CANDACE CAMP is a New York Times bestselling author of over sixty novels of contemporary and historical romance. She grew up in Texas in a newspaper family, which explains her love of writing, but she earned a law degree and practiced law before making the decision to write full-time. She has received several writing awards, including the RT Book Reviews Lifetime Achievement Award for Western Romances. Visit her at www.candace-camp.com.

Also available from Candace Camp

The Mad Morelands

MesmerisedBeyond CompareWintersetAn Unexpected Pleasure

The Aincourts

So Wild a HeartThe Hidden HeartSecrets of the Heart

The Matchmaker Series

The Marriage WagerThe Bridal QuestThe Wedding ChallengeThe Courtship DanceAn Independent WomanA Dangerous Man

The Lost Heirs

A Stolen HeartPromise Me TomorrowNo Other LoveSuddenlyScandalousImpulseIndiscreetImpetuousSwept Away

His Wicked Charm

Candace Camp

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-08076-7

HIS WICKED CHARM

© 2018 Candace Camp

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

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Praise for New York Times bestselling authorCandace Camp

‘An exemplary read.’

Publishers Weekly on So Wild a Heart

‘From its delicious beginning to its satisfying ending, Camp’s delectable story offers a double helping of romance.’

Booklist on Mesmerised

‘[Camp] is renowned as a storyteller who touches the hearts of her readers time and time again.’

RT Book Reviews

‘A smart, fun-filled romp.’

Publishers Weekly on Impetuous

‘A clever mystery adds intrigue to this lively and gently humorous tale, which simmers with well-handled sexual tension.’

Library Journal on A Dangerous Man

‘Delightful.’

Publishers Weekly on The Wedding Challenge

‘A beautifully crafted, poignant love story.’

RT Book Reviews on The Wedding Challenge

‘[A] beautifully written charmer.’

Publishers Weekly on The Marriage Wager

‘The talented Camp has deftly mixed romance and intrigue to create another highly enjoyable Regency romance.’

Booklist on An Independent Woman

Contents

Cover

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Praise

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

CHAPTER THIRTY

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

CHAPTER FORTY

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

EPILOGUE

PROLOGUE

1892

THE DOOR OPENED. The room beyond lay in darkness, broken only by a swath of moonlight. There was no reason to be frightened, yet some nameless, faceless terror iced Con’s veins. Still, he stepped inside. The fear in him was worse.

The walls of the room were curved, disorienting, and everywhere he looked were clocks—standing, hanging, scattered over tables and stands, lined up in cabinets. Brass hands winked, catching the dim light. Con moved farther in, his heart pounding, and stopped at a narrow table. The tiered rows were padded with dark velvet, and they were lined with not clocks, but compasses, their needles pointing in unison toward the windows. Turning now, he saw that compasses stood in the cabinets and hung on the walls amid the clocks.

He was too late. He knew it with a certainty that closed his throat: he would fail. Con ran toward the window, but he didn’t move. The needles on the compasses began to whirl. Running, gasping, he reached out, knowing he’d never reach it in time. Someone screamed.

Con’s eyes flew open, and he jerked upright in the bed. His lungs labored in his chest, his heart thundering, and he clenched his muscles, fists curled so tightly his fingernails bit into his palms. Sweat dried cold on his skin.

It was a dream.

He glanced around him. He was in his own bed, in his own room. It was only a dream.

Through the open doorway to the adjoining sitting room, he could see Wellie perched in his cage, regarding Con with bright black eyes. That scream must have been the parrot’s screech.

The bird moved from foot to foot and rasped out, “Wellie. Good bird.”

“Yes. Good bird.” Con’s voice came out almost as hoarse as Wellington’s. He sank back onto his pillow, closing his eyes. It had been nothing but a bad dream and easily explained—today was Alex’s wedding day. He was worried about oversleeping and failing in his duties. The problem was he’d been having the exact same nightmare for weeks.

CHAPTER ONE

WHEN CON AWOKE AGAIN, sunlight was shooting through a crack in the drapes straight into his eyes. For the second time, he bolted upright. Heaven help him. After all that, he’d overslept. He jumped out of bed and began to shave.

Wellington called Con’s name and flew into the room, taking up his favorite position atop a bedpost. “You wretched bird—screeching like a banshee in the middle of the night, yet not a word when it’s time to get up.”

Wellie let out a noise that sounded disturbingly like human laughter. Con grinned and patted his shoulder for Wellie to perch on it. Con stroked a finger down the parrot’s back.

“It’s just you and me now, boy,” he said softly. “Alex is going on to better things.”

There was an odd pang in his chest; Con had felt it more than once lately. He couldn’t be happier for his twin—Sabrina was perfect for Alex and loved him madly. Alex was over the moon about marrying her. There was nothing in the world Con wanted more than his brother’s happiness. And yet…he could not help but feel as if a piece of him was leaving.

With a sigh at his own selfishness, Con set Wellie aside and headed downstairs. He found Alex in the dining room, gazing out the window—shaved, dressed and ready to go eight hours before the ceremony. Casting an eye over his twin, Con said, “Eager or terrified?”

“A little of both.” Alex let out his breath in a whoosh. “Thank God you’re finally up.”

“Why didn’t you wake me?” Con asked, going to the sideboard to fill his plate.

“Because it was four o’clock in the morning. Wellie woke me up screeching, and I couldn’t go back to sleep. I didn’t think you’d care to be awakened.”

“Where is everyone?”

“The women have gone to Kyria’s to help with the last-minute preparations. Though what any of them could do to set up a party, I cannot imagine.”

“Mmm. Maybe Thisbe has a formula for it.”

Alex grinned. “Or Megan and Olivia have investigated the subject.”

“I’m sure Mother will enjoy trying to persuade the servants to go on strike.” Con returned to the table.

Alex took a seat across from Con. “Not like Wellie to sound off in the middle of the night like that. One has to wonder what set him off.”

“Does one?”

“Con…did you have that dream again?”

“Yes. It’s not important.”

Alex grunted softly. “It certainly doesn’t seem to have affected your appetite.”

“Little does.” Con gestured toward the pristine expanse of table in front of Alex. “What about you? Have you eaten anything?”

“I had a cup of coffee.”

“No doubt that will calm you down.”

Alex rolled his eyes and went over to pull a piece of toast from the rack. “You’re not going to distract me from your dream.”

“I know. But there’s nothing new to tell. It’s the same dream I’ve had five times now. I’m in a bizarre round room. There are clocks and compasses everywhere, and I have this feeling of absolute dread.” He paused. “Maybe it’s panic rather than dread. I feel as if I’m late. I’m sure it’s just because of the wedding. I’m worried about not getting to the jeweler’s in time for the ring. Keeping this family in line. Being late to the church. All that.”

“I have never in my life known you to be so concerned about being late,” Alex said flatly.

“You’ve never gotten married before.” Con shrugged it off. “Speaking of being late, why the devil are you all turned out in your wedding coat this early? You’ll be creased and stained by the time the ceremony rolls around.”

“I know. I’ll change. It was just… I couldn’t think what else to do.” Alex sighed. “This is going to be the longest day of my life.”

“Why so nervous? You’ve been champing at the bit for weeks. I can’t imagine you’re having second thoughts.”

“Lord, no, nothing like that. But I can’t rid myself of the fear that something will keep it from taking place. That Sabrina will decide to call it off at the last minute.”

“The woman’s mad for you. Anyone can see that.”

“I woke up this morning thinking, what if the Dearborns grab her again?”

“Idiot. She’s at Kyria’s, with all that brood to protect her.”

“I know. Not to mention her friend Miss Holcutt.”

“Indeed. I’d warrant Miss Holcutt could scare off any chap with wicked intentions.”

Alex smiled. “You’re inordinately hard on Lilah.”

“It’s inordinately easy to be hard on Lilah,” Con tossed back.

“I think the reason is you’re also rather sweet on Lilah.” Con’s contemptuous snort only made Alex grin. “Not to mention the fact that she’s the only woman to turn down your advances.”

“That’s not true.”

“Oh, really? What other girl has told you no when you asked her to take a stroll in the garden? For that matter, what woman has turned you down about anything—excluding our sisters, of course?”

“Dozens, I’m sure.” Con paused. “Well, a few. I’m not universally approved of, you know. You’re the one who’s the perfect model of a marital prize.”

“I’m not the one who’s a charming rogue.”

“I beg your pardon. I am charming, of course, but hardly a rogue.”

Alex laughed and reached over to steal a sausage from Con’s plate. “Actually, I’m surprised you aren’t pursuing Lilah. I would think she would be a challenge to you.”

“Maybe I would.” Con’s lips curved in a faint smile. “If she weren’t your future wife’s bosom friend. That makes things awkward.”

“Not necessarily. Not if the two of you suited.”

Con snorted. “What is it that makes a reformed bachelor want to take all the rest of us down with him?”

Alex ignored his plaintive question. “Miss Holcutt is rather attractive.”

Con thought of that bright hair, an indescribable color somewhere between gold and red, that dewy skin, the long slim body beneath her conservative gowns. “Rather attractive” didn’t begin to describe Lilah.

“That’s the problem. Lilah Holcutt is the sort of woman who leads you on a merry chase, and once you manage to catch her, you can’t imagine why you wanted to. She’s priggish, self-righteous, humorless and critical. She’d make any man’s life a misery. Besides, she’s made it quite clear that she detests me.”

Alex crossed his arms, regarding Con thoughtfully. Con was grateful that before Alex could speak again, their mother swept into the room. “Alex. Dearest.”

Both men rose. “Mother. I thought you’d gone to Kyria’s.”

“No, dear. I’m of little use there. Neither are the others of course. Kyria and Miss Holcutt could easily handle it all themselves, but it’s a nice bit of sisterly time. But I’m not going to pass your wedding day away from you.” She took Alex’s face in her hands. Tears glittered in her eyes. “I can scarcely believe you’re getting married. It seems only yesterday you were in leading strings.”

“I’m not the first of your children to marry,” Alex protested.

“I know. But those times, I knew I still had my babies. Now it’s my baby getting married.”

“You have Con.”

The duchess smiled at her other son. “Yes, but it won’t be long before you are married, too, Con.”

“Nonsense. You’ll have me around to bother you for years,” Con told her lightly. “I doubt I’m marriage material.”

Emmeline Moreland chuckled. “Now, where have I heard that before?” She patted Con’s cheek. “And you were never a bother. Either of you.”

“Mother, how could I marry?” Con laughed. “I’ll never find a woman who compares to you.”

Hours later, Con stood beside his brother as Alex’s bride made her way slowly down the aisle on the arm of Uncle Bellard. Con was unsure whether Bellard was supporting her or Sabrina was holding up their small and shy great-uncle. Bellard had been thrilled when Sabrina, having no male relatives of her own, had asked him to escort her, but this afternoon the old man had been dithering about, several shades paler than even the groom.

Alex, oddly enough, lost his nervousness the moment Sabrina came into view. Black-haired and blue-eyed, with a strawberries-and-cream complexion and a bewitching smile, she was a vision, and Alex could not take his eyes off her.

Con looked across at Sabrina’s maid of honor. Lilah Holcutt was tall and willowy, and when she smiled, her lips curved in a faintly lopsided way that never failed to send a sizzle through Con. It was fortunate for him, he supposed, that Lilah was not prone to smile often… at least not around him. She was more apt to send him that look. The one that said she found him irredeemably foolish. Strangely enough, that one, too, set off a little tickle in him.

She was especially attractive today. Her face was too well formed, her form too alluring, her hair too fascinating a color for her to ever be anything but lovely. But today there was something different about her. Con suspected that his sister Kyria had something to do with that. Lilah’s red-gold hair was not pulled back into its usual neat twist that stopped just short of severe. Nor was her blue dress the plain pastel frock she normally wore.

Her gown was a rich vivid blue that accentuated the color of her eyes, with a scoop neckline and a fall of soft lace at the sleeves, leaving much of her arms bare. She had beautiful arms. And her hair, that bright blend of red and gold that Con had never seen on anyone else, was swept up into a soft roll, with a small strand on either side curling down beside her ears in a way that made a man’s fingers itch to touch it.

Lilah’s gaze had been on the bride and groom, but now she glanced over at Con. He sent her a friendly wink, and she frowned. Obviously he had again earned her disapproval. With Lilah, that was easily done. It was one of the many reasons it was wise to avoid her.

But then, wisdom had never been Con’s guiding principle.

CHAPTER TWO

THE CELEBRATION AFTER the wedding was held at Kyria’s house, and it was easy to see Kyria’s touch. Great swaths of white satin and silver netting were draped artistically about the ballroom, glowing in the warm light of the wall sconces, and the air was perfumed with the scent of hundreds of white roses, creating a richly romantic backdrop. In the garden, tiny lanterns lined the pathways and dotted the branches.

A small orchestra was playing at one end of the room, the dance floor empty as Alex took Sabrina out for their first dance as a married couple. Lilah stood with the others, watching them.

Sabrina gazed up at her groom with such love that it almost made Lilah’s chest hurt. Lilah tried to imagine what it must be like to feel so much for another person that one’s face simply shone with it. Lilah had some difficulty with the notion. She herself did not lack for suitors, many of them quite eligible men, but she had never felt even a tingle of such feeling.

Alex clearly was just as much in love as Sabrina. Lilah had watched him earlier as Sabrina came down the aisle, his face alight with love. She had glanced at Con then, wondering what he felt on this occasion. It must be strange to lose one’s twin to marriage. Irritating as Con was, Lilah had felt a little pang of sympathy for him.

But then Con had flashed that cocky grin at her and winked. In the middle of a wedding. It was typical of the man. She didn’t know why she bothered to feel sympathy for him. Constantine Moreland never took anything seriously. Well, almost never—Lilah had seen his face two months ago when Alex was kidnapped, and Con’s face then had been downright frightening.

When the stately first waltz ended, other couples joined the newlyweds on the dance floor. Lilah glanced around, certain she would see Con among the dancers. She wondered who he would choose as his partner. He had never seemed to favor any particular girl with his attentions. He had even danced with her one time.

Though he would never do so again, no doubt. Lilah blushed at that memory. Con thought her prudish for the way she had reacted when he asked her to walk in the garden with him after their dance. Lilah knew now that she had been impulsive and silly; she had only recently come out, and her greenness had showed. Not that she had been wrong—a man didn’t ask a young girl to walk in the garden at a party unless his intentions were less than virtuous. But she had learned since then how to turn aside such a man without resorting to anything so overwrought as a slap.

Lilah scowled down at her glove, needlessly fussing with the button. Out of the corner of her eye she saw one of Alex’s cousins making his way toward her. Albert had apparently taken a liking to Lilah; he had dogged her footsteps all day. She’d managed to slip away each time, but she had the gloomy suspicion she wouldn’t be able to dodge him this time. She could hardly be impolite to one of the Moreland family, but, having danced with Cousin Albert at the engagement party, Lilah knew that taking to the floor with him would not only be a dreadful bore but also a very real danger to her toes.

Hoping he had not realized she’d spotted him, Lilah started to turn away. Just at that moment, a man behind her said, “Miss Holcutt. Would you care to dance?”

“Con!” She whirled. “Oh, thank God.”

His green eyes twinkled. “What an unexpectedly enthusiastic response. I daresay you must have seen Cousin Albert setting his course.”

“Yes.” There was no need to pretend politeness where Con was concerned.

She took his arm and Con whisked her away to the dance floor, pulling her to him and seamlessly joining the other dancers. Lilah had forgotten what it was like to dance with Con—so quick and light, his hand firm on her waist, holding her a trifle closer than was appropriate. It was easy to match his steps, to follow the guide of his hand. He was an expert dancer, and one had only to let go and trust him.

She could not keep from smiling up at him. It was better not to encourage Con—he was already too full of himself—and she was always careful not to do anything that would draw attention, but right now she was enjoying herself too much to care.

When the music ended, Lilah was flushed and breathless, surging with energy. She would have liked to dance again, but of course, that would never do; even Con would know better than that. Whipping open her delicate ivory-and-lace fan, she tried to cool her overheated face. Con led her toward the open windows, snagging two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter and handing her one.

Lilah rarely drank wine of any sort, but she was too thirsty not to take a great gulp of it. It fizzed in her mouth, tingling and cool, yet with its own delicious sting as well, and she drank the rest of it. Con’s eyebrows shot up.

“Careful. I can’t have you getting foxed on me.” He plucked the empty glass from her hand and set it aside.

“I won’t. It’s just so hot in here.”

Con glanced toward the French doors, standing open to the terrace, then back to her. “Dare I suggest we step outside? I assure you I won’t try to lure you into the garden this time.”

Lilah cast him a speaking glance and took his arm, turning toward the open doors. “One can only wonder why you did so the first time, considering that you think I’m such a prig.”

He chuckled and took a sip from his glass. “I am, as you have pointed out, entirely too impulsive.”

“That’s no answer.” But Lilah was feeling too companionable at the moment to pursue the subject. Her customary annoyance with Con had vanished with the waltz.

They strolled the length of the terrace, now and then passing another couple doing the same. Lilah lifted her flushed face to the cool night air. She began to hum the waltz beneath her breath, wishing she could dance along the terrace. She smiled to herself at the idea of causing such a commotion. Con’s jaw would drop. She had to press her lips together tightly to hold back a giggle.

Perhaps she shouldn’t have gulped down that glass of champagne. It wasn’t like her. Or perhaps it had been the dance, whirling around the room in Con Moreland’s arms. That, too, had been unlike her. Mostly likely it was because she was with Con; there was something about him that encouraged misbehavior.

He said inappropriate things that made her laugh. His smile, his wink, that twinkle in his eye just before he did or said something outrageous, enticed one to go along with him. If he had been a woman, people would have termed him a temptress. She wasn’t sure what one called such a man. Dangerous came to mind.

She glanced up at Con, so close beside her she could feel the warmth of his body. As if sensing her gaze, he turned his head. With only the mellow light streaming from the windows of the ballroom behind them, Con’s face was half-shadowed, his eyes dark. But the dimness could not hide how handsome he was—the firm chin and square jaw, the way his mouth curved up slightly, as if he was about to break into a grin.

It was odd how much he looked like his twin, yet she had never felt a twinge of attraction to Alex. When she first met Con’s brother, she had realized almost immediately that he was not Con. There had been no spark running along her nerves, no tightening of her stomach. Alex was easy to talk to; with Con, Lilah always felt as if she needed to be on her guard.

If she wasn’t careful, she might stumble. And Lilah was a person who liked her feet firmly planted on the ground. It was disconcerting to have this uncertainty. It was even more alarming that it also excited her. Surely that was not how it ought to be.

They reached the end of the walkway and turned to look out over the garden below. Delicate paper lanterns lit the garden paths, but up here on the terrace, they were deep in shadow. Con set his glass on the wide stone balustrade and leaned casually against a column, his eyes on Lilah rather than the view.

Lilah’s pulse picked up. It was dim and secluded here, the occasional sound of a voice a distant background. She remembered the other time she had stood on a terrace with Con, almost breathless with a volatile combination of excitement, anxiety and a guilty certainty that her aunt would not approve.

“Tell me, truly,” Lilah said impulsively, “that night… Why did you ask me to dance, much less stroll in the garden with you? I understand your doing so tonight—I’m your new sister-in-law’s friend, and you must be polite. But why did you ask me to dance back then?”

“Have you looked in a mirror?” Con countered.

“You were swept away by my beauty?” Lilah cocked a skeptical eyebrow. “There were dozens of pretty young girls there, and I would wager I am not the sort you normally dance with. Much less take out on the terrace with ulterior motives.”

“My motives weren’t ulterior. I thought they were quite straightforward.”

Lilah was reminded why she found him irritating. She turned away, fixing her eyes on the flowers and shrubs below. “Was it—did you do it because I was newly out? Because you thought I would be so naive I wouldn’t realize I was risking my reputation?”

“No!” Con’s voice was filled with affront and astonishment. “It wasn’t like that. I didn’t ask you to dance because I thought I could trick you into anything. Do you really think that badly of me?”

Lilah relaxed, surprised at how relieved she was by his indignant response. “No. Well, perhaps I did wonder a bit. Afterward.” When he never approached her again.

“I asked you to dance because I wanted to waltz with you. I asked you out on the terrace to spend more time with you without the noise of the party. And I asked you to take a stroll through the garden because…very well, I did hope I might get a chance to kiss you. But I didn’t want to kiss you because you were the low-hanging fruit on a tree.”

“Or to add another girl to your collection?”

“My collection!” Con goggled at her. “What the devil do you take me for? I don’t have a collection. I’m not some rogue out seducing young ladies. Good Lord, Lilah, but you are a suspicious woman.”

“It’s not absurd to suspect that,” she retorted. “You find me rigid, prim and proper.”

“You forgot judgmental.”

“Oh, yes, sorry—and judgmental.” She crossed her arms, glaring at him. “So why would you want to dance with such a woman?”

“If you must know, it was because you were wearing lilac stockings.”

“What?” Lilah stared at him.

He shrugged and turned away, now the one to keep his eyes on the view. “You asked.”

“But why… How…”

“It’s nice to know I can render you speechless.”

“That’s absurd. How could you know what color stockings I had on? I don’t even remember what color they were.”

“Clearly the sight of them made more of an impression on me than it did on you.” Con glanced back at her. “I was standing at the foot of the stairs when you came in. You were so terribly prim and proper, all in maidenly white, modestly covered to your neck, your face blankly polite, your hair braided and curled into a knot like a governess, your chaperone glued to your side. I thought, there’s a beauty, but she looks an utter bore.”

“How kind of you,” Lilah said drily.

“Then you climbed the stairs, lifting your skirt to keep from stepping on it, and I saw your ankles. You were wearing bright lilac stockings. And I thought, there’s more to her than meets the eye.” He paused, considering. “Besides, you have lovely ankles.”

Lilah gaped at him, then began to laugh. His reasoning was so strange, so very Con-like—flattering, insulting and preposterous all at once—that she couldn’t work up either affront or anger, only a baffled amusement.

“You should do that more often,” Con told her.

“What?”

“Laugh. You look beautiful.”

“Oh.” She hoped the darkness concealed her blush. Otherwise, Con would doubtless tease her about it every time they met.

Except, of course, she would not see him now that the wedding was over. Constantine Moreland didn’t frequent the sort of parties Lilah attended with her aunt. He preferred more exciting entertainment. Even when they did attend the same function, Con did his best to avoid her. Her life now would return to its usual pattern. Lilah sighed as she thought of the weeks ahead, paying calls and receiving visitors in her aunt’s parlor.

“What is it?” Con asked. When she glanced at him questioningly, he explained, “You sighed just now. Is something wrong?”

“What? Oh. I didn’t realize I had.” Her cheeks, already pink, flamed. “I was, um, just thinking that things would settle back to normal now that the wedding is done.”

“Yes, it will likely be more boring.”

“I didn’t mean that,” she protested. “I meant, it will be quieter. Calmer. But that’s a good thing. One can rest and relax and, um…”

“Embroider handkerchiefs?” Con suggested, raising an eyebrow.

She glowered. “I’m sure there will be nothing so mundane for you. You’ll be off chasing ghosts or seeking the meaning of Stonehenge.”

“Hopefully I’ll find an adventure or two to pass the time.” He grinned down at her. “Here, now, don’t look so grim.” He smoothed his finger over the lines of her frown, then moved to her cheek, lightly skimming a strand of hair that had escaped its pins.

Self-consciously Lilah moved to pin the stray curl back in place, but Con reached out to stop her. “No, don’t. It’s lovely like that.”

“Like what… A mess?” She forced a bit of tartness into her voice to combat the sudden heat his touch stirred in her.

“I doubt that anything about you is ever a mess.” Con stroked his thumb lazily along her cheekbone. His smile was still there, but different now, no longer amused but warm and inviting. There was a look in his eyes very like the one she’d seen in Alex when he gazed at Sabrina. Dark and a little hazy.

Lilah’s breath caught in her throat, and her thoughts went tumbling madly. She definitely should not have drunk that glass of champagne. Con leaned in. Lilah tilted her face up.

Masculine laughter burst from the ballroom as three men stepped out onto the terrace, chatting among themselves. Lilah froze. What was she doing? Con had been about to kiss her. And she had been about to let him. Worse yet, she had been about to kiss him back. “I—I’m sorry—I shouldn’t—goodbye.”

Lilah slipped around him and hurried back into the ballroom.

CHAPTER THREE

LILAH WAS BORED. She had spent the morning in the drawing room with her aunt, answering correspondence. There was little of that, as her father, to whom she had once written faithfully, had passed on two years ago, and it had been many years since she’d exchanged letters with his sister, Vesta. Sabrina, with whom she had maintained the longest, largest correspondence, was away on her honeymoon.

She missed Sabrina. Her friend had lived in London for only a couple of months, but for that time it had been as if they were together in Miss Angerman’s Academy for Young Ladies again. Sabrina was not the only one she missed. In the process of preparing for Sabrina’s wedding, Lilah had become friends with the Morelands, as well. All the Morelands had returned for the wedding, along with their spouses and broods of children. It made for an occasionally chaotic environment, but one that was always entertaining and congenial.

There had been any number of lively conversations with the duchess, ranging over a host of topics, and though Lilah and the very forward-thinking Duchess of Broughton had disagreed from time to time, their discussions were invigorating and even enlightening. Megan told entertaining stories about her years of reporting and traveling the world with her husband, Theo Moreland. Kyria, vibrant and warm, was almost impossible not to like—as were the duke and his diminutive uncle Bellard, a veritable treasure trove of knowledge once one got him started.

Thisbe, Theo’s twin, was a scientist who spent much of her time in her laboratory working on things Lilah neither understood nor, really, cared to understand. But Thisbe was also possessed of a dry wit and an easy, outgoing nature much like her twin’s, and Anna, Reed Moreland’s wife, was a quiet spot of serenity amid the noisy bustle of activity at Broughton House.

Lilah had especially come to like Olivia, the youngest of the Moreland daughters. Olivia, though she shared with Constantine an odd interest in the occult, was as devoted a reader as Lilah, and once they discovered their mutual interest in books of mystery and danger, they had spent many a pleasant afternoon chatting.

The days since the wedding had seemed quite empty. Lilah hadn’t any reason to visit Broughton House. Without her friend Sabrina there, it seemed a bit presumptuous to make a social call at the house of a duke, at least until they had called on her. Lilah would hate to be thought a social climber.

Worse…what if Con were at home? What if he thought Lilah was there in the hopes of seeing him? Given the way she had behaved the other night—it made her blush even to think of it—he would be justified in assuming she was setting her cap for him. Nothing could be further from the truth of course. Lilah would never pursue any man, much less someone like Con. He would be the last person she would want to marry—not that he would ever ask someone like her.

Con probably thought it was funny that such a prim and proper woman as Lilah had acted so unlike herself. He knew she had been about to kiss him. No doubt he would tease her about it. He would laugh, that rich, warm laughter that made one want to join him, his lips curving up and his eyes lighting with mischief. It was most unfair that his teasing made him even more attractive.

That was the root of the whole problem with Constantine Moreland—he was so utterly appealing. Lilah liked the straight black slashes of his eyebrows—the way they lifted when he was amused or drew together fiercely when he frowned. She had more than once felt a strange desire to reach out and smooth a finger along one of them. His eyes were such a sharp green, darkened by that thick row of black lashes. Those cheekbones, that jaw, that chin. That mouth. Thank goodness she had always had firm control of herself and had kept such thoughts hidden.

But then she had destroyed all her efforts by going out onto the terrace with him. Standing there in that dark secluded corner with him, a situation so intimate, so warm, so ripe for seduction. Turning her face up for his kiss. If only she hadn’t drunk that champagne. If only he hadn’t asked her to dance.

No. She must not call at Broughton House, even if she could come up with a good reason to do so. She should settle back into her normal life. It might take a bit of time, but she would become accustomed to it. Being around the Morelands had been exciting. Entertaining. But that wasn’t how Lilah lived. She was not flamboyant; she didn’t crave adventure and excitement; she wasn’t driven by wild uncontrollable passion. All she had ever wanted was a quiet, pleasant, rational life. The sort of life she had.

Lilah gave a little nod of her head, feeling a bit as if she had won an argument. She glanced over at Aunt Helena, whose head was bent over her embroidery. Lilah was forcibly reminded of Con’s comment about spending her days on embroidery.

“Do you need anything done?” Lilah asked. “Is there an errand I might run for you?”

Aunt Helena looked up and smiled. She was a small, neat woman, her blond hair now touched with gray at the temples. Lilah felt an upwelling of affection. Aunt Helena had welcomed her and raised her, and Lilah could never repay her for that. It was no easy task to take on a girl of twelve and guide her into womanhood, to train her in proper behavior and the ins and outs of society. Con might sneer about mundane things like needlework—and, frankly, Lilah was not fond of embroidering either—but there was nothing wrong with spending one’s time that way. And her aunt’s work was excellent.

“Oh, no, dear, no need for that. Cuddington has gone to the apothecary to pick up my tonic, and Mrs. Humphrey has the house in order as always. Why don’t we discuss our calls this afternoon?”

Calls weren’t what Lilah had in mind to relieve tedium. They were tedious, more often than not. But Lilah held back her sigh. Making and receiving calls was a fact of life.

“I thought we would go early in the afternoon,” Aunt Helena said. “That way we’ll be back by the time Sir Jasper comes.”

“Sir Jasper is visiting us this afternoon?” Lilah asked in some dismay. “He was here just two days ago.”

“Well, of course, I don’t know he’ll call on you.” Aunt Helena gave her a small, conspiratorial smile. “But given his recent behavior…”

Her aunt had hopes that Sir Jasper had matrimony in mind. Unfortunately, Lilah suspected she was right. She wished Aunt Helena would not encourage the man. But she had no desire to get into a discussion of that, so she said only, “Who were you thinking of visiting?”

“Mrs. Blythe, of course, to thank her for that lovely little dinner party last night. And it’s been some time since we’ve called on Mrs. Pierce.” Lilah couldn’t hold back a small groan at that name, and her aunt smiled. “Yes, I know, dear. Elspeth Pierce is a dreadful gossip. But that’s exactly why one mustn’t get on her bad side.”

“I suppose.” She didn’t really mind the woman’s gossiping; it was the insipidity of her conversation that wore on Lilah’s nerves. But her aunt was right; when Mrs. Pierce took a dislike to one, she was deadly.

“I really should call on the vicar’s wife,” Helena continued. “But their daughter is ill, so that will excuse us from that.”

“It seems visiting people shouldn’t be such…a chore.”

Aunt Helena smiled. “It would be nice. But we cannot shirk one’s social obligations, can we?”

Lilah thought somewhat resentfully that the Morelands seemed to be able to do so easily enough. But, of course, Lilah wouldn’t want to be viewed as the Morelands were. She cast about for something to occupy her until this afternoon’s calls.

“Perhaps I shall go to the bookstore first.” Lilah popped up from the sofa as a sudden thought occurred to her. “On my way, I can drop off a book for Lady St. Leger. I have a Wilkie Collins she has not read yet, and I promised to lend it to her.” Olivia wanted the book; it wouldn’t be rude or out of place to visit the Morelands as long as she had a reason. Indeed, the proper behavior would be to take the book to Olivia, as Lilah had promised. And there was no reason to worry about running into Con; he was doubtless off on one of his adventures.

“Lady St. Leger?” Her aunt’s forehead wrinkled a bit. “Do I know her?”

“She’s one of Sabrina’s sisters-in-law. She and her family came to stay at Broughton House for the wedding.”

Her aunt’s frown grew. “One of the Morelands? Dear, do you think that’s wise?”

“I promised, Aunt Helena. I can hardly ignore a promise.” Lilah was feeling more cheerful by the moment. It would be good to see Olivia again, to have a nice long chat about books. Much as she loved and respected her aunt, Helena was not a reader. Maybe Kyria would be there, too. Or the duchess.

“Of course not,” her aunt agreed reluctantly. “I just thought now that the wedding is over, you wouldn’t be seeing them as much.”

“I haven’t seen them. It’s been four days,” Lilah reminded her. “I should go now so I’ll be back in time for our afternoon calls.” She turned toward the door.

“It’s rather early for paying a call, don’t you think? Not yet noon.”

“The Morelands pay no attention to things like that.”

“I know,” Aunt Helena said darkly. “Well, if you must go, take your maid with you.”

“Aunt Helena…I hardly need a chaperone to go from here to Broughton House in broad daylight.”

“Of course not, dear. It’s how it would look.”

“Society’s rules are not so rigid anymore,” Lilah protested.

“That may be. But that’s no reason for us to lower our standards.”

“Poppy has several things to do—um, mending my clothes and, uh…”

“I wish I hadn’t sent Cuddington to the apothecary. She could accompany you.”

“No, no, I’ll take Poppy with me.” The last thing Lilah wanted was to drag her aunt’s dour maid along with her.

Lilah hurried upstairs, calling for her maid, and opened her wardrobe closet. Her casual morning dress would not do for paying a visit; it required something more stylish—this honey-colored walking dress with the rust-brown piping, for instance. It went well with the reddish-blond color of her hair, and the nipped-in waist gave her tall, willowy figure a more fashionable hourglass shape.

She could wear her new half boots. They were, perhaps, a trifle unusual, with their paisley print and curved line of gold buttons, but the colors went well with her dress, and anyway, no one would see them beneath her skirts. Well, except someone like Con, of course, who apparently made it a habit to keep an eye on ladies’ ankles. But that sort of man was not interested in either fashion or propriety.

She set off for the Morelands’ home, book in hand, Poppy trailing along a few steps behind her. It was annoying having to take her along. Perhaps Lilah should visit her home in Somerset, where she could hike wherever she wanted and not worry what society might think. It would provide her with an escape from the tedious round of courtesy calls—not to mention Sir Jasper’s attentions. She could relieve her boredom.

The problem, of course, was that Aunt Vesta was there. Lilah hadn’t stayed at Barrow House since her father’s sister had returned. Lilah had been fond of her as a child, but children were so undiscerning, so easily pleased. And Aunt Vesta hadn’t yet plunged the family into scandal.

Smeggars, the Morelands’ butler, greeted Lilah with a smile but said, “I fear the duchess is out today.”

“It was actually Lady St. Leger I wished to see.”

“Lady St. Leger is with the duchess.”

“I’m sorry. I should have inquired before I came,” Lilah said in disappointment.

“Perhaps you would like to speak with the duke or, um…”

“No, I’ll just leave this,” Lilah began, holding out the book.

At that moment Con came trotting lightly down the stairs. “Miss Holcutt.” He grinned. “The ladies are all out. I’m afraid you’ll have to make do with me.” He turned to the butler. “I think tea would be in order.”

“Of course, sir.”

“No,” Lilah protested as the butler left. “I mustn’t stay. I was going to the bookstore, and I remembered that Olivia—Lady St. Leger, that is—had expressed an interest in reading one of my books.” Lilah realized she was babbling and clamped her lips together. It was annoying that she should be so jittery and embarrassed at seeing Con again, whereas he was so obviously, so coolly unaffected.

“That sounds like Livvy.” Con reached out and took the book from her hands. “Ah, Wilkie Collins. Yes, she will enjoy reading it.”

“She said his stories were favorites of hers, but she had not read this one.”

“Please, sit down.” He took her arm without asking and steered her down the hall toward the sitting room. “All the women except Anna left earlier. Anna had one of her terrible headaches and had to stay behind.”

“I’m sorry.” Lilah resisted the urge to sit down as he had suggested. There was no reason to stay. She had run her errand. She shouldn’t sit down for a tête-à-tête alone with a man. Yet she lingered. “They’re on a shopping expedition?”

Con let out a crack of laughter. “No, Mother’s taken them to one of her suffragists’ dos. They’re standing vigil in front of Edmond Edmington’s house.”

“Edmond Edmington?” Lilah couldn’t hold back a smile.

“Yes, he had alliterative if unimaginative parents. Sit down, Miss Holcutt, please. Smeggars will be crushed if you don’t stay for tea and petits fours. He’s always trying to turn Mother’s meetings into parties, with little success.”

“No, I should be going. I was just—” She gestured toward the door, taking a step backward.

“Going to the bookstore. Yes, I know.” His eyes twinkled. “Come, Lilah, I won’t make any unwanted advances…not with Smeggars lurking about.”

What if they weren’t unwanted, she thought, then blushed at her wayward mind. “You would make some jest about it.”

“About what?” he asked innocently, moving closer.

“You know what.” She scowled. “What we—the other evening on the terrace.”

“Ah.” He leaned in, far too close for polite behavior. “You mean when we talked?” His eyes widened in mock shock. “Unchaperoned.”

“Yes.” Her word came out in little more than a whisper. Irritated, she cleared her throat and went on in a firm voice. “No. I mean it was more than that. We were—we almost…”

“Yes?” His eyes danced. “We almost…”

She had known he would tease her. She should not have come here. “Oh, stop it. Just leave me alone.”

“Of course.” He sighed and stepped back. It was what she wanted, yet perversely she felt let down at his easy acquiescence.

She should go now. It was silly to be so reluctant. Lilah drew a breath to say goodbye but was brought up short by a shout from upstairs. “Reed! Someone!”

“Anna!” Con ran from the room.

Lilah followed him. When she reached the bottom of the staircase, Con was already halfway up the flight to his sister-in-law, who stood still and staring, her face deathly white.

“They’ve been taken!” Anna cried. “You have to save them.”

She folded after that pronouncement, and Con grabbed her, easing her down to sit on the stairs. “Here, put your head down. Just breathe. Slowly now.”

Steps pounded down the long stretch of the gallery, and Reed burst into view, his face almost as drained of color as his wife’s. “Anna! What happened? What’s the matter?”

Reed leaped up the stairs, pulling his wife into his arms and cradling her against his chest. Con stepped back. “Reed, she was saying—I think she’s having one of her visions.”

One of her visions?

Con’s words didn’t seem to shock Reed, who only cursed and continued to stroke Anna’s back. “It’s all right, sweetheart. Everything’s fine.”

“No!” Anna pulled back. She had regained some of her color and her eyes were no longer wild, but she was clearly distressed. “You have to find them. You have to—”

“Who?” Con asked, his voice sharp. Lilah could see that his body was suddenly coiled tight as a spring. “Who is in trouble, Anna?”

“All of them!” She looked from her husband to Con and back. “The duchess. Kyria. Olivia. All of them. They’ve been kidnapped!”

CHAPTER FOUR

CON WHIRLED AND ran from the house. Lilah followed right on his heels. Signaling a hack, he ran out into the street and jumped into it before it completely stopped. Lilah climbed in after him. Con cast a glance at her, and for a moment Lilah thought he was going to protest her presence, but he only turned and called out an address to the driver.

He looked nothing like he usually did, his eyes as fierce as they were normally laughing, his mobile face stern and set, his body taut. He had undergone the same transformation two months ago when he had raced to free his twin.

Lilah wanted to ask him about Anna’s bizarre pronouncement. Anna seemed the calmest of all the Morelands, but nothing could have been madder than her staring eyes and terrifying words. Yet Con and his brother Reed, while alarmed, had not appeared surprised. Moreover, it was clear that Con believed what she said, dashing off immediately to his mother and sisters.

But that was absurd. Wasn’t it? Anna couldn’t have actually seen something happening in another place. No doubt Lilah and Con would arrive at their destination to find the women unharmed and exactly where they were supposed to be. They would all laugh over it. “Anna must have had a nightmare. It was her headache. One often has strange dreams when one is ill.”

Con shook his head. “She saw it.”

That was nonsense of course, but she didn’t want to argue when he was so worried. “Why would anyone want to harm the duchess?”

He cast her an eloquent glance.

“Well, yes, the duchess could have antagonized a number of people over the years, but surely not enough to harm her.” Lilah frowned. “Do you think the police arrested the suffragists? For simply standing in front of someone’s house?” She realized that now she was talking as if it had really happened.

“Lord only knows what they were doing. But no, I doubt it was the police,” he replied grimly.

The carriage had been traveling at a fast clip but now, after careening around a corner, came to an abrupt stop. Lilah looked out the window and saw a number of women milling about in the street in front of a stately residence. Signs were tossed here and there, and everyone was talking excitedly. A policeman was arguing with one of the women, and several other women were clustered around something on the sidewalk. Was that a body?

Con let out an oath and threw open the carriage door, running to the constable. Lilah cast another quick glance around as she stepped down from the vehicle. She could see none of the Moreland women.

“Here, now!” The cabdriver protested at Con’s abrupt departure without paying him.

“Stay here,” Lilah ordered crisply. They would need transportation home as soon as Con found his family.

She caught up to Con at the side of the policeman. He was barking questions at the man. “What the devil happened here? Where is the duchess?”

“Wh-who? I don’t know, sir! I just arrived.”

The woman who had been talking to the constable, a solid woman dressed in the style of the rational dress movement, let out a snort. “You’d do better if you tried listening, young man.”

“Mrs. Ellerby.” Con moved to the woman’s side.

“Lord Moreland! Thank heavens you’re here. They attacked us!”

“Who?”

“The police, most likely.” She turned to glare at the unfortunate policeman, who began to splutter.

“No, there weren’t any uniforms!” another woman put in.

“It was a gang of ruffians! I saw them. All in black, with masks on.”

“Oh, Ernestine, what rubbish,” Mrs. Ellerby declared. “There weren’t any masks, just caps pulled down so you could barely see their faces.”

“They might as well have been masks.”

“Mrs. Ellerby,” Con said through clenched teeth. “Where is my mother?”

“She’s gone! They drove up and jumped out and grabbed them. The duchess and her girls, all of them—except for Lady Raine.” She gestured toward the women hovering over the thing on the sidewalk.

“Megan!” Con went pale and whipped around.

It was a body. Lilah’s breath caught, and she ran after Con. The women stepped aside at Con’s approach, revealing the woman on the ground. It was indeed Megan, but she was now sitting up.

“Thank God. Megan.” Con scooped Megan up and set her on the low stone wall that edged the property. He squatted down to look her in the eye. “Are you all right?”

“Of course she’s not all right.” Lilah sat down beside Megan. “Why do people always say that?”

Dirt and grit decorated Megan’s dress. There was a large red spot on her cheekbone, and the skin around it had started to swell. The other side of her face was scraped and dirty. Her hat hung down, barely anchored by the long hatpin, along with strands of reddish-brown hair. Her eyes had a glassy look that worried Lilah. Lilah pulled out her handkerchief and began to gently brush the grime from Megan’s face.

“Megan.” Con took one of her hands. “Say something. Anything. Tell me to hush, even.”

That brought a faint smile to Megan’s lips. “I’m fine.” She cleared her throat and straightened. “Really. I—I’m just a little woozy. I think I hit my head.” She gestured toward the back of her head.

Lilah twisted around to look and let out a gasp. “Con! Her hair is bloody.”

Con was instantly up and bending over Megan. He pulled out a pristine white handkerchief from his pocket and pressed it gently against Megan’s wound. His voice was as gentle as his hand as he went on, “What happened, Megan?”

“I heard someone scream, and I turned around. And I saw these men—they’d grabbed Kyria, so all the others were trying to stop them. I ran to help, but I was too far away. So I picked up some rocks and started throwing them at the man Thisbe was fighting. Olivia was trying to free Kyria. Then he came after me and punched me.”

Lilah saw fury light up in Con’s eyes, but he kept his voice even. “He knocked you down?”

Megan nodded, then winced at the movement. “Yes. I hit the ground. I remember that but nothing afterward. I must have hit my head when I fell. Next thing I knew, I was lying on the ground and Miss Withers here was trying to awaken me.”

Con looked at the other women. “What happened after that?”

“Those men threw all of them in the carriage and took off. They were gone before any of the rest of us could move a muscle. I’m so sorry.” Tears sprang into Miss Withers’s eyes. “I wasn’t any use at all.”

“Which way did they go?”

“Down the side street.” She pointed.

“They turned left at the first street,” one of the other women offered. “Then they were out of sight.”

Con shoved the handkerchief into Lilah’s hand and took off at a run.

“He won’t see them. They must be long gone.” Lilah watched Con as she held his handkerchief to Megan’s head.

“That won’t keep him from trying,” Megan replied, a thread of amusement in her voice. Lilah looked into Megan’s eyes and saw that they were clearer.

Con stopped at the end of the block and stood for a long moment, looking to his left, before he loped back to them. With Lilah’s help, Megan rose to meet him.

Con’s jaw was set and his eyes blazing. “Lilah, take Megan back to the house. I’m going after them.”

“How do you intend to do that?” Lilah asked. “You don’t know where they’ve gone.”

“I’ll figure it out.”

“That sounds excellent,” Lilah said crisply, taking Megan’s elbow and turning toward the carriage. “Find a carriage and head off in the general direction they took sometime ago. No planning, no information, no idea what the duke or any of the other husbands think or why your mother and sisters were taken. I’m sure you will do wonderfully well.”

Beside her, Megan snickered. Con’s face was a study in frustration, but he scooped Megan up and strode toward the waiting hack, saying in an aggrieved tone, “Yes, I know. I’m impulsive and quick-tempered, and you, of course, are logical, rational and right.”

The coach took off as soon as they were settled. Con leaned back against the seat, arms crossed, sunk in a deep study. The driver set a pace fast enough it made Megan wince as they rattled over the cobblestones, but she didn’t protest. When they reached the house, Megan handed back Con’s bloody handkerchief and insisted on walking into the house unaided.

“You are not carrying me in like some invalid. Theo will treat me as if I’m at death’s door.”

They found a thoroughly distressed Smeggars hovering in the entryway. He greeted them with a cry of delight and hustled them down to the Sultan Room. Even before they reached the salon, Lilah heard the agitated male voices. Inside, the room seemed to be filled with large men—standing, pacing, arguing, looking grim.

The butler, adept at gaining attention from years spent in the Morelands’ service, stepped in, announcing grandly, “Gentlemen! The Marchioness of Raine.”

Silence fell instantly and they all swung around to stare at Megan, flanked by Lilah and Con.

“Thank God!” Theo crossed the room in two strides and pulled his wife into his arms, squeezing her so hard she let out a squeak of protest.

“What happened, Con? What’s going on?” Reed came forward. Lilah saw for the first time that his wife, Anna, was also in the room, sitting against the wall. She was still pale, her face stamped with worry.

While Theo fussed over his wife’s injuries, the rest of the men bombarded Con with questions. Lilah left him to the interrogation and made her way to Anna. “How are you?”

The other woman attempted a smile. “Better. The headache’s gone. It usually disappears. But it always leaves me tired.”

“Perhaps you should rest.”

“Thank you. I’ll be fine here. I couldn’t lie down and sleep, knowing they were still out there. I feel so awful that I didn’t go with them. If only I’d realized earlier—”

“You mustn’t blame yourself. If you had been there, how could you have prevented it? It’s far better that you and Megan aren’t missing, too.”

“No doubt you’re right. Tell me what happened. You found only Megan?”

Lilah related to her everything they had done and discovered, a good deal more quickly and in better order than Con was managing with the frantic and furious men across the room. Fortunately, Smeggars wheeled in the tea cart, along with iodine and bandages for Megan’s injuries.

“This is no time for tea,” Kyria’s husband, Rafe McIntyre, protested.

“Oh, no, sir, I think you’ll find it’s exactly the right time.” Smeggars smiled benignly.

“Yes, yes, you’re right, Smeggars, as always,” the duke agreed. “We’re accomplishing nothing this way. Let’s sit down and think this thing through. There has to be a way out of this. They won’t hurt my girls.”

Rafe started to object, but Stephen St. Leger clapped a hand on his shoulder and cast a meaningful glance at the duke. Rafe nodded and subsided.

“You’re right, sir,” Stephen said. “We shouldn’t panic. That’s what they want—to rattle us so much we can’t think.”

As Smeggars served the tea, Uncle Bellard slid forward on his chair, gazing at Megan in his mild way. “Now, Megan, dear, is there anything else you can tell us about these men? Now that your mind is clearer. I’m sure your skills as a reporter enabled you to notice more details than the average person.”

Megan took a breath. “You’re right. I should think like a reporter.” She closed her eyes. “There were three of them. They wore workingmen’s sort of clothes, dark, and they had on soft caps, pulled low to conceal their faces. Their carriage—no, wait, it wasn’t a carriage, it was more of a wagon. But enclosed like a…” Her eyes popped open and she sat up straight. “Like a Black Maria.”

“A what?” The duke and others stared in confusion.

“A police wagon,” Rafe explained. He set aside his tea and stood up, an almost-palpable energy pouring out of him. “It’s a nickname in the United States for the vehicles they carry prisoners in. They’re painted black, and they’re made to keep prisoners from escaping. The doors in the back open from the outside only, and the windows are small, high and barred.”

Megan nodded. “Yes. That’s it. It was smaller than most I’ve seen, but I’m sure it had high barred windows.”

“No wonder some of the women thought they were the police,” Con commented. “But at least a vehicle like that should be easier to track.”

“What else can you remember?” The usual lazy drawl was missing from Rafe’s speech now, his words as hard and sharp as steel. He began to prowl around the room, reminding Lilah of a tiger in its cage. “Was it Kyria he was after? Con said he was dragging Kyria away.”

“I—I’m not sure,” Megan faltered. “When I first saw them, they were pulling Kyria and the duchess toward the wagon. Of course, they were all fighting them. I don’t know if they meant to take one or two or everybody.”

“It’s clear it was planned,” Reed said. “They had the prisoner wagon. They went straight for the Moreland women. They moved quickly.”

“That sort of demonstration was an excellent place to take them. People thought they were the police, so they hesitated to step forward and stop it.”

“One man stayed up on the wagon seat at first—I presume so they could get away quickly,” Megan said. “He didn’t get down until the women swarmed the first man. How could they think two men could take them all?”

“How could they think even three could?” Stephen spoke up. “There were four women—five counting you, and it would have been six if Anna had been there.”

“Perhaps they didn’t know the Moreland women well enough to realize they wouldn’t go easily,” Theo guessed. “They might have thought the ladies would be so shocked and frightened they wouldn’t struggle.”

“How did they take them?” Lilah, caught up in the conversation, jumped in. When the others turned to look at her, it occurred to her that she had crashed into the family discussion. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt. It’s just—how did they manage to fight five women and get four of them into the wagon so quickly?”

“True.” The duke frowned.

“Chloroform!” Megan popped to her feet. “The man holding Kyria had his hand over her face. I thought he was trying to muffle her screams, but I remember now, there was a handkerchief in his hand. She went limp almost immediately.”

“I’ll kill that sorry son of a bitch,” Rafe said in a low voice that was more frightening than a shout. He looked at the duke. “How long are we going to sit around here, yammering about it? I’m going after them.”

“How do you intend to do that? We’ve no idea where they went, and they’ve a long head start on us,” Reed said reasonably.

“I’ll find someone who’ll talk. Trust me, I can be very persuasive.”

“Rafe, wait.” Stephen stepped into his path.

“It’s the Dearborns,” Con said flatly.

“What?” Rafe swung around. “How do you know?”

“I don’t know. But who has a grudge against the Morelands? Who is in desperate need of money? Who likes to abduct people to get their way? The answer to each of those questions is Niles Dearborn.”

“I would have recognized the Dearborns,” Megan pointed out.

“They wouldn’t do it themselves. They hired someone.”

“It’s what they did with Alex,” Theo agreed.

“Then that’s my first stop,” Rafe said.

Everyone began again to talk at once.

“Quiet!” Thisbe’s husband, Desmond, jumped to his feet. He was normally such a quiet man that his outburst shocked all of them into silence. “We can’t go running off in all directions. We need to get organized. Maybe it’s the Dearborns and maybe it’s just some men hoping to make a profit. We need to be ready for all contingencies, including a ransom demand. We haven’t received one yet, but I would wager we will—no matter who took them. Let’s divide up. Rafe, you and Stephen go confront the Dearborns. Theo, Alex showed you where they held him. You and Reed make sure they don’t have Thisbe and the others there.” The men left immediately as Desmond went on, “The duke should stay here because he’ll be the one they ask for ransom. The same for Uncle Bellard because we need his brain.”

“And you, as well,” Con told him. “To keep us all straight.”

Desmond sighed, casting a glance at the duke, who was pale and shaken. “Yes. I’m afraid I must stay. Con, can you follow the kidnappers?”

“I intend to. That wagon Megan described will make it easier.”

“I’ll go with you.” Megan stood up.

“What?” Con whirled on her. “No. Absolutely not.”

“Are you saying that I’m not capable?” Megan’s chin thrust out. “That I’m too delicate?”

“I’m saying that Theo will have my head if I drag you around the city when you’re bloody, bruised and concussed.”

“That’s—it’s—”

“It’s smart,” Lilah said, rising to her feet. “Megan, you have been through enough today to fell anyone. You’re sore. You’re tired. You would slow Constantine down. Think of all the time and effort that would be wasted if you should lose consciousness again and he had to bring you back.”

Megan regarded her stonily for a moment. “Oh, hell…” She sank back down on the couch.

“Anna, too,” Lilah went on before Anna could speak. “You both need to recover.”

“Exactly.” Con turned toward the door.

“That’s why I am going to accompany you,” Lilah continued.

Con stopped abruptly. “No.”

“Why not? I trust you’re not going to say because I’m a woman.”

Megan snorted with laughter. “Yes, Con, why not? I think she should. Don’t you, Anna?”

“Yes, indeed.”

“After all—” Lilah plowed ahead “—as you said, I am logical, rational and right. It will be an excellent counterpoint to your qualities.”

Con glowered. “Blast it, Lilah, you’ll slow me down. What if we catch up with them? What if there’s a fight?”

“Then you’ll have someone to help you. I kept up with you when we went looking for Alex, didn’t I?”

“Yes, but…what about your aunt? Won’t she wonder what’s happened to you?”

“I can send my maid back to tell her I’ve been invited to stay for tea.”

“I’ll send her a note extending our invitation to you for dinner and the evening,” Anna offered. “Or, even better, Megan can. A marchioness is much more impressive.”

“There, you see? Think of the advantages if I go with you.” Lilah continued her list of reasons. “You’ll have another person to look for them, to question people. And—” Her face lit triumphantly. “If you find your mother and sisters and need reinforcements, you’ll have someone who can go for help while you keep watch to make sure they don’t escape.”

“Oh, for…” Con looked at Desmond.

“I agree.” Desmond shrugged. “It’s better if you have two people.”

“The devil.” Con looked back at Lilah. “Very well. You’re coming with me.”

CHAPTER FIVE

IT WAS A mistake to take her. Con knew it as soon as he said it. Lilah Holcutt never made anything easier. She would fuss; she would question; she would need looking after. But there was no way out of it now. Strangely, deep down it didn’t really bother him.

Con sent a footman to have one of their vehicles brought round, then walked over to Anna. Squatting down beside her, he said, “I need you to tell me everything you remember about your vision.”

Anna nodded. “I had a headache, so I was lying down. I dozed off, I think, because suddenly I woke up with a jolt. And I saw your mother and the others.”

“You saw them being taken?” He was a little surprised to see Lilah sit down beside Anna and take her hand.

Anna shook her head. “No. I didn’t realize that before. It wasn’t in London. It was in the country. There were no other houses around, but there were trees. I saw Thisbe and Olivia being pulled out of—of something. It was rather dark inside the vehicle.”

“A carriage?”

“I’m not sure. It was enclosed, but it opened in the back. It had a set of two doors, and they opened outward.” She demonstrated. “Two men were carrying the duchess and Kyria. They were very still. I wasn’t sure if they were asleep or—” Her voice caught.

“I’m sure they’re fine,” Con said soothingly. “Kyria was chloroformed. Probably Mother was, as well. The men want money for them. They wouldn’t risk killing them.”

She nodded. “Yes, you’re right. There was a third man, who had a gun aimed at Thisbe and Olivia. They were all walking somewhere.”

“Where? Could you see where they were?”

Anna shook her head. “There was a house, and I assume they were going there, but the vision ended before I could see them enter it.”

“What did it look like?”

“Two floors tall, but not a big house. Very plain. It was stone—a beige sort of color—or maybe just aged and dirty white stone. There was an outbuilding, a shed or small barn, off to one side. There was ivy growing up one wall. It—I had the impression nobody lived in the house.”

“Why?”

Anna shrugged. “I’m not sure. I… It looked untended. The smaller building was very weathered and leaned to one side. There wasn’t any garden. The ground was dirt and weeds and such.” She closed her eyes for a moment. “Oh! And there was a shutter half-off one of the downstairs windows.”

“Did you have any idea what part of the country it was in?”

“No. I’m sorry. I’m afraid this isn’t very helpful.”

“It is. Every scrap of information will help me. Was there anything more you saw? You said there were trees.”

“Yes, but not right next to the house. There was, um, a very large tree about twenty or thirty feet away. But in the distance I could see thicker trees. Like woods.” She paused, thinking. “Oh! Right next to the vehicle was a large stump, as if a big tree had been cut down in the past.”

“Good. That’s terrific, a great help.”

“I wish I could be of more use.”

“Don’t worry. This is good. I’ll be able to recognize the house.”

Con stood up and turned to Lilah, who had been watching their exchange with a baffled expression. No doubt she had decided both he and Anna belonged in an asylum. But to his surprise, Lilah said not a word.

Outside, the family’s elegant small town carriage awaited them. The coachman stood at the horses’ head, and he came toward Con now, saying, “They’re in fine fettle, sir. They’ll be wanting to move.”

“Don’t worry, Jenkins, I assure you I’ll take care of the team.”

“I’ve no doubt of that, sir.” The man smiled.

“You’re going to drive the carriage?” Lilah asked, staring.

“Yes.” His smile held a little challenge. “Perhaps you’d like to ride inside. Or you could—”

“I am not staying here,” Lilah replied crisply and went to the front of the carriage. “If you’d give me a hand up…”

Con simply took her by the waist and lifted her to the first step. Lilah grabbed the handhold and shot a dark look at him over her shoulder.

“The first step is rather high,” he pointed out. “

“Yes, and I am rather tall.” Gripping the bar, she lifted her skirt with the other hand and climbed up to the coachman’s seat.

Con caught a glimpse of her stockings once again—an eye-searing yellow this time—and suppressed a smile as he scrambled up after her. The high seat was comfortable but, being built for one driver, it was not especially wide. Con could feel Lilah’s arm against his jacket, the side of her leg touching his.

That was not a thing to be thinking of at a time like this. Taking the reins, Con started forward.

“Why are you driving the carriage?”

“Easier for me to follow that way.” He shrugged. “I have a better view, and I don’t have to yell to the coachman if I want to get down to look at something.”

“Then why the carriage? Wouldn’t a smaller vehicle be easier to handle?”

“I thought of taking my grandfather’s old phaeton, actually. It’d be more maneuverable, lighter. But it’s been some years since it’s been driven—Father couldn’t quite bring himself to get rid of it, but no one uses it anymore. It’s too easy to grab a hansom or a seat on the omnibus.”

“You travel by omnibus?”

“Sometimes.” He grinned at the astonishment on her face. “Too plebian, you think?”

“No. It just surprises me.”

“It’s more convenient in certain parts of town. More in character sometimes.”

“Such as when you’re dressed as a quack medicine salesman?” A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

“Careful, you might actually grin.”

The blue eyes narrowed, and she snapped her head around to look forward again. Con felt a pang of regret. After a moment, he picked back up their earlier topic of conversation in a conciliatory tone. “The carriage is more useful, too. We’ll need to bring my mother and sisters back.”

She cast a quick sideways glance up at him. He suspected the words if we find them were on the tip of Lilah’s tongue, but she said nothing. They had reached the site of the abduction, and Con turned onto the street the kidnappers took. At the end of the block, he turned left and joined the jumble of traffic.

“Back there, at the house, how did Desmond know what to do? Who should go to the Dearborns and who should go to Alex’s prison and so on. Nobody objected or discussed it.”

“We know each other well. Rafe is the most intimidating. He’s not as large as Theo, but his eyes can get this look that chills one’s blood. Having lived through a bloody war, then making a fortune in the Wild West, he has little regard for the niceties of gentlemanly behavior. Especially when Kyria’s in danger. That’s why he would be better able to get information from the Dearborns. Stephen is his friend—they were partners in a silver mine after the American Civil War. They understand and trust each other. Stephen will make sure Rafe doesn’t get into trouble. Theo and Reed balance each other, as well. Reed’s the levelheaded one. Theo’s more one for action.”

“Then I really do serve as your counterbalance.” She shot him a sideways glance, and this time her smile won the battle.

Surprisingly, Con found he enjoyed having her along. Granted, Lilah questioned everything, but so far she had not been stuffy, and her conversation kept his mind off the worry gnawing inside him.

“Why were you chosen to follow the kidnappers?” Lilah asked.

“I’m better at that sort of thing. I can tell north from south. I’ve always been good at maps, and I’m familiar with the streets of London and the roads out of it. I’ve had experience, you see. That’s what my agency does—locate lost or stolen objects, missing people. Alex often makes that easier, of course, with his ability. But I’m the one who tracks down the leads and decides where to go.”

“I thought you investigated nonsensical things—ghosts and demons and whatnot.”

“Mmm. I’m especially fond of whatnots.” His words brought forth a laugh from her. “Sadly, though, there aren’t that many supernatural possibilities to investigate. So I’m forced to fall back on something useful and mundane.”

As they talked, Con had been weaving in and out of the heavy traffic, bypassing slower vehicles, but he also kept his eyes in motion, looking everywhere.

“What are we looking for?” Lilah asked.

“Any sign that a speeding vehicle might have gone this way.”

“Which would be?” “I’m not sure, really.”

“That’s certainly informative.”

“I’m sorry. It’s hard to describe—you can see from the way people act, the way things look, if there’s been a disturbance. For instance, an angry seller whose cart has been overturned by a speeding vehicle. Or people talking excitedly. I don’t imagine I’ll find any, as it’s been a good while since they passed by. But I’m hoping my sisters will help me out.”

“What do you mean? They’re captives. What could they do?”

“They’re resourceful. I think they’ll try to draw people’s attention one way or another. Leave us a sign, perhaps.”

“But how can you be certain you’re on the right road? What if they’ve turned off?”

“I’m not certain. It’s my best guess. There’s no reason for them to twist and turn, trying to evade pursuers. No one was following them. They’d want to get to their target the fastest way possible, where they can secrete the women and get rid of or hide the vehicle. This is a major thoroughfare with a lot of vehicles. The more people, the more carriages and wagons, the less likely it is that anyone will notice or remember a certain one, even if it is uncommon. Also, eventually this street turns into the road to Tunbridge Wells. From what Anna said, the house they’re using is in a rural area.”

“Really, Constantine, don’t tell me you believe in visions foretelling the future.”

“Actually, in this case, it’s more the present than the future.” He glanced at her. “Why wouldn’t I believe it? Anna’s no liar. She wouldn’t mislead us, especially about something important.”

“I’m sure she isn’t lying or trying to mislead you. But it’s far more likely that Anna dreamed it. She had a headache, lay down and fell asleep, and she had a nightmare. Dreams seem very real sometimes.”

Con thought of a room with curving walls and clocks. “I know. But whether it came while she was asleep or awake, she saw that they were abducted. We know that was true. So it seems silly to ignore the rest of her vision.”

“But how could anyone ‘see’ something happening miles away?”

“I’ve witnessed stranger—”

“Con!” Lilah grabbed his arm.

“What?” A little jolt ran through him. “What’s the matter?” He glanced around.

“Stop. Stop. Look.” Lilah pointed to a woman walking down the street. “That’s Olivia’s.”

“What?” Con pulled back on the reins.

“That woman is wearing Olivia’s scarf!”

CHAPTER SIX

NOT WAITING FOR HIM, Lilah scrambled down from the high seat on the other side, setting her foot on the front wheel, then jumping to the ground. She hurried after the woman, and a moment later, Con caught up with her. “Are you certain?”

She gave him an impatient glance. “Olivia was wearing it the other day. I remember because I particularly liked it. Besides, look at that woman. Does she look like that scarf belongs to her?”

The woman’s clothes were worn and drab, her straw hat battered, but around her neck was draped a lovely red silk scarf.

“Ma’am.” Con broke into a trot. “Wait. Just a moment.”

The woman looked back over her shoulder and, seeing them, whirled around to run. She hadn’t gone three steps before Con pulled her to a stop.

“I din’t do nuffink. I din’t steal it. It’s mine.”

“Calm down. I’m not accusing you of anything.”

She tried to tug her arm from his grasp, clearly not believing him.

“Con, you’re scaring her.” Lilah laid a soothing hand on the woman’s shoulder. “We aren’t going to hurt you. All we want is information.”

“Yes, sorry.” Con eased his hold, though he did not release her. “I’m not trying to take your scarf from you. You can keep it. Just tell me where you got it.”

“I din’t steal it.”

“I believe you. You found it, didn’t you?”

“’Twas just lying there. It din’t belong to nobody.”

“Where was it lying? Can you show me where you found it?”

She pointed back up the street. “Down there. It caught on the lamppost, see.”

“Excellent.” Con beamed and reached into his pocket for a coin. “Here’s something for your information.”

“Gor!” Her eyes widened as she snatched the coin from his hand. “Thankee, sir.”

“Now, tell me, did you see where the scarf came from? You said it caught on the lamppost. Did you see it land there?”

No longer reluctant, she started to answer, then sighed and admitted, “No. It was just there at the bottom of the post. Nell went for it, but I got there first. An’ we had a bit of scrap about it, an’ I won. I saw it ’fore she did.”

“How long ago was that? Since you found the scarf.”

“Oh. Well…” She wrinkled her forehead in thought. “A while. I went in to get a little tipple, you see, ’cause of my luck. And then, um, I went down to Annie’s to show her. A while.”

“Thank you. You’ve been very helpful.” Con smiled and swept her an elegant bow, which made the woman giggle and bob a curtsy back to him. Obviously Con was an expert at charming any woman.

It took only a few minutes of questioning the shopkeepers along the street before Con found one who remembered the black vehicle.

“Oh, aye, I saw it. Ugly thing, don’t know why you’d want to paint your wagon black like that. Better something cheerful, I say. And why not a sign on it?”

“Did you hear anything?”

He looked puzzled. “It made a racket on the cobblestones, if that’s what you mean. So loud I couldn’t hear my customer. That’s why I noticed it.”

“How long ago was it?”

“Oh, some time now. An hour or two. Wait, I remember, it was just ’fore I ate. Around noon.”

Con’s eyes gleamed as he took Lilah’s arm, propelling her back to the carriage. She could almost feel the renewed energy and hope surging in him.

“I knew it!” he said as they started forward again. “I knew they would find a way to help me.”

“They’ll have to divest themselves of a lot of garments to leave a good trail.”

“There are four of them after all.” He tossed a grin at her.

“It was very smart to do that.”

“The family’s had some experience,” he said drily.

They kept a sharp eye on the street, hoping for another sign from the Moreland women. Every time they spied a possibility, Con would jump down to investigate, but none of the objects turned out to be anything belonging to Con’s sisters. The problem was that any piece of clothing dropped on the street was likely to be picked up before Lilah and Con could find it. And how long could the ladies keep tossing out clues before one of their captors caught them?

The traffic and houses thinned out, which at least made it more likely that a discarded item might not be picked up immediately. Con spotted the next item, a crumpled straw bonnet that he thought might belong to Thisbe. “It’s plain as she likes them.”

Con fretted about the time as they continued at their slow pace. The sun had been growing steadily lower. Lilah decided it was best not to ask what they would do after darkness fell. Next they found a woman’s jacket.

Lilah held it up, studying it. “It’s very stylish.”

“Kyria’s then.”

After a time, they came upon a handkerchief caught in a hedge. “Definitely Kyria’s.” Con spread it out on his knee. “See the monogram?”

Heartened by their finds, they pressed onward, passing fewer and fewer travelers. Whenever they came upon a slow cart or carriage, Con stopped to ask if the driver had seen the wagon they sought. One farm boy, walking placidly beside his ox-drawn cart, nodded, saying it had passed him not long out of the city.

“We’re falling farther and farther behind,” Con said grimly. “But I don’t dare go faster or we might miss one of their clues.”

After a while, Con stirred restlessly, looking around. “I’m not sure…”

“What is it?” Lilah half turned, putting her hand on his arm.

Con glanced at her, startled, and Lilah quickly withdrew her hand. “I think we may be going wrong.” He twisted around to look behind him. “It’s been a while since we’ve found anything.” He pulled to a stop. “We crossed a road back there.”

“You think we should have taken it?”

“I don’t know. But at some point, they’re going to turn off. I doubt that cottage is on the main road. And… this feels wrong.”

He turned the carriage, a cumbersome process, and headed back. When they reached the intersection, he turned left down the smaller road.

“Couldn’t they have turned the other way?”

“Yes. If they turned at all. I’ll try the other way next if—look.” A white petticoat lay in the muddy ditch. “They threw it out as soon as they turned. Clever girls.”

“We’re gathering quite a collection.”

“We’re getting closer, I think, but it’s taking too long.” He cast a look at the gathering twilight around them and increased the pace.

Lilah spotted a white handkerchief at the juncture of a smaller lane. “Do you think she meant to stay on this road or turn?”

“It’s ambiguous,” Con agreed. “She could have tossed it out from either direction and it floated back here. I’m going to take the turn. Megan said the windows were high. I don’t think they could see the road. They wouldn’t know that the road turned off until they felt the wagon do so.”

The overhang of trees turned the dusk into night. Lilah leaned forward, peering intently ahead. The carriage jarred as it passed over a rut, and she braced herself with a hand on Con’s leg. Embarrassed, she straightened up quickly, glancing at Con. But he appeared not to even notice the inappropriately familiar touch as he stared, eyes narrowed, at a hedge-lined path.

“I think…I’m going to try this lane.”

“It’s more a track than a lane. Why do you think this is the way to go? Did you see something?”

“Not really. It’s very nearly dark.”

Very nearly? Lilah could barely even make out that there was a path. It was even darker along the lane, with the high encroaching hedges on either side. “Why do you think it’s this way?”

“I’m not sure. This nearly hidden path made me think about what Anna said about it being secluded.”

There was no point in getting into another discussion about the unreliability of Anna’s “vision,” so Lilah kept silent. It was fully night now; the moon was rising. Fortunately it was a full moon. The hedges ended, and the lane curved around a tree. Lilah could make out a dark shape ahead of them.

The night was hushed, the only sound the plodding of the horses’ hooves and the carriage wheels turning, and even that was muffled by the dirt surface of the path. Neither Lilah nor Con spoke. The dark shape ahead resolved itself into a two-story cottage, a simple building of light-colored stone.

Lilah drew in her breath sharply, unconsciously grabbing Con’s arm. A shutter hung askew beside a window, and a large tree stood not far from the house. In the other direction, Lilah could make out a small structure of some sort. Con looked at Lilah, then pointed to a large tree stump a few feet ahead of them.

It was exactly as Anna had described. A shiver ran through Lilah.

If they needed further proof, a dark wagon stood near the stump, with a pair of tethered horses grazing nearby. Con climbed down and took his horses by the head, walking them around so that the carriage faced the opposite direction.

As Lilah joined him, he murmured in explanation, “In case we need to make a quick escape.”

“Then you plan to confront them?” she whispered back.

“There were only three men.”

“And only one you,” she retorted. “That’s if they don’t have accomplices who’ve joined them.”

Con tilted his head, considering. “Still, I have the advantage of surprise, and my mother and sisters will help.” His grin gleamed in the darkness. “You should see my mother brandish a cricket bat.”

He reached up to pull the long carriage whip from its holder. “Unwieldy.” He unscrewed the handle from the long supple stick and leather lash, leaving him with a sturdy truncheon capped by an ornamental brass knob. He turned to her. “Stay here. If things go wrong, run. They won’t expect anyone else to be here.”

“I’m going with you.”

“What?” His eyebrows flew up. “You said you’d go for help if needed.”

“No. I said I could go for help.”

“Blast it!” he hissed. “You’ll get in my way. I’ll have to worry about protecting you. Stay. Here.”

“You said your mother and sisters would be a help to you.” Lilah grabbed the longer, narrow end of the whip that ended in a leather lash, and faced him defiantly. “Are you going to tell me I am less capable than they?”

“Not when you’ve got that whip in your hand.” Con started for the house. Lilah followed, her heart pounding. She stumbled over a root, nearly falling. Con swung around, and Lilah braced for a caustic remark, but to her surprise, he took her hand and leaned in to whisper, “Stay with me. I have good night vision.”

“Of course you do,” she replied waspishly, resenting the way the touch of his breath on her ear sent a shiver through her. This was no time to be thinking about things like that—or feeling that tremble of heat deep inside her.

Holding the front of her skirt off the ground with one hand, she went with him, surprised at how natural it was, how easy, to walk with him, shoulders almost touching, his fingers laced through hers. It made her feel faintly breathless—the warmth of him, the touch of his skin on hers—but somehow it steadied her, as well. She couldn’t count on him to be appropriate in a drawing room or ballroom, but here, in a situation like this, she trusted him completely.

They skirted the edges of the yard, staying close to the shadows of trees and shrubs. Their care was probably unnecessary, for the front rooms of the house looked dark, but Con was clearly taking no chances. He edged up to the front window. “Nothing.”

They slipped around the side. Light spilled from a window in a rear room. Con flattened himself against the wall and inched over, turning his head to peek inside. Pulling back, he whispered, “Two men at the kitchen table, playing dice.”

“What’s your plan?” she whispered back.

“Open the door and knock them in the head.”

Before Lilah could point out that this was not much of a plan, he crouched down beneath the window and moved to the door. Lilah did her best to imitate him. It would be far easier if she weren’t wearing a corset. As she stood up, Con took hold of the doorknob and slowly, silently turned it. The handle moved freely. Con raised his cudgel, knob end up, and looked questioningly at Lilah.

She nodded and took a firm grip on her whip. She’d never hit anyone with a stick before, but she was sure she could do it. In fact, she was rather looking forward to it.

Before Con could move, there was an explosion inside the house. Letting out an oath, Con flung open the door and charged inside.

CHAPTER SEVEN

IN THE KITCHEN, the two men jumped to their feet, turning toward the door. Several more bangs and crashes rang out upstairs as Con ran at the larger one of the men, swinging his whip handle like a club. The other man pulled a mug from the table and drew back to hurl it at Con, but Lilah swung the whip, cracking him smartly across the wrist. The mug fell to the ground, spilling ale over the floor. With a growl, he came at Lilah.

Lilah lashed the whip again, slashing across his torso, but the man grabbed the end of the stick and yanked it from her hand. Lilah jumped to the side as he slammed the stick down, hitting nothing but air. She darted away, grabbing a tin container from the counter as she ran, and whirled to throw the metal box at her pursuer.

He was quick enough to block the container with his arm, but the force of the blow popped off the lid, and flour exploded all over him. Coughing and cursing, he pawed at his eyes. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Con exchanging punches with the other thug. No help there. She must do something herself.

Frantically she glanced around and saw a broom. Picking it up, she ran forward, wielding the long wooden handle like a knight with a lance, and rammed the end into the gut of her temporarily blinded opponent. He let out a whoof, clutching his stomach, and Lilah charged in, reversing the broom and hacking away at his head.

She was prepared for it this time when he tried to pull her weapon away, and she hung on as hard and long as she could. As she saw his muscles bunch to yank even harder, she released her hold, so that his momentum sent him staggering backward.

Lilah whirled, looking for a new weapon, and she smiled grimly when her eyes landed on a large iron skillet. But as she swung back to face her enemy, skillet upraised, she saw that Con, who had dispatched his foe, was running across the room at them. He slammed his truncheon down on the ruffian’s head, and the man’s eyes rolled up. He dropped to the floor.

“Con!” Lilah ran to him, flushed with triumph, and Con, laughing, swooped her up and twirled her around. When he set her down, they remained that way for a long moment, Con’s hands still at her waist, only inches between them. His eyes went to her mouth. Lilah’s heart began to pound.

Just then, a man’s scream pierced the air. Lilah and Con whipped around to see a man rolling down the hall staircase. He landed in a tangled heap at the bottom. His head and shoulders, Lilah noticed, were strangely wet. A moment later, the duchess trotted down after him, carrying a broken earthenware pitcher in one hand.

“Hello, Mother.”

Emmeline Moreland glanced over and smiled. “Why, Con,” she said, as if she were in a parlor instead of stepping over a body on the floor. “Dear boy. And Miss Holcutt. What a nice surprise.” She kissed Con’s cheek.

“Yes, you arrived just in time, Con,” Kyria agreed as the duchess’s daughters trooped down the stairs behind her. All of them carried makeshift weapons. Kyria studied the first man Con had dispatched. “Though I was looking forward to bashing that fellow in the head.”

“You can have a go at him now, if you’d like,” Con told her cheerfully.

“That hardly seems sporting.”

Con hugged each of his sisters as they gathered in the kitchen, putting away their makeshift weapons. The Morelands, Lilah had noticed over the course of the past few weeks, were very prone to embracing one another. It had startled her at first, but Lilah was becoming accustomed to it now, and she was unsurprised when the women went on to hug her, too.

Thisbe patted Con on the cheek. “I knew you would find us, even though our trail must have been cold.”

“We followed your bread crumbs.”

“That was Olivia’s idea,” Thisbe said.

“A very good one.” He embraced Olivia last, pulling the small woman up off her feet.

“I was afraid they would get blown away or trampled, but it was the best I could think of.”

“You seem to have managed well on your own.” Con cast a glance at the man who had fallen down the stairs. “I feel quite unnecessary.”

“Oh, you’ll be very useful,” Olivia tossed back. “We need to tie up these men.”

“Yes, starting with this one.” Con pointed to the man he had fought, who had let out a groan and was now shifting restlessly. Con unfastened his cravat and squatted down to turn the man over and tie his hands behind his back. “What about him?” Con pointed to the ruffian who had come tumbling down the stairs. “Did you kill him?”

“Oh, no, he’s breathing,” Thisbe offered. “Mother just cracked him in the head with the washbasin pitcher.”

“This is all of them?”

Thisbe explained, “No, there was another one who was here when we arrived, but he escaped out the window and down the drainpipe.”

“How is Meg?” the duchess asked. “We weren’t sure what happened to her.”

“She’s probably going to have a black eye, and she was unconscious for a while—she hit her head on the ground when the thug hit her. But she was able to tell us what happened.”

They spent the next few minutes finding things with which to tie the men, who were beginning to awaken by the time they finished.

“What shall we do with them?” Kyria asked, using a glass-fronted cabinet as a mirror to repin the disarranged strands of her hair.

“I suspect your husbands would like to have a chat with them,” Con said. “So we’d best load them into their van and take them back with us.” He frowned. “Thing is, we have two vehicles. We could leave these chaps here while I drive you ladies home. Then Rafe and Stephen and I can come back to collect them later.”

“Leave them here tied up all that time?” The duchess frowned. “That doesn’t seem safe. What if something happened to them?”

“Mother, these chaps just abducted you and held you prisoner.”

“Obviously, they are criminals, but the goal should be to reform, not just—”

“More important,” Olivia put in before the duchess could gain steam, “they might manage to escape if we leave them alone here together.”

“But if I take them back, you ladies will have to remain here,” Con pointed out.

“Con, really, do you think I cannot drive a wagon?” Emmeline asked. “You know I was a country squire’s daughter. I learned to drive all the wagons and carts on the farm.”

Lilah doubted that driving wagons was part of the education of most country squires’ daughters, but it was little surprise that the duchess had done so.

“You take the girls home in the carriage, and I’ll follow you in the wagon,” the duchess decreed.

“Very well, if you will agree to take someone with you, just in case,” Con countered, clearly accustomed to bargaining with his mother. “You have just been through an ordeal.”

Con’s mother gave him an indulgent smile. “Miss Holcutt can ride with me. She can take the reins if I grow too feeble, since she was not abducted.”

“Though riding around with Con doubtless qualifies as an ordeal,” Kyria stuck in with a grin at her younger brother.

“Thank you, I would be happy to,” Lilah told the duchess. It would be better not to spend the ride back to London with Con again. At least she wouldn’t be lying when she told Aunt Helena that she spent the evening with the duchess.

“There. All settled. Let’s get these fellows into the wagon and go home. I haven’t eaten since breakfast, and I’m beginning to feel a mite peckish.”

Con had bound the men’s hands behind their backs and hobbled their feet, so they were able to march the still-dazed men out and load them into the wagon with only a little struggle. The duchess and Lilah climbed up onto the driver’s seat, which was much higher but far less comfortable than the one on the carriage, and set off.

To Lilah’s amazement, the duchess seemed cheerful, even invigorated. “Con’s job is actually harder,” she told Lilah, handling the reins with expertise. “Carriage horses are more mettlesome and easily spooked than these work horses. Though the carriage is better sprung,” she added as they jounced over the rough dirt lane. “Would you like to learn? I could teach you when we get on a better road.”

Lilah blinked. “I hadn’t thought of it. But yes, I believe I would.”

Her gloves, of course, were the wrong sort for the task, and she wasn’t sure how she would explain the wear and smudges on them to her aunt, but Lilah thoroughly enjoyed the lesson. The duchess was a clear and patient teacher, if somewhat inclined to inattention, and the horses were as amiable and plodding as Emmeline had suggested, giving Lilah time to correct any mistake she made.

Her shoulders and arms began to ache after a while, and once again she found her stiff corset a nuisance, but she kept doggedly at it. The thought of Con’s reaction to her newly minted driving skills was enough to keep her going.

The duchess took back the reins when traffic grew thicker as they neared London. Lilah was astonished at how little time it had taken to drive the route, which had appeared so endless earlier.

A footman on the front stoop at Broughton House ran back inside as soon as he caught sight of them. By the time the duchess pulled up, welcoming relatives and servants had spilled out onto the street. They were swept inside in a hubbub of questions, embraces and laughter. After the initial greeting, most of the men went outside to deal with the kidnappers, while the women split up to go upstairs and change out of their grimy clothes.

Con turned to Lilah. “I told Jenkins to keep the carriage out front. I thought you would want to get home as soon as possible.”

“Oh. Of course. It is terribly late.”

Con was right. Aunt Helena was doubtless upset about Lilah’s spending the day here in such an unplanned, casual way; arriving home later in the evening would be worse. Nor was there any reason to remain. Lilah had done all she could. And yet…Lilah felt disappointed at the way Con was rushing her out. Perhaps he thought she had no place here, that she had pushed her way into what was purely family business—which, of course, she had.

A faint flush rose in Lilah’s cheeks. She had acted in an unaccustomedly inappropriate way. Awkwardly, she went on, “I shall take my leave. Please give my regards to your family. I’m very happy they are home safe.” She started toward the door, glancing over at Con in surprise when he stayed by her side. “There’s no need to escort me to the carriage.”

“There is if I intend to get in it, too.” He arched an eyebrow at her.

“You needn’t see me home, Con—I mean, Lord Moreland.”

“Really, Miss Holcutt, don’t you think that after brawling together, we are well enough acquainted for you to call me by my given name?”

“Very well. Con.” He was making jest of her, as he always did, and yet the sparkle in his eyes, the curve of his lips, made her want to smile back. Made her want to do things that were better left unmentioned. Being with Con was always so unsettling.

He paused, gazing at her significantly, and after a moment, he nudged, “And may I call you Lilah?”

“Oh. Yes.” Her name sounded different when he said it, so silky smooth and rich. Whatever was the matter with her? She added tartly, “I am sure you have already.”

“It’s quite possible. You know how things are in the heat of the moment.” His face was perfectly bland, making her uncertain whether he had meant to convey the double entendre. He went on smoothly, “And you are wrong. I do need to see you home. However unmannerly you think me, I am not ill enough behaved to send a lady off alone at night.”

“I never said you were unmannerly,” she protested as he handed her up into the vehicle, then swung in to sit down beside her.

“Did you not?” There was that “Con look” again, so inscrutable, yet somehow conveying laughter bubbling just beneath the surface. Lilah pressed her lips together. “Perhaps I might have. Sometime when you were being particularly outlandish. But I—it was said—”

“In the heat of the moment?”

She sent him a dagger glance. “Could you please, for just a few minutes, stop being so provoking?”

He chuckled. “I think I can.” He leaned forward and took her hand. “I have to tell you how impressive you were this evening.”

“I was?”

“Indeed. When I saw you whacking that fellow with a broom, my heart swelled with pride.”

“Hush.” But she couldn’t hold back a smile. “You’re talking nonsense.”

“You were a veritable Valkyrie. An Amazon. A warrior goddess come to life.” His face turned serious. “You were a great deal of help today, and I apologize for ever thinking you would be a hindrance.”

“Constantine…” It was foolish to feel so warmed by his words.

He leaned closer. “Tell me, Miss Holcutt, would you slap me this time if I kissed you?”

Lilah’s heart skipped a beat. She should pull away from him. Toss back a sharp set-down for his boldness. But what came from her mouth was only a whispered “No, I wouldn’t slap you.”

He bent his head, and she closed her eyes, as if she could hide what she was doing from herself. Con’s lips brushed over hers gently…once, twice. She felt his smile against her lips, then his mouth settled onto hers, his arms gliding around her, pulling her to him.

His kiss was slow and easy and thorough, his tongue stealing into her mouth and setting off a firestorm of pleasurable sensations. It was overwhelming, his kiss as dizzying as the champagne she’d drunk. Lilah was flooded with hunger. Urges she’d never imagined roiled inside her. She had no idea what to do, but she wanted to feel more, have more.

Lilah wasn’t aware when she had put her hands on his arms, but now she dug her fingers into the cloth, holding on. It seemed like forever, yet it was over all too fast. Con raised his head and stared down at her, his expression caught somewhere between amazement and dismay.

Then his arms tightened around her, crushing her into him, and he pulled her into his lap. This time his kiss wasn’t easy, wasn’t gentle, but shockingly, Lilah welcomed it. She wrapped her arms around his neck and her lips answered his with abandon. Lilah’s heart slammed in her chest, and her very blood seemed on fire. She felt reckless and wild, utterly unlike herself, and it was glorious.

Con’s mouth left hers to kiss her cheek, her jaw, her throat. She shivered at the delicate touch on her sensitive skin. Someone moaned softly, and Lilah realized with a start that the sound had come from her. Con kissed his way downward, reaching the hollow of her throat. His tongue teased around the pearl drop there, tracing a circle. Her abdomen flooded with heat.

Her hands went to his shoulders—whether to hold him off or hold on to him, she wasn’t sure. Right now Lilah wasn’t sure of anything…except the warmth of his mouth, the velvet softness of his lips, the touch of his hands upon her face. All she knew was that she wanted this to go on and on.

Too soon, Con pulled back, his eyes glittering in the dark, his breath uneven. For a long moment, he simply looked at her. His hands fell away. Clearing his throat, he said, “We’re here.”

It was only then that Lilah realized the carriage had stopped in front of her aunt’s house. How had they gotten here so quickly? She heard the coachman climbing down from his seat, and she hastily scrambled out of Con’s lap. Seconds later their driver opened the door.

Lilah bolted out, keeping her head down, afraid of what the servant might see in her face. As Con started to follow her, she turned, holding out her hand as if to ward him off. “No, don’t get out. I—well—good night.”

She hurried to the door and slipped inside, her legs trembling beneath her. She was careful not to look back.

CHAPTER EIGHT

BY THE TIME Con returned to the house, the wagon was gone, and he found his family seated around the dining table, polishing off the remains of the hasty meal Smeggars had brought in.

“Ah, there’s the man of the hour,” Theo said, smiling.

“Hardly. The ladies had already escaped on their own. All I did was drive them home.”

“A good bit more than that,” Thisbe protested. “You took care of the men downstairs. It would have been far different if we had had to overcome them, as well.”

“I had a great deal of help from Lilah—um, Miss Holcutt.” Con turned away, picking up a plate and beginning to fill it with food from the sideboard. “She went after one of them with the carriage whip, then a broom. Tossed a tin full of flour at him, as well.”

“I wondered why he was covered in white powder,” Olivia said, laughing.

“I was surprised to see her there,” Thisbe said.

“She happened to be here at the time.” Con kept his gaze on the dishes of food. “It was nothing, really.”

“What was nothing? I thought you just said she was very helpful.”

“She was. I didn’t mean what she did was nothing.” He toyed with the roll on his plate, then added another. “I meant her being here wasn’t unusual. She came to see Olivia. Had a book for her.”

“Did she?” Olivia’s face lit up. “How nice. She had offered to lend me a book, but it was just in passing. I’m surprised she remembered.”

“Miss Holcutt remembers everything,” Con said darkly, bringing his plate to the table and sitting down.

“Goodness, Con, do you mean to eat all of that?” Kyria asked.

“What? Oh…” Con gazed at his plate in some surprise. “Well, I am hungry.”

“I am not at all amazed that Lilah joined in,” the duchess said. “I quite like her. She’s a very nice girl, just a bit stiff. I blame her upbringing.”

“Why?” Con asked. “What’s odd about her upbringing?”

“Nothing,” his mother replied. “That is the point. She had the same sort of insubstantial education combined with an indoctrination into foolish rules that all young ladies do. It’s a pity that a bright girl such as Lilah was forced into such a constricted position.”

“I believe she was raised by her aunt,” Kyria added. “Mrs. Summersley seems a nice enough woman, just a bit staid.”

The duchess pointed at her daughter with her raised fork. “Exactly. Perpetuating a helpless, brainless vision of womanhood.”

Con snorted. “I wouldn’t call Lilah helpless or brainless.”

“Yes, I have hope for the girl,” Emmeline agreed. “Perhaps I should invite her to come to the next suffragists’ meeting.”

“I don’t think our experience with the suffragists today would encourage her to accompany you,” Olivia remarked.

“It isn’t as if there are always abductions at them,” the duchess protested.

“One would hope not,” Reed commented drily.

“What did you find out from the kidnappers?” Con asked, turning toward Stephen and Rafe.

“Pah!” Kyria’s husband let out an exclamation of disgust. “Nothing of any importance. They were hired hands.”

“Nor were they particularly bright,” Theo put in. “They had no idea why they were paid to abduct the women. They swore they didn’t even know who the ladies were.”

“He couldn’t even give us a description of the man who hired them,” Stephen added. “Said it was all done by way of letter, brought by a messenger.”

Con cocked an eyebrow. “Do you believe that?”

“Strangely enough, we did.” Theo shrugged his shoulders. “He seemed sufficiently demoralized. I think Mother terrified him more than Rafe. She does wield a wicked pitcher.” Theo’s green eyes twinkled.

“Really, Theo, you know I abhor violence. But I could hardly stand by when someone threatened my children.”

“What did the Dearborns say?” Con asked.

“They vehemently denied it,” Rafe said.

“Even when Rafe threatened them with various sorts of bodily harm,” Stephen put in.

“I’m less certain that I believe them,” Rafe put in. “They let us search their house after a big show of British affront, but that only proves they were careful enough to keep their distance from the crime.”

“I can’t think of anyone else with a grudge against us,” Reed said. “At least, no one who isn’t already in jail.”

“The Dearborns are obviously desperate for money.”

“That’s the peculiar thing.” Uncle Bellard spoke up. “We never received a note asking for a ransom.”

“It is odd,” the duke agreed.

“Perhaps they didn’t get a chance to send it before the ladies got away.”

“Maybe,” Megan said doubtfully. “But what sort of criminal wouldn’t have the note ready to go as soon as they grabbed their victims?”

“An incompetent one,” her husband suggested. “Which these men certainly seemed to be.”

“Maybe they wanted to make Father wait and worry, so he’d be ready to give them whatever they asked for,” Reed suggested.

“But I would have done that at once,” the duke replied.

“I don’t think they were after money.” Every head in the room turned toward Olivia at her words. “They interrogated Kyria. Twice. They were after information.”

“Interrogated you?” Rafe stiffened, looking at his wife in alarm. “What did they do to you?”

“Nothing, really,” Kyria said calmly. “So you needn’t get murder in your eye. They shouted a good deal, but they didn’t physically harm me. They just kept asking about the blasted key.”

“Key? What key?” Rafe asked.

“Exactly.” Kyria gave a sharp nod. “I asked them that very thing, but they had no response except to ask me again in a louder voice.”

“Why didn’t they describe it or tell you what it was for?” Desmond asked, frowning in puzzlement.

“They just said that I knew which key they meant. The one my father gave me.”

“I gave you?” The duke’s voice rose in astonishment. “Why would I have given you a key? To what? How very odd.”

“That was my thought,” Kyria agreed.

“I don’t know anything about any key,” the duke went on. “Except for a Greek key, of course, but I wouldn’t think they were interested in ancient motifs.”

“Perhaps they meant the key to your collections room,” Bellard suggested.

“What would a gang of ruffians want with Greek and Roman pots?”

“And why would they target Kyria?” Con added. “Why would she have the key to Father’s collections room?”

“Maybe they didn’t specifically target Kyria. Maybe they were told to grab one of the women, and any of them would have done.”

“Then why didn’t they ask the rest of us about it after Kyria proved recalcitrant?” Thisbe pointed out. “That would be the logical thing to do.”

“Maybe they meant to take Emmeline,” the duke suggested. “And they grabbed the wrong redhead.”

The duchess smiled at her husband. “Dear Henry. I think even those men would have noticed that Kyria was far too young to be me.”

“One of them had the nerve to say I was too old!” Kyria said indignantly.

Her brothers laughed, and Con said, “I suppose that’s the one you wanted to bash over the head.”

“It is. I heard them arguing in the hall after the last time he questioned me. One of them said some rather uncomplimentary things about my stubbornness, and the other said he could make me talk. But then Ruffian One—the one Mother demoralized—said that no, they couldn’t hurt me. I think he had realized how much trouble they were in. That’s when Ruffian Two said I was too old. And the first one told him he was daft, and they fell into arguing over which of them was more stupid.”

“Which would, admittedly, be hard to determine,” Theo put in.

“They ended it with Ruffian Two stomping off downstairs. He was really a most obnoxious man. He kept complaining because Thisbe cracked him over the head with a parasol. I ask you, what did he think we were going to do?”

“I am sorry I broke Sabrina’s parasol, though,” Thisbe said. “It was such a pretty thing.”

“I should have taken Papa’s umbrella instead,” Kyria mused. “It’s much sturdier. Next time I’ll know better.”

Con frowned. “Wait. Kyria was carrying Sabrina’s parasol?”

“Yes, I picked it up as we left the house because I’d forgotten mine.”

“It’s a very distinctive parasol, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it has a lovely painted scene.”

“So it’s the sort of thing one might use to identify someone. And he said you were ‘too old.’ I think they took the wrong person. Maybe they meant to kidnap Sabrina.”

LILAH WENT TO bed thinking about Con’s kiss and woke up with it still on her mind. It was disturbing, even more so because it had also been so exciting. Con had a way of confusing things.

She disapproved of him. He was rash. He had the most outlandish notions. He didn’t care a whit how he appeared to others. Indeed, he seemed to delight in making a spectacle of himself. She thought of the exaggerated mustache and garish suit she had seen him wear the first time she visited Broughton House. As if that weren’t peculiar enough, he had been consorting with people who were certain the world was going to end that week.

What did it matter that he was handsome and witty or that his smile did the most peculiar things to her insides? It didn’t make him any more normal or acceptable or dependable. He was, in short, odd. Just look at his name: Constantine. It was decidedly not British.

Con liked her no more than she did him. He considered her annoying and her beliefs antiquated. They could not be around each other for two minutes without finding something upon which to disagree.

Why had he kissed her? Why had he said he admired her? He had been teasing, she supposed, playing games with her. Yet he had seemed sincere. He had looked at her in a way that stole her breath.

Lilah was not a naive girl just making her debut. She knew better than to take compliments seriously—especially not the compliments of charming men like Constantine Moreland. She had done her best to learn all there was to know about Con, and she was well aware of his reputation as an inveterate flirt. He never pursued any particular young lady, dancing with this one, flirting with that one.

That was her answer, she supposed: Con had been flirting with her, and Lilah wasn’t adept at flirting. She had taken him too seriously. Or else he had been testing her, seeing just how far he could push her sense of propriety. That was an irritating thought. Lowering, as well.

It would be better to just put him out of her mind. Especially since she had overslept and was in danger of being late to breakfast. It was always served promptly at eight o’clock. She rang for her maid and dressed quickly, doing her hair up in a simple knot. She stepped into the dining room at eight on the dot.

Uncle Horace looked up at her and smiled. “Ah, Delilah. Just in time.”

“Good morning, Uncle. Aunt Helena.” Her uncle was a good man, if somewhat rigid about his schedule. He had taken on the raising of another’s child, which could not have been an easy thing for a man who was accustomed to an orderly, childless life.

“Not much interesting in the newspaper today,” Uncle Horace announced. It was his custom to read aloud to his wife and niece the stories he deemed suitable for the delicate ears of women, placidly unaware that after he left each morning, Lilah took the newspaper and read what she wanted. “I saw Sir Jasper at the club yesterday. I think he might drop in today.”

Lilah maintained a polite expression, though inwardly she groaned. Her uncle proceeded to talk about this acquaintance and that. Aunt Helena related the elegance of Mrs. Baldwin’s gown at the musicale the night before.

“Baldwin’s a capital fellow,” Uncle Horace stated. “Though I gather their youngest boy is a bit wild. Not the sort I would allow to court you of course.” Uncle Horace patted Lilah’s hand.

“No, naturally.” Though Lilah had no desire to be courted by Terence Baldwin, finding him both a bore and a libertine, it scraped at her nerves whenever her uncle made such decisions for her. Lilah could just imagine what the duchess would say about Uncle Horace’s pronouncement. She had to bring up her handkerchief to her mouth to hide a smile.

“Your aunt tells me you had dinner with the Duke and Duchess of Broughton last night.”

“Lady Anna was kind enough to invite me to stay.” Lilah avoided a direct lie.

“You really should not have, dear,” Aunt Helena said, frowning. “Of course I could hardly refuse permission when Lady Moreland asked it, especially since she said it would please the duchess. But it’s not the way things should be done.”

Lilah felt another flash of annoyance. She was over twenty-one now; she scarcely needed her aunt’s permission to do something.

“One would think a duchess would better understand the rules of polite behavior,” Aunt Helena went on. “But then, of course, her family was only country gentry. Everyone was surprised when Broughton married her.”

But she knew how to drive a wagon, Lilah thought, which had been more useful last night than needlepoint. Immediately she felt a twinge of guilt at even thinking something disloyal to her aunt.

“Odd lot, the Morelands,” Uncle Horace commented. “No finer lineage in England of course, but still…no denying they’re peculiar.” He then turned the conversation away from the Morelands, which was a relief to Lilah.

However, later, when Lilah and her aunt had settled down in the morning room, as was their daily custom, Aunt Helena turned to her with a worried frown. “Delilah…I cannot but wonder if it was a mistake to let you spend so much time with the Morelands.”

Lilah swallowed her irritation. “But surely you cannot object. Uncle Horace said they’re one of the best families in England.”

“Yes, but it’s a double-edged sword to be connected with that family. It raises your status, of course, to be on familiar terms with a duchess, but you run the risk of their reputation coloring yours.”

Lilah stiffened. “You speak as if they weren’t received.”

“Of course they’re received. But he is a duke. One has to do a great deal to be a duke and have society snub you. It’s quite different for a young lady such as yourself.”

“I think my reputation is undisputed. The Holcutts are an old family, too.”

“Yes, but one must always be careful to maintain your reputation. You in particular must be especially circumspect, given the behavior of your father’s sister.”

“That was years ago. Surely it’s been forgotten.”

“And you must not do anything to cause people to remember.” Her aunt leaned forward and took her hand. “I understand, sweetheart, that it is hard to have that sword of Damocles hanging over you. But we have been so careful to ensure your pristine reputation. I would hate to see you abandon it on a whim.”

“I have not abandoned it, I assure you.” Lilah’s cheeks flamed with color. “I have done nothing wrong.”

“I know. But your actions yesterday! Going to call on them, then staying over for supper on the spur of the moment. Why, you had nothing but your walking dress to wear to dinner.”

“The Morelands are much more casual about such things.”

“That is my point. I fear they are a terrible influence on you. Your actions yesterday were impulsive and inappropriate. You showed a lack of respect for me, which you have never done before.” Tears glittered in her eyes before she blinked them away. “I fear that your Holcutt blood may lead you astray.”

Lilah’s resentment was washed away in a flood of remorse. “I’m sorry. I never intended any disrespect to you. I wouldn’t hurt you for the world. I’m well aware of all you’ve done for me.”

“Dearest girl, I do not ask your gratitude. I did it because I loved my sister, and I love you. I couldn’t allow your father to ruin your chances. All I want is for you to make a good marriage and live a pleasant life.”

“I know. I want that, as well.” Her aunt was right; that was the sensible thing to do. That was what she wanted, too. The Morelands were exciting, but their life was too chaotic for her. Lilah wasn’t herself around them. And she wasn’t about to let the Holcutt in her come out. “I shan’t call on them again.”

CHAPTER NINE

CON WAS NOT going to think about Lilah Holcutt today. Nor was he going to dwell on that kiss. It had been a foolish thing for him to do. He had gotten caught up in the moment—and, yes, Lilah had looked damned desirable charging into battle, cheeks flushed and eyes glittering, without a care for how she looked or what others might think.

But kissing her had been a mistake. He had carefully avoided her since the wedding, and he’d reached the point where he hardly thought of her. Then, in one moment, he had dropped all his barriers and let her in again.

However different Lilah might have seemed during the rescue of his family, however much her kisses stirred him, she would go back to being herself. Disapproving. Rigid. Cold. Just she had been yesterday when Con entered the room. As if that moment of closeness on the terrace after the wedding had never happened, Lilah had turned her usual cool, measuring gaze on him. She had refused to even sit down with him to chat. Whereas he had come running like a puppy at the sound of her voice. He hoped she had not noticed the way he had rushed into the room.

How could the woman who had turned into flames in his arms last night manage to be all ice the rest of the time? She was a puzzle, so of course she intrigued him. But this was one conundrum that he must resist. One lock that he should not open.

He had better things to do today. The new threat to Sabrina needed his immediate and undivided attention. After breakfast, he headed to Moreland Investigations, the agency he had taken over from Olivia a few years ago. There, as he’d hoped, he found Tom Quick, the agency’s employee of many years.

Quick was whip smart, cool under pressure and able to follow almost anyone without being noticed. He was also a wizard at picking pockets, having spent his early years on the streets, but that was a practice he had given up since he came to work for the Morelands. Though only a few years older than Con and Alex, Tom had been their mentor in subjects that were far more interesting to them than Ancient Greek or Philosophy.

Tom was appropriately incensed by Con’s story of the ladies’ kidnapping and rescue, though he had some reservations. “A key? You think they kidnapped your mum and sisters for a key?”

“Yes. I know it’s odd.”

Tom snorted. “That’s true of anything connected with you lot. But a key is a small thing to risk prison for, and a parasol seems a flimsy clue.”

“Perhaps, but it’s the only one I have at the moment. Since Sabrina and Alex are off on their honeymoon, we can’t ask her about it. But she is the heiress to her father’s substantial estate, and she’s already had Niles Dearborn and his son trying to get their hands on her money.”

“Then you think it’s the Dearborns.”

“We know they’re cheats and liars.” Con ticked his points off on his fingers. “We know they still have a great many financial woes. They will resort to any method to get their hands on money. And they have twice abducted people.”

“You’ve convinced me. But do you have any proof?”

“No,” Con admitted. “That’s why I’m going to pay a visit to the Dearborns this morning. Care to come along?”

Tom’s ready grin was answer enough.

The footman who opened the Dearborns’ door blanched at the sight of Con on the doorstep, but he quickly ushered them into Niles Dearborn’s study. As they followed the man down the hall, Tom murmured, “I’d say that fellow remembers you.”

“Is he the one I shoved aside?”

“You mean the one you punched? Yes, I think so.”

Niles Dearborn looked equally alarmed when Con strode in on his servant’s heels. He shot to his feet, sending a glare at the hapless footman. “What are you doing here, Moreland? You can’t just barge in here.”

“Apparently I can,” Con returned.

“I told that maniac you sent over here yesterday that I had nothing to do with his wife’s disappearance.”

“Leave my father alone.” Niles’s son, Peter, hurried into the room. “Why can’t you leave us alone?”

“Because you came after my brother’s wife again.”

“McIntyre said nothing about Sabrina,” Niles protested. “He said it was the duke’s wife and daughters.”

“Is Sabrina all right?” Peter asked. “What happened to her?”

“Nothing, for which you should be very grateful. The ladies are back, and your men are in jail. You might worry what information they’ll give up about you.”

“We don’t have any men!” Niles barked. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Why would we kidnap your family?” Peter said reasonably. “Or Sabrina?”

“The same reason most kidnappers do,” Con answered. “Money. Or perhaps you just wanted a key.”

Both men gaped at him. “The key?” Niles asked.

“Her key?” Peter said at the same moment. The two men exchanged a glance.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Niles blustered. “Why would I want some key?”

“I don’t know.” Con’s eyes narrowed. “But I think you do.”

“Nonsense. We had nothing to do with any kidnapping, and I’m not looking for a key. Now, I’ll thank you to get out of my house.”

“Gladly,” Con responded. “But before I go, let me remind you what Alex told you last time. If you try to harm Sabrina or anyone in his family, he’ll come after you. And he won’t be alone. You understand? Stay away from my family.”

As soon as they stepped outside, Tom said, “He knew what you were talking about. I’d swear it. When you mentioned the key, there was a flash of something in his eyes.”

“Yes. Until then, I was beginning to wonder if he was telling the truth. But it’s clear we won’t get any more information out of them. He knows we have no proof.”

“What are you going to do, then?”

“I’m going to call on someone who knows the Dearborns and Sabrina very well.”

“DEAR, DON’T YOU think you ought to change?” Aunt Helena asked.

Surprised, Lilah looked up from her book. “I thought you had decided not to make calls this afternoon.” She had looked forward to an afternoon spent in quiet comfort, reading.

“That’s no reason to lounge about looking like that. Why, I don’t believe you’re wearing a corset.”

“No,” Lilah admitted. She had put on the loose sacque dress because it didn’t require stays. She was a little bruised and sore from the constriction of the stiff corset during all the activity yesterday. “But there is no one here to see.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” Aunt Helena said with a twinkle. “Your uncle mentioned that Sir Jasper might come to call, remember? And yesterday Mr. Tilden was very disappointed to find you not at home. I shouldn’t be surprised if that young man wasn’t on our doorstep again.”

“Aunt Helena…I wish you would not encourage Mr. Tilden.”

“Whyever not? He’s a presentable young man. He has a tidy little fortune. He’s amiable and educated—I have heard the two of you discussing Shakespeare.”

“Only because he was shocked I had read the actual plays and not a bowdlerized version.”

Her aunt frowned. “I’m still not sure it was wise for your academy to allow those plays around impressionable young girls. Not everyone has your strength of mind and moral certitude.” Aunt Helena began to go through Lilah’s wardrobe. “What about this russet silk moire? It’s so pretty with your hair. These puffed sleeves are elegant.”

Lilah sighed at the thought of climbing back into all those clothes—the small bustle in back, the corset to achieve the proper wasp waist, the boned sleeve supports to fill out the puffed sleeves, not to mention the petticoats and, over it all, the bodice and skirt. It was rather like donning armor. Social armor. But it was a lovely dress, and of course she couldn’t receive guests in this softly draped morning gown.

“Yes, that will do nicely,” she said and rang for her maid.

“If you haven’t a preference for Mr. Tilden, there’s always Sir Jasper,” Aunt Helena said. “I think he’s close to offering.” So did Lilah; that was the problem. “He seems quite enamored of you.”

“He’s enamored of getting his hands on the estate my father left me.”

“Lilah! What a thing to say. Sir Jasper isn’t a fortune hunter. Your father left him that land in Yorkshire to go with the title, and I understand he has a nice income besides. In any case, it would be suitable to have the family seat and the title joined again. I never understood exactly why your father left the house to you instead of passing it with the title.”

“Because I am his daughter. He wanted to leave me independent,” Lilah said with some exasperation. “Because it was his home and he loved it. He didn’t want to leave it to a man who was little more than a stranger. And since it wasn’t entailed, he was free to do with it as he wished.”

“Of course he wanted to provide for you, but still, it’s unusual. If you married Sir Jasper, the estate would be whole again.”

“That’s hardly worth marrying someone for. Sir Jasper is older than I am.”

“Only fifteen years. It’s more comfortable to marry an older man. They are more stable. They’re established in life.”

“But we are related.”

“Not to any significant degree,” her aunt protested. “Sir Jasper may be the last male of the Holcutt line, but he’s only a third cousin once removed, so there would be no reason not to marry.”

“There’s reason enough in the fact that I don’t love him.”

“Delilah…surely you don’t mean that. You’ve always been so levelheaded. Reasonable.”

“Isn’t it reasonable to love the man you marry?”

“Yes, and I am sure you will come to love him in time. Love is the fruit from the seed of a good marriage. Only foolish girls marry because they fancy themselves in love with a man. It’s infatuation, based on nothing more than the color of a man’s eyes or the way he smiles or the lavish compliments he pays her.”

“I hope I am not so shallow, Aunt, nor so unable to judge my own feelings. To know what is merely attraction, merely desire—” that was Con Moreland “—and what is true feeling.” That was, well, she wasn’t sure, for she had never felt it for any man.

“Of course you’re not shallow. But you are young, and you have been influenced by the romance of Sabrina’s wedding. But no one knows how that will end. You have seen only the excitement. There’s a great deal more to life than that. A marriage needs a strong foundation—a suitable match of name and bloodline. A similarity of spirit. A husband who can provide and protect you, who is steady and high-minded. One of irreproachable reputation.”

It sounded, Lilah thought, like a dull sort of marriage. But it was the kind her aunt herself had, so Lilah could hardly disparage it. She smiled and said teasingly, “Aunt Helena, you are going to make me think you want to get me off your hands.”

Helena smiled fondly. “You know I would keep you with me forever if I thought only of myself. Your uncle would say the same. But I want what’s best for you. I want you to have a good, happy life and a husband who can give you that.”

“I know. I love you for it.” Aunt Helena, having no children, looked upon Lilah as her own daughter, and she was the closest thing Lilah had to a mother, her own having died when Lilah was young.

Perhaps her aunt was right. Maybe it was foolish to hope to find love, to give a man her heart and hold the same from him. She wasn’t even sure that love was something she was capable of. She’d never felt even a twinge of it for any of the young men with whom she had danced and conversed.

Maybe she should be practical. Find a man who embodied the qualities she admired, who was, as Aunt Helena said, steady and like-minded. Surely that would be better than falling into the trap her father had, holding his sad obsessive love to his heart all his life. Her aunt and uncle were happy in their marriage. As one grew old, it might be nicer to have a man to sit with by the fire than one who had made your heart beat faster.

But then she thought of Sabrina’s face lighting up when Alex walked in. Or how Kyria and Rafe would look at each other across the room, as if no one else existed. The way the duke, after almost fifty years of marriage, still gazed at the duchess as if he’d just been given the most wonderful gift in the world. The thought of such love made her giddy. And terrified.

It was what she wanted. However fond of her aunt she was, Lilah was not going to marry anyone because it was appropriate or suitable. Still, she must be polite. Sorry that she had been irritated with Aunt Helena, Lilah decided that she would even do her best to see Sir Jasper’s worthy qualities.

For that reason, an hour later she was sitting in the parlor, wearing the dark russet gown with the wasp waist and the puffed sleeves, as her aunt greeted Sir Jasper.

Her distant cousin was a nice-looking gentleman, and if his figure was not an imposing one, at least he was taller than she, which was more than she could say for her other suitor, Mr. Tilden. It was, she supposed, shallow of her that she could not marry a man to whom she must look down to speak. If only Sir Jasper smiled more or didn’t talk in such a ponderous manner or if he made her laugh now and then, she might be able to think of him in a more romantic way.

“Sir Jasper.” Lilah rose and smiled in a carefully modulated way—polite, but not too friendly, not too glad to see him. She would give him a chance, but she didn’t want to encourage him.

“Please, you must call me Jasper. We are related after all.” He gave her a stiff smile and bowed.

And that, Lilah thought, was the extent of Sir Jasper’s sense of humor. Her own smile grew more forced. “Yes, of course, Cousin Jasper.”

He frowned faintly at this reminder of their kinship, however distant, but said only, “Cousin Delilah.”

Lilah’s worst fears were realized when, after a few minutes of polite conversation, Aunt Helena excused herself from the room and went in search of her missing needlework. Lilah knew she was clearing the way for Sir Jasper to propose.

Quickly, before her visitor could speak, Lilah said, “I hope the work on your house is proceeding well. I believe you said the banister was suffering from woodworms.”

Sir Jasper looked a trifle taken aback at her choice of topic but said, “Yes. I hope to show it to you one day.”

“I suppose it will be an extensive project.” She wondered how long she could keep a conversation going about the renovation of a house she had never seen and had no interest in.

“I am sure it will.” He cleared his throat. “Delilah. I believe you must be aware that I hold you in high esteem.”

“Thank you,” Lilah interrupted, desperately trying to think of a way to stave off his next words. With relief, she heard the sound of the front door opening and the butler’s voice. Perhaps she would be rescued by another caller; at this point, she would welcome Mr. Tilden.

There were footsteps and the butler appeared in the doorway, saying with great pride, “Lord Moreland.”

“Con!” Lilah jumped to her feet, smiling. There could be no greater disruption to any scene than Con Moreland.

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