When a Marquis Chooses a Bride (29 page)

He scowled. “I'm going to murder Fotherby.”

“So you've said. I don't blame you at all. Take my advice, and do it straight out and not in a duel. The ladies don't like them.”

They reached the first toll and had to wait for the gatekeeper for so long, Dom was tempted to jump it. Finally, an old man came out and collected their money. They rode as fast as they could, slowing only to rest their horses at intervals, until the village of Richmond came into view.

Dom reined in. “It's not far now. About a mile past the village.” For the first time he was a little lost as to how to proceed. “Do we just ride up the drive or go around to the back?”

“I would rather not be shot as a thief,” Worthington replied drily. “We shall approach from the front.” His lips twitched. “You may announce you are a marquis.”

Dom tossed his head back and laughed. Since being around Thea, the only time his rank had mattered was when his uncle's voice had crept unbidden into his mind. “As I'm the one Fotherby's trying to hide her from, I do not think that will work. We'll pretend we're lost. If he has anyone other than the old couple who care for the house there, I'm more than happy to take them on.”

And if anyone hurt Thea, Dom would not be responsible for his actions. It was time he behaved more like his father than his uncle.

* * *

Dotty waited impatiently for Fotherby to answer her. She drummed her fingers on the seat until finally he said, “I mean you no harm, but Merton deserves a suitable bride, and I intend to see he finds one.”

Trying to control her temper, she bit the inside of her lip. “What do you plan to do?”

“I have an old manor house not far from Town. I'll hold you there until after the wedding. Once you leave Merton at the altar, he'll forget about you and find someone else to marry.” Fotherby leaned back against the squabs. “Don't worry, your virtue is safe. We'll send you home to your parents in a couple of days.”

Obviously, the saphead had not done his research and was unaware her parents had arrived at Merton House yesterday. “And who will want to marry me after I jilt Merton?”

Fotherby's jaw opened and closed like a fish. “Hadn't thought of that, but the scandal will blow over in no time. They always do.”

Dotty held back a snort. He was an idiot. Mayhap they would stop and she could jump out of the carriage, but then what? With the shades down, she didn't even know where he was taking her. Did she even have enough money to travel back to London? Surely Dom would discover her missing and search for her. Yet, would he even think of Fotherby? No. Somehow she must rescue herself.

Closing her eyes, she tried to rest. Something would come to her. She was nothing if not resourceful.

When the coach stopped, she sneaked a peek at her pin watch. They'd been traveling close to two hours. Well, if they had gone north, she should recognize something; if not . . . Fotherby unlocked one of the doors and it opened. The footman standing next to it helped her down. An old couple stood in the doorway. Obviously the caretakers. They might help her.

“Well, here she is,” Fotherby said as if they'd been expected. “I sent a message to her parents, and they will arrive in a few days.”

The old lady glanced at Dotty and gave her a severe look. “Don't try none of your tricks with us, miss. There will be no more running off with fortune hunters.”

Obviously, there would be no help from the servants. If she thought she could get away with it, she would hit Fotherby. Instead, she assumed her most demure expression. “Indeed, Mrs . . . ?”

“Whitaker,” the woman said, seeming surprised to be asked.

“Mrs. Whitaker”—Dotty added an injured tone to her voice—“truly, I thought he loved me, not my money. I never meant to do anything too wicked, and I would never dream of causing my parents any more distress.”

Mrs. Whitaker seemed to thaw just a little bit. “You will be treated well here as befits your station, miss. But I'm sorry to say, you'll have to stay in your room.”

“Of course, ma'am.” Dotty lowered her lashes in a show of contrition. “I shall do as you say.”

“Follow me then.”

The coach drove off and, obediently, Dotty followed her gaoler. As the woman led her through the house, she took notice of every detail until they reached a large chamber on the first floor. “What a lovely home. How old is it?”

“Built during Jacobean times.” Mrs. Whitaker bobbed a curtsey. “I'll bring you a nuncheon and tea.”

“Thank you.” Dotty gave a grateful smile. “That would be lovely.”

The door closed and the lock clicked. She removed her bonnet and gloves. The first thing she must do was convince the housekeeper she was resigned to her fate.

A porcelain pitcher decorated with roses filled with warm water stood on a stand next to a matching bowl. Aside from the bathing stand, the room held an old oak wardrobe, bed, sofa, screen with a chamber pot behind it, and a dressing table with a chair. Dotty tested the window, but it wouldn't budge. A door to what looked like a dressing room was next to the fireplace. She lifted the latch, and it opened with ease.

When steps sounded outside the door to the corridor, Dotty rushed back into the bedchamber, taking a seat on the sofa. The housekeeper and her husband entered. He carried a tray filled with tea, sandwiches, and fruit. It was enough to feed three people, but if she could find a way to escape, the extra sustenance would come in handy.

Mr. Whitaker set the tray down on the table in front of the sofa. “Here you go, miss. Don't say we tried to starve ye.”

Dotty smiled. “No, indeed. Thank you very much. I am extremely peckish.”

Mrs. Whitaker pointed to the bell pull. “Ye just call if ye need anything. I put a nightgown and wrapper in the wardrobe for ye. Dinner is at five,” she said defensively. “We keep country hours here.”

“Truth be told,” Dotty replied sincerely, “I prefer country hours.”

Mrs. Whitaker nodded, her lips softening just a little. Given time, Dotty knew she could win the woman over, but time was one thing she did not have. She must not miss her betrothal ball this evening.

As she ate, she considered her options. If this house was truly as old as the housekeeper said, it might have a secret passageway. Most houses of that age did. No, they would never have put her in a room with an easy way to flee. Unless they thought she could not find it or . . . or if it was as in Merton House, mostly forgotten.

She spent the next hour knocking, poking, and pulling anything that could possibly be a hidden lever. Picking up another sandwich, she pulled the chair over in front of the fireplace and studied it. Yet, nothing popped out at her as being in any way different. Rising, she went back into the dressing room and knocked on the walls. Finally, she opened the wardrobe and ran her fingers over the seams. A few moments later, she hit a bump. It was in the shape of a rectangle. Could it possibly be a small lever? If so, it had been cleverly recessed into a corner. If she hadn't been searching so thoroughly, or if her fingers had been larger, she wouldn't have found it. Saying a brief prayer, she pushed it up and waited as a panel in the back slid open.

From somewhere in the house a door crashed open and shouting erupted.

“Where is she?” Dom's hard voice reached her.

Thank God he'd come for her!
Her heart raced, making it hard to breathe.

Boots pounded up the stairs. She poked her head out of the dressing room at the same time the chamber door slammed open. Time seemed to slow for a moment, then she was in his arms, and shots were fired below.

Dom glanced at the door. “We need to get out of here.”

“This way.” She seized his hand, pulling him into the dressing room. “There is a tunnel.”

Dom peered into the darkness and gave her a quick kiss. “How clever of you.”

“I pray it leads to the outside.”

“Even if it doesn't, it will give us time to elude your captors.”

“Who is with you?”

“Worthington.”

“I hope he hasn't been hurt.”

“That would definitely complicate things. Let's go.”

Holding one hand to the wall for balance, she followed him as they made their way down the old stone stairs. There was a dank smell to the air, and she grimaced at the thought of all the dirt. Her gloves would never be the same. Then she ran smack into Dom's broad back.

“A door,” he whispered. “I hope it's not rusted shut.” Releasing her hand, he tugged on the door. Moments later, with a loud screech, it flew back, and a wall of ivy greeted them. “You wait here. I must ensure Worthington is all right.”

“No, I'm coming with you.” Dom narrowed his eyes at her, and she huffed. “What if the caretaker finds the tunnel? I am much safer with you.”

“Very well,” he said, not at all happy. “But if there is trouble, stay out of the way.”

She nodded as he took her hand. Keeping close to the house, they rounded a corner and found themselves facing the drive. Matt stood on the steps, his pistol pointed toward the open door. Two horses waited patiently off to the side nearest her and Dom.

He whistled softly, and a neatish gray swung his head around and walked to them. After lifting her onto the horse, in one elegant movement, Dom mounted behind her, and barked, “Worthington, it's time to depart.”

Matt reached in, slammed the door shut, and in a matter of seconds was on his horse, galloping down the drive. Dom and Dotty followed, not slowing until several minutes later.

Finally she breathed a sigh of relief. “I'm so glad you came when you did. I found the tunnel but had been trying to figure out how much money I would need for transportation back to London. I did not know if I had enough.”

“I'm thankful you're not injured.” Dom looked at her as if bemused. “Had you really been thinking of money for a coach?”

“Naturally, I had. I did not want you to—”

“You are remarkable.” His lips took hers, and she threw her arms around his neck.

After a few moments, Matt coughed. “If the two of you wouldn't mind, we must decide what we're going to do while we wait for the coach. Is there an inn nearby?”

Dotty glanced at her gloves and the arm of her spencer. “Not one I would go to at present. Look how dirty I am.”

For the first time Dom seemed to notice the state of her wardrobe. “It was rather filthy in there.”

“How did you escape?” Matt asked.

She grinned. “There was a secret staircase.”

“Thea had found it by the time I arrived.” Dom tightened his grip on her. “My clever love.”

She was pleased with herself as well, but it was time to decide how to return home. “We can't ride through Town like this.”

“Quite true.” Dom said, looking up the road. “The coach should be here soon.”

“If nothing else,” Matt added, “we can find a coaching inn and hire a carriage to take Dotty back to Town. We'll say she had an accident, which will account for her soiled garments.”

“What an excellent idea.” That would solve the problem. “It's always best to have an alternate plan.”

Dom groaned. “Why do I feel as if I have a lot of catching up to do when it comes to subterfuge?”

She straightened her skirts as best she could, but there was still too much leg showing. “If we stop at an inn, I would like to send the Whitakers a note.”

“The Whitakers?” Matt asked.

“The couple at the house. Although they would not have allowed me to go, they were very kind.”

“That
kind
old man shot at me, and his wife tried to bash my head with a pan,” Matt snapped. “The only reason I was still at the door was I knew he was out of bullets.”

“Oh.” Naturally, she'd remembered the shots, but then Matt had been unharmed. “It truly wasn't their fault. Fotherby told them I had eloped with a fortune hunter, and my parents would arrive in two days to take me home.”

“Then let Fotherby tell them the truth,” Matt growled.

“Did that bounder touch you at all?” Dom's voice was sharp as a blade and black with rage.

She shook her head. “No, no. He abducted me so we would not marry. He said he would send me home after I had missed the wedding.”

“Merton,” Matt said with a scowl, “if you don't end his worthless life, I'm sure the ladies will be happy to.”

She twisted her head around in an attempt to see Dom's face, but he now held her so tightly, she couldn't see much of him. On the other hand, it was very pleasant, perhaps more than just pleasant being crushed against his hard body. Still, she would have liked to see his expression. He sounded thunderous. “I think we should tell his mother.”

Both men seemed to be struck dumb, then Matt started to laugh, big belly laughs, and Dom joined in.

Finally, when it seemed they would never stop, Dom nuzzled the back of her neck. “You may not know it, my love, but that is a far worse punishment than I could ever mete out.”

For the first time in her life Dotty wanted to preen. “He has a very nice house that is going to waste. I do not see why he cannot house war widows or orphans.”

Dom kissed her ear. “You are diabolical, but will she go along with it?”

“I believe she will,” Dotty smiled “I met her at Lady Thornhill's, and she is extremely interested in our cause. Now about the Whitakers . . .”

“No!”
Dom and Matt said in unison.

“Ask my mother or better yet, yours, to write them when we return.” He pulled her even more snugly against him, as if he would never let her go. “Speaking of dinner. We're never going to get anywhere plodding along at this pace.”