Watching the Reverly coach pulling away, Matt felt as if he was in a madman’s play.

In less than an hour, his life had been upended. Willa’s accusations stung . . . because there had been an element of truth to them.

And he believed he was on the verge of losing someone who could be very special to him.

Letty had appealed to the part of him that wanted to be heroic. He’d pictured himself as saving her from a horrid marriage.

Instead, watching his wife being driven away, he now pictured himself as an adulterer. An ugly word. Certainly not a heroic one.

As the son of a man who had given up his birthright for the woman he loved, as the brother of sisters who were happily married to good, honest men, Matt felt shame.

He had slept with another man’s wife, and he’d justified doing so in his mind because Letty hadn’t loved her husband.

Standing among the glittering company of the ton , Matt felt a fraud. This was not the man he wanted to be. Worse, his weakness had enabled Hardesty to manipulate him.

He pulled the note Letty had given him from his pocket. Hardesty had plotted the meeting. He wouldn’t have put it past the man to have arranged for Willa to come upon them.

Matt needed more answers, and the best person to give them to him was Letty. He returned to the ballroom to seek her out. He also wanted to seek out the Minotaur footman who had delivered the note to him, and ask a few questions.

Letty was nowhere to be found. He searched all the rooms, however, it was as if she had vanished.

He was stumped.

“You look so lonely, Your Grace,” Lady Evanston’s voice said behind him. There was a hint of invitation in her tone.

He confronted his hostess, a smile fixed firmly on his face. “I’m not.”

Her lower lip curled. “That is unfortunate. However, if you ever do feel you need company, think of me.” As she moved past him, she reached for his gloved hand and pressed a folded note into it. She didn’t pause but kept walking.

The paper was the same sort that Hardesty had used. Lady Evanston had written, See me upstairs, first floor, third door, right after midnight. The handwriting was different.

He went after her. Before she could go too far, he caught her arm.

She acted pleased that he’d given chase, until he said, “Where did you write this note?”

“What note?” she asked brightly, and looked around as if checking to see if someone overheard them. Matt was having none of it.

“This paper, where did you find it?”

Lady Evanston’s frown said that wasn’t what she’d expected him to say. Nor did she appear pleased he was waving her invitation around in such a public forum.

He kept his voice quiet and carefully neutral. “I need to know, and if you don’t tell me, then I shall ask your husband.”

Her chin lifted. “Richard doesn’t care.”

“I am not concerned if he cares or not. I want to know where you keep this paper.”

“In the study.”

“Take me to it.”

The light of interest returned to her eye as if she was imagining he was playing some lover’s game. “What is in it for me, Your Grace?”

Matt wanted to answer that doing so would mean he didn’t throttle her, but that would have been an empty threat. One couldn’t throttle ladies in their own ballrooms, more’s the pity. “We shall see, won’t we?” he answered with his own touch of flirtation.

She couldn’t do enough for him then. “Meet me at the hall door, by the card room. Five minutes.”

“And the study is where?”

Lady Evanston made an impatient sound. “Down the side hall. Five minutes,” she repeated, and charged off into the crowd.

Matt had no intention of following. The study was obviously the name for the sitting room where he’d met Letty. Anyone could have gone there to write notes.

Hardesty was at this party.

He studied the faces in the crowd. Would Hardesty be as old as his grandfather? Or much younger?

What did a blackmailer look like? What was the face of a thief?

And he was playing a fool’s game, he realized.

In time, Hardesty would let him know what he wanted. All Matt had to do was stay vigilant.

“Your Grace, we are so happy to have a moment of your time,” a matronly woman in a red velvet turban said. She was accompanied by several other ladies of her same generation.

“I’m happy to be present for you,” Matt said, perfunctorily. His mind was on determining his next step.

“I’m Lady Ralston and these are my friends Dame Honora and Mrs. Simpkins. We are presiding members of the Mayfair Literary Society.”

“How nice for you,” Matt said.

“We are hoping you would agree to read for us from your book Love Fulfilled at our next meeting.”

Matt swallowed a sound of frustration. This was the second time today that his very bad poetry had been mentioned. He did his best to tell them no in a polite way and made his escape. He knew if they cornered Minerva, he might have to honor their request—but he was not going to agree easily.

He was also beginning to realize how fruitless it was for him to search for Hardesty, a person he knew nothing about. He could quiz the servants, but he would have to go through all the footmen, since he had no idea which Minotaur had delivered the note.

Ready to leave the Evanston rout, he searched out his grandmother. Minerva was surrounded by friends. When he suggested they leave, she informed him she was enjoying herself.

“Then may I leave?” Matt was not in the mood to wait. He needed to talk to Willa.

“Go on, go on,” Minerva said. “But send back the coach. I promised Lady Cahill a ride home.”

“You may have it. I’ll walk.” The distance was not far. “Also, if presiding members of the Mayfair Literary Society approach you, tell them I don’t do readings.”

“I will,” was the breezy reply.

Given permission to go, Matt didn’t say his good-byes to his host and hostess. Diana Evanston was presumably in the study waiting for him, and Matt had no desire to look her husband in the eye. He set his hat on his head and left the house.

The night air was cool. The considerable traffic on the street grew sparser the closer he traveled to home. Matt wasn’t one for the affectation of a walking stick. He passed several gentlemen carrying theirs. They twirled them, and several saluted him with them. A few acted as if they wished to engage him in conversation. Matt kept walking, his mind working on what he would say to Willa. What he wanted to say.

He turned the corner onto his street. Lamps burned by his front door. He prayed Willa was home. Since she’d left with her mother, she might not be.

And that would be the test, wouldn’t it? If Willa chose to return to his home, then there was a strong chance for them. If she hadn’t—?

Then he’d find her. And he would make her listen to him—

A thickset man stepped out from the shadows. He wore a heavy coat on such a pleasant autumn evening and a hat pulled low over his eyes.

“The Duke of Camberly?”

Matt stopped. Since he was taller than most men, few ever picked fights with him. He also knew how to hold his own. “What do you want?”

“Mr. Hardesty sent me,” the man said. He slurred his words the way those born around the docks spoke.

Curling his gloved hands into fists, Matt asked carefully, “What does Hardesty want?”

The man reached inside his coat.

Matt half expected him to hand over another folded note. He thought about overpowering the man and dragging his carcass to his house. There, he’d do what he must to squeeze information about Hardesty out of him.

But the man surprised him. Instead of a note, he held his fingers out as if they had ahold of something. Matt couldn’t make it out in the dark.

“Go on, take it,” the man said.

Matt held out his gloved hand. The man dropped a thick curl of rich brown hair into his palm. “Your wife wants you to come with me. If you don’t, she will be sorry.”

“What have you done? ”

“This way to find out, Your Grace.”

“I’m not going with you anywhere until I know she is all right.” Because if she wasn’t, Matt was going to murder the man.

“Oh, she is fine—for now. Lovely thing she is, Your Grace. A tasty bit. Mr. Hardesty has buyers for her. He hoped you would listen to reason but if not, there won’t be any slack for us.”

Matt closed his hand over the curl. He wanted to pound the man into the ground. “How did you take her?”

The blackguard grinned. He was missing two front teeth. Matt had an urge to knock the rest of his teeth down his throat. “We nabbed her from her bed, right there in your big house. We are so good, no one even knows she is gone, except you and me. Are you coming, Your Grace? Or is she mine?”

So Willa had come home to him. She’d been waiting for him.

Or the man was lying.

“You tell Hardesty he’s a bastard.”

“You can tell him yourself, Your Grace. But first, you must come with me.”

“Lead the way.” Matt could be walking into a trap . . . but his every instinct said the man was speaking the truth. Hardesty had Willa.

He followed the brute back behind the houses to an alley. Two small horses were tied up there. “Take your pick, Your Grace.” He was growing cocky. Matt would relish the moment when he changed the tables on them.

His horse groaned when he climbed on top of it. The saddle was too small, and Matt had to let down the stirrups.

“Be careful with my animal,” the man ordered. “I value that horse.”

“As much as you value my wife’s life?” Matt didn’t hide his disdain.

“I don’t give a rat’s ass what becomes of her, Your Grace. I’m paid to do a job, and I do it.”

On those words, Hardesty’s man put his heel to horse, and off he went. If Matt believed Willa was in their clutches, then he’d best follow.

He followed.

Willa’s assailants had bound her arms, wrists, and legs, and had carried her out of her house as if she was little more than a rug. She’d tried to struggle, but she’d been overpowered.

No one had stopped them. No cry had gone up. They’d taken the servants’ entrance and then carried her through the back garden. She’d heard the back gate open right before they’d thrown her onto the floor of what seemed to be a post chaise.

Then they had cut a piece of her hair.

“Ross, you know where to meet me?” one of them had asked. He sounded like one of the dockworkers.

The other man had answered, “Aye, Donel, I know.” Willa had listened for clues. She now knew Ross was Irish. Donel was their leader. They had known the layout of the house.

There came the snap of reins, and the chaise began moving with her on the floor inside.

The ride had been uncomfortable. She hated the gag and swore to herself that once she could spit it out, she’d give her captors a tongue lashing they would not forget.

But first, she had to free herself.

She squirmed and twisted, her efforts making her bonds tighter. She changed her focus. Her goal became the liberation of one finger, then two. It took concentration and a patience her fear threatened to overthrow.

Minutes seemed like hours as she worked, and then, to her surprise, she managed, with a great deal of pain and effort, to slide her right thumb underneath one of the rough ropes.

It gave her hope, and she set to work to free her index finger.

And when she escaped her bonds? What would she do then? She didn’t know.

She couldn’t even understand their game. Did they plan to hold her for ransom? A few months ago, the papers had stories of a young woman abducted from her home. She was never seen or heard from again, even though her family had searched and searched.

Could it be that these men were the ones who had taken the hapless woman? And were they now intent on treating Willa to what they’d done to her?

She tried not to think too deeply on the subject because it did make her afraid, and right now, she needed all the courage she could muster.

The saddest part was that Matt would come home and not find her in their bed. He’d think she had stayed with her mother. He’d never know that she had come home until it was too late.

The wheels of the vehicle went off the main road. By the way they bounced, they seemed to be little more than a cow path. Willa hated the rough ride. It was all she could do to protect herself. To her amazement, she managed to slip her index finger loose from her bonds.

The chaise came to a halt. Ross jumped down from the driver’s seat, and a door opened near Willa’s head. She lay still as if she slept and prayed he could not see her hands.

But he was not interested in her hands.

“You are a pretty morsel,” he said. A hand explored her body over her nightdress. There was a chill in the air, but she didn’t shiver from the cold.

His hand squeezed her breast. “I don’t know how much time we have. I’d like a bit of you. Even a taste.” He laughed, the sound without mirth. “Pity what’s going to happen to you.” He gave her breast another squeeze, and then there was the sound of riders.

The door was shut.

God help her.

She thought of Matt. And how she would never have the chance to tell him that he had won her heart. She’d never be able to feel his warmth around her. Or hear his voice—

“Dismount, Your Grace,” she heard Donel say.

“Where is she? I must know my wife is all right before I do another word you say.”

Matt . Her heart leaped with joy, and then froze with fear. They used her to control him.

Her mind screamed at him to run.

The door opened again. “She’s right here,” Ross said. He pulled the pillowcase from her head. A light was held up. Willa went still, keeping her eyes closed because she didn’t want them to see her fear.

“Release her,” Matt ordered. “Let her go and then I will do whatever you wish. Tell Hardesty he has my word on it.”

“You are going to do whatever we wish anyway, Your Grace,” Donel said. “Ross, hold that cudgel over the girl’s head, and if he does anything he shouldn’t, bash her brains in.”

“Aye,” came the answer.

Hot tears pressed against Willa’s eyelids. They were going to kill them both. Together.

She heard Matt dismount. In a cold voice, he said, “What would you have me do now?”

No , Willa wanted to scream. They were going to kill her no matter what.

“Ross, tie him up and put him with his lady.”

In a matter of minutes, Matt’s body was dumped on the floor beside Willa. They pushed her against the seat base as if she was nothing more than a sack of grain, her back to her husband’s. His legs were too long for the width of the vehicle, so Donel and Ross had to double him up. Willa felt very squeezed.

“What now?” Ross wondered.

“Now we drown them. Hardesty wants a coaching accident.”

Ross swore. “Why can’t we just kill them and be done? It’s work to make deaths look like accidents.”

“Oh, well, you can give Hardesty your suggestions yourself. As for me, I’m being paid to drown them.”

“How are we doing that?”

“Drive the vehicle into the river. We’ll make it appear as if they attempted a shortcut to the main road but drove off.”

“And why were they out here?” Ross said. “And why wouldn’t he be riding in his own coach? He’s a bloody duke.”

Donel did not like the questions. “If he had come home in his coach, I would have used it. But don’t tell me dukes don’t hire chaises. They do.”

“Yes, but why are they out here?”

“I asked the same question,” Donel said. “Hardesty said not to worry. He’d have a story. He wanted them drowned along this road. It is a shortcut to somewhere.”

Willa knew where they were going to be taken. There was a shorter route to Mayfield that did follow two tracks along the River Lea, the same river where they had been fishing earlier. No one would question their being there.

“He always has a story. It’s easier to just break necks. Nice and clean. But it is sad. She is a sweet thing,” Ross said with regret. He sighed. “All right then, what is the plan?”

Willa strained to hear the tale—

Two fingers clasped hers.

She started, thankful she had a gag, or she would have made a sound in surprise. His thumb felt for her ropes. His hands were larger and stronger. He tried to slip his finger under her ropes. They were too tight, but she could slip her free fingers under his. She might be able to free him.

She pulled, while he twisted and yanked on his hand.

Meanwhile, Ross and Donel discussed the “plan.”

“We are going to tip the coach into the Lea? Horse and all? That horse won’t stand for it,” Ross protested.

“We’ll shoot the horse,” Donel answered.

“The hell we will. I’ll not be party to killing a horse. Donel, you can’t ask that of me.”

“And how do we make it appear a coaching accident if the horse is free?”

“He escaped.” Ross spoke as if the answer was simple. “Animals are smart. He freed himself from his traces and swam to shore.”

“He freed himself?”

“It could happen. Listen, that horse is worth money. We sell it, we make a bit more.”

There was a beat of silence. “Aye,” Donel agreed. “You can sell it.”

“I know a man.”

“All right. Fine.”

Willa found one of the knots in Matt’s bindings and, using thumb and index finger, frantically tried to untie it.

“All right, but before we loose the horse, drive the chaise right up to the edge of the bank,” Donel said. “Then you have your horse and we will push the chaise into the river.

“Are we going to untie them? Won’t look like much of an accident if they are all bound up.”

“I will cut their bonds after they drown. The coach will keep them from floating away until we finish.”

“I’m not going to help you with all that. I don’t fiddle with the bodies. Not after they are dead.”

“You are such a lass,” Donel mocked him.

“I don’t like it.”

“I know . You can murder them but you don’t like touching them afterwards. You are a puss—”

There was the sound of flesh hitting flesh. Of male grunts and half-finished swearing.

Willa hoped they killed each other.

A body was slammed against the coach and then yanked away. Donel growled before saying, “Don’t touch me again, or I swear, I’ll throw you into that vehicle with them. Now help me drag this chaise to the water.”

Ross didn’t offer any protest.

The chaise began moving. Panicked, Willa worked the knot.

The horse grew nervous and balked. Ross swore while Donel shouted orders. “Make sure we are as close to the bank as possible. We are going to pitch it in on its side as if it fell over.”

The coach moved forward a few feet. Matt tugged on her ropes. Don’t do that , Willa silently warned him. That was how she’d made hers so tight, and then she realized he had one hand free—

“We need to unhook the horse, Donel. There is no sense to this. He’s skittish.”

Choice words were Donel’s answer, and then there was the sound of racing hooves. “I thought you had him, Ross?”

“I can’t see what you are doing. It’s black as hell here. The damn beast bolted before I could hold him.”

“You can go after him as soon as we push this chaise in,” Donel said. “Come, give me a hand. I want this done.”

The chaise began to rock in one direction and then fell back. “Put more into it,” Donel snapped.

“I need to chase that horse before someone else nabs him.”

“The coach first. Come over here. Heave to. One, two, three—”

The chaise tilted. For the span of a heartbeat, it seemed to hold itself up by two wheels, and then it was falling into the water.