The Wedding Trap Read online

  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.”

&nb
sp; “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.

  Now was not the occasion, however, to be dwelling upon such topics. Time enough later, once Eliza was safe and sound.

  “Prepare yourself to ride, Brevard,” Kit ordered, striding in the direction of his brother’s study so he could apprise Adrian of the situation. “We leave within the hour.”

  Eliza’s head ached as if an entire band of monkeys were jumping up and down on it and screeching out their primate lungs. She bounced against the seat as the coach hit a deep rut, only then becoming gradually aware of her surroundings.

  She lay prone, one cheek pressed into faded cloth upholstery that held a musty odor, as if the coach had not been used in some while. The wheels creaked, the vehicle swaying on sets of poorly fitted springs.

  Count on her cousin, she thought, to be a pinchpenny even when it came to procuring a vehicle he planned to use for a kidnapping. It might have been amusing had the circumstances not been so grim, and had she not been the one currently being kidnapped.

  She kept her eyes closed and willed her headache away. Her stomach roiled, nauseous from whatever vapor he had used to subdue her. Sealing her lips closed, she prayed she wouldn’t embarrass herself by vomiting. Although it would serve Philip right if she was sick all over his shoes. Casting up her accounts would almost be worth it just to see him fuss and jump around in disgust.

  But if she did vomit, whether accidentally or on purpose, he would make her pay later on; she knew him well enough to be certain of that. Keeping her eyes closed, she tried to curl more tightly into herself and discovered, to her horror, that her hands and feet were bound.

  “I know you’re awake,” Pettigrew said from where he sat on the seat across from her. “So you might as well quit pretending.”

  She shivered but did not reply.

  “Go back to being the silent little mouse, if that is what you want,” he disparaged. “It will make no difference to me. You and I will be wed either way. Besides, I think I liked you better when you knew enough to keep your mouth shut. Mother had a way with those slaps of hers, didn’t she?”

  Her eyes popped open at that, revulsion loosening her tongue. “I will never marry you.”

  “Oh, you’ll marry me and don’t think you won’t. I already have a minister lined up who doesn’t care much about consenting brides so long as he’s well paid for his trouble. So you see, your willingness is not of concern.”

  She swallowed against her terror. “Where are you taking me?”

  “What does that matter? You’ll go where I say and do what I say until you have served your purpose.”

  “And what purpose is that?” she dared to question. “If it’s my fortune you want, I’ll…I’ll give it to you. Ju
st draw up the papers and—”

  He turned his malevolent gaze upon her. “If only it could be that simple, but it isn’t. Your fiancé, for one, might have some objection to your giving away your wealth, not to mention those interfering friends of yours. Don’t think I’ve forgotten how the high-and-mighty Lord Christopher treated me that night at the theater. He and the others would see to it that any legal agreements made between us were voided as soon as you were set free.”

  He caught hold of the coach strap as they hit another rut. “Of course, all this trouble could have been avoided if you had simply agreed to marry me when I asked. I would have treated you with some respect then, found you a nice little house where you could quietly live out your days.”

  “While you went off to spend my money.”

  Color rushed into his cheeks, mottling his pallid complexion. He jabbed a finger toward his chest. “My money, you mean. I was the heir, that was my inheritance you took. It would all have come to me if that stupid old crone hadn’t cut me off. If I’d known she had so much money hidden away, I would have done more to ensure she didn’t change the will.”

  “Why did Aunt cut you off?” Eliza asked.

  He smiled, the expression holding no warmth. For a moment, he paused, clearly considering whether or not to answer her.

  Finally, he gave a shrug. “A minor indiscretion while I served as vicar. Seems my benefactor took exception to some yeoman’s lies about my having carnal knowledge of his daughter. They claimed I took advantage of her, when she was nothing but a common little trollop. How was I to know she was only thirteen?”

  Eliza bit her lip to hold back a gasp.

  “They said there was another girl but she was a whore, gave it away to anyone who would pay her price. In spite of my protests, they forced me to resign my living. When Mother heard, she cut me off.” He grumbled under his breath, “Old witch.

  “Anyway,” her cousin went on, “once I am safely in possession of my fortune, then I’ll consider what to do about you. After all, it isn’t as if I am really interested in having you for my wife, Cousin.” He leered. “Though we will have to consummate our wedding in order to satisfy all the legalities of our union.”