Ruined by Moonlight (19 page)

Did the servants know she was on a campaign to win more of his attention? She rather thought it possible, as
they seemed to be quite aware, and though she could never imagine the upright Yeats gossiping, she suspected he’d overheard her tell Ben he had never kissed her.

But he certainly had now.

And, ah, the difference
. Upon reflection, and she’d done quite a lot of it on the subject, maybe a desperately nervous bride would make the initial seduction difficult, no matter how skillful a man was as a lover. After their wedding night she’d relaxed a little, knowing what to expect, but maybe the kiss earlier was an indication her hopes for them were not just a romantic fantasy.

So perhaps later this evening…she would find out.

Actually, when considered carefully, she didn’t really care so much if Ben was struck by her beauty or not. Oh yes, indeed, she wanted him to
desire
her. Of course. But it was more than that.

She wanted him to fall in love with her.

The memory of that kiss brought a smile. Her standoffish husband was capable of real passion; he just wasn’t anxious to admit it.

Perfect.

“My lady?”

Alicia turned in the act of reaching for her slippers, a half smile on her face. “Yes?”

Her maid offered a slip of vellum. “This was under the door.”

Alicia took it and saw the seal, and all feeling of jubilance fled. She had a premonition that the missive might not be the best of news and she was expecting too much of the evening. “Thank you,” she said to Winnie in dismissal, and the minute the girl was out the door she broke the seal and read the note.

“Ooh.” The disappointment was acute enough she sat down abruptly on an embroidered chair, taking in a deep breath.

The dress, of course, was a wasted effort now. She fingered the material and shut her eyes in frustration. This battle was like swimming upstream fully clothed…possible to make progress, or so she hoped, but hardly easy.

With as much dignity as possible, she rose to her feet again and prepared to go and have dinner alone.

If he was right about the location of the estate, he could travel there, check the premises, and perhaps be back in time for a waltz with his lovely wife.

His beautiful, beguiling, and currently
unavailable
wife.

Damnation.

Ratcliff Castle was thirty miles south of London and the only reason he knew of its existence was that a friend had an estate nearby. This acquaintance had mentioned that he’d heard it was for sale and then bought by a mysterious owner through a third party. That would not be so remarkable by itself—many wealthy landowners chose to keep their identities secret—but the servants had immediately been dismissed, a small new staff hired in London, and the owner, as far as anyone could tell,
had never been in residence. At the time Ben had only half listened, counted it as an eccentricity on the part of the man who wanted the property, and then dismissed it as unimportant.

But was it?

Case in point: one of the main distinguishing features of Ratcliff was a single tower, once designed to hold prisoners of the highest rank, usually those who were more inconvenient than dangerous. Cromwell and his infamous Roundheads had in particular used it to secretly house political enemies they didn’t dare outright murder.

Just the sort of place,
Ben mused as the carriage rattled forward,
that might be used to keep a notorious viscount who enjoyed a very rare whiskey.
When he’d gone to the address where the shopkeeper had delivered the liquor, it had turned out to be a small company that handled finding employment, and with some monetary persuasion the agent had told Ben he’d been hired by a solicitor to find a fine chef and arrange for transportation for him and the case of whiskey. Their destination was Ratcliff Castle.

The entire situation was a paradox. Why did someone hire an agent to purchase expensive libations if there was harm intended to the victims of a kidnapping? On the other side of the coin, what had been gained by Lord Andrews and Lady Elena’s disappearance?

The answer to the latter was rather simple, actually.

Scandal
.

Ben had been coming to that conclusion all along once he accepted that they hadn’t run off voluntarily together, so he wasn’t sure he really needed to hurry to save them, as the damage had already largely been done. However, he had weighed the option of not rushing out
and decided that Alicia would prefer her cousin’s timely rescue to dinner and polite conversation.

Hopefully, he was correct. With her, it seemed, he was wrong often enough. A humbling realization, that.

“Do you really think,” Adam Altamont asked him, his long legs crossed at the ankle, “that some toff who owns a castle would kidnap a lord and a debutante and then take the time to serve the viscount his favorite spirits?”

When venturing into a duel with an unknown enemy it was usually best to have a second, and as Altamont was aware he was searching for Andrews already, not to mention they hadn’t had time this week yet for their routine meeting about his racers, when ordering his carriage around Ben had asked Adam to accompany him.

The man had a point. Ben lifted a brow. “I think that the only person in London who enjoys Blaven whiskey has disappeared and someone else bought several bottles of it and had it delivered to Ratcliff Castle. There seems to be a straight line from one point to the other.”

“Or some eccentric bloke also likes the blasted stuff.”

“By all accounts it is quite an acquired taste that very few actually acquire, except some locals on the Isle of Skye. The distiller makes only a few cases a year. I have no idea how Andrews found it in the first place, but he goes through some not-inconsiderable expense to keep it on hand.”

“That’s curious, I admit.” His trainer looked thoughtful.

“What if,” Ben pointed out, “you wanted a normally wary man to act in a reckless way?”

“His favorite liquor would be a logical choice,” Adam agreed. “Rather a backhanded strategy, though. Don’t you think?”

“Yes, in fact, I do.” It gave some insight to the way the villain’s mind worked.

“So what precisely is the plan, if I might ask, my lord? I cannot see you walking briskly up to the door, knocking, and asking if Andrews and the fair lady are being held in chains in the dungeon.”

“No, I suppose that wouldn’t do.” Ben stifled a laugh. “I was more thinking that perhaps we might take a look around for ourselves. No house is impenetrable.”

“Broke into one or two, have you?” Altamont looked openly amused. “I’m actually not all that surprised, if you don’t mind me saying so. You’ve the air of a man who knows what he’s about. That is why I took on your stable. If you were so convinced I could train your horses, then I wasn’t going to argue.”

“I thought you were cocky enough for it.”

Adam laughed, his dark eyes alight. “I was nervous as Hades, my lord, to be truthful.”

“A win at Ascot with Hermes in your first season? I’d say you proved yourself quickly enough. It seemed to silence your detractors nicely.” It had been the highlight of the summer before and Ben was not likely to forget that Adam had trained that horse since he was a colt. Even the most promising foal might amount to nothing in the wrong hands.

His trainer said emphatically, “Raphael will beat his time.”

“Do you honestly think so?”

“He already has.” Adam nodded, his smile holding a hint of self-satisfaction. “I wasn’t going to tell you for a few weeks because he isn’t reliable in the stretch yet, but since the subject has come up, why not now? Just in case we spend the rest of the evening hauled up in front of a
magistrate, you should know. They are only likely to toss you in a posh cell in Newgate for a night or two. I might hang from a gibbet.”

“I would never let them hang a trainer with such promise,” Ben said drily. “But let’s not get caught, shall we? All I wish is to know is if Andrews is at the estate. If he is there voluntarily, then so be it. But the question will remain about Lady Elena’s whereabouts. It doesn’t seem to me he’d forfeit his responsibilities in London in such a cavalier fashion, but often enough the measure of a man is a mystery if you don’t know him well, and sometimes even if you do. Either way, he seems to be the only man in England to like that particular whiskey, and just a few days ago those bottles were delivered to Ratcliff. The possible connection intrigues me.”

“Or maybe a hearty Scot from where the stuff is distilled has rented out the castle,” Adam pointed out with due logic, his good-looking face reflective. “But I suppose if a man disappears like a puff of smoke, there isn’t much else to go on, is there? His stable master said he didn’t even take his favorite horse.”

Ben stifled a laugh at the disbelief in his companion’s voice. When a man lived and breathed horses, that was obviously unthinkable. “Or his carriage. So if he did whisk Lady Elena away, how did he do it? He could have hired a hack, I suppose, but what would be the point when he had a perfectly good vehicle of his own at his disposal?”

Besides, the story from the man who tried to ransom back the watch didn’t support a voluntary absence from London. If he was to be believed, he’d witnessed a kidnapping.

The trip was less than two hours and passed quickly
as they discussed Ben’s bloodstock. What Ben had told Alicia was true. He had a passion for watching his horses race, and even more so, was competitive enough to want them to win. The stable he’d inherited from his father had been a fine one but he intended to make it the best in England. He was almost surprised when the carriage came to a halt.

Even though it was dark there was a rising moon. It wasn’t difficult to discern the correct location of the estate, for the single turret rose in silhouette on one end of what appeared to be from the distance a sprawling country house with a forested park surrounding it and an ornate gate that was firmly shut.

It really wasn’t all that remote, the village only a few miles on, but it
was
quite private. Ben clambered out of the carriage and instructed his driver to wait with the vehicle in the shadows of a nearby copse of trees. “We’ll go on foot,” he told Adam. “Or you can stay here if you don’t wish to participate.”

Adam gave him a level look. “I didn’t come along to back out now, my lord.”

“I believe Lord Andrews was abducted. As that constitutes a breach of English law, I am not sure just what we might encounter. If, indeed, he is here at all. Just a word of warning.”

Altamont gazed toward the mansion. “There’s only one light I can see in the windows, which is surprising in such a large house. Even for the country, it is early for everyone to have retired.”

“But also convenient for us to have the place so dark.” Ben slipped a set of picklocks from his pocket and deftly went to work on the gate under Altamont’s amused stare. Moments later they were slipping through and quietly
shutting it behind them. His trainer was right: there was only one light in the house in a downstairs window. Almost instantly Ben was aware the grounds were not deserted no matter that the house seemed so quiet. Grateful for the moonlight, he heard the crunch of boots on the crushed stone of the drive and caught Adam’s arm, drawing him to the left where a venerable elm spread majestic branches and cast deep, inky shadows. Luckily, as a man used to dealing with skittish horses, Adam understood the need for quiet when it was warranted.

Interesting. There appeared to be a man walking the grounds as if on patrol, in a manner Ben recognized from the war, a musket hanging loosely in the crook of one arm, his gait nonchalant and unhurried.

At least it was a musket, not a rifle, and the patrol looked perfunctory at best.

What a choice of words,
he thought with an inner wince. The last time he’d heard that word it had been applied to the way he kissed his wife. Hopefully, she no longer felt that way, but what happened next was going to have to wait until this current drama was resolved.

Locked gate. Armed guard. The whiskey…

That all was promising, but without Andrews, he still knew nothing. Truthfully, while he was curious as to what might have happened to the viscount, Elena was his true concern.

There was an advantage to having experience with reconnaissance but he had to admire Adam for his ability to stay absolutely still as the man walked past, neither of them so much as moving a muscle even as the waft of tobacco and ale drifted to them on the night air and his breathing was audible, he was so close.

As soon as he was far enough away they silently moved toward the house in unspoken agreement, skirting the tall trees, staying to the depths of the shadows, and, if Ben had ever entertained the notion of walking up to the door and knocking politely, that was long gone. Instincts were invaluable, but considering the patrol he didn’t need his gut to tell him this was enough out of the ordinary that further investigation was necessary.

“I think we will go to the back garden,” Ben murmured, leading the way past a willow near a pond that was no doubt very picturesque in the daylight. “In my experience those windows are the easiest to access.”

Adam laughed in response, his chuckle suppressed but still audible enough to cause a twinge of alarm. “I bow to your expertise, my lord.”

Perhaps Ben might have said something caustic in response, but at that moment he caught a glimpse of something pale under the trees, just a glimmer in the moonlight, a flash that might have been a trick of the illumination, but he stopped dead by the side of a bush that held a plethora of fragrant white flowers and waited.

It seemed they weren’t the only ones besides the guard creeping about the grounds, because he realized in the next second that there were two figures moving forward under the trees, going from tree to tree much as they were, and one of them had long golden hair and was dressed in some sort of light flowing robe and the other was tall and dark and unmistakably male.