Candice Hern
Page 22
"I'm sorry, Rob." Sedgewick shook his head in confusion as they walked. "I don't understand. Why would her cousin, despicable character though he may be, want to abduct her?"
"Because, my friend, she is an heiress."
Sedgewick stared at him in open-mouthed disbelief.
"Oh, she doesn't even know it, Sedge. But Faversham does." Robert explained about her grandfather's will, the marriage stipulation, and her uncle's trusteeship.
"I suspect," Robert said as they hustled through the crowd, ignoring all guests who attempted to speak with him, "that Faversham has abducted her in order to marry her himself. Recall that my chef heard the directions given to the coachman to head to the North Road. It all makes perfect sense." They had navigated the topiaries and the crowd and were now heading up the stairs out of the ballroom.
"I believe you must be right, Rob," Sedgewick said. "Faversham is forever under the hatches, if rumor is true. He no doubt wants that fortune for himself."
"My notion precisely." Robert turned to face Claypool once they had made the entry hall. "Have my fastest horse saddled and waiting for me at the front entrance in ten minutes. And send Luckett to me."
Robert dashed up the stairs two at a time, leaving Sedgewick behind without a thought. He began stripping off his evening clothes as soon as he entered his bedchamber. Luckett was there before he could remove his waistcoat, silently laying out his riding breeches, coat, and top boots. Robert looked at his valet's unnaturally dour expression and realized the man was almost as upset as he was himself. Of course, he knew what had happened. The entire staff would know by now.
"Thank you, Luckett," Robert said as the valet handed him the buckskin breeches. While he tugged them on, Luckett picked up the discarded garments from the floor and shook them out. Robert sat down on the bed and pulled on his favorite top boots. He did not change out of the lace-edged evening shirt, which looked incongruous with his comfortable blue riding coat. But there was no time to worry about such things. Luckett handed him leather gloves, then a hat and riding crop. The valet had not spoken a word.
"I'll find her, Luckett."
The valet held open the bedchamber door and said in a somber voice, "I'm sure you will, my lord. God's speed."
Robert dashed down the stairs to the entry hall, where Claypool was waiting with his greatcoat. The news of the abduction had apparently spread, and a small crowd had gathered in the hall. Damnation! He had hoped to keep it quiet and escape without a fuss.
As he eased into the greatcoat, Robert spied his grandmother. She made her way to his side, her face unnaturally pale and her mouth held in a tight line. She looked up at him with such pain in her eyes that he almost lost control. He took her in his arms.
"You know what happened?" he whispered.
She nodded against his chest.
"I must go after her, Grandmother."
She pulled away and looked up at him, searching his eyes. "I know," she said finally. "I know." She nodded as a look of deep understanding passed between them. She stepped back, glanced around the hall, and glowered menacingly at some of the bystanders, who quickly moved away. "Do you know who did this, Robert?" she asked in a low voice.
"I believe it was Faversham."
"That scoundrel!" she exclaimed. Looking around furtively, she lowered her voice again. "Will you kill him?"
Robert smiled and cupped her cheek. "I'd like to, though I'll try not to. But, so help me, if he's laid one finger on her ..."
"Well, well, my lord. What's all this?" Augusta asked in a sweet voice as she entered the hall, obviously drawn by the increasing commotion. She was trailed by both her parents. Lady Windhurst looked ready to explode with anger. Lord Windhurst simply looked confused.
Damnation. This was all he needed. Robert braced himself for a scene, all the while desperate to make his departure. The carriage was already almost an hour ahead of him. He had to get out of here!
Trying to keep his impatience in check, he said, "I'm sorry, Augusta, but I must leave. We'll discuss it later."
Augusta looked frankly astonished. "You mean you're leaving the ball? Our ball? But you can't! What will people think?" Her voice had risen to a shrill pitch which reminded him of nothing so much as her mother.
"Look, Augusta," Robert said, his anger and frustration increasing as precious minutes ticked away, "a woman under the protection of my own roof has been abducted. It is my place to go after her. Her life may be in danger."
"Then send someone else!" she wailed in uncharacteristic agitation.
The inappropriate thought briefly crossed Robert's mind that he was at last seeing the fire beneath Augusta's ice. He had apparently pushed her to the limit. But he no longer cared.
"You don't have to be the one to go," she continued. "Send someone else." She looked around frantically. "Lord Sedgewick, for example."
Robert's eyes followed her to the frowning Sedgewick, whose presence he'd forgotten. He must have been waiting down here the whole time. "No," he said, turning back to Augusta, pulling on his gloves. "It is my place to go, and I am leaving now. I suggest you step aside and let me be on my way before wasting any more of my time."
He turned his back on Augusta and made a move toward the entrance.
"I will not be publicly humiliated, my lord," she said to his retreating back. "If you leave our ball to chase after that woman, then I shall be forced to call off the engagement."
A collective gasp was heard from the gathered crowd. An audible groan followed, which could only have been Lady Windhurst's.
Robert slowly turned back to face Augusta, looked her in the eye, and arched one brow. "Well, then," he said, "I shall expect to see such an announcement in tomorrow's papers."
Augusta started, and her hand flew to her mouth. She glared at him wide-eyed for a moment, then turned on her heel and rushed away. Lady Windhurst gave him a furious look and went after her daughter. Lord Windhurst ran his hands through his bushy hair, shook his head, and followed.
Robert caught his grandmother's eye. The full impact of what had just taken place struck him in that moment as he watched his grandmother trying valiantly to stifle a grin. By God, he was free! He was actually free from that blasted engagement! He flashed the dowager a brilliant smile and made once again for the door, now more anxious than ever to find Emily. He hadn't moved two feet when his grandmother's sharp voice stopped him once again.
"Robert!"
He sighed and turned around. Would they never let him be gone? The dowager cocked her head toward a figure coming down the hall. It was his cousin Ted. True to form, he must have been spending his time in the library rather than in the ballroom. Robert looked back at his grandmother and nodded briefly. He understood.
"Ted!" Robert shouted.
His cousin stopped in his tracks. He took in Robert's attire and said, "What's this, Rob? You going out?"
"Yes, but first I'd like a word with you." He steered Ted back toward the library.
"Sure thing, Rob. What's going on? Has something happened?"
"Actually, quite a lot has happened." He closed the library door. Ted indicated a chair, but Robert shook his head. "No time, Cousin. You see. Miss Townsend has been abducted."
"Good lord!"
"And I'm on my way to try to rescue her. But what has also happened, you see, is that... well... Miss Windhurst and I have decided we would not suit."
"Not suit? You mean—"
"We've called off the engagement."
"By Jove!"
Robert placed a hand on Ted's shoulder. "In fact, I suspect that Augusta is not in the best of spirits just now. She could probably use some comforting. Perhaps a friendly shoulder to cry on?"
The face of the normally reserved marquess broke into a huge smile. He reached over and clapped his cousin on the back. "You're a right one, Rob," he said. "Thank you." He cast an uncertain look at Robert "Do you think she would ..." He blushed and dropped his gaze to the floor.
"Go to her, Ted."<
br />
"Yes. Yes, I'll do that," he said with a distracted look on his face. Suddenly his eyes lit up, and he smiled broadly. "Yes!" He bolted out the door and down the hall.
Robert smiled and shook his head. Well, at least something was turning out right this night. Ted would have his true love, Augusta would replace one broken engagement with an even loftier connection, and Lady Windhurst would have a marchioness for a daughter.
Now, if he could only set his own affairs in order. He must get to Emily!
Robert hurried once again toward the front entrance. The hall was almost empty now, the spectacle having ended. But Sedgewick was lounging against the banister, wearing his evening cloak, apparently waiting for Robert.
"Sedge?"
"I really think I should go with you, Rob. We could take my curricle."
"Thanks, Sedge, but I'll make better time alone on a horse."
As Robert made to leave, Sedgewick placed a firm hand on his arm to stop him. "Rob, I think I should go. Surely you are aware of my ... my interest in Emily. Miss Townsend, that is."
Robert raised his brows in question.
"If you must know," Sedgewick said, "I had actually planned to ask for her hand tonight."
Robert looked hard at his friend. "Do you love her, Sedge?"
"Come on, Rob! You know I don't go in for that sort of schoolgirl nonsense. Miss Townsend and I are both mature, sensible adults who enjoy each other's company. She is also, as you have no doubt noticed, a very attractive woman. And I am quite fond of her, as it happens. I think we'll rub along nicely."
"No, you won't."
"I beg your pardon?"
"You won't rub along nicely because you're not going to marry her."
It was Sedgewick's turn to raise his brows in question.
"You see, my friend," Robert said, "I intend to marry her myself."
"You what?"
"Despite your sentiments on the subject," Robert said, "I seem to have fallen in love with her. If I am ever allowed to leave here and bring her back, I intend to marry her."
"Ah." Sedgewick rocked on his heels. "Ah."
"I'm sorry, old man. If you had loved her, it would have been different."
"You know," Sedgewick said, smiling weakly, "there were times when I suspected that there was something between the two of you. A look I would catch now and then. But I thought nothing of it since you were tied to Miss Windhurst."
"And now I am not."
"Just so." Sedgewick looked at Robert, and the famous grin slowly spread across his face. "I suppose I should gracefully step aside, then?"
"It would be best, my friend," Robert said, returning his smile. "Otherwise, I'm afraid I'd have to kill you."
"In that case, consider me gone."
Both men threw back their heads and laughed.
"Now," Robert said, "may I finally be on my way?"
"Of course. Good luck, Rob."
"Thank you, Sedge. For everything."
Robert retrieved his hat from a very impatient Claypool, dashed down the front steps, quickly mounted his horse, and headed off into the night.
Chapter 21
Hugh, Viscount Faversham, called out for the coachman to stop when they had reached a small inn at Hendron. He would have preferred to put a few more miles between himself and London, but he did not want to chance Emily reviving before they stopped for the night. He wanted her unconscious and unable to cry out or otherwise draw attention.
Hugh wrapped Emily tightly in the plain wool cloak, careful to completely cover her evening dress, and lifted her limp body into his arms. He carried her to the entrance to the taproom and called out for the innkeeper. A stout, ruddy-faced man approached and eyed Hugh skeptically.
"Quickly, man, I need a room for the night. My wife has taken ill."
The innkeeper peered down at the brown wool burden in Hugh's arms. Hugh clasped her more tightly to his chest and put on what he hoped was a look of deep concern.
"Aye," the innkeeper said, "we have a room for you. Not our best, mind. Another gentleman has already bespoken the largest room with a private parlor. But I can give you a decent bedchamber, anyway." He turned and shouted for his wife.
A plump, rosy-cheeked woman of indeterminate age rushed into the taproom. She took one look at Hugh and said, "Oh, dear. What's this, now?" When her husband explained that the woman was ill, she turned and reached out a hand toward Emily. "Poor love," she said, "I'll just help you upstairs with her. Then mayhaps she could use one of my possets? I can just pop down and make one up right quick like and bring it up to you before the cat can lick her ear. Poor dear will be right as a trivet in no time." As the woman spoke, she moved as if to pull the cloak's hood back from Emily's face.
Hugh flinched, clutched Emily more tightly, and stepped back. "You are too kind," he said. "But all she really needs is a soft bed and a good night's rest. It would be best if she were not disturbed."
"Whatever you say, sir," the woman said in the resigned voice of one used to the strange ways of the Quality. "Follow me."
She led Hugh up two flights of stairs and down several short hallways before stopping at a door at the end of a narrow corridor. Hugh's burden was becoming increasingly heavy, and he thought his arms might break if he didn't put Emily down soon. Nevertheless, he was glad for a room so removed from the main part of the inn. He needed complete privacy for what he had in mind.
After fumbling with an enormous ring of keys, the landlady finally opened the door and invited Hugh to enter with a nod of her head. She made as if to follow, but Hugh gave her a piercing glare. "Wait there," he said. After he carefully placed Emily on the bed, keeping her covered, he turned once again toward the door, flexing his arms to alleviate the stiffness.
"I thank you, madam, for your concern, but my wife and I would prefer complete privacy, if you don't mind. I will see to her myself." He held out his hand for the key.
The landlady cocked her head to one side and gazed at Hugh through narrowed eyes. Then she shrugged and placed the key in his hand. "You just call, now, if you need anything," she said as she took a candlestick from a nearby hall table. She lit it from her own candle and handed it to Hugh before she headed down the hall.
Hugh closed the door, then leaned against it and heaved a sigh of profound relief. He had no desire for the innkeeper's wife to note that Emily was dressed in a ball gown beneath the plain cloak. He would go down a bit later and retrieve a small valise he had tucked in the boot of the carriage in which he had packed a change of clothes for himself and a simple muslin gown for Emily. He hadn't thought to bring any kind of bonnet, but he could probably purchase one along the way.
For the moment, at least while Emily was unconscious, he felt safe. Everything was going according to plan. His father was right, of course. This was the only way. Hugh would have to marry Emily in order to keep her inheritance in the family. Hugh realized that Emily had no great affection for him. In fact, he suspected that she despised him. There was no way she would agree to marry him—especially not when that Sedgewick fellow seemed close to the sticking point.
No, this was the only way. He would have to compromise her completely, he thought with a smile.
He walked to the bed and pulled the cloak away from Emily's face. This part of the plan was going to be a pleasure, he thought as he stroked Emily's cheek with the back of his hand. When he thought of all the fusby-faced females whom he might have been forced to seduce, he shook his head in wonder at the good fortune that gave him such a beauty for a cousin. He would have preferred a younger woman, of course—someone more biddable. But there were other advantages to a mature woman, he thought as he pulled the cloak completely away and gazed down at the soft curves revealed by the clinging silk of the ball gown.
Hugh was tempted to undress Emily at that moment and complete her ruin. He sat down on the bed and ran a possessive hand along the length of her body, sucking in his breath as he lingered over the curve of her full breasts and hips.
Then, of course, she would have no choice but to marry him.
He laughed as he rose from the bed. He tossed his hat and greatcoat on a nearby chair. He added coal to the grate from a scuttle near the hearth, thinking that he would prefer to accomplish this night's work in a warm room. He found a spill, lit it with the candle, and stoked the coal into a small blaze. He guessed that Emily would sleep for probably another hour. The drug he had used on the cloth held to her mouth would have only kept her unconscious for a short time, and so he had also forced a large dose of laudanum down her throat. She was sure to sleep a while longer, and he wanted to be the first thing she saw when she awoke. But there was certainly nothing to do in this small room for the next hour or so. He might as well head down to the taproom and have a pint or two while he waited.
Hugh took one more look at Emily and grinned in anticipation. He then walked into the deserted corridor and closed the door behind him. He carefully locked the door, pocketed the key, and headed for the taproom.
* * *
Emily opened her eyes and immediately shut them again. Her head was throbbing. She must have drunk too much champagne. She tried to raise her head but thought better of it and let it fall back onto the pillow. How much champagne had she drunk? It was odd, but she couldn't seem to remember much of anything. She didn't even recall going to bed. Yet she still felt so sleepy. Perhaps it was early morning, and she needn't worry about getting out of bed just yet. Eyes still closed, she tried to remember what had happened last night.
The ball had been a great success. She remembered that much. The ballroom had looked spectacular, she was not too proud to admit. She recalled dancing a few times and she remembered how handsome Robert had looked as she watched him twirl someone or other across the dance floor. She sighed at that remembrance.