“Kenilworth. Kenilworth.” The duchess tapped her chin. “He would be much too young to be the Kenilworth I knew as a young lady. Although, I must say, if he does not take after his father, he takes after his grandfather.”
Since none of them, with the possible exception of Matt, had ever meant Con’s father, they had not considered how that kind of behavior could run in a family. “Good Lord. You must tell Charlotte.”
The duchess’s smile broadened. “I would greatly enjoy coming to know your family better, my dear.” She waved off St. Alban’s help as she rose. “In fact, I shall do so now.”
His brows drew together slightly. “I wonder what she is up to?”
Alice did not understand. “Why would she be up to anything?”
He shook his head. “No reason. No reason at all. Do you think I could hire a balloonist to take us up as long as we were tethered to earth?”
Just the idea excited her. “I have no idea. You would have to find them and ask.”
“I think I shall. It would be an interesting experience.”
What would it be like to be married to someone who wanted to have adventures? Whoever he wed would be a lucky lady. The thought made her happy feelings dissolve. Whoever it was, it would not be her.
* * *
For the following week after the balloon ascension, Giff had danced every supper set with Alice. They met in the mornings to gallop and race their horses. He’d taken to breaking his fast at Worthington House afterward. They had gone riding in the Park several times, ate ices at Gunter’s, met at Hatchards, and talked about every topic under the sun. It was time to propose. Giff decided he’d do it at Hatchards where they had their first meeting of the minds. He was to join her there this morning, but he decided they should go together. Giff feathered the corner into Berkeley Street. He hoped he was in time to offer her a ride. To ensure he didn’t miss her he drove the route she usually took to the bookstore from Worthington House. He was traveling from Piccadilly toward Berkeley Square when he saw her. As usual, she was accompanied by Williams, her footman. Just as she turned on to Berkeley Street strolling toward Giff, a small boy ran out into the road in front of a coach that was traveling rapidly toward the lad. Alice said something, and her footman dashed out to save the boy. Before Giff knew what was happening, the coach stopped. The door flew open, and a footman jumped off the back of the coach, grabbed Alice and threw her into the vehicle, slamming the door behind her. She must have quickly attained the bench because he could see her through the window as the coach passed by. Unfortunately, her bonnet had a brim that hid the side of her face, and he couldn’t ascertain if she had been injured. Who the devil was in the coach?
Normanby.
The idiot hadn’t even bothered to hide the crest on the side of the carriage. This time, Giff really would kill him when he got his hands on the man.
Turning his curricle around, he shouted to her footman, “Inform his lordship. I’ll go after them.”
Giff followed the coach, keeping as close as he could with the traffic. Finally, they reached the start of the Great North Road. Where the devil was the bounder taking her? Surely, not to Greta Green. The blackguard would never be able to keep her in the coach that long without her assent. He settled back for the ride. They had to stop to either rest the horses or change them. The weather was fine and dry. Giff would wait until then to rescue her. Once he got her back to Town, he’d propose.
When he reached the first toll, he paid and handed the man his card. “If anyone comes by looking for the coach that just passed, please tell them to continue onward.”
“I will do so, my lord. Good luck.”
“Thank you.” He started his pair again and sprung them the short distance needed to catch up to the coach.
CHAPTERTWENTY-FIVE
Alice had scrambled up onto the opposite bench from Lord Bounder the second he’d spoken, and now glanced out the window, which was more difficult than usual because of the brim of her bonnet. What she did not understand was why the shades were open. Didn’t abductors normally close them? She wished she had thought to bring her sword parasol or her pistol. She would like to wipe the smug smile off Normanby’s face. If wishes were horses and all that. Unfortunately, all she had was her hat pin. It was a substantial one but, under the circumstances, not enough to help her escape from him and the coach. Alice felt around in her reticule and found a pencil. She could take his eye out with it, but would that help her escape? With no further attempts being made on anyone since Eleanor’s wedding, Alice had grown lax. She glared at his lordship. If looks could kill, he would have fallen dead by now. If only she had had an inkling the scoundrel would do something like this. Well, there was no point engaging in unhelpful thoughts. She must gather the information she had. Williams would notify Matt and Grace. Still, it would take a while for them to be able to catch up to her. It would be better if Alice found a way to escape on her own.
The blackguard leaned back against the squabs looking very pleased with himself. “Do not bother trying to escape. You would injure yourself, and I would simply catch you again.”
Alice was not stupid. Jumping from a moving coach was not something she had been taught. She might have to remedy that lack.
“Aren’t you curious as to what I’m planning to do?” he asked teasingly.
Dreadfully curious, but she was not going to give him the satisfaction of letting him know. Alice raised one brow, removed the book she had, for some reason, left in her reticule, settled back into the squabs where she could not be seen, and opened it, holding the book in front of her face, pretending to read.
“Very well,” he drawled. “You will find out soon enough.” Thankfully, he lapsed into silence and seemed to fall asleep.
She discovered sitting back gave her a better view out the window. She recognized signs that they were traveling in the direction of the Great North Road. This was confirmed when they halted briefly at the Islington toll. Before Alice could call out, his hand covered her mouth as he jerked her to his side of the coach.
“I like the feel of you next to me.” He used the tone she used to think seductive. Now his touch made her feel as if bugs were crawling over her. It made her want to vomit all over him and his boots. It was a shame she could not throw up on command.
When the coach started again, he barked a mirthless laugh and let her go. She threw herself onto the other bench. Carefully ignoring him, Alice picked up the book again and opened it. Once they stopped, she would try to escape again. In the meantime, it might be helpful to see if there was anything in the coach she could use as a weapon. The holsters for the coach pistols were empty. He either could not afford a pair, or he thought she might try to shoot him. He would have been right about that. The carriage slowed. He must be sparing his horses. Alice gave herself a shake and went back to her task. The coach itself was clean, but rather shabby. The velvet was worn in places and needed to be replaced. She knew he needed money. That was the reason he wanted to wed her. Still, why abduct her? He had or thought he had the other poor girl to marry. Then again, he would think of it as sullying his bloodlines. Instead, new blood might improve his line. If he thought Alice would ever agree to wed him, he was sadly mistaken. No matter what happened, her family would stand behind her just as they had with Charlotte. Then again, she had ended up falling in love and marrying Con. But they had still protected her until he had apparently changed enough for her to want to wed him. No matter what happened, Alice would never wed Normanby.
* * *
Thorton dashed into Grace’s study followed by Williams as if the devil was after them. “My lady.” Thorton sketched a quick bow. “Lady Alice has been abducted. Williams said Lord St. Albans was following the coach.”
