Splendid (42 page)

Ames poked his head out the window.

“See, it's about a foot wide. I'll be fine. I just won't look down.”

“Lord have mercy on our souls, Shipton,” Ames said, shaking his head. “Because his grace is going to
kill
us.”

“What we need is a diversion. Something that will make them leave the room.”

The threesome sat in silence for a few minutes until Shipton finally ventured, “Well, you know, yer grace, men do like their ale.”

A small ray of hope began to form in Emma's heart. “What are you saying, Shipton?”

Shipton looked a little uneasy, unused to having his ideas listened to with such attention by the nobility. “Well, I'm just saying that men do like their ale, and it's a fool who passes up a free drink.”

“Shipton, you're a genius!” Emma cried out, spontaneously throwing her arms around him and giving him a big kiss on the cheek.

Shipton turned beet red and started stammering. “I don't know, yer grace, I just—”

“Hush. Here's what we're going to do. One of
you is going to go down to the street and start hollering how you've just become rich. Someone died, or something like that, and you've inherited some money. Then start yelling about how you're going to buy drinks for everyone in town. There's a tavern downstairs. The other one of you will stand guard in the hall and wait to see if the men leave. If they do, I'll sneak along the ledge and go through the window, get Belle, and come back here. Are we agreed?”

Both men nodded, but their eyes looked dubious.

“Good. Then which one of you wants to buy the drinks?”

Neither said a word.

Emma grimaced. “All right then. Ames, you're more flamboyant so I want you to do it.” She pressed several coins into his hand. “Now get going.”

Ames frowned, took a deep breath, and then exited the room. A few minutes later, Emma and Shipton heard his shouts.

“I'm rich! I'm rich! After twenty years o' service, the old geezer finally croaked an' left me a thousand pounds!”

“Quick, Shipton, go out to the hallway,” Emma whispered urgently as she ran to the window and peeked out. She didn't have a direct view to the street, but if she looked down the alleyway, she could see Ames as he passed by on his way to the entrance of the inn.

“It's a miracle!” he shouted, starting to laugh hysterically. “A miracle! A sign from God himself! I'll never have to wait on another hoity-toity lord or lady for the rest of my days!”

Emma smiled, deciding that she'd forget about the hoity-toity comment. If he succeeded in getting the villains away from Belle, he'd be able to
retire for life on the bonus his hoity-toity employers gave him.

Ames fell to his knees and started to kiss the ground. “Good Lord,” Emma murmured. “The man missed his calling. He should have been an actor. Or at the very least a swindler.”

Just then, one of the two villains stuck out his head, two windows down. Emma quickly pulled hers back in and began to pray. Out in the street, Ames got down to business. “I wanna buy drinks for every man who's had to work for a living. Every man who has had to toil, to use his hands. To The Hare and Hounds! We've earned our reward!”

A goodly amount of cheering followed the last statement, and Emma heard the sounds of a horde of people rushing into the inn. As she waited for Shipton to give her the word, the temptation to hold her breath was so great that she had to keep reminding herself to exhale.

An eternity passed in thirty seconds until Shipton burst back into the room. “They took the bait, yer grace! Left an' went downstairs. Looked plenty excited, too.”

Emma's heart started pounding wildly. It was one thing to talk about sneaking around on ledges; it was quite another to do it. She looked out the window. It was a long way to the ground. If a fall didn't bring death, it would almost certainly mean many broken bones. “Just don't look down,” she muttered to herself. Taking a deep breath, she climbed out of the window and balanced herself on the ledge. Thank goodness she wasn't facing the street. In the alley, no one was likely to notice the rather odd sight of a woman pressed up against the side of the building, two stories up.

Taking small steps, she crept along, breathing a silent apology to Eustace and his companion as she passed by their room. Finally, she reached Belle's
window. She bent her legs very slowly, concentrating on her balance, and then hurled herself through the open window, landing in a somewhat painful bundle on the floor.

Belle let out a little yelp of surprise as Emma came flying into the room, but it wasn't very loud because she'd been tightly gagged. “I'll get you out of this in no time,” Emma said quickly, gulping down her furor over the sight of her cousin bound to the bedposts. “Damn it,” she muttered. “These knots are tight.”

Belle jerked her head, trying to motion to the bureau across the room.

“What? Oh.” Emma raced over and found a knife sitting on the bureau next to the tray she had left there not very long ago. It wasn't very sharp, but it did the trick, and less than a minute later she had Belle free. “I'll get that gag off of you back in my room,” she said urgently. “I want to get out of here as soon as possible.” Emma slipped the knife into her pocket, grabbed Belle's hand, and pulled her through the doorway.

Once they got back to Emma's room Shipton slipped outside to stand guard, and Emma quickly cut the gag away from Belle. “Are you all right?” she implored. “Did they hurt you?”

Belle shook her head quickly. “I'm fine. They didn't touch me, but…” She took a deep breath, trying to compose herself, and then promptly burst into tears. “Oh, Emma,” she wailed. “I was so scared. I think it was Woodside who arranged the whole thing. And I couldn't stop thinking about him touching me. It made me feel so dirty, and…” Her words trailed off into a stream of hiccups.

“Shhh,” Emma crooned consolingly, putting her arms around her cousin to soothe her. “You're fine now, and Woodside never got near you.”

“All I could think was that I was going to have to marry him, and then my life would be ruined forever.”

“Don't worry,” Emma murmured, stroking Belle's hair.

“I couldn't even divorce him.” Belle hiccupped and inelegantly wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “I'm sure I couldn't get one and besides, I'd be banished from society. Alex probably wouldn't even let you see me anymore.”

“Of course I could still see you,” Emma said quickly, but she knew that most of what Belle said was true. There was no place in London society for a divorced woman. “It matters not anyway. You're not going to have to marry Woodside so there's no point discussing divorce. Unfortunately, we're stuck in this inn because we've only got one horse. I had one of the grooms ask around and there isn't a horse or carriage for hire in the entire town.”

“What about the stage?”

Emma shook her head. “It doesn't pass through here. We're going to have to wait for Alex, I'm afraid. He shouldn't be too long, at any rate. Bottomley left for Westonbirt over an hour ago. I don't think we'll have to wait much longer than an hour.” She peered nervously out the window. “I think it would be safer to stay here behind a locked door than to venture out on foot.”

Belle nodded, sniffling loudly. She blinked a couple of times, finally taking in Emma's strange appearance. “Oh, Emma,” she giggled. “You look
hideous
!”

“Thank you!” Emma said enthusiastically. “It's a brilliant disguise, don't you think? You didn't even recognize me at first.”

“And I wouldn't have if you hadn't started dropping Shakespeare into your every sentence. It's a
good thing that my captors were illiterate. It was all I could do not to scream with laughter once I realized what you were up to. But the one thing I was wondering was—how did you get here in the first place?”

“Oh, Belle, we were so lucky. I went to visit Sophie yesterday and decided to stop by to see you today. I just happened to turn the corner as you were getting into the carriage. When you didn't go to the Ladies' Literary meeting I grew suspicious.”

Belle sobered as she realized the degree to which Providence had played in her rescue. “What do we do now?”

“
I'm
going to get out of this awful costume. Those men might come looking for you, and it wouldn't do for me to look like anyone other than the woman who checked into the room a few hours ago.” She pulled off the wig, letting her bright hair tumble down her back. “There. I feel better already.”

 

If Bottomley had been tired when he got to Westonbirt, he was utterly exhausted by the time he reached Alex's London townhouse three hours later. He had never been to Alex's bachelor's lodgings before, but he had grown up in London, so he located it easily from the address that Norwood had given him.

With desperation-filled eyes, he ascended the front steps and pounded on the door. Smithers answered almost immediately. “Deliveries,” he said imperiously, “are made in the rear.”

Before Smithers could shut the door, Bottomley wedged himself into the doorway, gasping, “That's not why I'm here. I—”

“As are inquiries for employment.” Smithers's glare turned even frostier.

“Will you shut yer mouth for a second!” Bottomley burst out. “I work for his grace at Westonbirt. Drive his carriage.” He paused, still breathing heavily. “It's her grace. She's in danger. Her cousin's been kidnapped. I've got to find his grace right away.” Bottomley sagged against the doorframe, barely able to stand.

“He isn't here,” Smithers said anxiously.

“What? They told me he was comin' to London an' I—”

“No, no, he's here. He's just not
here
. He went to White's. You'd best get to him immediately. Let me give you the address.”

Thirty seconds later, Bottomley was back on his horse, feeling even more tired after his brief rest than he had before it. He soon reached White's but the man at the front door refused him entrance.

“You don't understand,” Bottomley pleaded. “It's an emergency. I've got to see his grace right away.”

“I'm sorry, but only members are allowed to enter.” The doorman sniffed disdainfully. “And
you
are obviously not a member.”

Bottomley grabbed the man by the lapels, his eyes wild with exhaustion and panic. “I need to see the Duke of Ashbourne
now
!”

The doorman paled at Bottomley's unbalanced demeanor. “I can send for him if you wait just a—”

“That ain't good enough. Aw, hell.” Bottomley pulled his arm back, punched the doorman in the face, stepped over his body, and rushed into the sacrosanct halls of the club. “Yer grace! Yer grace!” he called. And then realizing that there may very well be several yer graces present, he started hollering, “The Duke of Ashbourne! I need him right away!”

Twenty elegantly groomed heads swiveled in
his direction. “Thank the Lord, there you are, yer grace,” Bottomley breathed, collapsing against the wall.

Alex stood up, terror slowly building in his heart. “Bottomley, what on earth?”

Bottomley fought for great big gulps of air. “Emergency, yer grace. It's yer wife. She—”

Alex ran across the room and shook Bottomley by his shoulders. “What happened? Is she all right?”

Bottomley nodded. “Aye, she is, yer grace.” He paused, trying to catch his balance. “But maybe not for long!”

For the fourth time that day, Bottomley found himself back in the saddle, and this time, it was all he could do to hang on to the horse's neck.

 

The village of Harewood rarely saw members of the aristocracy strolling along its narrow streets and, had all of its inhabitants not descended upon The Hare and Hounds to take Ames up on his generous offer, they would have been rather surprised to have seen the elegant figure of Lord Anthony Woodside, Viscount Benton, alighting from his carriage. Emma's appearance had already caused quite a stir, but a fine lord was something else altogether.

He was, all in all, rather pleased with himself. Kidnapping the fair Lady Arabella had been a stroke of genius. In one fell swoop he had solved all of his problems. He had his revenge against her brother, he had the woman he desired, and, in less than an hour, he'd have access to the Blydon fortune.

He headed over to the local church to finalize his deal with the vicar who had agreed to perform the hasty wedding and overlook such trivialities as the consent of the bride. But he never quite reached the clergyman, for as he turned the corner into the
churchyard he saw an elegant carriage, even more elegant than his own. And as he was well aware, elegant carriages were not the norm in Harewood. That was, after all, precisely the reason he'd decided to bring Arabella here. Quickening his stride, he approached the offending vehicle and studied the crest.

Ashbourne.

As in the Duke and Duchess of Ashbourne.

As in Arabella's first cousins and very close friends.

Woodside turned on his heel and made his way toward The Hare and Hounds. Something had gone very much awry.

He arrived at the inn a couple of minutes later and found it a mass of confusion. The entire town seemed to be packed into the tavern, and from the looks of it, most of them had taken more than the first few steps toward drunken oblivion. At the center of the crowd was an animated man dressed in servant's livery who was pontificating loudly on the plight of the working man. Woodside took a step closer. The servant's attire was really quite distinguished. Far more so than one would expect in this out-of-the-way burg. In fact, Woodside thought ruefully, it was the type of livery one might find in the home of a viscount if the viscount weren't perilously short of funds.

Or it might be the type of livery one might find in the home of a duke.