Rubbing her aching cheek, Lottie tried to plan. The circumstances grew more dire with every mile. The only opportunity to escape might be when they stopped, so she must focus her plotting on those breaks in travel. Otherwise, days of captivity loomed ahead.
Who knew if Darling lived or had been able to get help? Had Agatha thought it odd they weren’t home yet? Perhaps her aunt would send for Ethan—her heart broke a little. Ethan, whom she’d jilted.
“Since I don’t doubt you will attempt an escape when we stop at night, I’ll tell you now not to bother. Our tale of woe is sure to entertain every innkeeper who will listen. You see, darling wife, we are on our way to a nunnery in the North, where the sisters will care for you during your frequent bouts of hysterics and heartbreaking insanity. I love you too much to admit you to Bedlam, you see. We are quite tragic.”
“The Romeo and Juliet of our time,” she sneered.
“Without the pesky dagger and poison, naturally.”
Oh, her kingdom for a pesky dagger or dram of poison. If only she’d been born a man. She could challenge him, shoot him at dawn, and be done with it. Few men suffered through kidnapping and forced elopements to a neighboring country.
Montague laughed at her silence. The unpleasant sound grated on her nerves, but Lottie held her tongue. They appeared to be making good time if the swaying of the carriage was a clue. Fast horses were good for only so many miles before they would need to be changed out for a fresh team. May the next pair be swayback nags.
No obvious solution or escape plan presented itself, but perhaps if Lottie could get him to revert to his habit of talking about himself ad nauseam in the theme of villainous monologuing, he might let slip some bit of helpful information.
“How do you think you’ll get away with this?”
Montague sneered. “I’ve already gotten away with it. You know, the carriage was so quiet before you woke up. If I choose, I can knock you out for this entire journey. Now sit there and behave like the lady you claim to be.”
“Apologies. I must have missed my governess covering proper etiquette for being kidnapped and drugged on the Great North Road. Perhaps you should knock me out if what you wish is a silent, biddable so-called wife.”
“It would make the consummation easier. A bit boring, though. I think I might enjoy it if you fought a little.” His grin reminded her of a predator showing its teeth.
Intuition told her he spoke the truth. A man who would kidnap and slap a woman wouldn’t draw the line at rape. A shiver shot through her system that had nothing to do with the chill in the air. If she were unconscious, she’d be without means of defending herself. Somehow, she must hold him at bay while not making him so angry he’d knock her unconscious again.
“Consummation will have to wait.” Lottie forced a dismissive tone.
“Do you think I’m going to wait until we reach Scotland?” Even his laugh sounded cruel. “How am I to keep busy for the next few nights, except to roger what is rightfully mine?”
Blinking innocently, Lottie ignored the panic clawing at her. “I thought men were put off by a woman’s menses. I’m afraid you’ve made far more work for yourself by kidnapping me during this week of the month.” Rumor had it he was an awful gambler. Let’s hope he didn’t know a bluff when he heard one.
Montague’s laughter stuttered to a halt, and he raised his eyebrows. “Excuse me?”
“My courses began this morning. I’ve always been subjected to excessively heavy monthly cycles. Our first concern is procuring rags. Unless you want to see my gown and these lovely cushions stained with blood, you will have to ask for rags from the posting houses as we pass them. I go through rags quite quickly during these first few days, you see.”
“How am I supposed to obtain rags for…that…at a posting house?” Montague’s face would have been comical if she’d been capable of laughter at the moment.
“You’ll have to ask around. My maid normally takes care of this for me. As I have no maid, because—oh yes—you knocked her out and left her in the gutter to die.” Lottie did not try to hide her bitterness. Appearing to comply this soon would only make him suspicious, and her face hurt from the last point he’d made at her expense. “You will have to figure it out. Since you’ve already decreed that I stay in the carriage, you’ll need to fetch them.”
Montague looked uncomfortable, but Lottie kept her expression steady, maintaining eye contact. He must not suspect she was lying. “Ensure they are clean, please. I do not need to be dealing with someone else’s stains.” Montague looked a little green, much to her satisfaction. If at all possible, giving him a disgust of her could only work to her advantage. Thankfully, few men claimed a working knowledge of women’s menstrual cycles, and even fewer were prepared to deal with the reality of them.
The carriage slowed at a posting house to change horses. They couldn’t be that far from London. If she ran now, perhaps—
“Not so fast, little wife.” Montague reached into the bag at his feet and pulled out a handkerchief, a rope, and a length of fabric. In the split second while Lottie calculated the chance of a successful escape, Montague lunged, twisting her and pressing her face against the seat.
He was not a large man, and she was by no means a dainty, delicate female, yet he pinned her easily, as though she were a recalcitrant child in need of a spanking. Kicking blindly but connecting with only air, she struggled to throw him off. Lottie’s sound of outrage died against the revolting velvet cushion.
Above her, he muttered about feisty women, chuckling as he bound her wrists and ankles. Montague shoved a handkerchief into her mouth, securing it in place with another wrapped around her head, leaving her twisted and vulnerable. She lay trussed like a hog ready for the spit and fire.
The gag prevented screams and absorbed every last bit of moisture in her mouth. Lottie tried not to whimper. All the power she’d claimed a moment before with cheeky demands for rags leaked out her eyes as tears. Laughter tickled her ear, making her skin crawl.
Montague kissed one cheek and winked as if this were all a game. With a light swat on her bottom, he said, “I won’t be gone long. Wait here. Be a good girl. If you don’t make a fuss, I might even untie you when I return.”
She glared ineffectual daggers and tried to roll away to dislodge his hand.
Montague whistled as he walked away. Whistled, for the love of all that was holy. Tears fell, only to be caught by the gag. Lottie rested her forehead on the cushion, refusing to think of the travesties committed on this seat before her arrival, and tried to batten down her mind against the wave of defeat cresting over her.
The rope chafed her wrists, leaving no wiggle room for comfort. This position strained her shoulders, and one calf cramped in protest.
To think, she’d briefly considered marriage to this monster. Like those venomous insects she’d read about in a huge book in her father’s library, Montague enticed his prey with beauty. Most animals realized flashy colors and gorgeous skin meant danger. Obviously, there were things human women could learn from the natural world.
Outside the carriage, low murmurs of conversation kept her prison from feeling empty. Surely people would come for her, eventually. There had to be an end in sight. Her very sanity might rely on the notion of imminent escape or rescue. The trick would be somehow slowing Montague’s progress enough for rescuers to catch them. Considering her current position, that seemed an impossible goal.
One thing remained certain—she couldn’t manage an escape if she was tied up. Which meant building trust or making Montague believe she would go along quietly.
Montague returned a few moments later. With a lowered gaze and blazing cheeks, he shoved a small bag toward her, letting it fall on the floor by her seat.
“Your rags,” he said, but made no move to release her bindings.
Lottie rested her cheek against the seat and closed her eyes. How was she going to get out of this?
Chapter Twenty-Six
Ethan
had never pushed Ezra so hard. Lady Agatha’s carriage was somewhere on the road behind them. Calvin kept pace beside him, although they didn’t exchange much in the way of conversation. Lady Agatha’s outriders surrounded them, breaking off at inns and posting houses along the way to ask after the red carriage. They were assuming Scotland was the destination, but he couldn’t help thinking there was an awful lot of England outside London.
Gretna Green made sense. Montague had no property of his own. His father’s hunting box lay somewhere to the north. Ethan could not recall where. Maybe Calvin knew.
If Montague’s purpose was to get his hands on her fortune, a hasty marriage would be the most expedient way. Dragging her to a hunting box would not serve any long-term goals.
If he thought ruining Lottie would deter Ethan, then Montague didn’t know his foe. Ethan would not leave Lottie to that brute. It did not matter what happened; he would happily marry her—assuming he could convince the woman in question. Damned managing female.
No matter how he inspected the situation, it seemed his and Calvin’s financial machinations had driven Montague to this. Panic-induced kidnapping hadn’t been considered as a probable outcome while hatching their plan. Applying financial pressure to Montague and convincing his father to pull him from Town should never have hurt Lottie. The whole point had been to protect her.
Beside him, Cal motioned to a posting house. Ethan waved him on, indicating he would continue on to the next one. Several days without rest were taking their toll, and his vision began to blur around the edges. No doubt as soon as he stopped, he’d collapse from exhaustion. The harried flight to London seemed to have happened a hundred years ago.
Another posting house loomed ahead. Tossing the reins to a nearby groom, Ethan slid off Ezra’s back and brushed a soothing hand over the mount’s heaving chest. “I need a new horse and information. Red carriage, yellow trim, black wheels. Have you seen it?”
“Aye, exchanged a team a while back,” the hostler said.
“Which direction did they go? Did you see the passengers?”
The man stared, then spit on the ground. “How much is it worth to ya?”
Digging a coin from his pocket, Ethan slapped it into the man’s hand, not caring about the denomination. “Now talk. Tell me everything.”
Five minutes later he tore off down the road to catch up with Calvin. Cold wind whipped at his face. The hostler claimed to know nothing about a female passenger, but his description of Montague had been accurate, right down to his obnoxious habit of mentioning the Earl of Danby every ten seconds. Discreet, Montague was not.
The information wasn’t much to go on, but at least they were going in the right direction. Over the next rise the yellow of Agatha’s livery stood out against the dull colors of the road. If the outriders were there, Calvin might be too. Ethan pushed the horse harder, murmuring words of encouragement.
He prayed that Lottie’s remarkable brain was even now finding a way to stall her travel north. His strong, bullheaded love had a mind of her own and wouldn’t appreciate this situation. Hell, Montague might be in pieces by the time they arrived. The thought gave him his first smile in hours.
Calvin nodded a hello when Ethan caught up to the group, and they set off. “You’ve looked better, my friend.”
“I found a man who saw Montague, but he didn’ see Lottie. They have a decent lead on us and are making good time.”
“So they’re on their way to Gretna,” Calvin called over the wind.
“Aye. What if we’re wrong, though? Doesn’ his father have a hunting retreat up north? He may have taken her there.” Montague wasn’t the most patient of fellows, as this situation showed.
“There was mention of a hunting box one night at the gaming hells. Let me think on it,” Cal said. Several minutes passed with only the thunderous hoofbeats between them before he called out, “Peterborough—the hunting box is near Peterborough.”
“We’ll check there first. Lady Agatha should be close behind us.”
Peterborough. Please let them catch up to Montague that quickly. Exhaustion made Ethan sway in the saddle, but he somehow found the energy to stay seated. They had to find her.
By the time they arrived the last rays of sun cast amber and pink streaks across the rooftops of Peterborough. Lady Agatha’s carriage had caught up shortly before the turnoff for the small town.
At the Earl of Danby’s hunting lodge, all was quiet, dark, and closed up. The driveway’s unmarred fallen leaves created a colorful testimony to how long the house had sat undisturbed.
Ethan hung his head. Cursing each mile they’d driven off the Great North Road, he calculated how long it would take to recoup the time lost to this detour.
“Might as well be certain,” Calvin said, dismounting and tying his horse to a tree. They circled the house, looking for unlocked doors and signs of life. The dark windows and cold chimneys gave off a depressive feeling.
“Stable is empty. No livestock,” a footman reported.
“I shall secure lodging for the night. We will meet you at that inn we passed in town.” Lady Agatha knocked on the ceiling of the carriage to signal the driver. “My old bones are ready for a soft bed, and I imagine yours are too, gentlemen.”
Lady Agatha opted to dine in her room, while the rest of the group ate in the taproom of the least questionable lodging to be had. The inn sat like a squat mushroom in the shadow of a great Gothic cathedral. But as inns went, it was clean, and the service hadn’t given Ethan any reason to complain. Not that he’d be terribly picky in his current condition. Food, then a reasonably soft flat surface, and he’d be happily unconscious.
Unanswered questions rattled around his sleep-deprived brain. The dim room with its flickering lantern light only fed the exhaustion creeping through him. He ate without tasting the food.
Darling pulled out a chair and flopped into it. “Lady Agatha’s tucked in for the night. You wanted to see me, Lord Amesbury?”
“Aye. I’m hopin’ you can help fill in the blanks. There’s much we don’ know. Are you sure you’ve told us everything?”
Cal interrupted, “Before we get into this, have you eaten yet?”
Darling shook her head. “Maids don’t dine with quality.” Her incredulous expression cut through the tired fog, pulling a rusty laugh from Ethan.
“We’re in the middle of nowhere after a bloody awful day. Proprieties can hang. You need tae eat, lass, so eat.”
Waving a serving girl over, Ethan asked for one more plate.
Ethan turned back to Darling. “Now, back tae my question. Is there anything from the last few days that may help us? Lottie had promised tae bring a footman with her when going out. Where was he?”
“We didn’t bring a footman. I don’t think she thought of it. At least she never mentioned it. Milady spent the last few days upset. Crying a lot. She said she wrote to you, so I’m sure you know all this.” Darling smiled her thanks to the serving girl and dug into her meal.
“I don’t have the foggiest idea what’s happening right now. Care to clue me in?” Cal asked.
Ethan motioned to Darling. He had a feeling there was much he didn’t know about the situation compared to Lottie’s maid.
“Well, it all started with the wedding gown. She and Lady Agatha went to the modiste, and Lottie wasn’t the same after. I don’t think she slept that night. Then the next day she received that letter from her father forbidding the match.”
Ah yes, the letter. That at least he knew about. He didn’t understand how a wedding dress might have set Lottie on a path of calling everything off. He’d love to know what the earl said in his letter, though. “The next day she wrote and ended everything.”
Cal swung to look at him. “What? She ended it? What reason did the earl give for denying you? Doesn’t the man know you love her to distraction?”
Before Ethan could answer, Darling wiped her mouth and said, “Well, she didn’t have much choice, did she? When the earl says he’l
l cut her off without a penny if she marries you, she knows to listen. At least this way she gets to keep her dowry and family. It killed her to make that decision, but he’d backed her into a corner.”
Cut her off? Ethan sat back in the chair as the air left his lungs. It made sense now. No wonder she’d ended things. With such harsh consequences on the line, finding a way to marry despite the earl would be too great a risk.
“I don’t think she liked it, but milady is resilient. We were planning our return home when Montague attacked us,” Darling said.
“Wait, she was going back to Westmorland?” Cal voiced the thought that made Ethan frown. She’d planned to slip from London without seeing him in person.
“We were to leave by the end of the week. She hadn’t told Lady Agatha yet,” Darling said.
“During this time, you never saw Montague or heard anything relevant tae today?” Ethan pressed.
“I’m sorry. That’s everything.” Darling set her fork down, then finished her drink. “If you think of any other questions, I’m happy to answer. But I’m as shocked by all this as you are.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Darling. Get some rest. We need tae be on the road at first light.” Ethan stood when she did and cut her a small bow. Looking bemused, she said good night.
Cal stayed quiet when Ethan took his seat and drained the mug of ale before him. Outside, night had fallen in earnest, with only small areas of the stable yard illuminated by lamps for late-arriving customers.
The church bell in the cathedral tower chimed the hour. Eight, nine, ten.
“I meant tae beg, you know,” he told Cal. “I planned tae ride in all self-righteous and more than a wee bit desperate and do whatever it took tae change her mind. Didn’ know the earl cut her off, though. I can’t ask Lottie tae turn her back on her father. He’s all she has left.”
“I’m sorry, Ethan. I didn’t know she’d ended it.”
A laugh escaped him, the sound utterly without humor. “All this time I’ve been trying tae make up for the past, but it doesn’ matter tae the likes of the earl. There’s no going back or fixing it.” Five years without hard alcohol or a woman. Five years of telling himself no, because he needed to be a better man—one who didn’t hurt people with his careless words and bad decisions. And during that time, Connor had forgiven him. Over time, even Lottie had softened. She’d shared her body and her bed, but he didn’t think he’d reached her heart.
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