by Regina Darcy
“Yes, Your Grace,” Jones said with dismay. He was envisioning his master carted off to jail dressed as a coachman.
“It’s a decent fit. I tried it last night and it’ll do quite well.”
“Very good, Your Grace,” Jones responded weakly, unable to do anything but assent, regardless of his private concerns.
“I shall bring her here, of course, but the household has been sworn to secrecy. Baxter and Mrs Thomas attended to that, as you are doubtless aware.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“Jones, you look as if you’re going to faint. Are you ill?”
“I believe I may have come down with something, Your Grace,” Jones replied.
“Oh. A pity. I was counting on you to assist me.”
“I could perhaps be of better use here, Your Grace, helping Mrs Thomas to prepare the . . . the quarters for the young woman.”
“Yes, I’ve already discussed that with Mrs Thomas. Lady Georgette shall be kept in the balcony suite. Although I have complete confidence in the staff, I think it best that she be somewhat sequestered from the rest of the house and the balcony suite will do splendidly. Besides which, she’ll have a splendid view of the garden, rather than the street.”
“Lady – did you say Lady Georgette, Your Grace?” Jones asked faintly.
“Yes, Lady Georgette. Her father is the Earl of—“
“Your Grace,” Jones was so shocked that he forgot decorum and interrupted the Duke. “Did you say that the young lady you are going to abduct is the daughter of an Earl?”
“Yes,” James replied, mystified by his valet’s alarm. “I told you that the scoundrel needs to marry an heiress and the Earl of Parsonville—“
“The Earl—the Earl of Parsonville, Your Grace?”
“I have said so, Jones. Your malady is affecting your hearing. Yes, the Earl of Parsonville.”
“He is a member of Parliament, Your Grace,” Jones said desperately. His master was sure to end up in gaol and it was quite apparent that Jones would never get another position.
Who would take on a man who had been the valet to someone who abducted the daughter of a member of Parliament?
“Yes, I believe he is. I had no idea that you were au courant with politics, Jones. I’m impressed. Now then, don’t dally. Finish shaving me. Time is of the essence, you know.”
***
As Georgette left her house, she did not notice the carriage driver waiting for her. There was no reason to. As his family did not entertain, the Earl did not keep a carriage in London and he had rented one for the occasion. The Earl himself had gone on ahead to the church.
Georgette’s disposition had been somewhat more amiable as the wedding neared and her father did not want to do or say anything that would disturb the peace which had reigned over the household of late. He was confident that this was the right course of action and that Georgette would have a life of her own, one which included marriage and a family one day. He wished there had been more time to thoroughly investigate the Viscount’s background, but the young man seemed suitable, and he had a title, after all.
Unaware that her driver was an imposter, Georgette thanked him for his assistance as he helped her into the carriage. The imposter bobbed his head respectfully and closed the door.
Inside the carriage, she watched from the window as the familiar street where she lived passed by.
The carriage driver was taking an unfamiliar route to the church, but doubtless there were many streets in London, which were unknown to her, as she went out so little. She supposed that once she was married, Lathan—how strange it seemed to be thinking of him in such a familiar manner, but one could not go on referring to one’s husband as ‘the Viscount’—would want to take part in various engagements which she was not used to. She would try to balance her duties as a wife with her responsibilities as a daughter. She was sure that Lathan would understand.
Georgette peered out the window of the carriage. She did not recall the journey from her home to the church ever taking quite this long. At times it seemed as though they were travelling on the same street that they had already been on, but that, of course, was not possible. She really was quite unfamiliar with the city. But what if she were late? It would not do to be late for her own wedding.
Georgette knocked on the roof of the carriage.
“Driver!” she called.
He didn’t seem to hear her; the horses did not stop and the carriage continued on its way.
Doubtless the driver knew what he was doing, Georgette decided.
Just then, the carriage stopped, but it was not in front of St. Martin’s Church, where it ought to have been. It was in front of a rather stately looking house, quite fashionable in design.
The driver opened the door.
“May I assist you, milady?”
“Assist me? Where are we?’
The driver grinned.
“Oh, there’s no need for an address, milady. I assure you that you will be quite comfortable.”
Saying this, he leaned forward, took hold of her and placed her over his shoulder as he strode through the gates of the residence. A groom who had been waiting stepped forward to the carriage.
“What are you—who are you! You rogue, you—you—you—” Georgette spurted as she began pummelling her fists against the drivers back but he only laughed as he walked up the steps of the house.
His arrival was anticipated; someone unseen opened the door and her captor walked inside. Without relinquishing his hold on her, the man she had believed to be her driver carried her up a staircase, down a corridor, and up another staircase. When he finally put her down, she found herself in a room which could not possibly have belonged to a carriage driver.
“Where am I?” she asked, staring at the elegant blue décor of the room with its intricately carved wooden furniture, floral wallpaper, and broad windows which emitted a generous expanse of sunlight.
With an exaggerated bow, the man swept his hat off his head. For a moment time stood still. Then her heart jolted and her pulse pounded.
What was this? Never had she felt such a malaise. Maybe she had eaten something that disagreed with her during the morning.
“You are in my home,” her captor said, clapping his hat back on his head. “And so you shall remain until the debt is paid.”
Georgette looked at him blankly, confusion soon colouring her features. Was this a madman?
“I do not owe a debt to you,” she declared haughtily. “I insist that you take me back at once. I am to be married.”
“I’m very sorry, milady, but you’re not getting married today. That’s a charming frock, and you’d have made a lovely bride, to be sure. Perhaps it will be better suited to another wedding, to a different bridegroom.”
Georgette stared at her captor with incredulity.
“You are a madman!”
“I am sorry to tell you that I am entirely sane. You are to remain here until your spendthrift bridegroom pays what he owes me.”
Georgette drew herself up to her full height which, as she was not tall and her captor was, failed to make the impression she intended.
“Viscount Lathan does not need to borrow money from the likes of you,” she declared haughtily. “He has his own resources. I do not know who you are, sir, but I suggest that you return me to St Martin’s church at once or you will find yourself in the most dire of straits once my father and my fiancé discover that I am missing.”
“They won’t discover it, though. You are my guest,” the man informed her coolly. “Guest sounds so much more hospitable than hostage, does it not?” he added with an irresistibly devastating grin. For a split second she was blinded by the beauty of the man. That is until he opened his mouth again.
“You shall stay here until I decide you are to leave.”
A flicker of fear crawled up Georgette’s spine making her tremble. She glanced around her. The opulence of her surroundings only heightened her anxiety. What member of hig
h society would drag a bride away from her wedding?
He was mad.
Devastatingly handsome but clearly mad.
And that nonsense about the Viscount owing him money, why, that was more of his madness.
“They will know that I am not there, assuredly,” she said in a soothing voice, trying to reason with the madman. “A wedding cannot proceed without a bride.”
“Are you hungry? I’ve always heard that brides are too nervous to eat on their wedding day, but as this will not be your wedding day, you might as well enjoy a meal. I have an excellent kitchen staff; you will not starve during your sojourn here.”
“You cannot expect me to stay here!”
“Have I not just gone to some lengths to explain that staying here is precisely what I do expect you to do?” he asked impatiently, as if she had failed in a very simple test.
He came closer. “You are quite safe, have no fear. You are beautiful.” His gaze drifted over her, appreciating the slender contours of her figure and the dark wealth of her hair in its pearl netting. “But I am a gentleman.”
As his gaze continued to ravish her as no man ever had, Georgette felt her cheeks heat. She was suddenly overwhelmed with an emotion she did not recognise.
“You are a carriage driver and a kidnapper!” she cried out.
Before she quite realised what she was about to do, her hand had, of its own volition, slapped him across his face. Silence descended over the room.
Georgette clamped a hand over her mouth.
The man looked surprised as he rubbed the place upon his jaw where she had struck him.
“I’ve been a gentleman, but that was hardly the conduct of a lady,” he remarked. “No one has ever done that to me before. I shall attribute your colère to hunger. You might as well make yourself comfortable. There are dresses in the wardrobe. They belong to my sister but as I have sent her to Bath, she will not notice that they are being worn. She is small and slender like you; they ought to fit. I’ll send up a maid to help you with your dressing.”
“You—you mean to keep me here?” she whispered. He could not be serious.
The man sighed. “Milady, you do not appear to be deficient of wit, but you have repeated that question more times than intelligence would credit.”
“But—my wedding . . . my father . . . the Viscount . . .”
“They will assume that you have had second thoughts and have run off rather than marry.”
“I would not do that!”
“As you are not at the church and are nowhere to be found, they must assume that you did.”
“They will discover that I have been abducted,” Georgette insisted stubbornly.
“By whom? You were seen entering the carriage and the carriage was seen driving off. No one will guess that anything untoward happened.”
“The carriage driver . . . you have killed him! My father hired a driver—”
“I have not killed anybody! Really, milady, please refrain from melodrama. Carriage drivers are not well paid, were you aware of that? It makes them unreliable in employment, particularly if they receive an offer to travel elsewhere, outside of London, and are well compensated for doing so.
Georgette stared at him, this madman who spoke with a confidence only gained as a member of the highest society, met her gaze with what appeared to be complete lucidity. What mess had she ended up in?
“You—planned this entire thing?” she finally said, the seriousness of her situation dawning on her.
“Of course I planned it! You cannot think that this was a spontaneous act, surely?” he spurted sounding miffed. “I like to think of myself as a man capable of improvisation but a plan of this magnitude took a certain amount of preparation. However, that need not concern you, milady,” he continued.
“What do you mean ‘that need not concern’ me?” she demanded. “You have kidnapped me and brought me here against my will! You have stolen me away from my bridegroom and my father! You have—”
The man held up his hand.
“Yes, well, you perceive things in a rather distorted manner, milady. A loan that is not repaid is a form of theft. I am merely providing the Viscount with an alternate payment opportunity. Think of yourself as collateral.”
“How dare you impugn the character of Viscount Lathan? I know him to be a man of honour!”
“I am afraid, milady,” the man replied in steely tones, “that if you believe that, then you do not know him well at all.”
FIVE
As James left the chamber, he reflected that it was just as well that he had sent Ariana to Bath to join their mother. She was an inquisitive young lady and might have objected to his tactics in procuring payment of the debt owed by Viscount Lathan. He was glad, too, that he had had the foresight to hire a lady’s maid to attend to Lady Georgette, someone not of the household staff, but rather a person who would report directly to him and not engage in heedless gossip or chatter.
Miss Helena Wright appeared to be a sober and sensible woman of middle years who would value a good reference when this assignment was completed.
This was going to be rather more intricate a plot than what he had first envisioned. For one thing, he had not expected the kidnapped bride to be so alluring. When he had first laid eyes on her, the thoughts that tumbled through his mind were best suited for a gentleman’s mistress. The woman was … no, he dared not think it.
He rubbed his jaw. She was certainly spirited. Although he had doubtless deserved it many times over in his past, no woman had ever slapped his face with such force, as if she meant it. He thought that Lady Georgette had indeed meant it, and he reflected ruefully that it was a very good thing that she hadn’t a sword or pistol at hand.
He would have to keep her hidden long enough for the excitement over her disappearance to die down, but that would be easy enough to accomplish, he thought. It would not be difficult to see to the spreading of a rumour that the bride had developed a case of nerves and had run away rather than marry. Women were always doing hysterical things of that sort, were they not, he told himself. All he need do was spread the word that Viscount Lathan was not whom he presented himself to be—which was true enough—and the seeds would be sown. It was a pity about the father having to worry over his daughter’s disappearance, but that would be resolved at some point.
James rubbed his jaw again. It still stung from the slap Georgette had inflicted. No woman had ever taken him so totally by surprise. He didn’t think any woman ever would. It would be a pity for such spirit to be wasted on a parasite like Lathan.
She looked so slender, and indeed, she was slender, as he knew from carrying her from the carriage to the inside of the manor, but that petite package of femininity was a firebrand. He clenched and unclenched his fist, he had been itching to run his fingers through her magnificent crown, to pull out all her pins and let her beautiful locks tumble around her like a waterfall. At the thought, his mouth went dry.
Such folly.
He shook his head as if to awaken himself from a spell and made a silent vow to stay well away from the alluring bride.
As he strode through his Mayfair townhouse he hollered to the butler to summon Miss Wright to his study.
***
“Miss Wright, I have, as I told you, brought Lady Georgette here. As I explained earlier, she suffers from a regrettable misapprehension that the man she was to marry is a paragon of integrity when, in fact, he is a cad, a bounder, and a rogue. She is here for her own safety. But young ladies are rarely convinced of the merit of submitting to what is good for them.”
Miss Wright’s expression gave nothing away. She continued to listen with an attentive expression.
“I shall count on you to try to soothe her during the days when she is here. She is not to leave the house, but I don’t wish for her to feel herself a captive. Every effort will be made to provide for her comfort and ease. For right now, she is likely hungry and thirsty. Will you see that the kitchen provides nourishment f
or her?”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“You will sleep in the room adjoining her suite; I believe you will be quite comfortable there, and you will be near enough to respond when she has need of you. She appears to be a frail young woman, but I have discovered that she is endowed with a certain level of fury.”
“Would the evidence of that be the handprint on your face, Your Grace?” she inquired calmly.
He had not realised that her slap had left its mark. Gingerly he placed his palm against the tender area on his face. “It would.”
“Is she in a distressed mental state?” Miss Wright inquired. “Mayhaps of danger to herself or to others?”
“Only to me, Miss Wright,” James replied. “Only to me.”
James decided that the best course of action for handling the thwarted bride was to give her some time to adjust to her altered circumstances and with that in mind, he avoided seeing her for the next two days, trusting that Miss Wright would attend to her needs.
Wondering what the on dit was in London, he went to White’s to catch up on the tittle-tattle.
He was greeted upon his entrance at White’s by several of his friends who wondered where he had been of late. James explained that he had been away in Scotland, fishing, omitting the fact that he had been home sooner than anyone realised.
Lord Henry Acton, a happy portly chap, pointed to the scoreboard.
“Do you know what the betting is now?”
“I’ve no idea.”
“Haven’t you heard? Well, if you’ve been away, I suppose you haven’t heard.”
“Come and catch me up on the news over a meal. I’m quite famished.”
Henry was agreeable and over venison fillets and cognac, he acquainted James with the latest news in the city.
“Lathan has lost a bride and the word is that he can’t afford to.”
“How does one lose a bride?”
Henry grinned. “You manage rather well, do you not?”
“I do not lose them,” James was at pains to clarify. “I do not acquire them. I assume from your choice of words that the Viscount was actually engaged to some unfortunate female.”