Miles took a step toward her to share this discovery. But his movement only served to scare her.
“No!” Isobel almost yelled the word toward him before she turned and ran out the door. He let her go, unable to gather his thoughts or slow his breathing. What had he done? The ache in his chest grew unbearable.
Chapter 14
What have I done?
Isobel stood outside the closed door, her hand pressed to her mouth, trying to erase the feel of Lord Revere's lips on hers. She had kissed the man who was supposed to be her sister’s husband. And the worst of it was that she wanted to do it again.
What have I done? So many emotions welled up within her breast that she could hardly breathe. But when she put her hand over her heart to still its rapid motion, but that only brought the memory of Lord Revere's hand there.
Isobel's fist closed over the ringlet. She crushed the delicate curl and cursed the vanity that had put it there this evening.
What have I done? The question propelled her down the hallway toward some unknown destination. She only needed to be away from that room. And from him. He'd dazzled her and she, like a silly girl, had fallen for it. The intimacy of the darkened room, the closeness of their dance. Isobel had lost her senses.
Or found them. Nine and twenty years of life had not provided her with many exquisite moments like that. But it was not supposed to be her moment. It should have been Cat’s.
Isobel had been so carried away by the feeling of being in a man’s arms. For the first time in a long time, she had felt comfortable and safe just as she was. No need to worry. She'd even forgotten her past with Lord Revere. He had been so gentle.
And then it had all come crashing in. She had kissed her sister's intended husband.
What now? She could not stay here. She could not face him again. Nor could she face going to the ballroom to find Aunt Hetty or Cat.
Home. It was all she could think of. Home. She needed her own room. She needed to lay on the bed and weep out all the emotion inside of her. Only then could she decide what to do.
Home. She would go now. Gathering the tiny scrap of self-possession that she had left, Isobel made her way to the front door. Should she call Aunt Hetty and Cat? No. Isobel did not want to ruin the rest of their evening. Besides, she would have to explain herself. No, home was not far away. The brisk night air would do her good and help her clear her head.
Isobel gathered her coat from the footman and stepped out into the midnight air. She inhaled deeply, the chilly air filling her aching chest.
With each few strides, she took a deep breath. It calmed her after the turmoil of what had just happened. Nothing had changed, nothing was resolved, but her own mind was calmer now that she was doing something. She stopped and closed her eyes.
And so she did not see the dark figure until he had overtaken her and clapped a dirty hand firmly over her mouth. She felt something cold jab into her neck.
“Don't move or scream, lass, or I will kill you.”
Isobel whimpered as the panic rose within her.
“Good. You've made my job very easy tonight. Now we're gonna get into that carriage. Don’t fight or you die. Understand?”
Isobel nodded as his legs kicked hers into motion. She stumbled forward, terror for her life prompting her to obey each order.
The rough man pushed her into the vehicle and climbed in beside her.
“Don't scream,” he commanded. His pistol gleamed in the dim light from the lantern outside of the carriage.
Isobel was too terrified to do anything but stare at the weapon. Surely this was a nightmare. It had to be. This whole evening had to be some kind of nightmare. Isobel prayed she would wake up soon.
Chapter 15
“Jack, have you seen my sister lately?” Cat looked around the ballroom for the third time as she spoke. Fewer and fewer couples were dancing now and the ball was coming to a close.
“No, Miss Catherine, I cannot say that I have seen your sister,” Jack Shepherd answered her with a sheepish look. “I have not been much in the ballroom, though, so I might have missed her.”
Cat smothered a smile. Aunt Hetty had reported to Cat some time ago that Lord Revere's younger brother was making quite a name for himself in the card room, to the chagrin of both the gentlemen he was wagering against and the young ladies who had counted on him as a dance partner.
He had made a brief appearance in order to dance with Cat earlier in the evening – and he had been an admirable partner, she had to admit – but then he had disappeared back into the card room.
Cat had not been abandoned, though. It seemed that Izzy's fall – awful as it had been – had drawn attention to her younger sister. Men who had not noticed her before had been approaching Aunt Hetty all evening and begging to be introduced. Some of the men had been so obsequious that she'd had a hard time not laughing in their faces. But in spite of those fellows, she had found the attentions quite pleasant. And had not much missed her sister.
Or Lord Revere.
Cat had been very pleased to see him so attentive to Izzy. And even more pleased when he had gone off to check if she was all right. But Cat had seen neither of them for some time now. Half of her was worried, and the other half was delighted. She and Aunt Hetty could not have planned it better.
But now it was time to go and she still did not see any sign of her sister or Lord Revere. If Jack had not seen them either, something might have happened. Or be happening...
“Cat, where is your sister? I am tired and in need of my bed,” Aunt Hetty asked.
“I have not seen her recently, aunt. But I believe she will still be in the room where we last left her.”
“Go and seek her out, please. We really must be getting home.”
“Of course, aunt.” Cat moved along the wall until she reached the front hallway. She opened two doors before she found the room where they had left Izzy. Someone was in the chair, but it was not her sister, unless Izzy had grown long legs and clad them in immaculate black knee breeches.
“Lord Revere?” Cat tentatively approached the chair. The man's face emerged from behind one of the wings.
“Miss Catherine? Is everything all right?”
She looked at him in puzzlement. “I might ask you the same question, sir. I thought to find Izzy here. Have you seen my sister?”
In the dim light, Cat thought she saw Lord Revere's face contract for a moment in pain. He sighed.
“Isobel... Miss Masters was here, but I have not seen her in quite awhile.”
“How long exactly?” Cat was alarmed. Where was Izzy?
“You mean that she has not been with you?” He rose from the chair.
“Not since we placed her in here to recover.” Cat shook her head.
“That has been hours ago. Did she never return to the ballroom?” Lord Revere stepped toward her.
“No, and Mr. Shepherd has not seen her either. Where do you think she might be?”
“I do not know. But this worries me.”
“Lord Revere, I beg of you not to think me impertinent, but...” Cat stalled, unable to think of a good way to ask what she wanted to ask. Lord Revere seemed to know what she wanted to ask.
“Miss Catherine, I am not proud to say it, but your sister left here in some anger at me. I do not know where she went.”
Cat studied the look on Lord Revere's face. He seemed genuinely distressed. And even in the dim light she thought she recognized traces of tears on his face. Has he been crying? What on earth happened between the two of them to make the man cry? Cat would definitely have to discuss this with Izzy. As soon as they found her.
“Lord Revere, would you do me the favor of asking the footmen if they have seen my sister? Perhaps she left the house and returned home without telling us.”
“Yes. Yes, of course.” He seemed glad of having something to do. “I will meet you at the front door. Shall I also request your carriage?”
“Please. Aunt Hetty is ready to return home.�
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“As am I,” Cat heard him mutter. She followed Lord Revere out of the room and headed toward the ballroom to collect her aunt.
“Aunt, we cannot find Izzy. It appears that she may have already gone home. Lord Revere is requesting our carriage and asking the footmen if they've seen her.”
Jack had stayed with Aunt Hetty and heard the former pronouncement. “Miss Masters, Miss Catherine, might I be of any assistance?”
“You might, young man,” Aunt Hetty said as she took his arm. He escorted her toward the front hall where Cat was hopeful they would find out more about Izzy.
Lord Revere met them at the front door. “The carriage is being brought 'round.”
“And Izzy?” Cat asked.
“The footman says she left about two hours ago.”
“Two hours? I cannot believe it.”
“He says she stopped only for her coat and then struck out on foot.”
“What could have possessed her?” Cat exclaimed.
“A girl needs a walk now and again,” Aunt Hetty added to the conversation. Cat turned to her in disbelief.
“But a walk in the middle of the night and in the cold?”
Aunt Hetty shrugged. “A walk at any time and in any weather might clear the mind.” She looked significantly at Lord Revere. He did not notice, though, as he had stepped back toward the footman to ask another question. When he returned to the group, he had more information.
“She struck out in that direction,” Lord Revere pointed to the right.
“That's the direction to go home!” Cat said.
“There now. I said the girl just needed a walk. She is probably waiting for us all snug in the house.”
Cat felt some relief at this. It was a sensible solution and her aunt seemed so sure of it. Izzy was waiting at home, of course. She probably had her feet propped on a chair and was drinking a nice cup of warm tea.
“Ladies, shall we escort you home?” Lord Revere asked as the carriage pulled up to the house.
“Thank you, that will not be necessary, sir,” Aunt Hetty answered. “I am sure my niece is waiting for us.”
“I do hope so, Miss Masters. I will call tomorrow, if I might, to check on everything?” Cat was glad to hear this. She would have time to patch up whatever had gone wrong between Lord Revere and Izzy.
Aunt Hetty inclined her head and gave him a smile. “We will see you tomorrow, then, sir.”
“Thank you for your help!” Cat yelled out as he shut the door and the carriage pulled away.
* * * * *
Miles was not as certain as Aunt Hetty that Isobel was waiting for them at home. He would never forgive himself if something happened to her.
As they stood in the hall removing their coats, Watson approached Miles quietly and carefully, as if he had something to relate but was unsure how to approach his master.
“Sir,” he said and cleared his throat.
“Yes?”
“A note arrived while you were out.” The butler held out his hand with a smudged and folded sheet of paper.
“A note? At this hour?”
“Yes, sir. From a man who did not look very respectable. He declared to me that it was urgent and that you read it as soon as you arrived.”
Fear rushed through him. Miles ripped open the paper and read the short lines. A moment was all he needed to burn them on his mind forever.
Lord Revere,
I have taken Miss Masters.
If you expect her back unharmed, come to The Queen's Ring by 4 o'clock this morning.
Thomas Davenport
“Where is The Queen's Ring? And who is Thomas Davenport?” Miles asked frantically, crumbling the paper in his hand and reaching again for his coat.
“What is it?” Jack asked, his panic increasing along with his brother's.
“Someone has kidnapped Isobel.” Miles felt bile rise in his throat. The word unharmed echoed through his head.
“What?” Jack's eyes were wide. “Why?” The brothers ran out the door to the carriage which had not yet been driven away.
“Miles, we have to go tell Miss Catherine and Miss Masters what has happened.”
“No, we must go to find her.” Miles was in a blind panic. He could think of nothing except getting to Isobel. Some mad man had kidnapped her and only Miles could save her.
“Miles.” Jack grabbed his brother and held him still. “What does the note say?”
Miles concentrated on Jack's face and answered. “Someone has kidnapped Isobel and I must go to The Queen's Ring by three in the morning.” He started off again before Jack's voice broke in.
“Miles, it is only a little after one o'clock now. We have time. Let me write a note to Miss Catherine, please.”
Miles knew his brother spoke sense, but he did not want to hear it. Isobel was in trouble now. She needed help now. He took a deep breath.
“Fine, but hurry.”
Chapter 16
“You imbecile!” Thomas Davenport smacked the disheveled man hard across the face. “This is the wrong woman!” He spat out the words as if they would make sense to the stupid man in front of him.
“I'm s-s-sorry, sir.” It was all the explanation Benson seemed inclined to offer. Of course he would have nothing to say to defend himself. Thomas wheeled around on his heel, turning his back on the man now cowering away from him.
“Never send an idiot to do your work, Davenport,” he mumbled to himself. Then he began to speak loudly so that the imbecile could hear him. “I knew I should have done this myself. All I asked was that you quietly kidnap the Masters girl and bring her to me. That was all I needed you to do. But could you even get that right? No. Instead you brought me the fat, frumpy one that no one cares about.”
Thomas took an angry step away from Benson and toward the captive. This was Isobel Masters, the older sister of the girl he'd really wanted, the pretty younger one, who was engaged, or expected to be engaged, to Miles Shepherd, Baron of Revere.
Thomas had plotted and planned how to get revenge on the man who had stripped him of his inheritance and dignity in front of all those men in the club. They had all laughed at him and then acted as if he did not even merit the laughter they'd given. Revere had humiliated him. And now he wanted to make the man suffer.
For two weeks, Thomas had been watching and waiting for the right opportunity. He'd been studying Revere at every moment to see where he was most vulnerable. And finally he'd found it. That night at Mrs. Starr’s. Revere hadn't even known he was there, couldn’t be bothered to remember a man he’d ruined. It was one more proof that he needed to be punished.
Thomas thought he'd hit on the perfect scheme. So perfect because it was so devious. Thomas knew enough about Lord Revere to have noticed that he would not particularly care if anything happened to himself. But to someone he knew and maybe even someone he loved – if the man was capable of love at all, that was – there was his Achilles' heel.
But the idiot Benson had brought the wrong woman! Anger surged through Thomas and he snarled. “What am I to do about this?”
He studied his prisoner. Her hands and feet were lashed to a chair and her mouth was stopped with his handkerchief. She'd started to talk back to him and Thomas couldn't stand it. As he looked at her now, he thought he saw a look of contempt. How dare she! He wanted to smack her but knew that wouldn't do. If he wanted Revere, he must treat his captive kindly.
“Hello, Miss Masters,” he spoke in a sickly sweet voice. She flinched as he stepped closer to her.
Thomas held his hands up in a gesture of peace.
“I have no plans to harm you, as long as you cooperate with me,” he pronounced the words slowly, making sure she’d understand. “However, I will keep you restrained, just to be sure. It is no use fighting against your bonds, anyway.” Even in the dim lighting, Thomas could see the anger in her eyes. She wanted to fight. That was good. In different circumstances he might almost have liked this Isobel Masters.
“You may h
ave heard my exchange just now with my idiot there.” He gestured toward the man still cowering in the corner. “And from that exchange you might have guessed that he was supposed to have kidnapped your sister and not yourself.” Her eyes were burning into him. It created a delightful sensation. Already Thomas could feel the rush of power over someone else. How much better it would be once he had his true quarry in his grasp.
“So, I am sorry for the inconvenience to your person, but you will have to remain with us until Revere decides to give himself up to me. I hope that you will prove enough of an incentive for him. I had planned to have his betrothed, but maybe her sister will do just as well as she.” He leaned close to his captive and felt her strain to move away from him. He smiled at her and whispered, “Well, let us hope that he will ride to your rescue. Otherwise...” He raised his eyebrows and let her imagination do the rest. He did not want to hurt her. But he would not rule it out.
“Sir?” Benson spoke. Thomas turned back and stared at him hard through the dim light.
“What?” He growled.
“My payment, sir? You promised a pound for bringing her here.”
“I did, did I?” Thomas's lip curled in a sarcastic smile. “Actually, I believe the contract was for the other sister. So, you failed.”
“But still, sir...” The man protested.
“What?” Thomas sighed.
“I did bring you this lady here... And you paid the cab driver his full share.”
“He did not ask questions. And he did his job correctly.”
“So,” the man stood up straight to make his next request. “I think I deserve my payment.”
“Very well,” Thomas spoke in resigned tones. He could have laughed at the startled look on the man's face. Benson had clearly not been expecting him to give in so easily.
Thomas smiled to himself as he reached into his coat pocket. Before the idiot knew what was happening, Thomas shot him in the head.
The Wrong Woman (Unexpected Love #1) Page 10