Miss Hillary Schools a Scoundrel (25 page)

Lana curled into a ball, shivering as she drew her bound feet toward her middle. Her fine wool morning dress provided little warmth in the frigid cottage air. Perhaps if she’d had advance notice, she would have dressed more appropriately for an abduction.

She had been alone in the cottage for what seemed like hours, but considering Reggie’s ill-mannered company was all that was available, solitude was preferable. Her stomach had finally stopped rumbling sometime around dawn, and the hunger pangs had ceased, but she still wouldn’t turn away a plum pudding if someone happened by with one.

In the slanting rays of sun barely penetrating the grimy windows, she examined the ropes binding her feet.
A
double
butterfly
knot.
What a novice. She could untie the knot with her eyes closed, if her hands were free.

Lana thought back on the lessons from her brother Daniel to keep her mind occupied. Her brother had spent hours patiently teaching her how to tie sailor’s knots while he waited to sail back to the West Indies. And Lana had practiced for weeks perfecting the skill. Of course, she hadn’t played with her ropes for several years, but the construction remained familiar. She ran through all the knots she could recall to pass the time.

Lana shifted but couldn’t roll from her right side with her hands above her head. Her muscles had burned in the beginning. Now they were heavy with numbness, and she wiggled her fingers to encourage blood flow.

Footsteps sounded outside. Splendid.
He
was back. Where was Betsy? It was taking a dratted long time for her to return. Lana had stomached more than enough of their nonsense.

She listened to the bumps and bangs outside the cottage, as if her captor stacked wood against the wall, which seemed a much less logical place for logs than ablaze in the hearth.

In the distance, a horse approached, and all banging ceased. She almost cried with relief.
Betsy.
The girl deserved a thorough dressing down for delaying Lana’s release, but at least she would be going home at last.

A thud sounded as the rider dismounted, followed by footsteps too heavy to belong to her slight maid. Did she dare hope the new arrival was a rotund cook bearing a turkey? Her mouth watered at the thought of food.

“Lana?”

Drew!
Her heart raced. She tried to answer his call, but her dry throat croaked an indecipherable sound. The door swung open, and Drew entered with his pistol drawn. Blinding light invaded the dark interior of the cottage.

“Lana, where are you?”

“Here,” she managed to eke out.

“Peach.” The word rushed from him on a relieved breath. “Thank God, I found you.” He placed the firearm on the bed and moved to untie her hands. One quick kiss then he went to work on the ropes.

“Drew,” she whispered. “He’s out there.”

“Reggie? Or should I say Bollrud?” He dropped his hands from her bindings and reached for his firearm. Before he could react to her warning, a sickening clunk reached her ears, and his pistol clattered to the floor. Drew’s body pitched forward to land on Lana, knocking the air from her.

Good
heavens
above.
What were men eating these days? Iron anvils?

Lord Bollrud stood with legs planted wide, lightly smacking a thin log against his palm. A triumphant smirk twisted his lips, revealing his jagged teeth. He reminded her of an animal, and reeked just as bad.

“
You
are Reggie?”

His gleeful cackle turned her stomach. Either that or it was the spittle he had just shared with all.

“’Ow did ’e figure it out?” Reggie scratched his cheek where a patchy beard had begun to grow. The man was hopelessly without a sense of fashion.

Grabbing Drew by the back of his jacket, he hauled him from the bed to land on the floor with a thump.

“Be gentle with him,” she scolded. Though her darling would look just as dashing sporting bruises, there was no need for carelessness.

Reggie kneeled beside him. “Still alive,” he muttered.

A rush of gratitude swept over her and tears welled in her eyes. Reggie pushed from the floor and tromped outside only to return moments later with more rope and a knife. He tossed both on the ground. Bending, his face flushed as he put all of his strength into lugging Drew to a post. He grunted as he strained to lift Drew to a seated position.

The rope coiled on the floor, and Reggie held up a long length before hacking through the fibers with the knife. He cut an equal length and used the two ropes to tie Drew’s hands behind him, most likely employing a full carrick bend. That would be her choice.

“I suppose it is safe to say Betsy is not returning.” Reggie—or was he Bollrud?—reverted back to the way of speaking to which she’d been accustomed during his stay at Irvine Castle.

“Who are you exactly?”

Reggie jeered. “I’m the one in control, Miss Hillary. You may address me as
sir
.”

Not blasted likely, though she knew a few other choice names to bestow on him.

He stretched his arms above his head, arched his back, and groaned. “I have to figure out what to do with the two of you.”

The glint in his eye dampened any hopes she might have had of him hosting a ball in their honor. They wouldn’t survive this ordeal if he had his wishes.

***

Something cold and wet engulfed Drew, jerking him awake. He tried to move, to wipe the water from his eyes, but rope bound his hands behind his back.

Good
Lord
. What had he gotten himself into this time? He didn’t recall indulging in a single drink, though the ache in his head disputed his recall.

He blinked to clear his sight, the glare from the oil lamp making him squint, and focused on a man standing over him holding a bucket.

“Good, yer awake.”

That was a matter of opinion, decidedly not Drew’s. His vision blurred and his head pounded a rhythm in time with his heartbeat. “What happened?”

“Drew, are you hurt?” Lana’s urgency broke through his haze, and his memory returned in broken pieces.

He gave her a slight smile to ease her worry when he spotted her lying on the bed. “I’ve been worse, love.”

“Quiet. Both of ya,” the man snapped. Reggie was his name. Drew remembered that much.

He held his tongue, assessing his adversary, not wanting to taunt the man while he retained the more prestigious position. Perhaps Drew could beat him with one arm tied behind his back, but not two.

Reggie ambled toward the bed where Lana lay. She met her captor’s gaze without wavering. Only the tremble of her bottom lip revealed her fear. His peach was every bit as good at holding her cards close to her chest as any gambling man.

“Pretty little chit, ya are,” Reggie said and reached for her.

Lana shrank back. Lunging, he grabbed her hair, twisting and pulling until a small cry escaped her lips.

The ropes cut into Drew’s wrists as he strained against the knots. His threats to kill the blackguard stuck in his throat when the man turned to study his reaction. Reggie’s motivation became clear. He sought to defeat Drew. He wanted domination. Kent’s own Little Corporal.

Drew forced himself to project neutrality when Reggie traced a finger down Lana’s silky cheek and over her full lips. Fury blazed in her beautiful eyes, and for a moment, Drew thought the man might lose a finger.

“Not bad.” Reggie licked his lips. “Not bad at all. A peppery wench, I think.”

Drew refused to blink. He had been a gambler all of his adult life, and the one thing he had learned was never to reveal weakness to an opponent.

“Hmm,” Drew responded with a shrug. “I’ve had better.”

Lana’s eyes flew open as an outraged gasp escaped her lips. Hell’s teeth. He would pay for that lie later, he could see that now. He focused on Reggie’s ugly face, afraid if he looked at Lana again, he might tip his hand.

Reggie’s lip curled. “Then ya don’t mind if I take some more?” He tried to push Lana onto her back, but she couldn’t move the way he had her tied. With a growl, Reggie worked the knots at her wrists to release her hands, but quickly captured them and shoved them over her head.

Rage ate at Drew. He wanted to rip the man’s arms from her person, but words were his only weapon. “Personally, I don’t believe she’s worth breaking a sweat over. But, as you wish.”

Reggie’s head whipped toward Drew. “I seen ya wit’ her. Yer lyin’.”

Drew caught Lana’s eyes and held her gaze.
Please
forgive
me, peach.
“Then I was better at the pretense than I thought. Of course, I had little choice in the matter. You’ve been carrying a torch for her all these weeks. You can have her.”

Reggie released her hands and moved a step toward Drew. “It was Betsy’s addle-brained idea, ’aving me court ’er. She thought the chit’d be easy pickings, being a spinster. Whadda ya mean about ’aving no choice?”

Drew tried to look chagrined, which, given the horrible things he knew he had to say, wasn’t a stretch. “I let my cock lead me rather than good sense, and I got caught with my trousers down. By my brother, of all people. You’d think he would keep his mouth shut, but Rich always has to do the honorable thing.”

If looks could kill, Drew would be dead ten times over. Lana might refuse to speak to him for years to come.

Some of the fight drained from Reggie. “What are ya saying? Yer bein’ forced to marry?”

Drew offered a sardonic grin. “I wouldn’t say
forced
. I have a choice. I can live in poverty—no thank you—or I can do the honorable thing and marry the chit.” He doubted the man knew anything of his financial state, so it seemed the safest of any lie he had told thus far.

Reggie narrowed his beady eyes. “Then why come lookin’ for ’er?”

Drew’s next revelation was risky, and he hesitated, weighing the possible consequences. “She is with child and my father knows it. Do you think the self-righteous Duke of Foxhaven would forgive me if I didn’t search for her? I had no idea she would actually be here.” Drew nearly winced when he realized his blunder.

Reggie moved farther away from Lana. “’Ow did ya know to look ’ere?”

Drew’s left eye twitched. He couldn’t reveal that Reggie’s sister was dead. There was no way to predict his reaction, but it seemed unlikely he would shake Drew’s hand and offer his appreciation.

Drew affected a sneer. “Siblings are all alike, gent. They can only be trusted to a certain point. Betsy pointed the finger at you when she was caught. I beat the authorities, but they’ll be here soon. And you’ll be swinging from the gallows.”

“That double-crossing bitch. I’ll kill ’er.”

Reggie threw his head back and howled like the wild animal he was before grabbing the oil lamp and hurling it against the wall. Shards of glass flew through the air, a piece nicking Drew’s cheek. Flames trailed like crooked fingers along the floor and engulfed the wall.

“They’ll be nothin’ left of ya when they come,” Reggie screamed, spewing hatred everywhere before storming from the cottage.

Drew hadn’t factored this pickle into the odds, but then again, he rarely gambled with madmen.

Lana’s jaw dropped, all her breath rushing from her as the roaring flames mesmerized her like a snake charmer’s flute.

“Lana.” Drew’s shout broke the spell. “Your hands are free. Save yourself.”

Leaping to action, she bolted upright on the bed and slipped one knot enough to free her foot. A simple slide and she released the other. She scrambled to the edge of the bed and hopped to the floor to hurry to Drew.

“Get out of here.”

She ignored his shouted command and dropped to her knees to work the knots free. “You can’t be so desperate to escape marriage you would perish in a fire.”

The heat singed her back, urging her to move faster, as flames climbed to the roof. The cottage was going up like tinder, and at the rate the fire grew, it would collapse on them in a matter of minutes.

“Lana, this is no time prove your stubbornness. Save our child.”

She ignored his pleas and wedged her finger into the knot. Her nail ripped as she tugged at the fastenings Drew’s thrashings had tightened.

“I can do this,” she said aloud as much to convince herself as Drew. “Now, do be quiet so I may work.” She tunneled her finger farther into the knot and tugged. “I’ve got it. One minute more.”

He looked up at the blazing ceiling. “We don’t have another minute. I demand you leave.”

“Perhaps we should clear up a certain matter, my lord.” Another pull released part of the knot. “I don’t follow commands, yours or anyone else’s.”

With one loop untied, Lana maneuvered the other twists as she’d learned years ago, and the rope fell to the floor. Drew shot to his feet, grasped her upper arm, and hauled her to his side.

“Wait.” She tried to break free from his hold, intent on recovering the pistol under the bed, but Drew dragged her from the fiery shelter.

Heat from the inferno rolled into the chilled night air as they raced out the door. Lana stumbled, and Drew swept her into his arms without breaking stride. He didn’t stop running until they were a safe distance from the cottage. She clung to him.

Heavens. It felt good to be in his arms again.

The roof collapsed, the beams snapping and the walls folding in on themselves with a loud crash that rumbled through the night. The roaring flames lit what was once the yard. Reggie appeared to be gone, thank goodness, along with Drew’s horse.

Drew lowered her to her feet. “Lana, what the hell were you thinking? You could have been killed.”

“A simple thank you will suffice.”

He shoved his hands through his hair and issued a frustrated growl. Grabbing her shoulders, he jerked her close and kissed her soundly. When he set her away, he didn’t release his hold. “You cannot risk yourself. If you lost the baby…”

Lana’s heart skipped. She hadn’t realized how important issue would be to him that he would sacrifice himself. Drew had never wished to marry until he thought her with child. What would he think once he learned the truth? Tears flooded her eyes.

Drew wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into his chest. “Please don’t cry, peach. I’m sorry.”

His crooning and gentle touch encouraged her release, but Lana held tight to her emotions. The last thing they needed was a blubbering ninny slowing them down.

“Do you think you can walk? Lady Dohve’s manor is close, but it will mean walking a fair distance.”

She nodded, wanting to escape this terrible place. Her heart leapt into her throat. “Reggie has a firearm.”

Drew checked his holster. “Damnation. Did he take my pistol?”

She glanced back at the roaring heap. “It’s in there. I was trying to recover it.”

“He likely thinks we’re dead and is hiding to save his own skin.” Drew shrugged off his jacket and placed it around her shoulders. “Let’s try to be quick.”

“I don’t need your jacket,” she protested.

“Let us get
this
straight, my sweet. I am the gentleman. By rights, I decide who will and won’t wear my jacket.”

Away from the heat of the fire, the frigid wind swept over her. She shivered and pulled the garment tightly around her body. “Who am I to argue with authority?”

“Indeed.” Drew snuggled her against his side, and they began the trek to Lady Dohve’s house.

A full moon created an eerie sort of daylight, illuminating their breath as it formed a fog around them. Lana glanced sideways at his profile. Had he truly offered for her out of obligation? She hadn’t believed it to be so, but his words to Reggie rang with truth. The duke had been unhappy when he learned of their union, and Drew’s brother had demanded he offer for her hand.

She couldn’t contemplate it now. Not when every effort went toward forcing her legs to move.

“This is the family cemetery,” Drew said. “It won’t be much farther.”

Lana nodded, but her dry throat prevented her from speaking. They walked for what seemed like another half hour before the bulky outline of the house loomed in the distance.

Thank
God.
She took three more steps before her knees buckled, sending her crashing to the earth.

Drew kneeled beside her. “We’re almost there, peach.”

She struggled to stand, but her legs refused to cooperate and she sank back down. “Go on without me,” she said, too weary to go another step. “I will catch up later.”

Drew cocked his head and chuckled. “How considerate, Miss Hillary. But I see little point in going any farther without you, and I don’t relish sitting in the cold.” He scooped her in his arms and stood.

“You can’t carry me.”

His chest vibrated with a low chuckle. “Do you disparage my manhood, peach? We really must have a serious discussion about who is in charge once we return to London.”

She laid her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes. “I believe I could eat an entire horse once we reach home.”

He kissed her forehead. “Perhaps Lady Dohve has something more appetizing. I’m afraid we must stay the night at Choate Manor. I will arrange transportation on the morrow.”

“Drew,” she said, “thank you for coming for me.”

“I truly had no other choice. There is an empty spot in my bed belonging to you.”

***

Drew climbed the front steps with Lana in his arms and burst through Lady Dohve’s door in complete disregard for propriety. “Lady Dohve. It is Andrew Forest. I need assistance.”

A glow from the drawing room where he’d met with the baroness earlier drew him.

Lady Dohve was in mid-lift from her chair when he crossed the threshold with Lana in his arms.

“Oh, dear.” She hurried to his side. “Maynard. Elsie. Come quickly.”

Lady Dohve touched Drew’s elbow and guided him to the settee.

“Dear heavens, my lord, where ever did you find a young lady?”

Elsie, the maid, hustled into the drawing room, awaiting instructions.

“Retrieve a blanket, posthaste,” the baroness said.

Lana reached her hand toward Lady Dohve. “My name is Lana Hillary, a daughter to James Hillary of Sussex.”

“Poor dear, your lips are turning blue.”

Drew placed Lana on the settee and examined her face. Indeed, her lips had a bluish tint, and though she pulled off the look with ease, he didn’t care for the indication. He stalked to the fireplace and tossed two more logs on the glowing embers.

The maid returned with a blanket at the same time the manservant appeared.

“If only Reggie were here to help.” Lady Dohve twisted her hands. “Elsie, find some nourishment for this young lady and Lord Andrew. And Maynard, please prepare the west wing suite.”

The elderly man hobbled toward the staircase. Drew cringed with the thought of him navigating the steps. “Lady Dohve, I realize this is highly irregular, but would you allow me to prepare the room? I don’t mind since your usual help is otherwise engaged.”

The lady glanced toward her unsteady manservant. “Oh, dear.”

“I would appreciate your permission. I’d feel responsible if Maynard fell on the stairs.”

She gave a sharp nod while the servant scowled.

Pride
be
damned
. Sometimes a man had to admit when he couldn’t do things any longer.

“I don’t require anything special,” Lana argued. “Just a place to lay my head.”

“I’ll at least start a fire in the grate,” Drew said. “Where might I find more firewood?”

Maynard directed him to the dwindling supply, and Drew gathered six logs in his arms to carry with him.

Upstairs, he started a respectable fire and shook out the linens before remaking the bed. He made a few more trips to gather enough logs to keep the room toasty throughout the night. He’d stay here with Lana to keep her safe and warm, and perhaps steal a kiss or two.

When he returned to the drawing room, Lana held a glass of wine, and she snuggled into the blanket, pulling it to her chin as he approached. Her lips had regained their rosy pinkness, and Drew sighed with relief.

Lady Dohve offered a solicitous smile as if she had expected their visit. “Lord Andrew, would you care for a drink?”

“Thank you, my lady. Perhaps you will allow me to pour it myself?”

“Certainly.”

He sloshed the dark liquid into a tumbler then assumed the place next to Lana on the sofa.

The baroness’s brows pinched together. “Lord Andrew, I am puzzled by how you came to encounter Miss Hillary?”

Drew gulped his drink this time, not wishing to bring more unpleasantness into the lady’s life. “I know of no easy way to introduce the topic. Therefore, I will be forthright. Miss Hillary, my betrothed, was abducted from her home yesterday.”

“Oh, heavens.” Lady Dohve retrieved her dutiful fan. “How horrible, my dear.”

Lana shivered beside him, and he longed to wrap himself around her to warm her. “I managed to escape unscathed, thanks to Lord Andrew.”

“Yes, thank the Lord above for this divine intervention.” Lady Dohve raised her eyes to the heavens, making Drew look up, too. There was a nice mural on the ceiling. A bit risqué, but he had seen less appropriate works of art.

“I must admit,” Lady Dohve said, “I’m uncertain how your unfortunate circumstances led to Lord Andrew’s discovery, or how it is you arrived at Choate Manor?”

“That is the part I believe will be most difficult to hear,” Drew answered. “As you may or may not be aware, Betsy March was employed as Miss Hillary’s lady’s maid.”

“Yes?” Lady Dohve leaned forward. “But you aren’t suggesting Betsy had anything to do with Miss Hillary’s kidnapping, are you? She would never do anything untoward. She was always a dutiful child.”

He smiled in sympathy. “I’m sorry to say Miss March played a role in Miss Hillary’s kidnapping.”

Lady Dohve’s hand flew to her chest. “I can’t believe that’s possible, Lord Andrew. Betsy radiated kindness. She would do nothing to harm anyone.”

Lana covered Drew’s hand to silence him. “I can see you have sincere affection for Betsy, as did I, so this must be shocking. Unfortunately, Lord Andrew speaks the truth.”

Lady Dohve’s chest heaved with a ragged sigh.

Lana tossed the blanket aside and went to kneel at the baroness’s feet. Reaching out, she squeezed the older woman’s hand. “I’m unconvinced Betsy behaved without undue influence, my lady. I suspect her brother may have masterminded the ploy.”

Drew bit his tongue. The man couldn’t mastermind his way out of a burlap sack.

Lady Dohve shook her head. “No, I cannot believe Reggie would do anything as reprehensible either. I’m afraid you are mistaken, Miss Hillary.”

Maynard had returned and hovered on the edge of the room but hobbled toward his mistress. “If I may be so bold as to interrupt, Lady Dohve, my grandson has not been the pillar of society I may have led you to believe.”

“Indeed, Maynard? How can you say as much? Isn’t Reggie here daily to assist with the upkeep of the manor?”

From the disrepair of the home, it appeared Reggie did little in the way of assisting.

“Yes, my lady,” Maynard said, wringing his hands together, “but we both know items have gone missing.”

“I have always wanted to believe the items had been put away without any memory of where I placed them.”

The servant came even closer. “Which is the reason I’ve remained silent.” He turned to Lana. “May I ask what happened to you, miss?”

“I’m certain Betsy laced my tea with a sleeping draught. She left me in her brother’s care while she delivered the ransom note, but she never came back. It must be true she was apprehended.”

Lady Dohve peered over Lana’s shoulder to meet Drew’s eyes. “I thought she had met with an accident.”

Lana glanced over her shoulder, and he nodded. “Oh,” she answered in a small voice, appearing to digest this news. “When Betsy didn’t return, I didn’t have long to wonder what had happened. Lord Andrew found me in the cottage on your property.”

“I see.” The corners of the baroness’s mouth drooped. “We must call for the magistrate in the morning, but you both require sustenance and rest. Maynard, please secure all the doors and windows.”

“Yes, my lady.”

Once they’d eaten, Drew assisted Lana up the staircase and ushered her into the toasty room.

She collapsed on the bed. “I feel filthy.”

“Shall I bring water for the basin?”

Lana nodded. “Please.”

He sought out warm water then carried it upstairs for her use. She slumped forward like a wilted flower. Placing the basin on the washstand, he soaked the cloth then lathered it with a sliver of lavender soap the housemaid provided. He wrung out the excess water and carried the cloth to Lana.

She sat with her eyes closed, too tired to even stay upright. He pulled back the counterpane, removed her slippers, and encouraged her to recline on the pillow. Then taking the cloth, he wiped the dirt from her face.

“Lavender,” she said on a breath. “Much better than onions and sheep.”

Drew arched a brow in question, but she had closed her eyes again.

“You don’t have to do this,” she said, but didn’t try to stop him.

From her face, he slid the cloth along her neck and across her chest to the neckline. He was careful not to touch her breasts for fear he would be unable to stop himself. They would become the cleanest part on her person.