Godric St. Laurent, the twelfth Duke of Essex, leaned back
in his saddle watching the abduction he’d orchestrated
unfold. Covering his mouth with a gloved hand, he stifled a
yawn. Things were going smoothly. In fact, this entire
kidnapping bordered on the point of tedious. They’d
intercepted the coach ten minutes before it reached Chessley
House. No one witnessed the escort of riders or the driver
changing his route. Oddly enough, the young woman hadn’t
shown any signs of resistance or concern from inside the
coach. Wouldn’t she have made some protestations when she
realized what was happening? A thought stopped him dead. Had
she somehow slipped out of the coach when they’d slowed on a
corner before they’d left town? Surely not, they would have
seen her. Most likely she was too terrified to do anything,
hence the silence from inside. Not that she had anything to
fear, she would not be harmed.
He nodded to his friend Charles who was perched next to
the driver. A bag of coins jingled as Charles dropped it
into the jarvey’s waiting hands.
They had reached halfway point between London and
Godric’s ancestral estate. They would go the rest of the way
on horseback, with the girl sharing a horse with either him
or one of his friends. The driver would return to London
with a message for Albert Parr and a wild story that
exonerated himself from blame.
“Ashton, stay here with me.” Godric waved his friend over
while the others rode the horses a good distance away to
wait for his signal. Abductions were tricky things, and
having only himself and one other man take hold of the girl
would be better. She might have a fit of hysterics if she
saw the other three men too close.
He rode up to the coach, curious to see whether the woman
inside matched his memory. He’d seen her once before from a
window overlooking the gardens when he’d visited her uncle.
She’d been kneeling in the flowerbeds, her dress soiled as
she weeded. A job more suited to a servant than a lady of
quality. He’d been ready to dismiss her from his mind when
she’d turned and glanced about the garden, a smudge of dirt
on the tip of her upturned nose. A butterfly from a nearby
flower had fluttered above her head. She hadn’t noticed it,
even as it settled on her long, coiling auburn hair.
Something in his chest gave a funny little flip, and his
body had stirred with desire. Any other woman so innocent
would not have caught his interest, but he’d glimpsed a
keenness in her eyes, a hidden intelligence as she dug into
the soil. Miss Emily Parr was different. And different was
intriguing.
Ashton handed the driver the ransom letter for Parr and
took up a position near the front of the coach. Taking hold
of the door, Godric opened it up, waiting for the screaming
to start.
None came.
“My deepest apologies, Miss Parr—” Still no screaming.
“Miss Parr?” Godric thrust his head into the coach.
It was empty. Not even a fire-breathing dragon of a
chaperone, not that he’d expected one. His sources had
assured him she would be alone tonight.
Godric looked over his shoulder. “Ash? You’re sure this
is Parr’s coach?”
“Of course. Why?” Ashton jumped off his horse, marched
over and thrust his head into the empty coach. He was silent
a long moment before he withdrew. Ashton put his finger
against his lips and motioned to the inside. A tuft of pink
muslin peeped out from the wooden seat. He gestured for
Godric to step away from the coach.
Ashton lowered his voice. “It seems that our little
rabbit chase has turned into a fox hunt. She’s hidden in the
hollow space of the seat, clever girl.”
“Hiding under the seat?” Godric shook his head,
bewildered. He didn’t know one woman of his acquaintance who
would do something so clever. Perhaps Evangeline, but then
if anything could be said of that woman, it was that she was
far from ordinary. A prickling of excitement coursed through
his veins, into his chest. He loved a challenge.
“Let’s wait a few minutes and see if she emerges.”
Godric looked back at the coach, impatience prickling inside
him. “I don’t want to wait here all night.”