Kennedy guided his horse up the drive to Chesterfield, with John riding alongside. They continued around the east side of the house to the rear, and Kennedy brought the animal to a halt at sight of the open servants’ entrance. He leapt from the saddle and raced inside. He knew this part of the house like the back of his hand. When his mother had been alive, they often entertained guests here. After her death, Kennedy spent many a day in the deserted rooms.

Kennedy spotted the tapers and tinderbox on the pantry shelf, and cursed.

A shadow filled the doorway. “Someone is using this entrance,” John said.

Kennedy’s gut clenched. Rose is here.

He forced back the compulsion to race up the darkened stairs. He was no longer fifteen. The narrow staircase was pitch black at night and he was sure to break his fool neck.

He lit a candle, and said to John, “Come on,” then hurried from the pantry into the kitchen and took the stairs to the right.

They reached the fourth floor. Light spilled from an open door halfway down the hallway. He blew out the candle, tossed it aside, and raced toward the open door. He and John burst inside the room to find a man sitting on the mattress beside a woman.

“Rose,” Kennedy growled, and took two steps toward the man before strong fingers seized his arm and yanked him back.

“That is not Rose,” John said.

For an instant, Kennedy didn’t understand, then he whipped his head around and looked at the couple. The man stood, staring at them. The woman was not Rose.

Not Rose. Where was his sister?

Kennedy yanked free of John and said to the man, “Where is my sister?”

He shook his head. “I dinnae know. I returned to find Rebecca unconscious in the hallway.”

Kennedy rounded the bed, then took the woman by the shoulders. Her head lolled to the side. He shook her.

“Leave her be!” the man shouted.

Kennedy yanked his gaze onto the man and he backed up two steps. Kennedy looked back at the woman and she shook her again.

John appeared at his side. “Here, maybe this will help.” He tossed water from a pitcher onto the woman’s face.

She sputtered and shook her head. Her eyes snapped open. Her gaze met Kennedy’s and her eyes widened.

“Where is my sister?” he demanded.

She looked at the man.

Kennedy gave her a hard shake. “Where is Lady Rose?”

“A woman took her.”

Panic muddled his thoughts. “A woman? What woman? Where did she take her?”

“She-she said she was Lady Buchanan.”

“Lady Buchanan?” he repeated. “Jacqueline?”

“N-nae,” the woman stuttered. “Viscountess Buchanan, Lady Rose’s sister-in-law.”

“Anne?” Had he heard correctly? “My wife was here?”

The woman’s eyes widened. “You are Viscount Buchanan?” She shrank away from him.

He released her and straightened. “You are certain it was Viscountess Buchanan who was here?”

She nodded vigorously. “She had a lad with her. She tripped me and I hit the wall.” The woman turned her head to the side and showed him the bruise forming on her forehead.

Kennedy could hardly credit it. He looked at John. “What the bloody hell was my wife doing here?”

John shook his head. “I can’t imagine.”

Kennedy looked at the man. “Who are you?”

“Angus Dunning. I bring food to Rebecca while she is tending to the young lady.”

“What you mean ‘tending to the young lady’?”

“Her father didn’t want to put her into an insane asylum,” Rebecca said. “So, he paid me to care for her here. He said it was better than the insane asylum,” she quickly added. “He is very kind.”

“Kind?” Kennedy snarled. “We shall see if that defense holds up in court.” He looked at John. “I must return home. Will you keep them here until I return?”

“Here, now,” Angus said. “There’s no call to treat us like criminals. We were paid to take care of the young lady for her father. Rebecca and I can leave anytime we like.”

John flashed white teeth. “You are free to try, lad.”

Kennedy glimpsed the man’s wide eyes an instant before he whirled and strode from the room.

 

Kennedy reached home half an hour later and leapt off his horse almost before the beast stopped. He bounded up the steps and banged the knocker until the door was yanked open.

“Whoever you are—” Bingham broke off. “I beg your pardon, my lord. I didn’t realize—”

Kennedy pushed past him. “Where is my wife?”

“In the Burgundy guest chamber, sir, with Lady Rose.”

“My sister is here?” he said in a harsh whisper.

Bingham nodded. “Aye,” he replied, but Kennedy was already racing up the stairs.

He burst into the Burgundy guest chambers to find Anne standing with her mother and sister while the doctor sat on the bed, blocking view of his patient.

Kennedy took a step forward. “Rose?”

The doctor stood, and Rose cried, “Kennedy!”

Kennedy drew a sharp breath. His sister sat propped up in bed, her left cheek, yellowed with a bruise. He strode across the room to the bed, fell to his knees and pulled her to him. She threw her arms around his neck and he buried his face in her neck and wept.

* * *

Anne felt Kennedy’s eyes on her for the dozenth time as she and Matthew related their tale, but she kept her gaze on her hands clasped in her lap. Louisa sat between her and her mother on the divan in the drawing room, for Louisa refused to be sent to bed. Kennedy sat in the chair to the left, as Matthew continued his story.

“Her ladyship refused to leave with Lady Rose and I,” Matthew said, and Anne winced.

“What did she do?” her husband asked.

“She stayed to fight the evil woman while Lady Rose and I escaped.”

From the corner of her eye, she saw Kennedy stare at her again.

“Was that when you tripped her?” Kennedy asked.

Anne looked sharply at him. “How do you know that?”

“I had a talk with Rebecca.”

“Oh,” she said, and fell silent again.

“I got Lady Rose outside to James,” Matthew went on. “Then her ladyship came, and we were able to escape.” Matthew stood straighter, as if waiting for further instructions.

Kennedy rose and extended his hand to the lad. “I owe you more than I can ever repay.”

The boy looked up at him in surprise then clasped Kennedy’s hand and they shook.

“Name any price,” Kennedy said, “and it is yours.”

Anne hid a smile when Matthew said, “A gentleman never takes money for rescuing a lady.”

Kennedy stared, as if uncertain what to say, then nodded. “When Rose is better, we would consider it an honor if you would join us for dinner. She will want to thank you personally.”

Startlement flashed across the boy’s face, then he said in a solemn voice, “It would be my honor.”

A knock came to the door and Mr. Bingham entered.” A message has arrived for you, my lord.” He crossed to Kennedy and handed him a note, then waited.

Kennedy scanned the note, which was from John, stating that the constable Kennedy had sent for had arrived at Chesterfield. He had Rebecca and Angus in custody, and Kennedy was to appear in the morning to make formal charges.

Kennedy looked at Bingham. “Bingham, please send a note to John with my thanks, and tell him I will visit him tomorrow.”

Bingham bowed, then left.

“Matthew,” Kennedy said, “my carriage will take you home.”

“There is no need for that. I have a horse.”

Kennedy shook his head. “Indulge me in this, lad. I would rest easier if my coach takes you. I will direct the driver to pick you up tomorrow so that you may retrieve your horse in daylight hours.”

“If that is what you wish, my lord.”

“You didn’t obey me so easily,” Anne said under her breath.

The boy looked at her in surprise. “Of course not, my lady. What you asked me to do was impossible.”

“Ahh,” she intoned. “I forget myself. You were supposed to protect me…and Lady Rose.” She smiled. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.” It wasn’t a lie. “Thank you.”

He bowed, and Kennedy directed him to tell Mr. Bingham to have a carriage brought around. Matthew left, then her mother stood and said, “Come along, Louisa. It’s late.”

“But, Mama.”

“No arguments,” their mother cut in. “Come along.” She looked at Kennedy. “We are very happy your sister is home, Kennedy.”

He nodded, and said in a hoarse voice, “Thank you, my lady.”

She smiled gently and said, “Perhaps you should call me, Christina.” Then she and Louisa left Anne alone with her husband.

Anne didn’t know why, but she was suddenly terrified.

Kennedy stared at her. “What sort of woman are you?”

She looked at him. “I don’t understand.”

“You hardly know me. You don’t know Rose, at all. Yet you put yourself in jeopardy to save her.”

Anne shrugged. “When I saw her, the situation she was in, it was clear she was being held against her will. I couldn’t leave her there.”

“You could’ve come to me. You could have not gone at all and let Matthew tell me his story when I returned home.”

“Matthew said Lady Rose feared that they were going to take her away. In truth, my lord, I couldn’t credit that the story was true. But there were enough truths that I couldn’t ignore the possibility that the tale might be true.” She hesitated, and said, “Why did your father have her locked up?”

His mouth thinned. “Are you sure you want to know the answer? You won’t like it.”

“Of course, I won’t like it. There is nothing that justifies locking someone up, much less one’s own child.” Her blood boiled at the memory of finding the girl half out of her mind with the laudanum, and clearly physically abused.

“That isn’t what I mean,” Kennedy said. “The reason concerns you—our marriage.”

She frowned, then comprehension dawned. “You mean your father used her to force you to marry me? How— I-I don’t understand.”

“My father told me that he had Rose taken away. I believed he had taken her from Scotland.  Sent her to France, perhaps. Had I the slightest idea she was still in Edinburgh, in her own home—” His hands worked into fists at his sides.

Anne could well understand his anger and panic. She couldn’t imagine anything happening to Louisa.

“He demanded I marry immediately and produce an heir,” Kennedy said.

Anne nodded. He’d been right. She didn’t want to know. She’d known the earl had instigated the marriage. Yet, somehow, this knowledge tainted their union in a way she couldn’t describe.

She looked at her hands, still clasped in her lap. “I am so sorry.” Tears pressed at the backs of her eyes. “Of course, we cannot remain married.”

“What?” he said sharply.

She snapped her head up.

He crossed to her and stopped beside the divan. “We’ve been married three days. I need time to learn how to be a husband. Surely, you will give me more time.”

She looked at him in confusion. “We married because your father held your sister captive. I-I cannot imagine how you can even stand to look at me.”

“Quite the contrary. I cannot bear the thought of not seeing your face every day for the rest of my life.”

She blinked. “What? I don’t understand. Our marriage—”

He grasped her arm and pulled her to her feet. “Is the best thing that ever happened to me. I am sorry, my dear, but I have no intention of letting you go.”

Before she could reply, he kissed her until she couldn’t think straight.