Elizabeth Mansfield (18 page)

"Then it may not be an abduction after all," Madge suggested with a glimmer of hope. "It may be an elopement! Do you think they've eloped?"

"No, I don't. If that was their plan, why would he sign Harry's initials? Besides, Deirdre told me she doesn't love Percy after all."

Madge's full bosom heaved, and she sank down on the bed beside her niece. "Then Pruitt is right," she intoned funereally. "She
has
been abducted."

"Let's be certain. Tell Pruitt to come up."

Pruitt entered Kate's bedroom and, not accustomed to seeing his mistress and her guest in their robes, looked down at his shoes uneasily. "You wanted to speak to me?"

"Yes, Pruitt," Kate said. "I understand you think Miss Deirdre was urged into a coach against her will."

"I can't be certain, Miss Kate," the butler said. "She came running downstairs happy as a lark. She'd been eager to see Lord Ainsworth all afternoon, so I thought 'twas him she was meeting. But when she went outside, and the gentleman climbed out of the carriage, she stopped short, like she'd changed her mind. And then, well, it seemed to me he forced her up the steps and into it."

"That gentleman," Kate asked, "was it Lord Ainsworth?"

"I don't think so. He seemed smaller. More like Sir Percy, I'd say."

Madge and Kate exchanged looks. "Thank you, Pruitt, that will be all," Kate said.

"Please, Pruitt," Madge added, "say nothing about this to anyone."

Pruitt bowed himself out. Kate, discouraged by the butler's report, sat down on the bed again. "I think you guessed the truth of it, Aunt Madge. Percy's run off with her. That blasted mawworm never could accept no for an answer."

Madge covered her face with trembling hands. "Now Charles will go riding after them," she moaned, "and there'll be a duel, and I'll be a widow before morning!"

"No, no, it needn't be that way." Kate jumped to her feet. "Look at me, Aunt Madge," she said, lifting her aunt's chin. "Don't tell Uncle Charles just yet. I'll get her back."

Madge eyed her dubiously. "But how?"

Yes, how?
Kate asked herself. But it might very well be possible. She knew Percy's stylish carriage was a slug. If she could borrow Leonard's neat little gig and one of his fine horses, she could easily catch up to them. She took her aunt in a comforting embrace. "You keep everything quiet here at home and leave the rest of it to me."

Madge, determined to do her part, did her best to smile through dinner, although her heart was quaking. When Isabel and Charles asked about the two missing young ladies, Madge explained their absence with a shrug. "Probably went off to another concert at the Upper Rooms," she said, hoping no one would notice the tremor in her voice and the trembling of her limbs. "We shall give them a good scold tomorrow for not asking our leave."

Charles and Isabel had no reason not to believe her.

Pruitt, however, was not as successful in keeping the matter secret. Shortly after the remains of the dinner had been removed, the knocker sounded. When he discovered it was Lord Ainsworth at the door, he heaved a sigh of relief. "I'm so happy to see you, Lord Ainsworth," he said with a wide, un-butler-like smile.

Harry, his mind concentrating on his long-anticipated confrontation with Kate, didn't notice the butler's effusive greeting. "May I see her
now?"
he asked determinedly.

The butler's face became serious. "No, my lord," he said. "She's gone."

"Gone? I don't understand. Where has she gone?"

"Wish I could say, my lord. We've no idea where he's taken her."

"He?" Harry peered at the butler in confusion. "Who's he?"

"Sir Percy, my lord. At first they thought it might be you, but I told them it couldn't be. The fellow that abducted her was much smaller than you. And now that you're standing here, it's plain that I was right."

"Good God!" Harry exclaimed, paling. "Are you saying Percy
made off
with her? When?"

"Not more than two hours ago, I'd say."

Harry couldn't quite take it in. "The fool actually abducted her? Unbelievable!" But he had to believe it; the butler couldn't have concocted such a tale. Kate had actually been abducted! He felt a sharp stab of alarm. "Has anyone gone after them?" he asked urgently.

"Not that I know of, my lord."
 

"Blast! Why the devil not?"
 

"Don't know, my lord."

Harry's brows knit as he made some quick calculations. "Good thing I brought my curricle," he muttered. "I don't suppose that fool took her away in his phaeton, did he? That high-perch, peacocky thing with the yellow wheels?"

"Why, yes!" Pruitt exclaimed. "Now you mention it, my lord, I remember seeing those very wheels."

"That's one bit of luck, anyway. He can't make any speed in that showy contraption." Harry swung about and made for the door. "I suppose the bumble-brained coxcomb headed north," he muttered as he ran off. "Just wait till I get my hands on him!"

THIRTY

When Kate was admitted to the Tyndale lodgings, she was shivering from the cold. There was snow in the air, she felt sure of it. Snow would surely complicate her problem. But she could not worry about that possibility now. Her first task was to convince Leonard to lend her the gig.

When Leonard's valet, Hawkins, admitted her to the sitting room, it was plain that she'd interrupted a quarrel between Sir Edward and his son. Hawkins had evidently been packing a trunk, which stood open in the center of the room. Leonard was throwing garments willy-nilly into it, and his father was staring out of the window, tightlipped. The strained silence between them was palpable.

Kate looked from one to the other. "I'm sorry to break in on you like this," she said, "but I have a favor to ask of Leonard."

Sir Edward turned from the window. "Leonard is insisting on going home this very evening," he said, "regardless of my wishes that we remain."

"I told you, sir," Leonard said impatiently, "that you are welcome to remain here without me. You have good reason to stay. I have not."

"If you weren't so hot-headed," his father argued, "you, too, might find a reason. Perhaps Deirdre realizes she made a mistake and wants your forgiveness."

"She'll never have my forgiveness, so please drop the subject. Besides, I'm sure Kate doesn't wish to be a witness to our disagreements."

Kate took this as an opportunity to break in. "Don't trouble yourself about me, Leonard, for I feel like part of your family. I hope you won't mind my saying that your father makes a good point. Deirdre realized she'd made an error very soon after you left, and she tried to break it off with Sir Percy. I'm afraid that, in his anger and disappointment, he's abducted her."

"What?" Leonard ceased his packing. "Abducted her?"

"Yes, more than an hour ago."

Leonard ran a hand through his mane of red hair. "The little fool," he muttered. "Serves her right."

"Leonard!" his father chastised. "That's a dreadful thing to say!"

"Not any more dreadful than what she did to me. I'm sorry, Kate, but if you've come to ask me to rescue her, my answer is no. I will not dance to her tune. Let someone else get her out of this fix."

"Leonard Tyndale," Sir Edward roared, his face reddening as if he were having an attack of apoplexy, "never did I dream I'd raised my son to be a vengeful craven! I'm ashamed of you."

"No, please, Sir Edward," Kate said, taking his hand to calm him. "I didn't come to ask Leonard to go after Deirdre himself. Not under the present circumstances." She turned to Leonard. "I only came to ask if I might borrow your gig."

"Of course, if you need it," Leonard said. "But why?"

"Because it's faster than the great lumbering thing that Charles used to carry us here. If I had a swift, light vehicle like your gig, I could probably catch up with Percy in an hour or two. His phaeton is a slug."

"Are you saying," Sir Edward cried in alarm, "that you mean to follow them yourself?"

"Yes," Kate said calmly. "Why not?"

"Because, my dear, a young woman can't go traipsing over the countryside alone after dark. It can't be done!"

"It must be done," Kate said firmly. "I am no missish young girl, you know. I'm a twenty-four-year-old spinster who knows how to take care of herself. So, Leonard, if you please, tell your man to ready your gig for me. I haven't time to spare."

Leonard fixed her with a look of disgust. "Oh, good, ma'am. Very good. A very good ruse indeed. You knew your offer to go after them would tweak my conscience." He gave his trunk a furious kick. "Well, Kate, your ruse worked. You win. I'll go after her myself."

Kate's eyes widened in sincere surprise. "It was no ruse, I swear! I had no intention of tricking you. Please, Leonard, let me be on my way without further ado." But he was already pulling on his greatcoat. "Is Percy driving that high-perch clunker with the yellow wheels?" he asked.

Kate frowned. "If you insist on going," she said in resignation, "then I'm going with you."

"Don't be foolish," Sir Edward objected. "Even a spinster, which you certainly are not, cannot go riding through the night alone with a man."

"Yes, I can, and I will," Kate insisted.

Leonard shrugged. "Don't argue with her, sir. Kate is not a female who easily changes her mind. I'll take Hawkins along to observe the proprieties. Come, Kate, let's be on our way."

THIRTY-ONE

Harry tried to keep his fury in check as he drove his curricle over the dark road. Once the brightness of Bath was left behind, his only source of light was the dim glow from a pair of lanterns mounted on the sides of the cab. This dimness kept him from indulging in the excessive speed he would have liked. To make matters worse, an early spring storm seemed to be brewing. a bitterly cold wind was blowing right into his face, and it smelled of snow. Fortunately, he'd worn a wool scarf. He wound it tighter about his neck.

He wished he could move-faster. He wanted, more than he'd ever wanted anything, to pull Kate from the arms of her abductor and into his own. He hadn't realized before the extent to which he'd become attached to her. He'd felt an attraction the very first time he'd laid eyes on her—or perhaps even earlier, when he'd seen the painting of the girl she so very closely resembled. He'd found it as hard, that day, to tear his eyes from the painting as from the girl herself.

That attraction had grown with each successive meeting, despite the impediments she kept throwing in his path. In Bath, he'd been utterly delighted to come upon her. Her apparent resistance to his attentions didn't trouble him, for when he understood the reason, he was more entertained than frustrated, for he was sure she cared for him, too. He had every confidence that he was about to break through that resistance very soon. Even his grandmother, whose feminine instincts regarding the mysteries of human behavior were remarkably keen, had hinted that his pursuit of the girl would be successful. He'd been—he had to admit it!—quite complacent. Tonight, however, he found himself shaken out of that complacency. Percy's despicable act had inflicted upon him so great an agony of concern for Kate's safety that it was a physical pain in his chest. That pain awoke in him an awesome awareness of the depth of his feelings toward her.
In the game of love,
he thought ruefully,
the heart wears no protection against pain.

The thought of what Kate might be feeling now as Percy's prisoner only increased his agony. He warned himself that he must not think of the nauseating possibilities—of her terror, increasing as the hours passed... of her helplessness... of Percy's hands touching her. He must concentrate only on his course of action. That blasted chinch was probably taking her to Gretna Green to force her into a quick Scottish wedding. Because even at top speed it would take Percy two days to reach Gretna, Kate would have to spend at least one night alone with her abductor. To save her reputation, she'd be forced to agree to the marriage. That situation was what Harry had to prevent.

They were three hours ahead of him, he reasoned, but he, with his well-sprung curricle and two lively horses, could cover the same distance in half the time. They would have to find an inn sometime before midnight. He would ride for an hour and then begin to check every inn he passed. If the snow held off, he could, with any luck, discover them before any real damage was done.

He'd driven less than an hour when he passed the first inn. The wooden sign whose hinges creaked in the bitter wind read The Red Falcon. He decided not to investigate, for it was unlikely that Percy would stop so soon. He was just hurtling past when his eye caught a glimpse of something yellow in front of the inn's stable yard. He slowed down his horses, abruptly wheeled the curricle around, and drove it into the inn's gravel driveway. One look was enough to prove to him it was indeed Percy's phaeton. A second look explained why Percy had stopped so soon. The phaeton had a broken wheel. Harry sighed in relief—he'd found his quarry!

He gave over his horses to the care of an ostler, ran across the innyard, entered the taproom, and looked about him. A few patrons were still drinking their ale at this late hour. The innkeeper, filling a mug from a spigotted barrel, did not bother to look round to discover who'd just come in. "You, there," Harry called to him, "I'm looking for a fellow who came in perhaps an hour ago."

"Dandified chap?" the innkeeper asked, glancing at Harry over his shoulder. "With a lady?"

"That's right. Where—
?
"

"Took the private parlor," the innkeeper said, concentrating on his pouring. "Door over there, to yer left."

Harry strode across the room and kicked open the door. A quick glance revealed a small parlor with a table at the center. At the far side of the table sat a startled Percy, his feet resting on an empty chair at his side and a glass in his hand. He gaped at the intruder, frozen.

Harry closed the door behind him. "Where is she?" he asked threateningly.

"Harry!" Percy croaked. "How—?"