The Marquis and I Page 2

  Con’s only hope that this would be an easy task died a quick death when the servant’s features froze. Definitely not a pretty sight. No wonder Worthington wanted the man to smile.

  “Indeed not, my lord.” The butler’s lips barely moved. “Her ladyship would never disgrace her family in any way.” The man glanced down the street in the direction of the carriage. “Please hurry, my lord. They are getting away.”

  Con gritted his teeth. “I am turning the horses as quickly as I am able.” What a pity. That meant someone was intent on harming Worthington or his family. Then again, it could be an attempt to compromise the lady into marriage. “Inform Lord Worthington that I have gone to her rescue.” Con almost cringed. Devil take it. He sounded like a character out of those romances his sister liked. “Better yet, tell him I have it all in hand.”

  “Yes, my lord. You might also wish to know that Jemmy, one of the younger boys, jumped onto the back of the coach.”

  How young? Con wondered. Still, it didn’t matter. He hoped the lad would be helpful. If not, he would be rescuing a helpless lady and an equally useless boy.

  Devil take it.

  The Lords wasn’t in session today. He had no real reason to be out and about. He should have just stayed at Aimée’s house. If it had not been for a letter concerning a problem at his main estate—that still would not be taken care of—he would have been there, and not here chasing after some insipid young female.

  Never mind that she was a friend’s sister; he had yet to meet a young lady who wasn’t too dull to bear. And this one would most likely be hysterical as well.

  Con scowled. He had done nothing to deserve this inconvenience. He took care of his holdings and dependents, was active in the Lords, and he loved his mother and other family members, even if he did refuse to heed their exhortations to wed. He had plenty of time yet before he had to don a leg-shackle. His life was exactly as he wished it to be.

  Until now.

  An uneasy feeling like ants crawled up his neck. What rot. Now is not the time to become fanciful.

  He’d rescue the girl, Worthington would owe Con a favor, and all would be well. With luck he’d be back in time for dinner with the lovely Aimée, and then the theater. Innocents held no interest for him at all. He didn’t even like being around them. Still, he could not refuse to help a friend.

  Glancing up the street, he saw the coach was still in sight. “I shall return her to you soon.”

  He gave his horses the office to start. Fortunately the pair was fresh and ready for some exercise.

  Several minutes later, Con had time to take in the details of the vehicle he was following. Not so large, most likely it had once been a town coach. The boy—for the figure on the back was definitely a child, a small child—had a wide enough platform on which to stand. There were handles as well and no back window. The carriage had obviously belonged to someone who, while concerned for their servant’s comfort, did not wish to see them or vice versa. And that worked out well for Con. By the time whoever was in charge of kidnapping the lady—damn, what had the butler said her name was? Lady Charlotte. That was it—knew Con was after them, it would be too late for the blackguards to escape him.

  Better yet, he might be able to steal the lady away when the coach stopped to change horses or for a rest. Stealth in these matters was much better than declaring his rank and making a scene. It would help no one if the girl’s reputation was ruined in the process.

  Checking his pair, he stayed far enough back to blend in with the other traffic, but not so far away that there was a chance of losing them in the midday traffic. If he had brought his pistol, or there were not three of the blackguards, Con would have attempted to drive ahead of the coach and stop it. But there was too much traffic, and he did not have a death wish.

  He transferred the ribbons to one hand, pulled out his pocket watch and flipped it open. Blast it all. It was almost four o’clock. That would teach him to laze about in the mornings.

  Nevertheless, if the Fates were with him he’d be able to get the young lady back in good time to finish his business and attend the theater this evening.

  An hour later, Con resigned himself to not only missing dinner but the theater as well. He had passed the southern outskirts of London into Surrey, heading toward the coast. That was not a good sign at all.

  Chapter Two

  Con drove into the yard of the Hare and Hound on the heels of the coach carrying Worthington’s sister. Jumping down from his phaeton, he strode to the back of the coach and grabbed the boy, Jemmy, before anyone else saw him.

  “Hey!” The lad wiggled, trying to get away. “Whatcha doin’?”

  The boy couldn’t be more than five or six. How in perdition had he been left unsupervised?

  Before Jemmy could start yelling and draw unwanted attention to them, Con bent down and whispered into the boy’s ear, “Worthington’s butler sent me to help.”

  “Yer here to help Lady Charlotte?” the boy asked.

  Con inclined his head. “Yes, indeed. I am Lord Kenilworth, a friend of your master’s.”

  Talk about an old soul in a young body. Con was sure he had not been eyed that suspiciously since he’d been caught stealing a whole pie from his mother’s cook and had lied about it.

  Finally acceptance showed on Jemmy’s face and he nodded. “How’re we running this rig?”

  Glancing up, Con saw the lady propelled into the inn by a big brute. “I want you to pretend you’re my groom. Do you understand?”

  Jemmy’s sharp eyes narrowed. “How’s that going to get my lady out of here right and tight?”

  He wasn’t at all stupid. Con’s first thoughts had been to see the child safe, but now he’d have to come up with a plan before he could see to Jemmy’s well-being. “You help the ostler with my horses. At the same time, get a good look at the man with black hair who went into the stables. He’s one of the rogues that abducted your lady. While you’re doing that, I’m going to make myself the most pompous lord you’ve ever seen. All you have to do is get friendly with the inn’s staff. Make up any story you want, but find out which room Lady Charlotte is in and whether or not she is alone.”

  Bouncing on the balls of his feet, Jemmy began to smile and he looked like a young child again. “Then we rescue her?”

  “Then you tell her I shall rescue her.” When the boy’s face fell, Con held up his hand to stop the coming argument. “I’m sending you back to Worthington House to inform the others of her ladyship’s whereabouts and that she will be safe. But first you must find her and tell her I’m here. I’ll use the name Lord Braxton.” That way if anyone came looking for Lady Charlotte, they’d be following the wrong man. It was a shame Con could not simply walk in and take her back, but the lady’s reputation was at stake, and he still had to contend with the blackguards who had kidnapped her.

  The inn was in a village off the main toll roads, but not by much. All he could do was hope that neither Braxton himself nor anyone who knew him would make an appearance. Con glanced at the inn once more. It didn’t appear to be a place the ton would frequent, but one never knew.

  Jemmy seemed to consider Con’s orders before agreeing. Perdition! Did any of Worthington’s servants behave as they should?

  “I’ll do it.” He gave a sharp nod.

  “Good.” Not that the lad had had a real choice in the matter. “I’ll hire a horse for you to ride back to London on.”

  The boy’s brows lowered and he shook his head slowly back and forth. “Can’t do it.”

  “What do you mean you cannot do it?” Raising a brow, Con gave the boy a look that struck fear in most who saw it. “Of course you can.”

  “Can’t, not won’t. I don’t know how to ride yet.”

  Hell and the devil. He dragged a hand down his face. “Find out if a stagecoach goes through here, or the mail.”

  A grin appeared on Jemmy’s face. “I ain’t never been on a public coach before.”

  “I hope you enj
oy the treat.” And did not cause too many problems. “Hurry up. These horses must be rubbed down and settled. They can’t wait until the other coach’s horses are finished.” Con started to walk away, then turned. “You do know how to do that?”

  “I’m really good at taking care of horses. The riding’s goin’ to take a bit.”

  Why in God’s name Worthington had a groom who couldn’t ride was beyond Con. Then again, why a child was in the man’s employ didn’t make sense either. He felt like he’d been dropped into a madhouse.

  He waited, perusing the outside of the building with his quizzing glass. The inn was at least two hundred years old. As with many of the older structures, the windows were not terribly large. A small person could climb out of them. But that was all one could do. No obliging trellis or ivy vines graced the outside walls of the inn.

  One of the ostlers came out, and after having a word with Jemmy, took the horses into the stables. From the corner of his eye he saw Jemmy run around to the back of the building. It should not take him too long to discover where the lady was.

  Several moments later, after scanning the area as if he were looking for something, Con quickened his pace, striding into the inn and bellowing, “Landlord, I must have the landlord now.” Pitching his voice in a higher, more peevish tone, he continued. “Do you not know who I am?”

  A man who looked to be in his twenties came running up, untying his apron from around his waist. “My pa will be back directly. May I help you, sir?”

  Con leveled his quizzer at the man. “Your lordship—not sir, lordship. I am Lord Braxton. My valet was to have arrived over an hour ago, but I do not see my traveling coach. His orders were to bespeak a bedchamber and private parlor for my use, as well as rooms for him and my grooms and footmen.”

  “No—no, my lord. The only guests we have are a—a . . . another party that just arrived.”

  So, the landlord and his employees knew not to talk about Lady Charlotte. That was interesting. Were they also involved in the abduction?

  Con puffed out his chest, and huffed. “Are you telling me you have no chambers?”

  The innkeeper arrived, pushing the younger man out of the way. “My lord.” The landlord bowed low. “We do indeed have a large chamber and a private parlor.”

  Con let the landlord soothe his supposedly ruffled feathers for several minutes before he agreed to the accommodations. “However, the fact remains that my valet is lost. I shall need to send my groom back to London. Does a mail coach come through here?”

  “Indeed, my lord.” The innkeeper bowed again. “It should be here in two hours.”

  He kept the man busy discussing items of which he normally took no notice. After sufficient time had passed to assure Jemmy had been able to speak to Lady Charlotte, Con said in the tone of one who cannot be pleased, “That will do. As for now, I have waited here long enough. I wish to be shown to my chamber.”

  The landlord bowed once more. “Please follow me, my lord.”

  He strode off after the innkeeper, hoping he’d given Jemmy enough time to find the lady. Con wished to be on the road back to Town before much longer.

  * * *

  Charlotte had been given warm wash water and was promised her dinner would arrive shortly. Yet when she had tried to strike up a conversation with the maid who had brought the water and told her what she’d have to eat, the girl’s lips clamped tightly together.

  She sighed. “I take it you are not allowed to speak to me beyond what is required.”

  The maid nodded. Obviously, there would be no help from that quarter.

  Drat. At the very least, she had hoped to discover more information about the inn and where exactly she was in relation to London. Yet, it would have been nice to enlist help in escaping.

  After the girl left, Charlotte glanced out of the open windows. She might be able to climb out of them, but there did not seem to be any way to climb down. Aside from that, her chamber faced the street, where anyone would be able to see her.

  If only she knew where the two dastards who had abducted her were, she was sure she could pick the lock on the door and sneak downstairs, safe in the knowledge they could not catch her. It would not do her any good at all to run smack into them when she was trying to escape. She was sure the one would make good on his threat to tie her up.

  There must be some person in the village from whom she could seek help.

  Charlotte peered out the window again. A church steeple rose not far away. Possibly the vicar? Surely a clergyman would consent to aid her and keep her confidence. After all, she did not want everyone and his dog to know she’d been kidnapped. Even if none of this was her fault, it would ruin her reputation if anyone discovered what had happened.

  Then again, she did not wish to place anyone else in danger. And there was still the question of who had taken her.

  A scratching came from the basket.

  Before she did anything else, she had to take care of Collette.

  Charlotte opened the basket lid, and the kitten popped up.

  Picking the poor little thing up, she scratched her jowls until the cat began to purr. “I know, sweetheart. This has not been a wonderful day.” Going to the space behind the dressing screen, she located the chamber pot, but not the lid. Finally, she found it in a corner. “We shall have to try something new.” At home she and her sister Louisa had taught their kittens to use a board placed over the chamber pot. This would be messier, but at least the lid had leather hinges so that half of it could be folded over the other half, providing some stability for the cat. “Here we go.”

  Thankfully, Collette was either too happy to be able to relieve herself or she was a much better traveler than Charlotte could have thought, for she did not complain at all but merely did her duty.

  She had just put the kitten down when someone scratched at the door. Goodness, it couldn’t be the maid again so soon. She’d have to hide Collette.

  As she lifted the kitten, a childish voice whispered from the other side of the door, “My lady, it’s Jemmy.”

  Jemmy? Did that mean some of the other servants had come as well? Was she saved?

  Charlotte rushed to the door. “Jemmy, what are you doing here?”

  “I remembered how you helped me, and when I saw those men, I jumped on the back of the coach so’s I could help you.”

  She had rescued him from one of the criminal organizations that trained young children to pick pockets and other things.

  Tears of gratitude pricked her eyes. “Did any of the footmen or grooms come with you?”

  “No, my lady. Just me. None of them was fast enough.” That was said with more than a little pride.

  “Very good.” He was being taught along with her younger brother and sisters, and she praised him for his progress. She wondered what he was doing outside by himself. That, however, would be a question for later. At the moment, Charlotte was glad to hear his voice, yet now she would have to find a way to get them both home safely. “Jemmy, you must not let them catch you.”

  “I won’t, my lady. I come—came to tell you a friend of his lordship’s is here. He’s gonna rescue you. He told the innkeeper he was Lord Braxton and acted all pomp—pomp something so’s I’d have time to find you. He’s sending me back to London on a coach.” His whispered voice became excited. “Won’t that be a grand adventure?”

  “Yes, it will.” Charlotte leaned her head against the door as her anxiety flowed out of her.

  Thank God someone had come after her. A burble of laughter almost burst forth.

  And thank the Fates it was not the real Lord Braxton. The man had the biggest mouth in Town. Less than an hour after they returned, the whole ton would have heard about her misadventure, and she’d be ruined.

  Still, the idea was brilliant, and Jemmy would be safe. “What is the gentleman’s plan?”

  “Don’t rightly know—” Just then an aristocratic voice broke the relative silence of the inn. “That’d be him now. Said he was g
oing to cause a bobbery.”

  When they got home, she would have to work with him some more on his language.

  “Thank you for coming to me. Please tell him that I have a scheme to get out of my chamber and that if he would kindly be standing by with his conveyance . . .” She frowned. There was no knowing when the inn would quiet down and she could trust her abductors were asleep. “Well, he should know when it is safe.”

  “Someone’s coming. I gotta go.”

  A few moments later a loud knock sounded on the door.

  “Unless you want that maid to get hurt, and yourself tied up and gagged, don’t try to talk to her no more,” Burt growled from the corridor.

  Well, drat. The girl must have told the innkeeper. She certainly did not wish to be responsible for the maid being harmed. “I promise I shall not do so again.”

  “See that ye don’t.”

  Charlotte leaned her back against the door and listened to his steps on the bare wooden floor as he strode down the corridor.

  The loud, aristocratic voice had faded.

  It was good of the gentleman to send Jemmy back to Town. If only she could go with him she would be happier. Although, he had said that the gentleman had a carriage. With luck she could be home before morning. She did not want to consider what would happen if she did not return by then. The stagecoach would have been much less trouble.

  With her eldest sister, now the Countess of Worthington, and her brother-in-law gone away for a few days, and Lord Harrington, the only man currently courting her, attending his father, Charlotte had cried off her engagements rather than bother her cousin Jane to chaperone her. It was, therefore, a possibility that no one would notice she was not present. If someone did—she grimaced—well, she would simply have to cross that bridge when she came to it. Surely, between her and her family, they could come up with some believable story.

  Sometime later, the sound of a team of horses stamping and a coachman calling for passengers told Charlotte the stagecoach had arrived. She prayed Jemmy was on it when it left.