A Midsummer's Kiss (Farthingale Series Book 4)

by Meara Platt

  Graelem shook his head and laughed. “She has a rapt audience.”

  “Too bad none of our generals will listen to her,” Laurel said with a nod. “She would have defeated Napoleon years ago.”

  “I have no doubt.” Graelem chuckled again as he glanced at the other twin and shook his head in confusion. “What does Dillie have in her hands?”

  “A ginger cake she swiped earlier. She intended to hide it for herself, but brought it out and cut it into squares to give to these men.” She sighed. “Daisy’s been wonderful, too. Most of these men are already in love with her.”

  “I sense a ‘but’ in there.”

  Laurel nodded. “But she still thinks I plan to elope with Devlin. We had a talk the other day and I thought we’d settled matters. She’s behaving oddly again today. I tried to draw her aside earlier, but couldn’t manage more than a few words before we were interrupted. Graelem, will you please talk to her?”

  He shifted on his crutches. “I’ll do my best. I doubt it will help, especially if she thinks I’m the dupe in your tawdry love triangle.”

  She poked his shoulder, her finger gently striking solid muscle. “I’m wanton, not tawdry. However, I’m glad you believe me.” She cast him a worried glance. “You do believe me, don’t you?”

  He slid his hand around her waist and drew her closer. “Yes, love. I still believe you. Never had a doubt. Other women may know how to fake their feelings, but you don’t.” His lips twitched upward in a grin. “I know your wanton desire for me is genuine. Ooh, Graelem. Kiss my hot body.”

  Her cheeks suddenly felt as though they were on fire. “You wretch! How can you be sure I wasn’t faking? It would serve you right.” She poked his shoulder again. “I could be a brilliant actress.”

  He laughed. “You could be, but you’re not. Any seductress worth her salt would have used her finely honed tricks of persuasion to rouse my desire, her every move calculated to pleasure me with efficient precision in her learned art. You, my sweet, wanton Laurel, didn’t get a blessed thing right during our… er, interlude in the stables the other day. You didn’t even know what you were groping for.”

  Laurel was too appalled to utter a word. The best she could do was sputter.

  He put a finger to her lips. “I think that was the moment I fell in love with you.”

  Did he just say that he loves me?

  He shook his head and sighed. “No, that isn’t quite right. I’ve been in love with you all along, but convinced myself our betrothal could remain as nothing more than a business arrangement. Our first interlude in the parlor shot that plan to pieces. Despite your obvious lack of knowledge about men, that second time in the stable was incredible, too. After that, I could no longer deny the truth. You have my heart and always will. I love you, Laurel.”

  She closed her eyes and swallowed hard. The sun suddenly felt warmer and the breeze felt gentle and sweet. Even the birds seemed to be chirping a merrier song in the trees. “Oh, Graelem. Please say it again.”

  “I’ll say it often and always, sweetheart.” He drew her behind the trunk of the twins’ escape tree. “I love you,” he said, wrapping her in his arms as he lowered his mouth to hers for an ardent and lingering kiss.

  To say that she was swept away was an understatement.

  She kissed him back with equal fervor, wishing for this moment never to end. He loved her! No matter what happened tomorrow, she knew all would be well. They’d deal with any problems and disappointments together.

  She was still clinging to his shoulders as he ended the kiss and slowly eased away. “Lass, I can’t stay long. Jordan asked to meet me at his club this afternoon. I don’t know what he wants, but I’ll listen. Perhaps he simply wishes to gloat over his impending victory.”

  She put a hand on his arm. “He hasn’t won yet, so be careful. After all the fuss I made about our betrothal, I’d hate to see it end because of a nefarious scheme of your cousin’s. Please, Graelem. Promise me that you’ll be careful.”

  “I always am, love.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “And I promise to talk to Daisy before I leave here. Ah, there she is.”

  She watched him walk toward her sister, then went inside to check on her mother and Julia. Graelem didn’t return to bid her farewell, but it mattered little. He loved her. He’d told her so. She glided through the rest of the day as though on angel’s wings. All would work out. She knew it would. Graelem’s confidence was contagious.

  The last of the guests left late. It was after eleven o’clock by the time the family was finally alone, and everyone was too exhausted to linger in the parlor to chat. Her mother and aunts excused themselves and headed upstairs to their chambers. The men retired to her father’s study, leaving her alone with her sisters—all but Rose, who had gone home earlier with Julian.

  Finally! The chance to speak to Daisy. But Pruitt walked in with a note for her at that moment. “For me?” Curious, she opened it and read the one sentence. Meet me outside. G.

  She shook her head, finding it odd that Graelem wouldn’t simply stop by to see her even though the hour was late. The family usually stayed out well after midnight when attending balls or other social engagements. Of course, condolence visits weren’t quite the same thing. Today’s stream of visitors had exhausted them all, and Graelem was aware of it. He was just trying to be discreet.

  She could ignore the request, but what if it was urgent? He’d met with his cousin today. Perhaps something important had happened that he wished to discuss with her outside of prying ears.

  “I’ll be right back,” she told her sisters and hurried out of the room. She opened the front door and started down the steps to the gate. It was now dark outside, quite dark with the moon hidden behind gathering clouds. There was a dampness to the night breeze that signaled rain.

  Laurel paused, her hand unmoving on the gate’s heavy knob. Suddenly, the note did not feel right. Graelem would have come to the door, not asked her to sneak around in the dark even if he sought privacy. Hadn’t he already warned her not to leave home alone?

  She was about to turn back when she heard a crunch of leaves behind her. Before she was able to scream, someone clamped a big hand over her mouth and, with his other, pressed a foul-smelling handkerchief to her nose. She felt dizzy and couldn’t seem to push the fiend away. As her vision began to blur, a second man dropped a sack over her head, rolling her in it so tightly that she couldn’t breathe.

  She tried to kick her assailants, and was still kicking and squirming and letting out muffled screams as the two of them attempted to carry her off. One held her by the legs and the other by her shoulders, which suggested these men were not used to lifting, for anyone with a little strength would have simply hauled her over his shoulder.

  She kicked one of them and heard his cultured yelp in response.

  These were gentlemen. Desperate gentlemen, as Graelem had described Devlin and Jordan. Had Graelem’s cousin formed a scoundrel’s alliance with Devlin? Their situations were entirely different now that Jordan was about to inherit the Moray assets.

  What was to be gained by stealing her on the eve of his victory?

  The sickeningly sweet scent of whatever had been poured onto the assailant’s handkerchief surrounded her and made her dizzy. She had to find a way out of this sack and breathe in fresh air before she passed out.

  She kicked again with all her might and struck the same assailant in his soft belly. “Bloody hell! I thought you drugged her.” He tried to grab her ankles, but she managed another kick, this time a little lower, landing a blow at the junction of his thighs. He yelped again and fell to his knees groaning.

  Her victory was short-lived, for a third assailant quickly took his place. Were there more?

  She managed to kick this new man as well. “Bloody hell, why is she still moving?”

  He grabbed her legs, his grip painful as he carried her through the gate to a waiting carriage. Oh, no! She was dumped onto the floor of the carriage and stepped on a
s her abductors hurriedly climbed in. What did they intend to do with her?

  The driver snapped the reins.

  Laurel’s eyes welled with tears. How could she have fallen for such a stupid trick? In her own defense, the events of the day had heavily burdened her heart. She’d been so eager to seek Graelem’s comfort again that she had let down her guard.

  “I’m raising my price,” said the gentleman she’d earlier brought to his knees. “The girl’s rich, so why must Dev have all of it? He can spare another thousand pounds for me.”

  “Shut up, you fool! No names! Do you want to give us all away?”

  These were definitely educated men, no doubt schooled at Oxford or Cambridge. They might have been taught Latin and philosophy, but had learned nothing of honor or character. She’d give them a good lesson. They’d be bruised and bloodied by the time she was through with these wretches.

  She would be bruised as well, for the carriage bounced and clattered as it tore through Mayfair at a reckless speed, tossing her against the floor boards and rolling her under the boots of her abductors time and again.

  She was about to give up hope of ever being rescued when the horses suddenly stopped their mad gallop and reared. The abrupt halt caused her to slam hard against the boards. “Crumpets!”

  What was happening? She heard gasps and curses and then the door opened. More gasps and strangled oaths as it sounded like her captors were flung out of the carriage and tossed to the ground—except for one of those wretches who fell atop her with a grunt. She tried to shove him off her, but couldn’t. He was a crushing, motionless weight. “Help! Help me!”

  Could anyone hear her above the scuffle?

  She heard more thuds and grunts as fists connected to bodies.

  Then all fell silent. In the next moment, she was lifted out from under the crushing weight and hauled out of the carriage to be set down gently on the grass. The confining sack was lifted off her. “Blessed Scottish saints, lass! You might have been hurt!”

  Graelem! I’m in for it now.

  She took a deep breath, coughing at the sudden surge of cool air against her cheeks and into her lungs as she inhaled. “Damn it, Laurel,” he said, his voice raspy with concern as he drew her into his arms and hugged her fiercely.

  “I can explain.” Overwhelmed with relief, she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him back just as fiercely, her heart pounding against his warm, solid chest.

  “It’s all right, lass. What matters is that you’re safe.”

  “No, you can’t think I ignored your warning. I was tricked. They delivered a forged note supposedly sent by you and were waiting for me as I stepped outside my door. Had I been thinking clearly, I wouldn’t have gone. But the note looked real and I thought you had summoned me.” Her voice was weak and she was shaking as she prattled. Still, she had to explain it all to him before he overcame his worry and became angry.

  She took another deep breath, not yet recovered from the foul scent of the handkerchief, the odor stubbornly clinging to her nostrils. “The note was written on Eloise’s stationery and the handwriting resembled yours.”

  She expected an outburst from Graelem, but he merely sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He looked over her shoulder and spoke to the barrel-chested man who was holding down one of the assailants. “Mr. Barrow, haul these fools to the nearest magistrate. My cousin will assist you.”

  Laurel regarded Graelem quizzically. “Who precisely is Mr. Barrow?”

  “He heads the team of Bow Street runners I engaged to follow Devlin and Jordan, although it seems I had no need to worry about Jordan, as it turns out.”

  A big man with broad shoulders chose that moment to kneel beside them. “Is the lass all right?” She noted his brogue by the slight roll of his r.

  Graelem nodded. “Laurel, the timing isn’t the best, but I’d like to properly introduce you to my cousin, Jordan Drummond.”

  The wastrel popinjay? He didn’t appear to fit the description.

  “Och, lass. Glad you’re safe.” Jordan shook his head and sighed. “That Kirwood fellow confided his plan to me and… seems I have a conscience after all. Graelem and I have never been close, but we’re family of a sort. So are you, now since you’re betrothed to the undeserving oaf.”

  “He isn’t an oaf. He’s wonderful,” she insisted, scowling at the man, and feeling quite remorseful for ever referring to Graelem that way herself.

  Jordan grinned at his cousin. “In any event, I can’t stomach a man who’d put a lady at risk. I had to warn Graelem.”

  She rested her head against Graelem’s shoulder, still scowling at Jordan. “You knew his plan all along?”

  “I wasn’t in it from the start and never knew all of it, unfortunately. I’m sorry that I didn’t warn Graelem sooner, but it seems he already suspected a plot and took measures to protect you. It doesn’t excuse my behavior, of course.”

  Laurel sensed Graelem’s tension and realized he was still troubled by something. “It isn’t over yet,” Graelem said. “Where’s Devlin? Jordan, you said he was supposed to join his friends, but they went ahead with the plan without him.”

  Laurel looked at Devlin’s so-called friends, three well-dressed men moaning beside the carriage. “Who are they?”

  “Wastrel lords. Heavy gamblers, no doubt cut off by their fathers and left desperate for funds.”

  “Bribed by Devlin to abduct me?” She drew away and curled her hands into fists. “I can’t wait to get my hands on that cur. I’ll teach him. Do you know where he is, Mr. Drummond?”

  “I dinna, lass.”

  Graelem frowned and repeated the question to the burly Bow Street runner.

  “Hiding from Miss Farthingale, no doubt,” Mr. Barrow said with a chuckle, eyeing her fists as he responded to the question. “But one of my men is following him. He’ll report back to me within the hour. I have another man waiting at the mews. We were about to set up watch there when these fancy coves drew up to your gate in their fine carriage. We knew they were coming for you, but they arrived early.”

  Laurel noticed Graelem’s swollen hand. “Oh, dear. Did you break a bone?” She reached out to touch it delicately. His hand felt warm and deliciously rough, his long fingers winding with hers as he gave them a gentle squeeze.

  “No, love. It’s no more than a minor bruise.” He kissed her on the forehead to reassure her.

  “What’s next?” she asked. “Do you really think Devlin had second thoughts about his plot and ran away?”

  Graelem frowned. “No, and I don’t like that he isn’t yet accounted for. Jordan, help Mr. Barrow with these gentlemen. I’m going to the mews as soon as I deliver Laurel home. It’s almost midnight. Might as well make certain the vindictive ass isn’t planning to harm Brutus.”

  “Oh, no. You’re not leaving me behind. I’m going with you.” She scrambled to her feet, but her knees suddenly buckled and she fell against Graelem. “Oh, dear.”

  “Easy, sweetheart.” He swallowed her in his arms. “You need to go home and lie down.”

  “But—”

  “You can beat Devlin to a bloody pulp another time. I need to get you home. Mr. Barrow and Jordan need to get these three scoundrels to the authorities. It’s over, Laurel. Just a few loose ends to tie up. Devlin may be close by, but he’ll soon be running out of London as fast as he can with his tail between his legs. He’ll keep running because his friends have been caught and will surely betray him to spare their own hides.”

  Laurel sighed. “Is there no honor among thieves?”

  “No, love. There never is.” He grabbed his crutches, which had fallen to the ground during the short-lived brawl. “Let me help you home. Lean on me and walk slowly.”

  She nodded and grabbed his arm, loving its massive strength. “I’m going to talk to Father right now,” she said as they made their way home and got out of his cousin’s hearing, “and insist upon an immediate wedding. I don’t care if he’s shocked or angry. You may have reconci
led with Jordan, but I don’t trust him yet. And now Jordan thinks he’s about to come into the Moray wealth when he can’t possibly be more deserving than you. And did you notice the whiskey on his breath?”

  “There’s whiskey on mine, too. We shared a bottle while discussing you.”

  Laurel let out a soft harrumph. “He may have acted honorably in this instance, but who’s to say he isn’t a drunken wretch who will destroy all you’ve helped your Uncle Silas build? No, it’s safest if we marry right away… assuming you still want me.”

  “Blessed Scottish saints, you have a strong opinion on the matter.” He smiled wryly and then began to chuckle. “I’ve never wanted anything more than to marry you, but I’ll not make such a demand on your father tonight. Still, I’m pleased by your suggestion. Never thought I’d hear you say you’re eager to marry me.”

  “And I never thought I’d hear an I love you from your lips, so I guess that makes us even.” She felt drained, but at the same time exhilarated by what the future held for them. She understood that she and Graelem would not be married by tomorrow evening. At this point, it was a hopeless dream. Her father would never allow it, nor would Graelem ever ask it of him.

  Still, a tingle of anticipation shot through her, for marriage had been foremost on her mind these past weeks, and she couldn’t imagine anyone else but Graelem standing beside her at the altar. By the smoldering glances he tossed her way, it appeared that he wanted the ceremony to take place as much as she did. It would, perhaps a quiet ceremony sometime next month.

  Oh, goodness! Could she keep her hands off Graelem for that long?

  They walked through the gate toward the front door, which was now closed. She was about to reach for the knob, hoping it had not yet been locked, when the door flew open and her father was standing there raking a hand through his hair. “Thank goodness! You girls scared the life out of me. Where did you disappear to?”