“He’d better not go anywhere near Alice or Town for that matter.” Giff scowled.
“You are not to challenge him to a duel.” His beloved directed a hard look at Giff.
“Alice is correct,” his mother said. “It would start tongues wagging.”
“What shall we do?” Rothwell asked.
“We could kidnap him and send him overseas somewhere,” Kenilworth suggested as he gently twirled his glass of brandy.
Giff had no doubt at all they would do just that if they found the scoundrel.
“He did not harm me.” Alice’s tone was thoughtful. “He wanted to force me into marriage by having people see us together. The only time he touched me was to keep me from calling out at a toll booth. We should quietly put it about that he is a fortune hunter who is already betrothed.”
“And make sure he is not invited anywhere.” Lady Kenilworth glanced at Mamma.
She took a sip of wine. “I have already been asking questions about him. I can easily say I have found he is insolvent and betrothed to a Cit’s daughter. That will stop most ladies from inviting him to their entertainments.”
It would. Although would that alone be enough to stop Normanby? And would the man try to punish Alice for punching him? Giff met Worthington’s eyes. Alice needed more protection. Giff was certain her brother-in-law would assign more footmen and insist she take a carriage. He would have Normanby’s house watched and the man trailed. Giff glanced at his betrothed. Meanwhile, he meant to spend as much time with her as possible.
After tea, everyone made their way to their rooms. Other than Alice, his mother was the only person in the family wing. He stared at the paneled canopy of his bed, wishing she was here with him. He couldn’t go to her. That would be a breach of his duties. The clock struck ten. She was probably asleep. Worthington had announced they would all leave fairly early in the morning. He rolled over and gazed out at the dark room. A figure dressed in white moved slowly toward his bed, feeling for furniture as she went. He waited until she was close to the bed.
“My lord,” Cummings said.
Giff closed his eyes and sighed. How had he missed how tall the figure was? Why the devis was his butler in his room? “What is it?”
“One of Lord Worthington’s men caught someone sneaking around the house. He’s being held in the stables.”
“Wait for me.” Giff threw back the covers and grabbed his breeches. Fortunately, he was wearing a nightshirt. He shoved his feet into a pair of shoes.
When they got to the stables, the man was bound to a post. It was the groom from Normanby’s stable. “Where is your master?”
“I ain’t got no master.” The man spat on the brick floor.
“Indeed?” Giff raised his brow. He wished he’d thought to ask his groom to come. “You did the last time I saw you.”
“I don’t know what yer talkin about.”
“Very well.” He glanced at his butler. “When is the next assize?”
“Not for another six months. We can keep him in the dungeon. They haven’t been used for a while, but we keep them ready in the event they are needed.”
Giff nodded sharply. “Take him there. I’ll notify the magistrate in the morning.”
“Hey, ye can’t do that!” The groom struggled against his bounds.
“On the contrary. I am well within my rights. You were caught trespassing and close to my house.” Giff stroked his jaw. “As a matter of fact, I could have you shipped out of England, and no one would ever see you again.”
“I actually like that idea much better than holding him over,” Worthington said from the door.
The servant’s eyes bugged out. “No! Ye can’t. I ain’t even been paid.”
“Then tell me what I want to know, and I will take that into consideration.” Giff crossed his arms against his chest. “Immediately.”
“I was supposed to nose around and find out when that lady was leaving.”
“By lady, I assume you mean Lady Alice.”
“If she’s the one with the yellow hair, that’s her.”
