Miss Hillary Schools a Scoundrel (24 page)

“Jus’ take it,” Reggie snapped at his sister.

Her maid took the letter and glanced at it. “Thank you, Miss Hillary.”

Lana cleared her throat. The gnawing pain in her belly was almost more than she could bear. “Betsy, do you have any food?”

“Tie ’er ’ands, then get back to the ’ouse. Leave the notes and don’t let anyone see you.”

When the maid moved to bind her again, Lana grasped her sleeve. “Please, don’t leave me with him,” she whispered.

Betsy pried Lana’s fingers from her arm. “The sun will rise in a few hours. I cannot wait any longer.”

“But I have need of the necessary.”

“Devil take it!” Reggie stomped to the door. “I ain’t helpin’ with no necessary.”

Lana cringed when he slammed the door.

Betsy untied the rope at her ankles and assisted her to her feet. Lana’s belly cramps returned. As the maid helped her on the chamber pot, the intensity of her cramping doubled her over. She panted as a wave of pain washed over her, leaving her shaky, cold, and ready to toss up her accounts. Closing her eyes, she waited for the pains to recede.

“I am finished,” she murmured at last. Her eyes stung and her throat ached. The discovery that she did not carry Drew’s child should have given her a sense of relief, but instead it produced a flood of tears. Betsy hauled her to her feet. Sniffling, Lana roughly wiped away the evidence of her disappointment with the backs of her trembling hands.

Betsy patted her shoulder in a misguided attempt at comfort. “You have no cause to fret, Miss Hillary. I will return posthaste, just as I promised. I’m sorry, but I must bind your feet and hands again.”

Lana thrust her hands forward, wrists together. “Forgive me for doubting your sincerity.”

Reggie returned as Betsy tied the last knot. She wheeled around to face him. “You
will
feed her, Reginald.”

Lana’s hunger was the least of her concerns when it came to being under the man’s care. An evening of snarls, snaps, and barks sounded exceptionally unpleasant. And she remained unconvinced Reggie didn’t bite.

It was a torturously long time after Betsy and her brother left Lana alone before heavy footsteps approached the cottage. The door swung open on a blast of wind. The candle flickered and blew out, leaving Lana in darkness with her captor. Moonlight cast a bluish glow over his body, but there was not enough illumination to see his face.

The door creaked as it closed. He loomed within the threshold, silent. Prickles chased along her skin. Could his eyes penetrate the blackness? The idea that he might be able to observe her like some nocturnal creature while he remained hidden increased her disquiet. Maybe he knew this and intended to torment her. She refused to allow him the satisfaction of knowing how he frightened her.

“C-care to play a game of whist?” she asked, trying to control the tremor in her voice.

He stayed frozen in the dark. The only sound in the cramped room was her rapid breathing. She closed her eyes and attempted to slow her heart’s pounding. She must survive this night, just this one, and then she would be home again, safe with her family and beginning her life with Drew.

Reggie’s sudden move made her jump. “Never learned,” he said at last.

“I-I could teach you. Do you have a deck of cards?”

He clomped through the cottage, the sound fading as he entered another area. She would take that as a no. A few moments later, a glow filtered into the room where she curled on the floor.

His body filled the doorway, blocking most of the light, his features cast in shadow.

“Eat this.” He crossed the room in two steps and bent to shove something into her hands, something hard and crusty.

Lana sniffed his offering. It was bread. She devoured the stale hunk in three bites and longed for more, but she wouldn’t request a second course. At the end of this ordeal, if her kidnappers were to comment on her person, she would not be known as the disagreeable captive.

Reggie approached again and when he thrust the metal flask into her hands, she was prepared for the burning pain of the alcohol. Lana sipped only enough to wet her tongue and ease the rasping dryness in her throat.

“Thank you.”

When she passed it back, Reggie screwed on the top then yanked her bound hands with terrifying speed to haul her from the floor. With her legs lashed together, she couldn’t get her feet under her, but he was undeterred. He dragged her across the rustic floor, ripping her stocking above her ankle.

Blast
and
damn.
That was the last time she would waste courtesy on the likes of him.

Lana quivered and bit the inside of her jaw to keep from screaming out when he tossed her on the bed, if one could call the lumpy thing a bed. Shoving her hands above her head, he secured her bindings to the iron bed rail. He tugged the ropes then climbed from the bed.

“That ought ta keep ya from runnin’ away.”

Lana bristled. The cottage housed a bed this whole time and the idiots had dumped her on the floor?

Without another word, Reggie spun on his heel and left her alone without a fire or even a blanket to keep her warm.

Lana frowned. Her kidnappers had much to learn when it came to hospitality.

***

The sky began to wake with shades of pink and purple. Drew sighed. He was weary from walking the streets of London most of the night. The odds of finding Lana in the overcrowded city had been slim, but he couldn’t sit and do nothing.

Jake had joined him for the first four hours, but with no sign of Lana, they had returned to Hillary House to see if there was any news. There was nothing, so instead of pacing a trench in Mrs. Hillary’s floors, Drew walked the streets.

When he rounded the corner, Hillary House stood lit like a beacon in the gray dawn light, guiding him back. Hope flickered inside him when he entered the house, but extinguished as soon as he saw Mr. Hillary’s drawn face.

He stepped forward, waving two sheets of foolscap. “We’ve received word. A ransom note and a message from Lana.”

Drew raced to grab the papers from his grasp. Never was one object so despised and welcomed at the same time. He scanned the contents of Lana’s letter first. She promised she was safe and would remain unharmed. Nevertheless, the kidnapper’s demands provided little comfort.

“The cemetery? Is this an ill-conceived joke?” He tossed the notes on a side table. “I’m delivering the money.”

Lana’s brother bolted from the overstuffed chair where he had been slumped. “Now wait a moment, Forest. We are her family. We’ll decide how to handle the situation.”

Drew stalked across the room to stand toe to toe with him. His fist itched to bloody Jake’s lip. “Lana belongs to me as much as anyone. I’ll not rest until I have her back safe.”

Mr. Hillary placed a firm hand on Drew’s shoulder. “We all want the same thing, Lord Andrew. We want Lana back, and we’ll get her back. But not if we fight each other.”

Drew backed up a step and dropped his raised fist. Lana’s father was right. Jake wasn’t his enemy. His enemy, the man holding his peach captive, was in for a thorough beating, and Lana’s brother might be just the chap he wanted on his side. He possessed a wicked right jab.

“My apologies, Hillary.”

Jake nodded. “We are all wound tight.”

Drew scooped up the letter and read the demands again before handing it to her father. “I have most of the funds, sir.”

Mr. Hillary shook his head. “Save your money, my lord. You will need it to care for my daughter. She has exquisite taste in gowns, or so the shopkeepers inform my man of business when he settles the bills.”

Lana could have a ballroom filled with gowns, for all Drew cared. He just wanted her home.

“We’ve come up with a plan,” Mr. Hillary announced. “I will be the one to drop the ransom.”

Before Drew could protest, Mr. Hillary held up his hand. “That’s not all. You and Jake will go to the cemetery several hours before the appointed time and wait. If the damned blackguard shows without Lana, I want you to follow.”

“You won’t be involving Bow Street?”

Mr. Hillary’s jaw twitched. “The fewer people who know of her disappearance, the better.”

Drew cared nothing for society’s acceptance, but he was glad to hear Lana’s father intended to follow her abductor’s instructions not to involve the runners. Besides, he had more faith in Lana’s brother and himself.

Mr. Hillary glanced at Drew and his son. “You should leave within the hour to find a spot to observe the ransom exchange. I’ll leave the money at the grave of Carter Daniels, as directed.”

Drew raised his brows. “A man of your past acquaintance?”

Mr. Hillary shook his head. “I’m assuming he’s no one of importance. I sent a man earlier to locate the grave. It lies in a secluded area on the south side. Once I drop the money, I’ll leave the cemetery as I entered, in case he is watching.”

It seemed foolish to recover the ransom in daylight, but perhaps the kidnapper thought it would be easier to detect someone waiting to give chase.

At the cemetery, Drew and Jake chose a spot behind a crypt partially hidden by mature trees and settled in for a long wait. The crypt was a distance from the gravesite, but this section of the cemetery was open with the gravestones coming no higher than Drew’s hip. It would have been preferable to split up and take positions closer, but there was no help for it.

They sat in silence. Drew’s muscles tensed and twitched with every sound, preparing to chase the blackguard.

“There’s Father,” Jake murmured.

Drew craned his neck. When Mr. Hillary reached the grave, he dropped the full bag in front of the tombstone and moved away. Then they waited.

A flash of movement caught Drew’s eye. “Someone is coming.”

“It’s just a boy. Stay down.”

Jake was correct. A small youth tugged his hat over his face and glided through the cemetery, appearing to have a destination in mind. Perhaps he visited a relative’s grave. Yet, instead of moving past the designated grave as Drew expected, the boy stopped.

“Could that be him?” Jake whispered. “He appears too fragile to capture a kitten, much less hold Lana.” He shifted his position, cracking a small stick under his boot.

The boy’s head shot up to scan the area before he bent to retrieve the purse and took off at a run.

“He has taken it. Catch him.”

The lad had at least twenty paces on them, but they both flew after him. Jake’s footfalls pounded the ground close behind Drew. Gaining on their quarry, Drew increased his efforts, but a heavy thump followed by a sharp cry of pain made him glance over his shoulder.

“Keep going,” Jake’s muffled voice commanded.

Where the bloody hell had he gone?

Drew forgot Lana’s brother and pushed himself harder, but his hesitation had allowed the boy to escape the cemetery and head for the streets of London.

He reached the street as the boy darted into traffic, taking no notice of a carriage barreling down the opposite side of the road. A high-pitched scream pierced his ears. The driver jerked the reins.

The boy’s abrupt appearance spooked the greys, causing one to rear up. The boy crumpled to the cobblestone road.

More screams rippled through the air.

“I didn’t see ’im, on my honor,” the driver wailed. “Came from nowhere, ’e did.”

Drew shoved his way through the pandemonium, kneeled beside the boy, and turned him to his back. Hell’s teeth. The lad must receive merciless teasing, for he looked every bit as delicate as a girl.

“It’s Betsy, Lana’s maid,” Jake stated, limping toward him. Dirt covered him head to toe.

“What happened to you?”

“Some blasted idiot left a hole in the cemetery.”

“And you didn’t see a hole large enough for a man?”

Jake sniffed. “I saw the hole fine. It was the shovel I failed to see. Is the girl alive?”

Drew checked for breathing and shook his head. Standing, he dusted off his trousers. A servant in the Hillary household had betrayed them. Who else might be involved? He turned on his heel and started back to Lana’s home.

“Where are you going?” Jake asked.

“The maid wasn’t working alone. I intend to find out who has Lana.”

Drew nailed the butler with a glare as soon as the doors to Mr. Hillary’s study closed. “Get every servant down here at once.”

Jake tossed the bag of money on his father’s desk. “Every single one of them, Father.”

Mr. Hillary gave a sharp nod. “Do it, Hogan.”

“Yes, sir.” The butler hurried to do his master’s bidding.

“Tell me what transpired.” Mr. Hillary drummed his fingers against his desk as Drew retold the events of the last hour.

A timid knock sounded at the door. Lana’s brother half-hopped, half-walked to the door and yanked it open. A hair-raising, spine-shivering screech ripped through the air.

“Hellfire and damnation!” Jake leapt backwards, knocked his elbow against a marble pillar, and careened into side table.

The young maid slapped both hands over her mouth, her eyes as round as shillings.

“Why were you blasted screaming?” Jake’s dark brows lowered dangerously.

“I don’t know,” she mumbled from behind her hands.

“Well, stop it.” He rubbed his elbow. “You’ll take ten years off a man’s life running about shrieking like a banshee.”

She dropped her hands from her mouth and curtsied. “Forgive me, sir. My nerves are a bit frazzled, what with Miss Hillary and all.”

“Yes, well, try to contain yourself.” Jake waved her inside. “My apologies for my lapse in manners. Enter.”

The maid ducked her head and scurried into the study.

Jake grumbled as he limped to the settee and lowered his battered frame.

“Come here, girl,” Mr. Hillary said.

She shuffled to stand before her employer with her hands clutched.

Lana’s father crossed his arms and leaned against his desk. “What do you know of Betsy March?”

“Not much, sir.” Her voice quavered. “She mostly kept to herself.”

Drew stepped forward. “Did she mention any family or friends?”

“Not to me, my lord.” With a shaky hand, the maid tucked a wayward curl under her cap. “Is she in trouble, sir? She seems like a nice girl.”

Further questions revealed nothing of importance, and the scullery maid was dismissed.

The next interview ended with the same results, and then the next and the next. No one knew anything about the reclusive Betsy March.

“Damnation.” Drew rammed his fingers through his hair.

Jake leaned back against the settee cushion and closed his eyes. He had removed his boot before elevating his leg and now sported an ankle the size of a Goliath-sized yam. Drew shook his head. He’d never met a less graceful chap.

He turned to Mr. Hillary. “Someone has to know something. Bring them in again. Someone is hiding something. How could the kidnappers get her out of the house without anyone noticing?”

“Everyone was engaged in preparing for the wedding feast,” Jake said. “Given the time of day, none of the chambermaids were cleaning the rooms. It’s difficult to believe, but not impossible.”

“Does no one know of Betsy’s past? How did she come to be here, Mr. Hillary?”

Lana’s father rolled his neck and blew out a long breath. “She answered the advertisement in
The Times
, and she arrived with a first-rate letter of recommendation from—Wait. Can that be accurate?” Mr. Hillary strode around his desk, tugged open a drawer, and rifled through papers until he found what he sought. “Yes, here it is. Lady Dohve vouched for her.”

He passed Drew a piece of parchment marked with the elaborate looping letters often favored by females.

“Bollrud’s aunt,” Drew said. The man was like vermin, impossible to drive away.

“I will summon the gentleman from Talliah House,” Mr. Hillary said. “He might know something of the maid’s past.”

Drew’s fingers curled into a fist. “You won’t find him at Talliah, sir. He left Town yesterday after he learned of our intentions to wed.”

Jake swung his leg off the settee and sat up straight. “Do you believe Bollrud is involved?”

It wouldn’t do to malign another gentleman without proof. “I’m unsure, but as your father said, maybe he knows something of value pertaining to Betsy March.” Drew handed the letter back to Mr. Hillary. “I believe I will pay a call to Lady Dohve and her nephew.”

“Perhaps I should go with you,” Mr. Hillary said.

“It isn’t far to Lady Dohve’s estate. I can be there and back by sundown. You should stay in the event the kidnapper sends another communication.”

Jake winced as he tried to stand. “Just let me get on my boot.”

“You aren’t in any condition to travel. Rest your ankle. I may need your assistance tomorrow.”

Jake hesitated, but then lowered to the settee. “Return with your findings posthaste.”

“Of course.” Drew bid farewell to the gentlemen before retrieving Demetrius from the Talliah mews.

***

Lady Dohve’s estate was an hour out of London by horseback. The manor house stood in the distance, grand and almost desolate. Although the grounds suffered neglect, evidence suggested they had been well-tended at one time. The mature hedges had grown ragged and the topiary appeared more like a grotesque version of a hare, but Drew could discern the gardener’s original intent.

As he rode Demetrius up the lane to the Tudor manor, no servant came to greet him or lead his horse to the stables. The home suffered the same neglect as the gardens. Apparently, the rumors of the baroness’s depleted fortune had not been exaggerated.

Leaving Demetrius to graze on the overgrown lawn, Drew hurried up the steps and knocked. The wait seemed extraordinarily long, but as Drew raised his fist again, the door creaked open.

A hunched-over relic hobbled outside, shaking his fist in the air. “No, no, no. The horse cannot be on the lawn. Lady Dohve strictly forbids it.”

With the overgrown grass, Demetrius was providing a service to the lady, in Drew’s line of thinking, but he didn’t care to debate the issue.

“So sorry.” Drew returned to Demetrius and gathered his reins. “Perhaps you could summon a groom to take him to the stables.”

“There is no groom, sir. It’s only me and me grandson left in the baroness’s employ, and a housemaid for indoor work. What affairs do you wish to discuss with her ladyship?”

Drew sought out a place to secure his horse then returned to stand before the man. “Inform Lady Dohve that Andrew Forest, the Duke of Foxhaven’s son, requests an audience.”

The man’s narrowed gaze swept up and down Drew. He supposed his ruffled appearance engendered suspicion. Fortunately, he carried one of his cards and offered it to the servant. “I shan’t require much of her time.”

He held the calling card close to scrutinize it before lowering it to inspect Drew again. “Very well, you may wait in the drawing room, Lord Andrew.”

The elderly servant shuffled around and struggled up the stairs leading inside, his muddling gait agonizing. Drew fought against the urge to tote him inside like a sack of grain and be done with it. One couldn’t go any slower if one stood still.

Once they passed into the house and neared the drawing room, he thanked the servant and whisked inside to wait for Lady Dohve. He hoped the grandson was fleeter of foot and would carry his request to her ladyship in place of his grandfather. Otherwise, Drew couldn’t be certain he would return to London before the year’s end.

Lady Dohve joined him in the drawing room after several minutes. She beamed her pleasure. “Lord Andrew, how nice of you to call. What brings you to my little spot of heaven?”

Drew returned her gracious smile, recalling he’d met the baroness in London a couple of years prior. “Lady Dohve, I hope you are well.”

“Yes, as well as can be expected at my age. Thank you for asking. May I offer you some refreshment?”

“I apologize, my lady, but I am unable to stay for long. Please, don’t go to any trouble.”

“It would be no trouble, my lord, but I don’t wish to delay you.”

Lady Dohve selected a Chippendale chair with a worn brocade seat, and Drew slipped into its twin.

“Your graciousness is appreciated. I pray you will please excuse my impatience, but I have an inquiry to make pertaining to a former employee of yours.”

Lady Dohve folded her hands in her lap. “Oh, I do hope I’m able to assist you, Lord Andrew. My staff has dwindled over the last few years. I’m uncertain if I can recall them all.”

“You wrote a letter of recommendation for her, a young woman named Betsy March.”

Lady Dohve’s lips lifted at the corners. “Yes, my darling little Betsy. She moved to London a few years ago to search out employment as a lady’s maid. She was more suited for that line of work than as a chambermaid. How is my dear girl?”

Drew drummed his fingers against the arm of the chair. He hadn’t expected the lady might hold the girl in esteem. “I fear I must be the bearer of unfortunate news, my lady.”

“Oh?” Her smile slid from her face.

“There was an accident involving Betsy.”

“Oh, dear.” Lady Dohve snatched a fan from the side table, flicked it open, and fanned herself. “Is she all right?”

“Betsy didn’t survive her injuries, my lady.”

Lady Dohve’s hand clutched her chest. “Wh-what happened?”

He debated revealing the truth, but she would likely find out at some point and realize he had withheld information. “Apparently she didn’t see the carriage coming toward her.”

Lady Dohve’s wide eyes swam with tears. “Oh, dear,” she repeated, creating a windstorm with the rapid waving of her fan. “Oh, dear me.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.” Drew had no reason to believe Lady Dohve was involved with Lana’s abduction, and he did feel bad for her.

“Maynard will be crushed,” she said.

“Maynard, my lady?”

“My manservant. You met him when you arrived.”

Drew nodded as if he understood the reason the information would trouble Maynard, or Lady Dohve for that matter.

“How he doted on his granddaughter. He had high hopes for her. We both did.”

Drew reached for his handkerchief and offered it to the baroness. She accepted with her thanks.

“Betsy was your manservant’s granddaughter?” he prompted.

“Yes, Maynard raised her and her brother when his daughter died from the pox.”

Drew’s mouth dropped open in shock. Lady Dohve was much too candid by half. “The
pox
, you say?”

She nodded as she dabbed at her tears. “Yes, the poor dear contracted smallpox in ’98.”

“Oh.” Well, that was a horse of a different color, wasn’t it?

“Betsy was like my child. I could never have any of my own, though Lord Dohve, bless his soul, gave a jolly good try.” Her smile widened and revealed several missing back teeth.

“I see.” Though he wished he could strike the disturbing image from his mind. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am. I wish I could have called under better circumstances.”

“I’m glad you came, Lord Andrew. How thoughtful of you to personally carry notice to us.” She wrung her hands. “I don’t look forward to informing Reggie. He’s unlikely to take it well.”

Drew’s brows lifted. “If I may ask, my lady, who is Reggie?”

“Betsy’s brother. He just returned from visiting her in Town. I was surprised by the length of his visit, but they always were close. I’m glad he took the time. Hopefully, he will have fewer regrets this way.”

Drew sat up straighter, his heartbeat doubling in speed. “Is Reggie here now?”

Lady Dohve shook her head. “I’m sure he has returned to the caretaker’s cottage. I do hope he won’t stay away long. He will want to receive the report as soon as possible, but Maynard and I are in no condition to go to him.”

She blew her nose into his handkerchief, folded the linen square, and tried to pass it back.

Drew waved it off. “I have another. Please, enjoy.”

“Thank you, my lord. I have no inkling where my handkerchiefs have gotten off to.”

Drew scooted to the edge of his seat.

This man, Reggie, lived in a secluded cottage, one where he wouldn’t be disturbed. “Lady Dohve, would you like me to carry word to Betsy’s brother?”

“Would you do me such a kindness? You’ve done so much already. I hate to impose.”

“It’s no trouble, my lady.”

“I would very much appreciate your assistance. Poor Reggie will be beside himself.” She sighed. “The cottage is north a little past the family cemetery.”

Drew extended his sympathies once more and bid her farewell. Outside, the sun hovered lower in the sky. Sunset would be on him in a few hours. He swung into the saddle and directed Demetrius north.

He rode until the house was out of sight. Around the first bend, he spotted iron fencing surrounding a plot of land. The names on the headstones became visible as he rode closer. He urged his horse to pick up the pace, but a name jumped out at him from a fresh marker. He eased back the reins and dismounted then hopped the fence. He blinked, distrusting his eyes.

Philip Bollrud

Beloved Great-Nephew of

Lord and Lady Dohve

August 5, 1786 – June 6, 1816

“Hell’s teeth.” It hadn’t been Bollrud at Irvine Castle at all, which left one other likely scenario. Bollrud was really Reggie March. And he had come for Lana. Unlucky for him, she belonged to Drew.