Taken by the Wicked Rake (25 page)

“And now I understand Robert’s eagerness to tell me things that my own sons did not see fit to share with me.” The earl cast a disapproving eye on his children. “There have been far too many attempts in my own house-hold to shield me from unpleasantness for my own good. And far too few from the Veryans. Lately, they seem most eager to bear bad news, even when it comes to nothing.”

Hal looked to the door. “How much do you suppose young Veryan knows of this, should it be true?”

“Enough so that I did not announce my suspicions in his presence,” Stephano said. “But his behaviour in the next few minutes will tell us.”

“I almost hope he runs.” Hal shuddered. “I never could stand the plaguey little beggar. And the idea that he was in mourning for Verity. That they’d have made a match of it…”

“It would have been most advantageous,” Stanegate argued. “If only to get her to choose else where. I expected a short time in his company would be enough to focus her attentions on some one else.” And remembering the result, he stared across the room at Stephano as though looking from the frying pan to the fire.

Hal remained fixed upon the door. “Should we go after him, do you think? He’s had more than enough time to take care of business. And if what the Gypsy says is true, we can’t have him running off to warn his father.”

Stanegate gave a slight nod, and Hal exited the room. He returned a short time later, shaking his head. “Too late, I’m afraid. He’s piked off. How long to the Keddinton estate, do you think? Or is the old man in town?”

The brother’s discussion of distances and coach schedules faded into nothing as an apprehension took Stephano, growing in him like a wildfire.

“Never mind the
gaujo
. What has become of Verity?”

Chapter Nineteen

Just as she’d expected, Verity found the rattle in the nursery, in the damp hand of her nephew, William George. She smiled and held her own hand out for the thing. But the boy was unwilling to part with it without tears. If the mystery had waited this long, then surely it could wait the few minutes it would take to find a substitute plaything.

In an adjoining room, she found a similar rattle and gave it an experimental shake. The bells lacked the silvery jingle of her old toy, but when she put the whistle to her lips, it made the fierce tweet that had been lacking. Good enough for a distraction, she was sure.

When she turned to go back to the child, she bumped directly into the doughy torso of Alexander Veryan. He looked decidedly odd today, and seemed unwilling to yield. She gave him what she hoped was a friendly smile. “Why, Alex. Have you come to look for me? I swear, I was gone for but a moment.”

It was even more odd to see the tiny gun he held in his hand. Her smile froze in place as she thought of the baby in the room nearby and the danger of errant gunfire. “Whatever do you mean to do with that? Not shoot me, surely.”

He seemed as nervous about the thing as she was, for his hand trembled a bit as he spoke. “I will if I must, Verity.”

“Well, I shall give you no reason, I am sure.” She thought quickly and gave a moue of disappointment. “But I thought we were such good friends. And that we were likely to be even closer. That was what our fathers intended for us, was it not?”

“But you have gone and married the Gypsy,” he said petulantly.

Whose knife she still had, in the pocket of her gown. “That was but a ruse, to keep me safe from the wild men of his camp. No real marriage, certainly. The Romany customs are very strange, compared to ours. Nothing more passed between us than a shared slice of bread.”

A cloud of puzzlement passed behind the vacant eyes of Alexander. Her current story was nothing like what she had said in the garden. But she suspected it was what he wanted to hear. In the end, he could not seem to reconcile the facts, and he frowned. “That is neither here nor there. Is that the rattle?”

She looked at the toy in her hand. “Why would you want it?”

“Why would you?” he said, as though returning her question were anywhere near passing for wit.

“Well, that is neither here nor there, as well.” She smiled, deciding that for current circumstances, one rattle was as good as another. “Perhaps I think it is interesting to solve a puzzle that is so old. Or perhaps there is nothing in it at all, and it will make Stephano Beshaley forget his nonsense and leave us alone.”

Alexander snatched the thing from her hand, and put it in the pocket of his coat without examining it further. “We will take it to Father. He will know what is to be done with it.”

“We will, will we?” She gave a small laugh. “You make it sound as if we are to be together.”

“And so we are. I cannot have you going back to explain to your brothers what I have done. You must come with me.”

“My brothers are bound to notice our absence, Alexander,” she explained patiently. “There will be questions. And then they will follow. I expect they will be very angry with you for taking me.”

Alexander laughed. “More likely, they will be relieved. At least this time you have not run off with a Gypsy. They will think it is an elopement – or that is what we shall tell them, when they come to fetch you. You will be mine, just as my father promised me. And your brothers will take care of Stephano Beshaley.”

Verity offered a silent curse to her dear uncle Robert, for showing so little concern as to her wishes in a choice of husband. “Alexander, my brothers are not so crass as to
take care
of anyone. If justice is truly needed in this, they will take the matter to the courts.”

“That is not what they wished to do, when they saw the letter that we wrote.” Alexander’s grin did nothing to make his face more attractive.

“You wrote that note?” For the first time, she felt alarm. She had seen the words of the letter, and the fate ascribed to her. And to realize that she was face to face with the person who had imagined it was both insulting and disturbing.

Alexander pulled back the sleeve of his coat, and she could see the beginnings of the deep scratch on his arm. “And I sealed it with my own blood, just as the Gypsy did.”

She wanted to argue that he was nothing at all like Stephano. He was a hollow parody, and quite mad, to boot. But she remembered the gun, and said, “How very resourceful of you.”

“And now, I shall take you away, just as he did. But I will be bringing you back to Warrenford, where you should have stayed all along. Once we are safely home, I shall give my father the rattle and there shall be an end to this nonsense.” He gestured again with his gun, and she walked ahead of him, down the stairs and toward the garden doors. Would he really shoot, she wondered? He held the gun as though he were afraid of it.

And in that fear was the greatest danger of all. Hal had assured her that it led to more accidents and loss of life in battle than anything else. “You can’t seriously think I would go away with you.” She said it louder than necessary, hoping someone might hear before they reached the door.

“I can and do.” He forced her outside, and then hesitated; she was sure that he had no real plans after this. He could not exactly take her to the stables and demand the grooms prepare a vehicle suitable for her kidnapping.

At least Stephano had been better prepared on the taking of her. And still was. For there, beneath a tree by the garden gate, was his great black stallion, saddled and ready to go. She felt the gun in her back again, urging her towards the beast. And for a moment, she felt like laughing. Zor looked ready to eat the interloper instead of letting him ride.

The horse reared as they got close, and she was sure there was no hope. But then, Alexander gestured her closer. “Mount.”

“I do not think he will allow it.”

Alexander stood clear of the angry horse, but kept the gun trained upon her. “He believes you both belong to his master. He will let you ride. Now, mount.”

She put a foot into the stirrup, which was low because of Stephano’s long legs, and pulled herself uneasily onto the horse, riding astride. Once she was up and the horse was steady, Alexander pulled himself up behind her. He wrapped an arm around her waist and poked her in the back with the gun. “Ride towards Warrenford.”

She let out a sigh of frustration, and tugged at the reins until the horse started at a walk.

Alexander took the reins from her hands and gave the beast a kick in the ribs, and their pace increased to a trot.

On the trip into the country, there was ample time to examine her emotions. She should be terrified. A man had kidnapped her and held a gun in her back, forcing her to who knew what fate.

But the man in question was Alexander Veryan. It was unusual for a girl of her age to have been kidnapped at all. But when it happened twice in a fort night, one began to develop opinions on the subject. And while being taken from the Keddinton estate by the unarmed Stephano had been a terrifying experience, being forced to return to it by the gun-wielding Alexander was more annoying than frightening.

It might have been different, had she truly believed him capable of shooting her. But since her death would render his final goal of marriage to be quite impossible, she suspected that she was in no real danger. Unless, of course, the gun went off accidentally.

And considering Alexander’s difficulty in managing the gun, the horse and her, a stray shot seemed too likely to risk. If the poor boy had meant to leave her swooning with his commanding presence, the least he could have done was to learn the most direct route to his own home. In her critique of his actions, she had given him high marks for avoiding the main road to thwart pursuit, only to take them away again when they had to turn back not once, but twice on the way.

And now, she feared they were hopelessly lost again. At last, she gave vent to her frustration. “At this rate, it is likely to be dark before we arrive. Do you, or do you not know the way home?”

His grip on the reins loosened, and she could feel the gun in her ribs again. “If it grows too late, we will stop for the night.”

She suppressed a shudder of revulsion. “Alex, I have no intention of camping in the wilderness with you on this night or any other. I demand that you take me back to the main road immediately so that we can be on our way to either your home or mine.”

“You did not seem to mind, when it was the Gypsy who took you. If your reputation is in ruins, there will be few as willing to offer for you as I am. You should not be so particular.”

And then, she felt him put the gun away, so that he could more freely demonstrate his intentions towards her.

“Alex, do not dare.”

Now, he was squeezing her waist, and planting a rather wet kiss on the back of her neck.

She leaned forward, trying to get away from him. “Alex, this is your last warning. I mean it. You will be sorry.”

But he was fumbling with her bodice and licking her on the ear. He was ignoring her wishes, just as he always had. And she was so very tired of being ignored. So she reached into her pocket and took out the knife, giving a quick downward slash to his roving hands.

Alex yelped and reared back in pain. And then Zor begin to do likewise. So she grabbed the reins in one hand and the horse’s mane in the other and hung on for dear life as the horse stood up and Alex slid off the back of the saddle and into a nearby hedge.

She settled the horse, patting him on the neck and adjusting her seat. Then she looked back at her would-be kidnapper, groaning in the greenery. “I told you to cease bothering me, but you would not listen. Now, since you are so eager to sleep rough, I will not detain you from it.” She pulled on the reins and dug her heels into the horse’s side. “Zor, take me home. For I swear, you are the most sensible male I have seen today.”

Chapter Twenty

As the speeding carriage rocked from side to side, Stephano felt the pressure of the men’s bodies around him. Without the mitigating presence of Verity, her brothers were being none too gentle in their treatment of him, allowing the occasional elbow to slip into his ribs as the coach jostled, or the accidental boot kick to the ankle. Nathan sat opposite, a neutral observer to the subtle aggression of the other two.

It was far better than the bullet he had expected when they’d first caught him. And considering how he had behaved about his own sister’s lover, he supposed he had little grounds to complain. But their current behaviour was childish, considering what was at stake.

When they had first discovered Verity missing, there had been an initial air of panic, and much shouting of names and running about the house. The others had seemed surprised by his lack of response. They faulted him for being cold, and wondered aloud what it could mean about his feelings for his wife. It proved that they did not understand her at all.

If he had any regrets, it was that he had under estimated Keddinton from the first. It was galling to realize what a fool the man must think him. He had gone to the very heart of the problem and sought aid. He had befriended the one who had been responsible for the death of his father – and by association his mother and step mother – and for all the terrible moments of his own youth. He had under estimated someone who made his living as a spy, who could lie, keep secrets and hide behind facades as a matter of course. He had fallen for it all, had thought the man an easily manipulated coward, and had proceeded to wrong the innocents around him, in a useless quest. All the while, Keddinton had pulled his strings like a damned puppet.

And now, his wife was paying the price for his stupidity. While he refused to believe she was in any real danger from young Veryan, she would be quite angry when next he saw her.

“There is no point in chasing after Alexander,” he assured her family. “He is no real threat, and is too enamoured of your sister to do her any harm. But we must get to Robert Veryan before they arrive. He is the dangerous one.”

The Earl of Narborough was ready to ride with them. But it was clear that his travelling earlier in the day, followed by the difficult inter view with Stephano, had taken much out of him. The latest shock had put him near to a relapse. Valuable time had to be spent convincing him to leave the rescue to younger men. But within the hour, a carriage had been prepared, and they were on their way.