The Bride Thief

A hopeful light came into his eyes. 'Would you like to see it?'

'I'd be very interested, but I'm afraid I have another appointment right now. May I stop by tomorrow to see it?'

The boy's face flushed with pleasure. 'Of course, my lord.'

'Excellent. Shall we say around two o'clock?'

'I'll await you in the Chamber.' He dipped his chin shyly downward. 'Perhaps you'd also like to see…' His voice trailed off as his gaze riveted on Eric's riding boots. The boy frowned, then pushed his glasses higher on his nose. After blinking several times, he jerked his head upward and stared at Eric with an utterly confused expression.

'Is something amiss, lad?'

'I… no.' Hubert shook his head so vigorously, his spectacles slid to the tip of his nose. He again looked at Eric's feet, staring at them as if he'd never seen riding boots before.

Eric's gaze followed Hubert's, but he saw nothing unusual, except perhaps that his boots appeared unusually dusty. A grin pulled at his lips. 'Looks as if my valet polished these in the dark,' he remarked. Opening the door, he walked out into the warm sunshine, followed by Hubert. Emperor stood tethered to a nearby tree, and Eric swung himself into the saddle. As he pulled on his riding gloves, Hubert slowly approached the horse, his gaze alternating between the saddle, the reins, and the stirrups. His face appeared pinched and pale, and bore an unmistakably worried frown.

Concerned, Eric asked, 'Are you certain you're all right, Hubert? You look as if you've seen a ghost.'

The boy slowly raised his somber gaze to Eric's. He swallowed audibly, then jerked his head in a nod. 'I'm fine, my lord. I'm merely… puzzled.'

'Oh? Anything I can help you with?'

'I don't believe so.'

'And you're certain you're not feeling ill?'

'Positive, my lord.'

Eric smiled at him. 'Well, then, let me know if you change your mind about needing my help. Of course, you're an extremely bright lad. I'm certain you'll figure out your puzzle. I'll see you tomorrow.' With that, he turned Emperor and trotted away.

Hubert stared after him, a whirlwind of disturbing questions storming through his mind. But one question glared brighter than all the others.

Why did Lord Wesley's boots, saddle, stirrups, and reins bear unmistakable traces of the phosphorescent powder he'd made and sprinkled on the Bride Thief's belongings?

He searched for a reasonable, plausible explanation-actually any explanation-but his logic screamed that there was only one conclusion to be drawn from the irrefutable evidence.

Lord Wesley was the Bride Thief.

But even as the thought entered his mind, another part of him tried to refute it. How could that be? Lord Wesley was a gentleman! Not a swashbuckling rescuer of damsels in distress. He was titled and wealthy. What earthly reason could he possibly have to undertake such a dangerous enterprise?

Deeply troubled, he started to walk toward the Chamber, but froze when a disturbing thought hit him with the force of a brick. Good God, did Sammie know? Did she realize the man she'd befriended was England's Most Notorious Kidnapper? He pressed his hands to his churning stomach.

No. Impossible. Sammie would have confided in him. And she hadn't known how to get in touch with the Bride Thief when she'd received Miss Barrow's letter. He had to discuss this with her. Perhaps she could offer him a plausible explanation for how the Bride Thief's powder was on Lord Wesley.

Turning, he strode swiftly into the house. He found Sammie in the drawing room staring into the fire. She signaled him to close the door behind him. When he'd done so, she grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the settee.

'I received a note from the Bride Thief,' she whispered once they were seated. 'His rescue of Miss Barrow was successful.' Her gaze wandered to the fireplace. 'I'd let you read the note, but I just burned it.'

'A wise decision. I'm glad all went well.' He wiped his moist palms on his breeches and cleared his throat. 'Um, Sammie, have you ever wondered who the Bride Thief is under the mask?'

Sammie pursed her lips. 'I must admit I've speculated more than once about what he looks like, but it is really not important. It's his work, his mission that matters.' Reaching out, she gave his hand a quick sympathetic squeeze. 'I know your questioning nature must chafe at the mystery, but you must put the matter from your mind. If anyone were to discover the man's identity, his life would be in grave danger.'

A sick feeling settled in the pit of Hubert's stomach. He cleared his throat, then said, 'I saw Lord Wesley leaving a few moments ago.'

A deep flush raced into Sammie's cheeks, and she fidgeted with the lace on her gown. 'Indeed?'

'Yes.' Watching her closely, he asked, 'Do you like him?'

Her blush deepened. 'Of course. He's a very fine gentleman.'

He shook his head, frustrated at his inability to ask the correct questions. 'No, I meant, do you have… feelings for him?'

He wouldn't have thought it possible for her face to flame any brighter, but it did. 'I'm sorry to ask you something so personal,' he said in a rush. 'It's just that I, well, I… I only want your happiness,' he finished lamely.

Tenderness filled her gaze and she laid her palm against his cheek. 'I'm very happy, Hubert. My work in the Chamber fulfills and challenges me, and I enjoy assisting you. You make me happy.'

'And Lord Wesley… does he make you happy as well?'

The sort of dreamy expression he was well accustomed to seeing from his other sisters' entered Sammie's eyes. 'Yes,' she said softly. 'My friendship with Lord Wesley pleases me.'

Hubert pressed his lips together. It did not take a genius to deduce that Sammie's friendship with Lord Wesley pleased her a great deal. And from what he'd witnessed, Lord Wesley seemed to care for Sammie as well. Dash it, how could he possibly risk discussing the evidence of the powder with her? What if he were wrong? Or even worse-what if he were right?

Perhaps Lord Wesley meant to tell her himself. Or perhaps he meant to retire from his Bride Thief activities. Or perhaps there was nothing to tell or retire from. If he told Sammie of his suspicions, he might ruin any chance she and Lord Wesley might have at happiness… at a life together.

But what if Lord Wesley really was the Bride Thief?

'Sammie, what would you do if you found out a suitor hadn't been entirely… truthful with you?' he asked in what he prayed was a casual voice.

She frowned, but then understanding dawned in her eyes. 'Why, is there a young lady you're interested in?'

Hubert nearly swallowed his tongue. Heat swamped his face and neck. Before he could find his voice to reply, she grasped his hands between hers, 'Do you wish to talk to me about it?'

He mutely shook his head.

'All right. But remember, honesty is crucial, Hubert. I know you would never speak untruthfully to a young lady, and I pray she would return the courtesy. Lies destroy trust, and without trust there is nothing. I would never consider a future with someone who deceived me.'

Unease rippled down his spine. No, he couldn't talk to Sammie about the evidence of the powder. At least not without verifying his suspicions first. And there was only one way to do that.

He'd have to confront Lord Wesley.

Chapter Fifteen

Sammie arrived at the lake at half after ten that evening. She hadn't planned to arrive so early, but she hadn't been able to remain indoors another moment. The cool night air beckoned her, as did the nocturnal sounds and moist scents of the forest.