Tugging at his cuff once more, Harold continued to fidget, impatient to see Elise again. He stood at the base of the opulent ducal stairs. The tapping of his foot echoed off the marble floor as the seconds ticked by.
The duke eyed Harold’s polished Hessian boots. “Cease.”
Harold stilled his foot and eyed Fairmont’s posture, rigid as if he was guarding against an attack. Fairmont had made it clear earlier that Harold was only to be in Elise’s company if he was present. Harold would have to seek out Fairmont’s permission to court Elise, but first, he wanted to talk to the lady herself. Would she welcome his renewed attention?
“It’s rumored you ended your association with Ms. Vankish this afternoon.” While Fairmont had attempted to whisper, his deep voice resonated off the floors and walls. Harold was certain anyone within fifty feet would have heard the man’s statement.
Lifting a hand to the wound just above his brow, Harold nodded. He had been lucky to escape with a minor cut to the forehead. A knot settled in the pit of his stomach making him nauseous. How had Elise reacted to his note? He had been rather vague in his explanation of why he was unable to take her on the carriage ride as promised. It wasn’t the first promise to her he had broken, but it would be the last.
Harold closed his eyes and dropped his chin to his chest. He should have sent a note to his mistress to end their affair and kept his promise to Elise. What a dullard he was. The susurrus of slippers caused him to open his eyes only to have them fall upon the tip of a red slipper beneath a demure powder-blue gown. Raising his gaze, Harold found Elise glaring down at him.
She made her way down the last few remaining steps. Distracted by the plunging neckline of her dress, Harold was slow to take note the anger that radiated from her body.
Would the dimple she had once called irresistible, defuse her ire? Harold winged his arm out, and his lips curled into a grin, revealing the facial feature he rarely cared to share. “Good evening, Elise. You look stunning.”
He ignored Fairmont’s grumblings about formalities and reached down, grasping her hand and placing it upon his arm. Memories of her long elegant fingers threaded through his hair flooded his mind and sent blood pooling to areas of his anatomy that were unexpectedly rigid.
Elise met his gaze with cool eyes and a strained smile. “Lord Thornston, how kind of you to make an appearance.”
Her barb at his failure to appear earlier was not lost on him. Clearly, his dimple was not as alluring as it once had been. Elise hadn’t changed. Her light touch and distant demeanor meant only one thing. She was furious.
He released a sigh. Anastasia wasn’t the only woman he had managed to anger this afternoon.
Fairmont donned his hat and rapped his cane twice on the marble floor. “Let’s be off, shall we? I’d promised the lovely Miss Heart, the first dance.”
Harold caught Elise rolling her eyes at her brother’s declaration. “Do you not think it wise for Miss Heart to be the next Duchess of Fairmont?”
Elise’s body tensed. What was she hiding?
Who was Miss Heart? She must have had her come out while he remained on the outskirts of the beau monde. Exiled. All due to her papa. Did she know the truth? That her papa had staged the debacle with Lady Clarissa to ostracize him from the ton? Sweat beaded at his temples. He had refused the old duke’s bribe to flee to America. Unable to stomach the idea of being an ocean away, he opted to stay on home soil but to only watch over Elise from a distance. He should have confronted her papa. He wished he had consulted with Elise instead of slinking into the demi-monde.
No longer willing to be a bystander, his discussion with Mr. Howlington earlier had forced him to realize what a fool he had been for far too long. Harold was intent on reforming his ways and transforming himself into a man worthy of her hand. A man who would undeniably pass her insufferable brother’s test.
Decision solidified, the weight he had borne on his shoulders for years lifted. Lightness soared through his heart.
As he peered down at Elise, she lowered her eyes, avoiding his gaze. “What are you not sharing with me?”
Elise stood on one foot and drew a circle with the toe of the other. It was a habit she exhibited when she was trying to formulate the right words. “Miss Heart is a reflection of her namesake. She is kind and caring.”
Harold escorted her through the front door. “But perhaps not strong enough in character for your brother.”
“I believe Dorinda would be Benedict’s equal in all the ways that matter.”
Handing Elise up into the coach, Harold felt himself frown. “Miss Arnet?”
Settling next to Fairmont across from Elise, Harold ruminated on Elise’s words: in all the ways that matter. To what ways did she refer?
Fairmont reached into his breast pocket, and instead of withdrawing a flask, a fan appeared. “I believe this belongs to Miss Arnet. Elise, would you be a dear and return it to her for me?”
Rather than accepting the fan, Elise sat back on the bench and eyed her brother suspiciously, then asked, “Benedict, how did it come about to be in your possession?”
“That is none of your concern.” Benedict dropped the fan onto Elise’s lap and then focused his attention out the coach window.
The streets were crowded with carriages ferrying members of the ton about town. Harold would normally be comfortably seated at his club at this hour. He tended only to emerge once the foray of polite society quieted. The short distance to Emsworth’s residence was taking them longer than if they had attempted the journey on foot, but Harold was enjoying every moment. Elise had remained silent, but the fidgeting of her hands and the swift looks out the coach window reflected the restlessness of her mind. Her gaze fell to the fan and then bore into her brother.
Harold nudged Fairmont to garner his attention. “Entertain me. Tell me what it is about Miss Heart that you deem worthy of your esteemed interest.”
Benedict slid him a look that only a duke could master.
Harold continued, “Did she pass your duchess test?”
His question must have caught Elise’s attention, for she momentarily removed her gaze from her brother to look at him directly, only for it to return as she asked, “Benedict, what silliness is Lord Thornston referring to?”
“I have established a list of queries that the woman I marry must answer.”
Harold’s curiosity got the best of him. “Pray share with us what qualities these questions will reveal to assist you in determining the future Duchess of Fairmont?”
Benedict cleared his throat as if he was to impart the most critical citation. “Well, to start, she must be of impeccable breeding, thus able to recite her lineage.”
What lineage would Fairmont deem suitable for Elise? Harold couldn’t recall any evidence of madness or other less desirable traits among his ancestors.
Shifting under his sister’s gaze, Benedict continued, “I’d prefer she be easy on the eyes, and therefore must have knowledge of current fashion.”
Did Elise still find him handsome? Harold assessed the duke’s ensemble. Fashionable, if not on the conservative side. His own clothing was better described simply as functional, no extravagant waistcoats or intricately tied cravats.
The crease between Elise’s brows deepened adorably as Benedict continued. “The future duchess will understand the ways of the ton and be able to navigate its waters and assist me in my political pursuits; therefore, the ability to read, write, and recite current events will be imperative.”
Elise leaned slightly forward, capturing her brother’s full attention. “What of like-mindedness? Compassion? Of love? What about your happiness?”
Is that what Elise had been seeking all these years?
Years ago, he and Elise had been of like minds.
In his youth he had been far more compassionate, but could he be again?
His love for her had certainly not diminished, and he would do everything in his power to ensure her happiness. He needed her to give him another chance.
Fairmont shook his head. “Love and happiness are not in my future. I would have thought that you had grown out of believing in fairy tales, sister. I am the Duke of Fairmont with duties and responsibilities. What I seek is a wife who will understand and perform her role as the Duchess of Fairmont with respectability.”
“You bear an enormous responsibility, Benedict. You should seek a partner as a wife, someone who has intelligence and acts in kindness, a woman who is your equal.”
As the coach rolled to a stop, Fairmont responded, “You are in no position to lecture me on what I should or should not be searching for in a wife. You have yet to obtain the interest of any man worthy of your rank.”
Harold followed Fairmont out of the coach and stood to the side. As Elise alighted, she muttered, “My rank! What of me as a person?”
Stepping forward before Fairmont could claim his sister, Harold took hold of Elise’s hand and gently squeezed. The heightened color in her cheeks was a pleasant sight. Was it due to her ire or a result of his touch?
“We should arrive in time before the doors close.” Fairmont led their party up the stairs.
Harold didn’t recall his friend incurring a head injury, but that was the only reasonable explanation for the man to have changed into the pompous ass that walked before him. He leaned down to speak to Elise, but a whiff of expensive French perfume hit his nose.
Lady Balenger’s skirts brushed against his leg as she passed and greeted him with a knowing grin. “Lord Thornston, I’m happy to see you… again.”
Ignoring the manipulative witch, he glanced down as Elise withdrew her hand from his grasp and caught up to Fairmont, clutching his arm for dear life.
Elise caught Benedict’s gaze; actual concern shone in her brother’s eyes. “Elise, whatever is the matter?”
She squeezed his arm. “It is only correct etiquette I am announced with you and not Thornston.”
Elise quickened her steps tugging Benedict along with her. She needed to put some distance between herself and the man gossips reported as having cavorted with half the married ladies of the ton. She had not believed the rumors that had floated about this past decade. What a fool she had been. The undeniable glimmer in Lady Balenger’s eyes obviously suggested her intimate knowledge of Harold. Had he entertained the woman in his bed, or was the knowing look related to another matter?
And why did Elise continue to give him the benefit of the doubt? The answer remained the same. In her heart, she trusted him. Harold was a man of honor and warmth; he just hadn’t loved her enough a decade ago to stand up to Papa. For years she had agonized over why he had not asked her to run away with him to Gretna Green. She had loved him so deeply that she would have agreed to the scandalous scheme, not caring what shame it would have brought on her family.
No. That was not the truth. She wouldn’t have disobeyed her papa’s orders. She was a dutiful daughter, ever loyal, and would not have done anything to bring about scandal or shame to their family.
Her rioting thoughts caused her breathing to quicken.
Benedict placed his hands on her shoulders. “Are you unwell?”
When she didn’t respond, he gave her a little shake and began to turn her. Emotions crashing like ocean waves, she couldn’t face Thornston. Thankfully, they were announced, and she plastered on a smile for all to see. “Benedict, please help me find Dorinda.”
“Of course. We need to return her fan.”
Was her brother that obtuse, or was he merely covering her peculiar behavior? Leaving Thornston behind would be best. Curse Kilman for not remaining in town.
Benedict murmured, “Not surprising. Surrounded again.”
Elise followed her brother’s gaze across the ballroom to Dorinda, crowded by a bunch of eligible young bachelors. As they made their way through the throng of guests, the muscles in Benedict’s arm repeatedly flexed. Could he be jealous? While her brother may deny an attraction to Dorinda, his body’s reaction told Elise an entirely different story. For when he was near her best friend, Benedict’s irises dilated, the vein in his neck pulsed at a variable rate, and he tended to lean toward her instead of keeping the socially dictated distance between them.
Shoving his fellow peers, Benedict managed to wedge them to the front of the group.
“Elise! When did you arrive?” Dorinda wrapped her hands around Elise’s and pulled her closer to whisper, “I need to escape. Help me.”
Pulling out Dorinda’s fan from her reticule Elise offered it and said, “Perhaps this might help.”
The blush that immediately rose to Dorinda’s cheeks and the sideward glance at Benedict left no question in Elise’s mind that something had occurred between the pair. Her brother had always been circumspect about his attention to her friend. Why had he given her the fan? Was he trying to confirm her suspicions? Or was he finally coming to his senses?
Dorinda reached for the fan. “Oh… thank you.”
“Perhaps, we could take a stroll.” Elise hooked her arm with Dorinda’s and turned to address the gaggle of men, “Please excuse us, gentlemen.”
She had managed to take two steps before Harold was in her path, blocking her departure.
Dorinda spoke first. “Good evening, Lord Thornston.”
“A good evening to you too, Miss Arnet. Lady Elise, may I…”
She didn’t know what to make of her scattered thoughts and emotions. Emotions that she had believed were well in hand but were now conflicted. The scent of Harold had her mind reeling. She needed space. “Lord Thornston, please move. Miss Arnet needs some air.”
Without protest, Harold moved to allow her to pass. Elise didn’t hesitate and pulled Dorinda along with her.
Dorinda snapped open her fan. “Elise, why were you ever so rude to Lord Thornston?”
Elise didn’t have an answer. Her gaze was drawn to two figures looming by the terrace doors. Lord Tallow and Mr. Rollingsworth. The dangerous stares thrown her way left her no doubt that the pair had figured out who had foiled their plans in kidnapping and forcing innocents into marriage. She would not give them the satisfaction of intimidating her. Boldly striding along the dance floor perimeter, she led Dorinda toward the gardens.
Breath soured by liquor, Lord Tallow leaned forward to snicker, “I wouldn’t go far out of sight, my lady.”
Elise whisked past the pair, leveling Lord Tallow with a glare intended to silence the odious man. However, it proved ineffective as Lord Tallow’s evil chuckle floated through the night air, increasing her pulse and pace. Her nerves were already strung tight from her interactions with Harold.
“What did that awful man say to you?” Dorinda stumbled.
With a firm hand, Elise grasped her friend by the elbow. Once Dorinda had found her footing, she rounded to face Elise. Dorinda’s eyes were lit with worry.
In a voice barely audible, Elise confessed, “He gave me a warning to remain in sight of the crowd.”
Dorinda straightened to her full height and demanded, “Why would he caution you so?”
“As you alluded, the man is vile. But it would be wise for us not to venture too far into the gardens.” Ill at ease, Elise pressed her palms to her stomach.
“Elise. Tell me you haven’t done anything to anger the man.”
Not one to lie, Elise avoided making eye contact. “What could a spinster like me possibly do to a peer?”
Dorinda arched one eyebrow. “Don’t think I’m oblivious to your activities. You may be able to keep them a secret from your brother, but not me.”
At the mention of her brother, Elise searched to see who was within earshot. With no one close, Elise asked, “What do you know?”
“When the gossips first tittered about a lady running about town in men’s clothing and devising clever stratagems to foil the schemes of fortune hunters, I suspected it might be you until they began referring to her as Lady L.”
Dorinda was too clever by a half. While Lady L had assisted Elise in completing and rescuing innocents, Elise had never met the woman. Elise suspected Lady L engaged in far more important activities. Secret activities for the Crown. Or perhaps the Home Office.
Elise raised a hand to her chest. “Me? Lady L? You flatter me.”
The smell of hot putrid spirits filtered through the air, sending a trickle of fear down Elise’s neck and spine. Lord Tallow and his crony wouldn’t attempt to create a scene, would they? The crunch of pebbles had the hairs on Elise’s arms standing on end. She pivoted and came face-to-face with Lord Tallow.
The horrid man’s eyes were ablaze. His irises were enlarged until only a thin ring of blue remained. “Mr. Rollingsworth, look what I’ve found.”
Mr. Rollingsworth? Where was he? Elise turned to warn Dorinda to flee, but she was too late. Mr. Rollingsworth had already wrapped an arm around her friend’s waist and placed a rag over Dorinda’s nose and mouth.
Elise took a step toward Mr. Rollingsworth. “Please don’t harm Miss Arnet.”
She stopped her advance immediately as cold metal pressed against her ribs, and Lord Tallow’s heated breath brushed against the back of her neck.
Mr. Rollingsworth struggled with the weight of Dorinda’s now-limp body.
Lord Tallow said, “Good lord, man, get a proper hold on the woman.” The steel point of Lord Tallow’s pistol lowered slightly. “Lady Elise, if you wish for Miss Arnet to remain unharmed, I suggest you come along with us quietly and without fuss.”
Elise remained frozen. Mr. Rollingsworth let Dorinda’s body slide down his to the ground. He removed his cravat and used it as a gag. With surprising care, he gently rolled her friend’s prone form off the path and under a bush. Poor Dorinda. She would wake in the dark and surely gain scratches and cuts as she escaped the prickly plant.
Mr. Rollingsworth stood and left Elise alone with the wretched Lord Tallow. “What is it to be Lady Elise? Compliance or a fight?”
Every fiber of her wanted to elbow him and attempt to flee. Lord Tallow had a reputation for brutality. “I’ll go willingly.”
She needed to keep her wits about her. She could not afford the same fate as Dorinda. Lord Tallow undoubtedly wouldn’t hesitate to exact physical revenge upon an unconscious woman.
Lord Tallow pushed her to move. When she remained rooted to the spot, he pulled hard, nearly dislodging her arm from its socket. “Don’t make a scene.”
Holding in a scream of pain, she shuffled her feet forward. Her only resistance was to mince her steps as they made their way through the side garden.
Squinting, Elise peered about the gardens. No one was in sight. Where were all the couples and rakes that were rumored to fill the darkened corners? How was she to alert someone?
Spying one of her footmen playing cards with the other servants, she fell to her knees and ripped the hem of her skirts.
Hauling her back to her feet, Lord Tallow ordered, “Get up!”
Relief flowed through her as she caught her footman’s gaze. She gave a slight shake of her head as he began to rise. Be discrete and follow. Would he understand her silent plea?
Mr. Rollingsworth, a few steps ahead of them, conversed with Lord Tallow’s driver.
Acting the gentleman he clearly was not, Lord Tallow opened the carriage door for her.
Making a show of lifting her skirts to step up, Elise dropped the ripped material and entered the carriage.
Lord Tallow occupied the rear-facing seat and glared at her. “Rollingsworth, hurry up.”
Mr. Rollingsworth appeared at the coach door, but before he joined them, he stopped and bent at the waist. “Now, what have we here?” The strip of light blue silk dangled before her nose. “Lady Elise, it appears you have misplaced a portion of your skirts.”
Her heart stalled. Mr. Rollingsworth flicked the material in her direction, and it landed in her lap. He took up a seat next to Lord Tallow. How would anyone locate her now? She needed to remain calm. Panicking would do no good. Elise lowered her gaze, clasped her hands together, and took slow, deep breaths. Her heart continued to pound in her chest as if it might explode, and she had to bite her lip in order to prevent it from trembling. She was in real danger.
Harold held his cards fanned out in one hand. Glancing through the entrance to the card room once more, he hoped to catch a glimpse of Elise dancing.
A hand landed on his shoulder, and a winded Mr. Howlington said, “Lord Thornston, His Grace, Fairmont, requests your immediate presence.”
Harold immediately stood, causing his chair to hit Mr. Howlington in the midsection. “Sorry, old chap. Where is Fairmont? What is of such importance that I need to be dragged from the game?”
The concern in Mr. Howlington’s features changed Harold’s tone. “Is it Elise?”
Was she embroiled in a scandal? He should have followed her into the gardens.
Agitated, Mr. Howlington explained, “Isodora couldn’t find Lady Elise upon her arrival.” Glancing about those closest, Mr. Howlington lowered his voice. “Fairmont is now looking for Miss Arnet and Lady Elise.”
Harold lengthened his stride. A wall of guests prevented him from reaching Fairmont with any speed. Nearly bowling over anyone in his path, Harold pushed his way toward the terrace doors.
Stepping out into the cool night air, Harold scanned the gardens. Spotting Fairmont hunched over by a bush. He ran to his side.
Miss Arnet’s voice came from the prickly plant. “Back up. I’ve nearly freed myself.”
Fairmont stuck an arm out. “Love, give me your hand. Let me help.”
Instead of an arm or hand appearing, a bare leg covered in pink scratches along the calf snaked out from under the shrub. Fairmont’s hand latched on to Miss Arnet’s leg, and he began to pull.
“Let. Me. GO.” Miss Arnet’s leg kicked back and sent Fairmont to the ground.
Uncertain how to best assist, Harold stuck out his hand hauling Fairmont to his feet. As they both stood, a bedraggled Miss Arnet shook out her skirts and pulled up her décolletage.
Grabbing Miss Arnet by the arms to gain her attention, Harold asked, “Where is Elise?”
Miss Arnet’s eyes were glassy, and she appeared disoriented.
Fairmont yanked her out of his grasp. “Don’t you touch her!” Protectively, Fairmont wrapped his arms around the woman and rubbed her back in long soothing strokes. Softly, Fairmont asked, “Love, what happened? Do you know Elise’s whereabouts?”
A mix of voices came from behind. A crowd was gathering, but Mr. Howlington was doing his best to keep prying eyes away.
Harold removed his coat and handed it to Fairmont. “We need to leave.”
They couldn’t return through the ballroom; they would have to depart through the gardens. Fairmont gently placed the coat over her shoulders. Placing an arm under her knees, Fairmont picked up Miss Arnet. Harold had never seen Fairmont act with such concern for another. How peculiar.
Rounding the corner, Harold hailed the attention of the footmen milling about.
A footman in livery Harold didn’t recognize approached. “My lord, they went to the south.”
“Who went south?” Harold’s heart beat faster. Don’t say, Elise.
“We sent Ollie to inform His Grace, the Duke of Fairmont.” The confused footman eyed Fairmont, who was still comforting Miss Arnet. Returning his attention to Harold, the footman said, “My lord, Lady Elise was escorted by Lord Tallow and Mr. Rollingsworth into a coach. But when Henry left with the deck of cards and ran to follow them, we knew something was amiss and sent Ollie to get help.”
Lord Tallow and Mr. Rollingsworth—bounders and knaves. Why would they kidnap Elise? He would kill them both if she came to any harm.
Harold’s stomach clenched. “Did you say cards?”
“Yes, my lord. The servants are allowed to partake in a bit ’o gaming—”
“Fairmont, secure a coach.”
Harold’s boots stamped the ground as he ran toward the stables. His stomach clenched, and his breathing became labored. Seeing Harold approach, stable hands scurried out of his way. A handsome Arabian was being made ready, and without hesitation, Harold grabbed the reins and vaulted into the saddle. As soon as they were free of the stables, Harold searched the grounds for signs of which direction Lord Tallow was headed.
The erratic beat of his heart pounded in his ears. When Harold’s muscles tensed, the Arabian’s head shook, and its ears swiveled. He’d best rein in his emotions, or he would be tossed.
Harold rounded the estate.
Miss Arnet’s pretty face appeared as he drew up to the coach window. “My lord, Elise rescued Lady Esme from Lord Tallow’s clutches at an inn called the Lone Dove a year ago.”
The Lone Dove. What a peculiar inn to conduct such nefarious affairs. Not known by many, agents of the Home Office often frequented the inn. On the odd occasion, the office to the Crown had sought out Harold’s assistance to train agents in hand-to-hand-combat skills. Skills Harold had picked up from his tour in the Orient.
Harold nodded. “Follow the trail marked by playing cards. I’ll meet you there.”
He urged his mount forward. While Lord Tallow and Mr. Rollingsworth had headed out before him, their coach would be restricted to the streets. The Arabian was his saving grace. The beautiful beast would allow him to arrive at the inn first.