The Wedding Trap (37 page)

But it had not. If anything, his absence from her had only made his longing increase, made the terrible melancholy inside him grow deeper and darker. During the day, he tried to ignore his discontent, but at night such attempts became impossible as he tossed against the sheets in a torment of restless frustration, unable to escape thoughts of her even in his dreams.

What was she doing tonight? he brooded. Out on the town no doubt with her fiancé. He tossed back his wine and set down the glass with a sharp snap that came close to breaking the stem.

Engaged.

He still couldn’t believe it, his mind even now shying away from the reality of that nightmarish day a little more than a week ago when he’d been slapped with the news.

Why in the blazes had she done it? How could she have promised to marry Brevard when she had refused Kit only a couple weeks before?

Well, if she preferred the viscount, so be it, he derided. The pair of them would probably bore each other to death with their incessant politeness and perfection, while he remained free to do as he chose without encumbrance or responsibility.

And since he was able to do as he wished, what he ought to do was go down to the inn’s taproom and find a willing bed partner. There was one wench in particular who’d been giving him the eye ever since he’d arrived, smiling and flirting with him every time she sauntered near. Pretty and young, she had enough padding on her to give a man a hard, healthy ride, and a huge bosom that would surely overspill even his large, inquisitive palms.

But even as he considered the notion of taking the girl to his bed to slake his hunger, his body remained unmoved.

Instead he found himself craving another pair of breasts, smaller but utterly exquisite, with nipples the color of rose petals and skin that smelled every inch as sweet. Delicate, slender arms, legs and hands that could stroke and twine and intoxicate. And gently flaring hips that pressed against his own as if they had been formed by a divine hand, fitting in perfect accord as if their two separate bodies were meant to join as one.

Body thrumming, he forced himself to retreat from such dangerous musings. Wallowing in his present gloom would do him no earthly good. He would simply have to find a way to get over his desire for Eliza. The days and weeks would pass, and with them his near desperation for her would wane until eventually the yearning disappeared altogether. Physical passion was always like that, and so it would be again.

At least that’s what he was going to tell himself.

If only he didn’t have to go back to London tomorrow. But the races were finished, his friends ready to return. He supposed he could go in search of other entertainment—Selway and Lloyd were always prime for new adventures—but racketing off to another town would smack of cowardice, no more than a febrile excuse designed to put off the inevitable.

He would have to see Eliza again sometime, so he might as well get it over with as soon as may be. And perhaps if he was lucky, he would return to find her hold upon him diminished, the magnetism of her allure weakening already.

Still, he was no masochist. When the household left soon for Winterlea, he would not be traveling with them. Perhaps he would spend a few months at his country house instead, invite Brentholden and the others to go shooting with him come fall. By the time Christmas arrived and he was forced to put in an appearance at the family estate, he would be done with this insane infatuation for Eliza.

Closing his eyes, he prayed he would be over her.

Loud exclamations issued from the card table, his friends growing increasingly noisy in their exuberant play. Deciding he’d had enough company for the night, Kit climbed wearily to his feet.

“Ho there, Winter. Where are you off to?” Selway questioned, the other three men at the table turning inquiring gazes on Kit.

“If you must know, I’m off to bed.”

“At this hour? It’s barely midnight. Surely you can’t mean to hie off to your sleep like some plaguey old man?”

“We have a long day’s travel tomorrow and I’m in no mood to be miserable through it.”

“You can rest in the coach,” Lloyd muttered. “Best thing to do in a coach, if you ask me.”

He could think of other activities, Kit mused, then wished he hadn’t as heated memories of Eliza washed through him. An ugly scowl descended across his brow. “Nonetheless, bed is where I am bound.”

“Sad waste, if you ask me,” Selway persisted. “Surely we can coax you into playing one hand of cards.”

Brentholden cast Kit a long, quizzical look before turning back to the others. “Leave him be. Now, are we going to finish this hand or not? Vickery, I believe it was your bet.”

As his friends returned to their game, Kit let himself out into the inn’s narrow hallway. Once inside his bedchamber, he stripped off his coat, neck cloth and boots, then flopped back upon the inn’s adequately comfortable bed.

He should have invited the serving girl to join him, he decided. A shame she wasn’t the woman he craved. Forcing his eyelids to shut, he tried to sleep, knowing that even if he managed the trick, his dreams would all be of Eliza.

Two days later, a note arrived on Eliza’s breakfast tray.

“The footman said the message came for you early this morning, miss,” her maid remarked as she set the tray onto a small table near the window.

Covering a yawn with a hand, Eliza climbed out of bed and crossed to take up the note, her maid moving busily around the room, pulling back the draperies to let in the morning light.

Eliza opened the missive.

Meet me in the park at ten o’clock.

I shall be waiting for you at the Grosvenor’s gate.

Brevard

She folded the note, then set it back down on the tray.

Lance had said nothing to her last night about wanting to ride today. Perhaps he was feeling impulsive this morning. She certainly hoped nothing was awry. Of course, if something were wrong, he would have come here to the townhouse. Odd that he wanted to meet her at the park.

She caught her maid’s attention. “Lord Brevard has written inviting me to ride with him this morning. Please be so good as to set out my riding habit, Lucy.”

Her maid dipped a curtsey and moved toward the wardrobe while Eliza sat down to eat a hurried meal.

An hour later, with just enough time to spare, Eliza made her way downstairs. Earlier, she had sent word to have Cassiopeia saddled. The horse and her groom were waiting as ordered when Robert let her out the front door.

“Have a good ride, miss,” the footman called.

Perched on her mount, she gave him a jaunty wave. “Thank you, I shall.”

With a gentle flick of the reins, she rode away.

Kit strode up the steps to Raeburn House, glad to finally be free of the coach.

He wanted a warm bath, a change of clothes and a hearty meal, in that exact order. While he was bathing, he decided, he would have one of the servants liberate a fine bottle of Burgundy from the cellar to enjoy with his meal.

The notion of the small indulgence lifted his spirits a touch.

“Welcome home, my lord,” the footman greeted, holding open the front door. “Did you have a pleasant time at the races? Lay money on any winners?”

Kit removed his hat and gloves and passed them to the other man, together with a smile. “One or two, Robert. I didn’t disgrace myself by losing a fortune to the bet-makers, at any rate. I actually came away flush by a few extra pounds.”

The footman grinned. “Well done, my lord.”

Kit glanced around the large entry area. “Is the family about?”

“The duke is in his office and her Grace is meeting with Mrs. Litton about the menus, I believe.”

“And Miss Hammond?” Kit knew he shouldn’t ask, but found himself prompted as if by the devil.

“Gone out, my lord. She left not long ago to ride with Viscount Brevard.”

Relief dueled with disappointment, his jaw tightening at mention of Brevard. Nodding his thanks to the servant, he turned to climb the stairs to his rooms.

Kit hadn’t gone two feet when the sound of a new arrival scratched at the door.

The caller was Brevard.

“Good morning,” the viscount greeted as he strolled inside. Removing his beaver top hat, he handed the headgear and his cane over to the servant.

Kit offered a cursory welcome. Firming his resolve, he readied himself to come face-to-face with Eliza for the first time since their volatile encounter in the upstairs corridor. After the things he’d said to her, she might not even return his hello.

Yet as the moments slid past, Eliza did not appear.

“Where is Miss Hammond, Brevard?” Kit asked. “Surely you didn’t let her ride around to the stables on her own.”

A line of puzzlement creased Brevard’s forehead. “I don’t know what you mean. I assume she is here in the house.”

“She’s not with you?”

“No. Why would she be?”

Alarm coiled like a serpent inside Kit’s gut. “Because the two of you went out riding this morning.”

“We did not go riding. I only just arrived.”

“Pardon me, my lord Brevard,” Robert interrupted, “but I saw Miss Hammond ride out with a groom. She told me herself that she would be joining you in the park.”

Concern darkened the viscount’s gaze. “I made no such arrangements with the lady. Why would she think such a thing?”

March entered the hall and was quickly apprised of the situation. “Let me send for her maid. Perhaps the girl can shed some light on the matter.”

Kit nodded in agreement. “Meanwhile I’ll saddle my horse,” Kit said. “One of us should go out and find her.”

Brevard retrieved his hat. “I shall join you.”

Before either man had a chance to act, a hurried clamor of horses’ hooves rang out in the street. Beyond the open door, they watched Eliza’s groom ride up, leading Cassiopeia behind him. The horse’s saddle lay empty.

Kit hurried down the steps, Brevard on his heels.

The groom slid off his mount, blood glistening in a violent smear across his temple, more matted in his hair.

Kit caught him before he fell to his knees. “Joshua, what happened?

“My lord, I got here as soon as I could,” Joshua panted.

“Got here from where? The park?”

The groom nodded, wincing in obvious pain. “Bloke came at me, took me unawares and clubbed me good over the head. My lord, I’m sorry. They took her. They took Miss Eliza, and there was naught I could do.”

Panic struck Kit like a hard, crippling punch. “Who took her? Who took Eliza?”

“Don’t know for sure, my lord. Another fellow had a big black coach up ahead. Must’ve been waiting fer us when we got to the park.”

“What did he look like, this man?” Brevard demanded in a calm, yet implacable voice.

“Tall and thin, dark hair, mean eyes. He were dressed like a gentleman, all in black. I remember that. Miss Eliza called him her cousin.”

“Pettigrew!”
Kit met Brevard’s steely gaze with a matching look of his own.

Brevard nodded in agreement. “But why would he do such a thing?”

Fury roared through Kit’s veins, knowing precisely why. “He must mean to force her into a marriage. He wants her money.”

“But what chance has he at succeeding? Surely he is aware we’ll give chase.”

“It won’t matter if he marries her before we find them.”

Distress and anger swept through Kit, emotions directed as much at himself as they were at Pettigrew. He’d told Eliza he would keep her safe, and now the villain had her. Kit had let down his guard and failed her. He would not fail her again.

Handing Joshua over to the care of one of the footmen so they could tend the man’s wounds, Kit turned back to Brevard. “Once Pettigrew and Eliza are wed and she is compromised there’ll be nothing any of us can do. He’ll have what he wants, control of her fortune. We haven’t a moment to lose. We have to stop the blackguard.”

“I suppose he’s taken her to Gretna,” Brevard said.

“It would seem the most likely place, although he might have thought of something else. I’ve heard tales of couples fleeing south to Guernsey in order to throw off their pursuers.”

The viscount shook his head. “I’m not so sure. Guernsey seems a long shot. What if you’re wrong?”

Yes,
Kit mused,
what if he was wrong and completely misjudged the situation? If he made a vital error, Eliza could be lost forever.

“Exactly the reason we must cast as wide a net as possible and cover the greatest amount of territory. We’ll enlist Adrian and Darragh’s help in the search. With the four of us giving chase, we’re certain to run Pettigrew to ground.”

And God help the little weasel when they did, he thought.

Yet what if it was already too late and Pettigrew had forced Eliza to marry him by the time they caught up? If that was the case, Kit vowed, he would see matters put right. After all, a woman could be as easily widowed as wed. Of course, the coward would likely have violated her by then.

Bitter gall rose into Kit’s throat, the idea of Eliza injured and terrified making him literally ill. But as much as he would rage over and lament her abuse, to him she would be no different. He would love her no less.

Love her?

His muscles quivered as the words reverberated through his mind, a wave of profound emotion threatening to bring him to his knees.

Heavens above, he
did
love her. Adored her, in point of fact.

He nearly laughed, feeling half-crazed. What a blind, stupid fool he’d been all these many months, incapable of recognizing the truth of his own emotions. But suddenly he understood, aware that his heart had not been his own for a very long time, perhaps from that first innocent pull of desire.

No wonder he’d been so miserable these past weeks, his senses comprehending what his intellect could not.

And now Eliza was missing.

He must find her,
would
find her, and once she was back home in his arms again, he would set about claiming her for his own.

Seconds later, he stiffened, noticing Brevard. How easily he had forgotten about the other man, forgotten too that Eliza had already pledged her troth to the viscount. But engagements could be broken. Kit would simply have to convince Eliza that she belonged with him, not Brevard.