Kidnapped. And where was Darling? God, why couldn’t she remember? Alarm coursed through her, threatening to stampede over logical thought. Tamping down the fear, she struggled for control.
No time to panic. Not when escape must be the priority. Craning her neck to see out the window, she scrambled for clues. They were out of the city—how long had she been unconscious? A sign flickered past the window. They were on the Great North Road, and he’d just mentioned Scotland.
“Scotland? Oh dear God. Gretna Green?” Lottie palmed her belly to settle the roiling nausea.
“No, Lamberton. Scotland is Scotland, after all—we needn’t romanticize this. Everyone else will do that for us. As it stands, you’ve been traveling for several hours in a closed carriage with a suitor.”
“Former suitor.” She gritted her teeth.
“I have your father’s permission to wed you, and I made sure everyone knows it. In society’s eyes, we are as good as married. Don’t you see? I won.” Montague laughed as he pulled the shade closed, blocking her view. “I apologize for the headache. If you’d behaved yourself and seen sense, I wouldn’t have resorted to these measures.”
“How is it my fault you kidnapped me?” Her voice rose with each word until they both winced.
The slap came as a surprise. Teeth rattled against each other as her head swung to the side. For a moment, the burn of her cheek overshadowed every other discomfort.
Montague brushed his hand on his breeches, wiping off traces of the offensive contact. “I am not marrying a fishwife. You will never again speak to me in that tone. Act like a lady, and I will treat you as such.”
He’d finally gone insane. And not just the “Aunt Dottie is a bit touched in the head” kind of insane. No, Montague needed a room at Bedlam. That was all there was to it. Hot tears threatened to spill through her lashes, but she dashed them away before they fell.
With each moment that passed, the memories returned—full of disturbing details. The sound the cudgel had made when it hit Darling’s head now echoed in hers. They’d left her on the ground. At that thought, she was almost sick. “What did you do to my maid?”
“What needed to be done. I’ll hire another. She’s no longer important. What is important, my dear, is establishing the rules for our journey. We have many stops ahead of us before the Scottish border, and I won’t have you making a scene.”
Lottie sneered. “I am not your wife or your dear or anything else except captive to a madman.”
“I thought you’d say that. You’re so very predictable. That’s why you’ll be tied in the carriage until we stop for the night. I plan to drive as far as possible before we stop, so prepare yourself for long days. But what’s a little discomfort when the prize at the end of the journey is so sweet?” Montague winked as if this were all a great game. He openly ogled her bosom, although the green wool gown covered everything.
By reflex, Lottie’s hands shielded her chest. “You mean to jail me in the carriage with no breaks until we reach Scotland?”
“I have a hamper of food to fill at the inns. I’m not a monster. We’ll share a room when we stop for the night.”
There was no way she’d touch the topic of sleeping arrangements right now. Lottie rolled her eyes. “There are other necessities besides eating.”
“I thought of that too,” Montague said, offering a narrow porcelain tureen with a handle. A bourdaloue. “For milady’s needs.” He offered it grandly, as if presenting the crown jewels. Lottie wrinkled her nose, so he shrugged and placed the portable chamber pot on the floor between them.
Rubbing her aching cheek, Lottie tried to plan. The circumstances grew more dire with every mile. The only opportunity to escape might be when they stopped, so she must focus her plotting on those breaks in travel. Otherwise, days of captivity loomed ahead.
Who knew if Darling lived or had been able to get help? Had Agatha thought it odd they weren’t home yet? Perhaps her aunt would send for Ethan—her heart broke a little. Ethan, whom she’d jilted.
“Since I don’t doubt you will attempt an escape when we stop at night, I’ll tell you now not to bother. Our tale of woe is sure to entertain every innkeeper who will listen. You see, darling wife, we are on our way to a nunnery in the North, where the sisters will care for you during your frequent bouts of hysterics and heartbreaking insanity. I love you too much to admit you to Bedlam, you see. We are quite tragic.”
“The Romeo and Juliet of our time,” she sneered.
“Without the pesky dagger and poison, naturally.”
Oh, her kingdom for a pesky dagger or dram of poison. If only she’d been born a man. She could challenge him, shoot him at dawn, and be done with it. Few men suffered through kidnapping and forced elopements to a neighboring country.
Montague laughed at her silence. The unpleasant sound grated on her nerves, but Lottie held her tongue. They appeared to be making good time if the swaying of the carriage was a clue. Fast horses were good for only so many miles before they would need to be changed out for a fresh team. May the next pair be swayback nags.
No obvious solution or escape plan presented itself, but perhaps if Lottie could get him to revert to his habit of talking about himself ad nauseam in the theme of villainous monologuing, he might let slip some bit of helpful information.
“How do you think you’ll get away with this?”
Montague sneered. “I’ve already gotten away with it. You know, the carriage was so quiet before you woke up. If I choose, I can knock you out for this entire journey. Now sit there and behave like the lady you claim to be.”
“Apologies. I must have missed my
