The Stolen Princess (35 page)

Gabriel slid an arm around her waist. “We won't let him touch you, so there's no need to be afraid.”

“I am not afraid of that snake,” Callie declared, and suddenly realized she meant it. She wasn't afraid of him anymore. Not since that moment when Gabriel had handed her the sword stick. And then offered to kill him for her.

She took a deep breath and said with dignity, “I merely wish not to have my party spoiled by his vile presence.”

She stalked across the room toward the count.

Harry stepped out in front of her. “Time for supper, is it? I shall escort you.” He offered her his arm.

Callie blinked at him in surprise. “No, thank you, Harry, I have eaten,” she told him and made to step around him.

Again he stepped in front of her, blocking her way. “Then will you dance?”

She stared at him. “But you haven't danced a single dance all evening.”

“Yes, well, I feel like dancing now,” he said coolly. “A dance with my lovely sister-in-law. To celebrate the wedding. You can't deny me that.”

“Harry, are you perhaps trying to stop me from talking to the count?”

He gave her an opaque look. “Why would I do that?”

“I have no idea. Oh look, here comes Lady Gosforth with a young lady for you to dance with.” His head snapped around and she took advantage of his momentary distraction to skip around him and make a beeline for the count.

“Princess Caroline,” the count purred as she reached him. He gave a perfectly correct bow that somehow managed to be insolent. “I am informed that you have found someone to marry you. A younger son, I am told, and of paltry fortune.” He smiled.

She was aware of Gabriel at her back. And Harry and Rafe and Luke and Nash. She was deeply moved by their immediate and unquestioning support.

She gave the count a cold look and said simply, “That is correct, you may felicitate me before you leave.”

He arched an incredulous eyebrow, as if surprised by her daring. “May I? I believe the so-called felicity remains to be seen.”

“Which do you doubt? My happiness or that you are leaving? There is no doubt of either,” Callie said serenely. She had no doubt in the world of her happiness now. She looked at the count and said clearly, “Good-bye.”

He flushed a little, aware that people were craning to hear the conversation. It was obvious from her attitude as she faced him that something was going on, not to mention the five men standing protectively at her back.

His lip curled. “Look at you in your fine feathers, flaunting that stupid tiara with its paste jewels—it's pathetic! What would all your elegant friends say if they knew it was a worthless piece of—”

Her hands flew to her tiara. “How did you—” she broke off.

“Know?” He sneered. “From Rupert of course. He used to laugh about it—we all did.”

Gabriel stepped forward. “Then he was a fool. You all were. This tiara, like the woman wearing it, is unique and priceless.”

“Priceless,” Count Anton scoffed.

“Don't you think a younger son with a paltry fortune would check up on that sort of thing before he married its owner?” Gabriel said in a hard voice.

Callie looked at him in shock.

The smile died on Count Anton's face. He looked from Gabriel to the tiara, to Callie and back to Gabriel.

Gabe rested his hands on Callie's shoulders. “She might tell people the diamonds are paste and that it's worthless, but I am not so easily gulled. You may take it from me, this tiara is priceless.”

The count glared at him.

“Now,” Gabriel said softly, “my wife asked you to leave. Good-bye.”

Balked, aware of the eyes on them, the count had no alternative but to go with as much grace as he could muster. He gave them a supercilious smile. “I will go then, since you behave so boorishly, but you'll find soon enough that Count Anton is not so easily defeated.”

They watched him go. “I don't like the look of that smile,” Gabriel said.

“I don't like the look of anything about him at all,” said Harry. “Little golden weasel.” They all laughed.

He heard them, too, turning back to fling them a glance filled with vitriol.

L
ater in the evening when they were alone for a moment, Callie said to Gabriel, “I didn't lie to you about the tiara, it really is paste.”

“I know,” he said.

“But—then, why did you say it was priceless?”

“Because your mother's tiara is priceless to you. And if it is to you, it is to me. Now, would you like a drink? It's been quite an eventful evening. I think another champagne is called for.”

Callie stared at him. He had no idea how much his words meant to her. And that he simply took it for granted that he would support her. “Gabriel,” she said as he was about to go off and fetch her a drink.

“Yes?”

She kissed him. “I cannot wait for this party to end.”

He looked surprised. “Aren't you enjoying yourself?”

“Oh, yes, I am. It's been wonderful. It's just that I am so looking forward to…um…” She blushed.

His eyes danced. “Chess?” he said gently.

“Yes.” And telling him she loved him.

I
t could not be said that the rest of the evening dragged, but Callie was glad when finally people started to leave. It was very late. The party had been a great success. She stood with Lady Gosforth thanking and farewelling people; she smiled and smiled and wished them gone.

Finally it was over. “I'll just pop up and look in on Nicky,” Callie told Gabriel. “I won't be long.”

He nodded. He was used to the routine. She checked on her son last thing every night. She hurried up the stairs to the third floor and tiptoed into Nicky's room, so as not to wake him.

The room was empty. Callie stared disbelievingly at the sight of the two beds with the covers pulled back, the window open, and her son gone. She felt the sheets. Cold.

She flew to the adjoining rooms—first to Harry's, then to Ethan's. No sign of Nicky. She ran across to Tibby's room and found her and Ethan poring over a book. “Where is Nicky?” she gasped.

“In bed, asleep,” Tibby said. “Why?”

“He's not there. Neither of the boys are. And their beds are cold.”

“But they must be,” Tibby said, shocked. “I checked both boys at about eleven. They were sound asleep.”

Callie looked at the clock. It was now after two.

She ran back to the boys' room and screamed “Nickyyyy!” out of the window. But there was no response. Her son had disappeared.

A
t the sound of her scream, Gabe hurtled up the stairs two at a time. Harry and the others followed.

“What is it?” But the cold, empty beds and Callie's distress said it all. He peered out through the open window and found a dangling rope hanging from the roof.

Harry, who was standing beside the wardrobe, heard a faint sound. He unlocked the door and a bundle fell out. It was Jim, bound and gagged and wrapped in a quilt. Harry quickly freed him.

“They took Nicky!” Jim gasped the moment he could spit out the gag. “We was asleep and by the time I was awake I couldn't say nuffink.” His sharp face crumpled as he looked at Callie. “I'm sorry, ma'am, real sorry. I let you down—”

Callie shook her head. She was beyond words, Gabriel saw.

“Who were they, Jim, did you get a look?”

“Two men. Foreigners. They tied up both of us, then one passed Nicky through the window to the other, and then I got shoved in the wardrobe.”

Gabe glanced at the rope. “They must have taken him across the rooftops. But why?”

Callie moaned. Gabe grabbed her by the shoulders. “Listen to me! If they've taken Nicky, they must mean to keep him alive!”

She stared at him blankly. “Why?”

“I don't know, but it would have been easier to slit both boys' throats while they lay sleeping. They didn't, so they want Nicky alive.”

Faint color stole back into her cheeks.

Gabe hoped to hell he was right. He turned back to Jim. “How long ago was it?”

Jim shook his head, his face scrunched with distress. “I dunno, sir.”

“Tibby checked the boys around eleven,” Ethan said. “So, sometime in the last three hours.”

“I took the dog downstairs to do his business afterward,” Tibby confessed, almost in tears. “And then Ethan came looking for me, and I left the dog shut out in the garden. If I'd only—”

“Never mind,” Gabe interrupted her. “The count, Nash, where was he staying?”

“Not sure. With the Esterhazys, I think.”

“Right, we'll start there. Ethan, get the horses saddled. Harry, lend me a pair of riding boots.” The others hurried off to obey his orders. Gabe followed, then halted when he saw her; Callie stood huddled against the wall, frozen-looking and tragic.

Gabe couldn't bear it. She'd married him for one reason only: because he'd sworn to protect her child. He'd failed her.

Gabe seized her hands. “I'm sorry,” he said urgently, “but I will find him, I promise you.”

She gave him a frozen look.

“I
promise
you,” Gabe said, and with a last desperate gesture he kissed her hard on the mouth and went into Harry's room, stripping off his evening trousers and coat almost before he was in the door.

She followed. “What are you doing?”

“Changing into my riding buckskins—or rather, Harry's. Can't ride in evening clothes—no flexibility—and mine would take too long to fetch.” Harry handed him a pair of riding boots and he pulled them on. “Good thing we're the same size.”

He raced down the stairs, shouting at Sprotton. “Are the horses here yet, dammit?”

“Any moment, sir.” Sprotton snapped his fingers and a footman ran out into the street to look.

Ethan, Rafe, Nash, Luke, and Harry were all in riding clothes, she saw. “What are you all doing?”

“Going after them, of course.”

“I'm coming, too,” Callie said.

“You can't,” Gabe said brusquely. “You'll slow us down.”

She stared at him, agonized, knowing he was right. But how could she bear to wait, helpless, not knowing?

“I'll take her,” Harry said to Gabe. “We'll follow in the curricle.”

Callie flung him a grateful look and looked at Gabriel. “Please. I will go mad, otherwise.”

He sighed. “All right. Sprotton, tell the stables we need the curricle and the grays, at once.” He snapped his fingers and a footman went running.

“It'll be cold in the curricle. You must take my cloak,” Lady Gosforth said. “Sprotton, fetch my fur cloak.”

“Immediately, my lady,” said Sprotton, and a maid went running off to fetch it.

Gabe turned to Harry and said in a low, urgent voice. “Look after her for me, brother. She is my
life
!”

Harry nodded. “I know.”

Callie blinked. Had he said “wife,” or “life”? But he was gone, Ethan, Rafe, Luke, and Nash with him, galloping down the street.

Shaken, she managed to gather her thoughts together. She drew Lady Gosforth aside. “Do you have a pistol I could borrow? I'm going to kill that man.”

“Who, my nephew?” Lady Gosforth exclaimed, shocked.

“No, of course not! I
love
your nephew. It's Count Anton I'm going to kill.”

Lady Gosforth's face cleared. “Well, in that case, by Jove, I do. Sprotton, fetch me my pistol. And make sure it's loaded.”

“At once, my lady,” Sprotton said, and a footman went running.

The footman and two maids arrived at the same time, the footman with a case containing a tiny muff pistol, one maid carrying an enormous sable cloak and the other carrying a small bag. “Just a change of clothes and a few other necessities,” the girl told Callie, passing it to a footman to put in the curricle.

“Good thinking, that gel,” declared Lady Gosforth approvingly.

The curricle and grays arrived at the front door. Callie kissed Lady Gosforth and said, “Take care of Tibby and Jim for me. And thank you for everything.” Harry helped her up and in moments they were off, following Gabe to the Esterhazy residence.

G
abe spurred his horse along the road, followed by Rafe, Luke, Nash, and Ethan. His face was grim. He was furious with himself. He should have taken more care, should have thought that kidnappers might come across the roof in the night. He'd been so busy trying to seduce the mother, he'd forgotten that his marriage was all about the child.