society that holding that title will bring you.”
Alexandra looked at Mr Ponsonby in disbelief, stunned by the conceit of the man. She recognized, however, the truth of what he had said about coming back from Scotland unwed. She could not return to England unmarried, and expect to be welcomed into any London drawing-room again. No Society hostess of good standing would invite a ruined woman into her home. Her position would be untenable. Mr Ponsonby was a conceited prig, Alexandra thought grimly, but he was cognizant, as she was, of the rules of the ton and she had to admit that he had played a very clever hand indeed by abducting her in this manner in order to flee with her across the border. Alexandra bit her lip as she contemplated her dangerous predicament. The only possible thing that she could do, if she hoped to avoid social ruin, was escape from her captor tonight. But, as yet, she had absolutely no idea how she could accomplish this. If only she still had her pistol, she mused. The thought of her lost weapon made Alexandra think of something else, and her heart began to pound in relief when she looked to the side of the coach and, in the dim light, caught sight of a holster which contained a pistol. Admittedly the pistol looked large and clumsy, but it was still a weapon, she thought exultantly. If she could somehow contrive to get her hands on it, she would be able to escape from her abductor.
Alexandra jumped when Mr Ponsonby, who had observed the direction of her gaze, said smugly, “The pistol is not loaded, Miss Grantham. I am most surprised that a young lady — and my future wife at that — would even contemplate such violence! Really, my dear, you should pay more attention to the dictums of propriety.”
“The — the dictums of propriety!” Alexandra spluttered. “You abduct me in this despicable manner in order to force me to marry you, and yet you have the audacity to sit in judgement of my conduct! Sir, you render yourself ridiculous!” Alexandra said sharply, turning away from Mr Ponsonby and staring out of the window. She noticed that already the houses were growing further and further apart. Very soon, they would leave London completely behind them. Alexandra sighed, knowing that with every yard the coach covered, she was travelling closer and closer towards an extremely unpleasant future.
The chaise bumped and lurched its way over the bad road, but before long they came to a heath, dotted over with clumps of bushes casting long, eerie shadows in the pale moonlight and some tall larch trees stretching their branches upwards to the inky blue sky. Alexandra surmised, with a shiver, that the desolate stretch of land over which they were travelling was Finchley Common. They had been passing through the heath some way when Alexandra thought she heard the sound of horses galloping behind them. She looked across at Mr Ponsonby and noticed with some surprise that her abductor was lost to slumber, lying back against the seat of the carriage with his head lolling to one side. Her heart began to pound as she realised that this could perhaps be her only chance to escape from him. Alexandra was about to lean out of the window to wave frantically at the driver of the other carriage in the hope that she could perhaps alert him to the fact that she was in danger, when suddenly there came a thundering of hooves, a shot, a lurch, and the sound of confused voices raised in uproar as the coach was brought to a swaying halt.
Mr Ponsonby awoke at the commotion and, blinking owlishly at Alexandra, asked her what was happening. Before Alexandra could say anything, the door of the coach was pulled open and the Duke of Stanford sprang up into the carriage. Alexandra simply stared at him, at a complete loss for words. She had assumed that highwaymen were holding them up when the shot had rung out and the carriage was jerked to a halt; never that anyone, least of all the Duke, may have heard of her abduction and come to her rescue!
The Duke seated
himself beside Alexandra, stretching his elegantly sheathed legs out in front of him. He studied the other man for a long moment, before saying, “Explain yourself, Ponsonby.”
Mr Ponsonby’s florid countenance suffused with even more colour as he stared at the formidable man sitting across from him, and he cringed back into his seat. Eventually, he opened his mouth to say something but he appeared to be at a loss for words. Alexandra, tired of waiting for him to speak, turned towards the Duke and said, “Mr Ponsonby abducted me from Vauxhall Gardens this evening, your grace. His plan was to flee with me across the border to Gretna Green where he intended coercing me into marriage.”
The Duke looked down at Alexandra, before turning his attention once again to the man sitting across from him. “I had gathered as much,” he said quietly.
Mr Ponsonby, suddenly regaining the use of his voice, said in a high pitched tone, “It — it is not as it seems, your grace. I can explain... Miss Grantham has developed a tendre for me. Indeed, she has! Although she refuses to admit the fact to herself, she is head over ears in love with me.”
Alexandra looked blankly at Mr Ponsonby. “What did you say?”
“You have a tendre for me, my dear. We both know that.”
Alexandra shook her head. “I refused your proposal of marriage, Mr Ponsonby. That clearly illustrates that I am not — and have never been — enamoured of you.”
“You only did that, Miss Grantham, to make me even more keen to pursue you,” Mr Ponsonby said eagerly. “Since time began young ladies have been using that ploy to ensnare men.”
“You are delusional, sir,” Alexandra said, staring at him in consternation.
Mr Ponsonby pursed his lips. “Indeed I am not. You love me, but are intent on marrying Stanford for his fortune. Admit it, Miss Grantham. Your heart is torn in two — between your mercenary needs and your desire for me!”
Alexandra gasped. “Mr Ponsonby, I have a fortune of my own — as you well know — and have no need to marry. If I do ever marry it will be for love, not for security. You are saying these things merely to make yourself look in a better light to his grace.”
“No — no, Miss Grantham, we both know -”
“Silence, Ponsonby! You have said enough,” the Duke ordered, looking at Mr Ponsonby contemptuously. “I shall give you until the end of this week to settle your affairs, then you will leave England for the Continent, never to return. If you disobey me in this, you will live to regret the consequences of your foolhardiness. It would be most unwise of you to cross me. ”
“But -” Mr Ponsonby stopped short when he saw the menacing look on Stanford’s face.
“I have not called you out, Ponsonby, because I desire no breath of scandal to attach itself to Miss Grantham’s name. You can count yourself fortunate in that regard.”
Mr Ponsonby wiped the beads of perspiration that had suddenly appeared on his forehead with a handkerchief. He had been infinitely afraid that the Duke of Stanford, who was an excellent shot, would in fact call him out, and had realised that the only way that he could prevent such a thing from happening was to pretend that Miss Grantham was, in fact, enamoured of him, so that his grace would perhaps be merciful to him. From the moment the Duke had climbed into the carriage, nightmarish visions had been flitting across his mind of himself lying fatally wounded on Westbourne Green, and he knew that he was fortunate indeed to have escaped that hideous fate.
Mr Ponsonby started when the Duke said sternly, “Are we agreed, Ponsonby?”
He nodded his head and was relieved beyond measure when the Duke of Stanford, having nothing more to say to him, opened the door of the carriage, jumped down, and helped Miss Grantham from the coach. The Duke closed the door of the coach and Mr Ponsonby heaved a sigh of relief. His relief, however, turned quickly to dissatisfaction as he fell to wondering how Stanford had come to know about his plan to abduct Miss Grantham. At length, he came to the rather galling conclusion that Miss Grantham must have called his bluff and informed the Duke of the letters he had sent her. He had been convinced that Miss Grantham would never put her brother’s life at risk by disregarding his threats. The members of the ton had noted, when Sir John had arrived in London a while back, that the Grantham siblings appeared to have a remarkably close relationship. He had been certain that Miss Grantham would abide by his instructions. Mr Ponsonby scowled as he contemplated the puzzle. Shaking his head, he leant out the window and testily ordered his coachman to drive him back to town.
Mr Ponsonby was not the only person wondering how the Duke had come to know of the abduction. Alexandra, seated beside the Duke in his curricle on their way back to London, was also pondering the matter. However, the presence of the Duke’s tiger, Jimmy, seated on his perch behind them, prevented her from asking him any probing questions. Rather impatiently, she realised that she would have to wait until she was private with the Duke before she could find the answers she sought. The journey back to London passed in silence and Alexandra, who at first had been simply relieved to have escaped from Mr Ponsonby’s clutches, became more and more tense with each passing mile, because she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that the confrontation awaiting her with the Duke when they returned to Beauchamp House would in all likelihood be far from pleasant. Sneaking a look at the man beside her, Alexandra noticed the taut set of his jaw, and realised with a sinking heart that he was not in the most agreeable frame of mind. She shivered in the cool night air, her heart beginning to hammer as she contemplated the Duke’s rage when he discovered that she had gone to the Grecian Temple alone.
The journey back to town in the Duke’s well sprung carriage passed quickly, and it seemed to Alexandra that in no time at all he was helping her out of the curricle and escorting her inside Beauchamp House. Lady Beauchamp, who had been waiting in the Morning Room, rushed into the Hall when she heard the door opening, her face pale. Upon setting eyes on her granddaughter she hurried forward to fling her arms around her, before proceeding to scold Alexandra and fire a dozen questions at her at the same time.
The Duke, noting the presence of curious servants in the Hall, suggested that they repair to the Morning Room. Sir Charles, Amelia and Letitia were seated there, and all of them looked up in concern when the trio entered the room. Closing the door firmly behind him, the Duke walked over to the mantlepiece, and stood staring down at the fire smouldering in the grate, only looking up when Alexandra had seated herself nervously beside her grandmother.
The Duke was about to speak when Amelia stood up and, shaking out her skirts, said firmly, “I think that we will take our leave of you now, Lady Beauchamp. I am happy that we have been able keep you company while you awaited your granddaughter’s return, but you must desire a few words alone with Miss Grantham, now. Letty, take your leave of Lady Beauchamp before we depart,” she ordered quietly.
Letitia, who had hoped to remain at Beauchamp House in order to hear the full story of Alexandra’s mysterious disappearance tonight, gave a deep sigh, but she knew when her cousin was adamant, so she obediently stood up and said goodbye to Lady Beauchamp. Before leaving, however, she ran impulsively over to Alexandra and embraced her, before returning to her cousin’s side again. Sir Charles smiled sympathetically at Alexandra, then bowed to the assembled company and escorted Amelia and Letitia outside. Alexandra’s eyes followed her friends out of the room, and it was only when the door had closed behind them that she reluctantly turned her attention back to the two remaining people in the room.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Lady Beauchamp spoke first: “My dear child, whatever happened? Emily told me some story about threatening letters and a plot to murder John after you disappeared, but when I tried to question her more closely about it, she became quite hysterical and took to her bed on arriving home.”
“Mr Ponsonby abducted me, Grandmama,” Alexandra said wearily. “He wanted to carry me across the border to Gretna Green and force me to marry him.”
Alexandra rummaged in her reticule and removed
from it the two, now rather crumpled letters that Mr Ponsonby had sent her. She handed them over to her grandmother who paled alarmingly as her eyes skimmed over the menacing words. With a shuddering sigh she handed the letters over to the Duke. After he had perused the letters, he looked up and said harshly, “You little fool! Why did you not come to me with these?”
“You left the morning the first letter arrived, your grace,” Alexandra said in a small voice. “You have read the letters. John’s life was in danger and...”
“And you foolishly believed that you could solve the matter on your own. You stubborn, headstrong girl! You should at least have told your grandmother about the letters.” The Duke shook his head in disbelief, then continued, “You actually went alone to that Grecian Temple, Alexandra, with no possible means of defending yourself! I would have credited you with more intelligence than to walk blindly into what was obviously a carefully laid trap on Ponsonby’s part.”
Alexandra flushed and said a trifle touchily, “I was not defenceless, your grace. I took my pistol along with me!”
“Your pistol!” Lady Beauchamp interpolated. “What are you talking about Alexandra? Surely you do not own a pistol, of all things?”
Alexandra looked guiltily away. “Papa gave me one for my eighteenth birthday, Grandmama. I did not tell you because I thought you may disapprove...”
“I do disapprove, Alexandra!” Lady Beauchamp said. “Your Papa always was an eccentric man, but to give you a pistol of your own. Well! I find it difficult to believe!”
“I am a good shot, Grandmama,” Alexandra said defensively.
“Well, young ladies should not own pistols, my dear. It is not at all the thing! Besides,” she continued, “Mr Ponsonby managed to abduct you in spite of your superior marksmanship, Alexandra.”
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