She was tall and thin and plain and shy, doomed to an ordinary life with an ordinary man, and just once she wished she was brave enough to have even the mildest of adventures. The kiss in the dark had been a taste of all the richness life offered and she was denied.
The fact that she hadn’t been able to get the blasted diamond ring off her finger didn’t help matters. Nothing worked, not soap or duck grease or sheer force. It seemed stuck for good, and she didn’t dare return home to her family with it adorning her hand like a blazing sign of her wickedness.
She’d summoned up enough courage to have Miranda ask the Earl of Rochdale about it but he’d denied any knowledge of jewel thieves, and she was half tempted to believe him, if he weren’t known as the Scorpion, with the reputation to match. A pirate indeed, but a little too frightening even for Jane’s wild fantasies. She wanted the man in the dark.
On top of everything else, she had the beginnings of a putrid sore throat, and she planned to spend the day in bed, nursed by Miranda’s most excellent lady’s maid.
But Brandon Rohan had made such a row she’d had no choice but to get up and put her best face on, listening to him as he stalked around the dining room, ranting about some wicked crime that Lucien de Malheur hadn’t done. To be sure, the scarred man unnerved her, and she would have warned Miranda to beware. If she hadn’t seen the way he looked at her, when he thought no one would notice. It didn’t matter how much Brandon ranted and raved—Jane knew people, and always had. She’d seen the way the earl looked at Miranda and known she was safe.
Of course, hours later she was rethinking that. It had been a dark, gloomy day, and Miranda had taken off on foot, anger vibrating through her, gone before Jane could offer to accompany her. Brandon had finally taken himself off to his club, but Jane had no idea whether he was coming back to spend the night or, having delivered his warning, considered his duty done and was devoting himself to the pleasures of town the way any normal seventeen-year-old male would.
And there was the damned ring. Trust Brandon to notice it. “Did old Bore-well give you that diamond?” he’d asked with an appreciative whistle. “He must not be the nip-farthing, cold fish he seemed to be.”
She’d said nothing, of course. What were the chances a boy like Brandon would remember what ring his sister’s friend was wearing? Normally nil, but the way her luck had been running there was no guarantee.
It was getting late, and there was no sign of Miranda. Apparently the footman had returned hours ago, alone. Cousin Louisa lay ensconced on the divan in the morning room, nibbling on fresh-baked almond biscuits and trying to convince Jane there was absolutely nothing to worry about. As long as Louisa didn’t have to move she was the most placid creature in the world.
It took Jane another hour to screw up her courage. Something was wrong, something was off, though Jennings assured her that Miranda had arrived safely. She was probably worrying about nothing. Jane had joined the earl and Miranda on several occasions, having wonderful conversations, and Jane hadn’t seen her friend that animated, that happy, in years. Everything was perfectly fine.
But it was late, cold and dark, and Jane could either think about her mysterious encounter in the darkened bedroom or she could worry about Miranda. Miranda won.
She was going to go about it in a perfectly respectable way. No haring across town in a rage, she would have the carriage brought round, be driven to the earl’s house on Cadogan Place, keep Jennings and perhaps even a maid with her for propriety’s sake. But just as she was about to order the carriage Brandon came stomping back in, and she had no choice, grabbing her coat and her reticule and sneaking out a side door into the garden, then through the gate into the rain-slick street.
She’d never hailed her own hackney before, but luck was on her side, though the driver expressed doubts about taking a “nice young lady like yourself” to that part of town. She wasn’t quite sure how to depress his pretension since he was clearly just an overprotective male, but after his first warning he drove in silence, through the darkening evening.
The first thing that met her eye wasn’t the dark, gloomy house. It was the large traveling carriage that was standing in the front portico, a matched set of six black horses, no less, waiting and ready. She told the driver to let her down at the end of the square, which he did after expressing one more warning, and then she started back toward the house, keeping to the shadows, astonished at her own bravery. She was half tempted to call the hackney back, but he’d already disappeared in the fog.
Jane straightened her shoulders. She had to be brave. This was for Miranda, after all, and Miranda would face an army for her.
Her nose was beginning to run from the cold, wet air, and she struggled in her reticule for a handkerchief. Her throat was worse, and she wasn’t sure whether she was cold or hot. She only knew she’d probably been an idiot to come out in weather like this when she was clearly coming down with something.
Two uniformed servants came up the side alley that lay next to the earl’s townhouse, so busy talking they didn’t notice her hasty move back against the wall. “Wish ’e’d give us some warning. Why would ’e want to go off on a night like this, when he’s got a nice warm bed at home if he wants to tumble her?”
“Don’t let ’im hear you talkin’ like that. This ain’t one of his society whores, mark my words. If I were you I’d keep me trap shut and do what ’e says.”
The other man responded with a cheerful profanity that nevertheless seemed to signify agreement. They moved past the coach to where three other men stood talking amidst themselves. There was a beautiful thoroughbred horse, saddled and ready, and she assumed Lord Rochdale was going to be riding. So who was traveling in the carriage? And where the hell was Miranda?
She straightened her spine, starting for the front door, when it opened, and panic swept over her. The door to the carriage stood open and waiting, the steps were already down, and she didn’t stop to think. She simply scrambled inside, crouching down in a far corner and pulling a heavy fur throw over her. With luck no one would notice.
It took her only a moment to realize her instinctive movement was mad. The earl had most assuredly sent Miranda home, and right now was planning on an assignation with his current mistress, who would find a strange young woman hiding in the carriage and Jane’s embarrassment would be monumental. She started to push the throw aside when she heard voices, the earl’s deep one, warm and caressing. “Try to sleep,” he was saying, and Jane felt the coach sway as someone climbed up into it. “You’re going to need your rest to keep fighting me.”
“I’m not fighting you,” came Miranda’s calm voice, and Jane almost swooned with relief. “I have no choice.”
“Very true, sweetheart,” he murmured. “Have a peaceful journey. We won’t be making many stops.” And she heard the door close, plunging the interior of the carriage into darkness.
Jane didn’t move. If she did she might startle Miranda into making a sound, and then they might drag her out of the carriage, and she couldn’t allow them to be separated. She held herself very still, barely breathing as she felt the carriage begin to move forward, smoothly with the skill of an experienced driver.
Miranda wasn’t making any sound at all, and Jane scrunched down in the corner, trying to decide when to announce her presence. Her body took care of that decision, with a loud, uncontrollable sneeze.
“Who’s there?” Miranda demanded, her voice edgy but calm. “Please show yourself. I’ve had a very difficult day and I’m not in the mood for playing games.”
Jane pushed the cover off her head. The interior of the carriage was very dark, but she could see Miranda quite clearly, and the expression on her face terrified her. “Just me,” she said brightly, sneezing again, and she climbed onto the seat next to her dearest friend. “So…are we being abducted?”
“We’re best friends,” Jane said with barely a tremor. “And I haven’t noticed that your life has been destroyed.”
Miranda shook her head, leaning back against the squabs. “It is now.” Jane was doing her best to look fearless and failing, and Miranda realized it was up to her to calm her fears. “What in heaven’s name made you come here? You sound like you should be home in bed, not chasing after me. And why did you hide in the carriage?”
“I had every intention of marching right up to the front door and demanding to see you,” she said, her voice wobbling slightly. “But at the last minute I panicked and hid in the carriage. You know what a coward I am. As for what made me do it—Brandon. He came home acting like a bear with a sore paw, and I decided it was better to sneak out and see what was keeping you than have him start badgering me.”
Miranda thought fast. The last thing she wanted to do was bring Jane into this horrific mess she’d brought upon herself. “We need to get you home before we go much farther,” she said, leaning forward to rap on the roof of the coach.
“As long as you come with me.”
Miranda shook her head. “I’m afraid not. I’m eloping, dearest, and much as I love you, I really don’t want you on my honeymoon.” She thought she’d done a creditable job of it, but Jane was giving her a peculiar look.
“Miranda, you’ve always been my dearest friend, but you’ve never been a terribly good liar, and it’s a waste of time trying that with me. I know you too well. What in the world is going on?”
“I’m in love.” She tried not to choke on the vile words. “Surely that comes as no surprise? I’ve been obsessed with the man since he first…rescued me after my accident.” Her voice sounded strained even to her own ears, and she leaned forward and rapped on the roof again, doing her best to look properly besotted when she was vibrating with anger and pain.
No response, of course. The driver would have orders to ignore her. Miranda sank back against the seat. They were moving swiftly, and in no time they’d be past the limits of town, though in which direction she could only guess.
Jane was looking at her doubtfully. “He said something to you about fighting.”
Bloody hell, Miranda thought. At that point she’d lost the ability to judge. She had absolutely no idea how terrible Lucien de Malheur was capable of being. If he’d been willing to risk a stranger’s life in a carriage accident, if he would murder her younger brother in cold blood, then there was no guarantee that Jane would be safe anywhere around him.
The safest route was to lie to her, and keep lying. Surely she could manage. “We have a tendency to argue,” she said in brisk tones. “It’s nothing you need to worry about. I’m hardly likely to be abducted twice in one lifetime. Trust me, I want to be with Lucien. I’m simply worried about you. As soon as we stop to change horses we’ll make arrangements for you to travel back to London, none the worse for wear. You shouldn’t be out and about when you’re sick, dearest Jane. I can’t imagine what possessed you to come out after me.”
“Can’t you?” Jane said, sounding absurdly brave.
Miranda sighed. She should have known she’d drag others down with her. She simply had to make sure Jane was left in good hands before they continued onward. “I love you, too. And Lucien will take care of things when we stop. In the meantime we may as well make the best of it. I expect I won’t be visiting London for quite a while, so we need to enjoy our time together.”
“But, Miranda, my wedding is only three months away! You were to be my maid of honor—now I suppose my matron of honor. We’ll have lots of time then, won’t we?” She was looking worried again.
“Assuming you don’t run off with your brigand in the meantime,” Miranda said in a light, teasing voice.
Jane frowned. “I’m no longer finding the memory quite so delightful. It really was quite shocking of me to enjoy it so, wasn’t it?”
“Quite shocking. And perfectly understandable. Don’t worry, love. Mr. Bothwell never need find out anything about it. You’ll be counting yourself lucky to have made such a close escape.”
Jane’s small, cold hand slipped into Miranda’s. “Are you certain you know what you’re doing, Miranda?”
“Quite,” she said firmly, squeezing her hand reassuringly. Perhaps practice made perfect in the art of lying.
At least the earl made certain his hostages traveled in style. The coach was magnificent—well sprung, with warm bricks, several magnificent throws, pillows, a basket of food and wine. Poor Jane was feeling more and more miserable, and Miranda would have soon eaten snakes than touched anything provided by her host, so they simply curled up together under the shared blankets and talked, not about the present or the future, but about the past and the happiness of shared childhoods and doting parents. Jane drifted off to sleep first, and slowly, slowly Miranda forced herself to release her fury enough to get some rest herself.
She awoke with a start, a bright light momentarily blinding her, and she realized the coach had come to a stop and someone was standing in the open door of the carriage.
“What have we here?” Lucien’s voice was silken. “Did we pick up an uninvited passenger along the way?”
Miranda could feel the fear that swept through her friend, and she put a protective arm around her. “Lord Rochdale, I believe you are acquainted with my dear friend Jane, are you not?”
“Indeed,” he said gravely, though she could sense the damnable amusement in his voice. “Though I scarcely expected to renew my acquaintance under these circumstances. I’ve bespoken a room and a meal while we change horses—why don’t we continue this conversation by the fire?” He held out a hand to her, and there was a mocking light in his eyes.
To continue any hope of keeping Jane ignorant of the true basis of this marriage, she had no choice but to accept his hand, letting him lift her down onto the ground, bypassing the steps entirely. For a moment she swayed, automatically reaching for Lucien, and then she drew her hand back swiftly, using the carriage for momentary support rather than willingly touch him again.
Unfortunately he was already seeing to Jane, and couldn’t appreciate her cold reaction. And then she stopped thinking about him entirely when she saw the pinched, miserable expression on Jane’s piquant face, and her anger toward the man flared up once more.
He didn’t relinquish Jane’s arm, and in truth it didn’t look as if she would have made the trip across the cobbled stable yard without his support. He didn’t look back at Miranda, leaving her to follow in their wake, and at least then some of her anger dissipated. Jane must be taken care of first. Once she was dealt with there would be time enough to figure a way out of this mess.
Because there had to be a way out. If he thought she would simply acquiesce then he had very little notion of who she really was. The first thing she had to do was forestall the wedding. A stomach complaint would do to begin with, and then anything else she could come up with. As long as Jane was safe.
The inn was small but neat, and she followed the two of them into the private dining room, glancing about her curiously as Lucien settled Jane into a chair by the fire. He glanced back at Miranda. “I imagine you both will wish to refresh yourself before we eat, but I’m afraid my curiosity will not withstand another minute. Why are you here, Miss Pagett?”
“She didn’t realize we were eloping,” Miranda spoke up. “She was concerned about my reputation and thought to accompany me.”
He had an ironic expression on his face. “Alas, I’m afraid I prefer my honeymoons à deux.”
“I’m certain you do. For some untoward reason the driver ignored my attempts to gain his attention. We will simply have to turn around and go back to London at once.”
“Will we?” Why had she ever thought his smile to be charming? It didn’t meet his cool, pale eyes.
“Jane,” Miranda said in a firm voice. “Why don’t you go upstairs and lie down for a bit while I have a conversation with my…affianced husband?”
“Oh, dear,” Lucien said with a note of laughter in his voice. “Are we about to have our first quarrel, love? By all means, Miss Pagett, go and make yourself comfortable while Miranda and I come to blows.”
Jane didn’t move, bravely stubborn for the first time in her life. “I don’t think…”
“Go ahead, Jane,” Miranda said firmly. “Leave this to me.”
He waited until Jane had left the room, then sank down gracefully on the recently abandoned chair. Miranda stood by the fire, rigid with fury and fear, but he simply nested his fingers and prepared to give her his full attention. “You can’t do this,” she said.
“Don’t be tiresome. I can do anything I please. Indeed, it’s a shame your friends are equally as headstrong as you are, but that is scarcely my concern.”
“She’s not headstrong at all, she’s very timid and right now she’s terrified. You need to send her back home. It’s one thing to run off with me. My reputation is already in shreds, and you have some misguided reason for taking out your anger on me. So be it. Jane is an innocent, and her family will hardly let you get away with this.”
“I hesitate to correct you, but you are wrong on several counts. One, I have no anger toward you. You’re simply a means to an end, and a quite delicious one. As for Miss Pagett, I will have a doctor see her before we continue on our journey, to set your mind at ease, and then I will have her write a letter to her family telling them she chose to accompany you on your bride trip.”
“My family won’t believe it.”
“I don’t expect them to. But they’re unlikely to frighten Miss Pagett’s family. Now why don’t you come over here and sit?”
“I’m not coming anywhere near you.”
He shouldn’t have been able to move that swiftly. She didn’t even see his cane anywhere near him. At one moment she was stiff and defiant, in the next he’d crossed the room, scooped her up and carried her back to the chair, sinking down with her imprisoned in his arms.
Without thinking she fought back, and he tightened his grip, painfully, so that her struggles abated and she held very still. “That’s better…. Once you cease fighting I think you’ll realize we’ll do quite well together.”
“Once I cease fighting you’ll lose interest in me.”
He laughed. “That is always a possibility. In which case, why keep fighting me? Or do you want me to lust after you?”
In a day full of shocks he’d somehow managed to shock her further. The thought that he might actually desire her was so bizarre that it had never occurred to her. She jerked her head to look at him, startled, and he laughed at her astonishment. “Why in the world does that surprise you, my pet? I would hardly decide to marry you if I didn’t want you. There are any number of ways this particular game could play out. I happen to prefer it in my bed.”
She managed to recover from her shock. “God knows why,” she said. “I’m no great beauty, I’m no longer innocent and I have it on the word of an accomplished rake that my skills in the bedchamber are lacking.”
“Now you’re fishing for compliments.” His grip had loosened, marginally, and she wondered if she could take him off guard, as she had Christopher St. John, so long ago. But then, she could hardly run. For one thing, Jane was upstairs, and she couldn’t leave her behind. For another, she had not the faintest idea where they were, how far from London they’d traveled. Until she discovered that much any escape plan would be a waste of time. “I’m not particularly concerned about your skill in bed,” he continued. “I have more than enough for both of us. To make up for my appearance I’m quite adept at performance, and you’ll get the way of it before long.”
“Now who is fishing for compliments?” she shot back.
She’d managed to surprise him. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re a very pretty child, if not perhaps a flamboyant beauty, whereas I’m an ugly brute with a soul to match.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she mocked him. “Your soul may be the epitome of putrescent decay, but apart from minor scarring you know perfectly well that you are quite decadently appealing.”
His pale eyes widened, and then he exploded in laughter. “I don’t know which enchants me more, putrescent decay or decadently appealing. You can’t decide whether to insult me or flatter me into releasing you. In honor of your fighting spirit I’ll make a wager, my pet. I’ll offer you a chance of escape.”
He meant it. She held her breath. “Anything you choose.”
“It’s quite simple. We have yet to seal this devil’s bargain with a kiss. If you can let me kiss you and not respond in any way then I’ll send you home with your friend, leave your brothers in peace and do my best to ruin your family financially. That will require more effort, but I’m more than capable of succeeding. What do you say to that?”
The tight knot of fear that had lodged beneath her breastbone loosened at his light words. “That’s too easy. I’m not certain I trust you to keep your word.”
“Again, more insults,” he said with a sigh. “I swear on my sister’s soul that if you do not kiss me back I will release you. Immediately.”
At that she believed him. “Yes,” she said immediately, her eyes glowing. “Oh, most definitely yes. Though I fail to see why you’re giving up so easily.”
“I’m not giving up. I’m winning.” Tucking one long finger beneath her stubborn chin, he drew her face up to his. She looked into his pale eyes and felt the first trickle of misgivings. This was impossible, wasn’t it? He ran his thumb across her lips, pulling them apart. And then he settled his mouth against hers.