.
Thomas lost sight of Blythe almost immediately as she slipped through the crowd, and his greater bulk and lesser speed prevented him from diving after her. He couldn't help but try, however, but then he found himself at the edge of the room again.
Robert came up to him with a worried look on his face. “I found Georgiana. She said she could make her own way home. What in the devil happened to you?”
Thomas offered him a crooked smile. “I suppose I got distracted.”
Robert raised an eyebrow at that. “And who was it that distracted you?”
Thomas shook his head. “That's something I am sure you are going to hear about as we drink ourselves into a stupor.”
“Then you're ready to leave?”
Thomas opened his mouth to say yes. It was, he knew, the far wiser thing to do. If he stayed, he was going to find himself at the center of a scene of one sort or another. He was a Martin, and no stranger to scandal, but it would either involve upsetting Blythe or actually brawling with Tristan Carrow, and he didn't want to do either. He should have been ready to leave with Robert and to try to find some kind of comfort at the bottom of a bottle.
“Let me just walk around the room once more. There's someone I want to say goodbye to.”
Robert's skeptical look told Thomas what he thought of that, but he followed Thomas through the crush, weaving between scornful dandies and hopeful Society girls with equal aplomb.
What are you even looking to do? If you see her again, do you think you'll say anything that will convince her to see your point of view? Do you think you are just going to make her understand what is between you?
Thomas supposed he hoped just that. Every time he thought he caught a glimpse of Blythe's small form, however, it turned out he was mistaken, and he was beginning to wonder if she had evaded him entirely and returned home. Then he saw Tristan having it out with what looked like some political types, and his frown deepened. She wouldn't have left without her cousin.
“Sorry, this might take a little longer than I thought. You're welcome to leave if you want to.”
“No, I think I'll stay. You look like you need the help.”
Thomas’ grin felt ghastly even to him. “Well, I see it's become that obvious. Thank you. Keep an eye out for Miss Blythe Dennings.”
Robert's eyebrows shot up. “The new heiress. You really do have some trouble.”
“Like you wouldn't believe.”
They strategically searched the hall, and just as Thomas was ready to give up, he happened to glance out the glass doors to the garden. He caught a flash of green and gold silk that gleamed in the light from the ballroom, and then to his horror, he saw Blythe's pale face for a single instant before she was dragged into the dark.
With a maddened curse, he was at the door, and if the latch had given him more than a moment of delay, he would have gone through the glass. In the back of his mind, he noted that the gardens, no matter how barren, would usually be left open for guests who needed air. Indeed, it was a matter of safety given the tight conditions of the ballroom. That they had been locked made the hair on the back of his neck rise up.
When he was clear of the ballroom, there was one terrible moment where he couldn't see anything at all. Then, remembering a trick his father had taught him, he closed one eye and then the other in rapid succession. His eyes acclimatized to the darkness more quickly, and when he blinked them clear, he saw two large men framed in the gate to the servants' entry, one holding Blythe while the second one thrust a white cloth at her face.
Thomas didn't bother to pause to see more. Instead, with a shout, he roared toward the two men who were holding the woman he loved. With a strength borne of fury, he dragged the man holding the rag aside and spun around to strike down the man who held Blythe. The moment he got close enough, Thomas could tell that the area reeked of chloroform, and the sick fear in his belly turned to anger.
“Blythe! Blythe, run back to the house!”
Of course, she didn't. As he squared off against the man who had held Blythe, she scooped up a broken brick paver and hurled it with alarming accuracy toward the man who was sneaking up on Thomas from behind. “I'm not leaving you!”
This was a terrible time for her to be brave, but Thomas couldn't tell her that because a man was taking a swing at him. Thomas shouted for help again even as he dodged the man's first hay-maker blow. He tried to keep his body between that of his two opponents and Blythe. The man she had thrown the paver at looked particularly ghastly, his face covered in blood.
“We're going to need that little girl, gov. You go back to the party and pretend you never saw this, yes?”
“I'll see you hanged. Don't lay a hand on her.”
It looked as if the men were going to attack him at once, and then, like a miracle, they all heard the sound of feet on the path. Thundering toward them was Robert, and he carried what looked like a long-poled gardening rake in his hands. When he reached them, he didn't pause. Instead, he swung it high, and if the bloodied thug hadn't moved back, he might have split the man's head in two.
This was apparently too much for the two thugs. They took to their heels.
Robert glanced at Thomas. “Well?”
“Follow them if you can. I want to know who wanted to kidnap Blythe. Blythe? Blythe, are you all right?”
Thomas was shocked when Blythe turned to him with wild eyes, dropping her second rock to the ground with her teeth chattering.
Shock. She's had a terrible fright and now her body is rebelling.
Robert was past them and chasing the assailants, and that meant it was safe to bring poor Blythe to a place where she could recover safely. Thomas took off his jacket and dropped it over her shoulders. Distantly, he thought of how oddly gamine-like she looked in such an over-large garment, and then he simply concentrated on getting her to safety.
They were closer to the servants' entrance than they were to the gates of the party, and right now, Thomas was only concentrating on getting Blythe to warmth rather than any kind of social propriety. The kitchen was a madhouse of steam and food being prepared for the small meal at midnight, and Thomas managed to buttonhole a harried young maid who directed them through the kitchen to the house itself.
“Come along, love, just a little farther and then you can sit down and be warm for a spell, won't that be nice?”
He managed to get a soft watery giggle out of her as he guided her down the halls to the drawing room the maid had told them was available and unlocked. “You sound like you're talking to a child who has had a long day.”
“Well, I would never compare you to a child, but you really do seem as if you've had a long day.”
“It feels as if they've all been long lately. Dreadfully, dreadfully long.”
The room was as dim and cozy as promised, and by the light of the banked hearth, Thomas lit a set of candlesticks sitting on the table. Then all that was left to do was to settle a still shaking Blythe into one of the chaises close to the fire.
When Blythe was seated on the chaise, she did not let go of his hand. Acting on instinct alone, Thomas came to sit close to her and tuck her underneath his arm, cradling her close. For a long moment, they were silent together, and then the shudders running through her body went on longer and longer until she was sobbing outright.
“Oh, poor little angel, don't be afraid. I'm here. It's over. Nothing bad is going to happen to you, I swear.”
“I barely know what happened to me! One moment, I was looking for a way back into the house, and the next, I was running for my life from a pair of thugs!”
“Do you know them? Do you think they came chasing you out of Seven Dials?”
Even as he said it, Thomas knew how foolish it was. Thugs from Seven Dials would stand out like sore thumbs in this London neighborhood.
“They spoke of someone they called his lordship. Someone was paying them to do what they did, but I have no idea why.”
Thomas stirred uneasily, holding Blythe a little tighter, as if simply by holding her he could protect her. “There are plenty of underworld low-lives that affect grand titles and who give themselves airs. Do you think it might actually have been a peer who had you assaulted?”
“I don't know. I have no clue. It's hard to think right now, and I am so very cold.”
Thomas bit down on his tongue, telling himself not to ask questions she couldn't answer. The more important thing by far was to simply be with her and make sure she was safe and comforted. Her small hand tangled in the fabric of his waistcoat, and his hand came up to cover it. She was still chilly to the touch, but slowly and gradually, she started to warm up.
It may have been moments, it might have been hours, but finally, she looked up at him with a wry smile. “I'm sorry. I was quite a sniveling little rag all over your chest.”
“I think that if two men try to abduct you from a goddamn ball that you have the right to snivel for a bit if you want to. Think nothing of it.”
“Oh, I think I'm going to be thinking of it quite a lot. Who in the world wants to kidnap me? Who were those men?”
“My friend Robert went after them. I have no idea if he'll find anything, but it'll be a start. Right now, though, all I care about is you being safe.”
“I'm always safe when I'm with you.”
Her tone was light but then she looked up at him. In the candlelight, her eyes were dark and velvety, and Thomas couldn't resist. He leaned forward, and when his lips brushed hers, a shock like summer lightning cut through him. The pleasure of kissing her again, tasting her, was so sharp it almost hurt. Instead of drawing away, however, she clung to him harder, deepening the kiss with something like desperation.
“You feel it, too, don't you?”
Blythe raised her eyes to look at him for a moment. “Of course, I do. With every fiber of my being. With every breath and every heartbeat.”
Her words sent a shudder of recognition through him. That was how strongly he felt her as well. They were so close, so intertwined that it felt as if being parted from her would tear something essential out of him, away from him.
“Don't leave me again. Don't, angel, I can't take it.”
Instead of answering him, she kissed him again, her soft lips against his, and he knew she couldn't say yes. Thomas felt the desire that always slept between them rising up again, coiling inside him and then forcing him to capture her in his arms. She felt so good, so amazing; he could lose himself in her and never think of being found.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, Thomas was aware of the door opening and then a deep growl, a nearly bestial sound. His head snapped up, and he just barely registered Tristan Carrow crossing the room toward them before Blythe was out of his arms and standing between the two of them.
“Tristan, please, this isn't what it—”
“Don't lie to me, Blythe. Take off his jacket. We are going home.”
“Don't speak to her like that. She doesn't deserve your scorn. Just for the love of God, listen to us for once, Parrington.”
Tristan gave him a look of deep disgust. “Stay out of my family matters. Blythe is protecting you with everything she has; the least you can do is be grateful.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Tristan, please. Please take me home.”
Both men turned to Blythe. She was shaking where she stood, and even in the dim light, Thomas could see how pale she was. She looked as if she was keeping herself together through sheer will, and right then, all he wanted to do was to wrap her in cotton and keep her away from the ravages of the world.
Tristan glanced at Thomas. “Keep your damn distance, Amory. You've done enough damage.”
As Tristan guided Blythe away, Thomas thought he had never seen her look smaller or more defeated. Tristan said he had done enough damage. Perhaps the damned man was right. All he knew was that he could not stand to see Blythe look like that.