James winced. “Lord, I hope not. It was not my intention to raise false hopes.”
Gabriel chuckled. “I am well aware of what you were about, James, but I doubt Lady Beatrix has the same insight. She looked positively flattened by your marked attentions to those other two ladies.”
He huffed. “I feel the same way when, for the main part, she ignores me every time we meet.”
The older man shook his head. “The childish manner in which the two of you are behaving could backfire on the both of you and result in this situation not being settled as either of you might wish.”
James gave a reassuring smile. “Do not fear. I have the matter well in hand in regard to myself.”
The duke eyed him speculatively. “I trust it does not involve your…previous life of crime in St. Giles?” he finally murmured.
“An’ what’s it to ya if it does, guvnor?” James answered in the Cockney accent he had adopted for the years of his estrangement from his sister and title. It had been necessary to fit in when living in the slum known as St. Giles.
“Then I sincerely hope you know what you are doing,” Blackborne dismissed.
“As do I,” James echoed. “But whatever happens, please reassure Benedict that Beatrix shall come to no harm.”
“Whatever happens…?” the other man repeated doubtfully.
James nodded. “As I said.”
The duke continued to look at him for several long seconds before giving an abrupt nod. “Very well.” He left James to rejoin the other gentlemen still seated around the table.
James continued to stare out the window, his gaze directed toward where he could see the terrace running the length of the sitting room. The room where he knew the ladies had retired to drink their tea.
He sincerely hoped his goading of Beatrix earlier would encourage her to be brave enough to take that stroll out on the terrace.
Several small lamps lit up the area, allowing James to clearly see Beatrix the moment she stepped outside, wrapped warmly in a cloak but not wearing a bonnet.
Just as he also saw several dark figures moving stealthily along in the shadows at the side of the house.
Once near enough one of those shadows leaped forward to place a hand across Beatrix’s mouth before tying a kerchief in place to prevent her screams, if she should make any, to be heard.
Another of those shadows pulled her arms behind her back and secured her wrists.
Gently, James hoped. It was not his intention for any harm to come to her from this venture.
A third man threw a hood over her head before lifting her over his shoulder.
The three figures, one carrying their captive, then disappeared quietly into the night.
It was time James made is excuses to his host and hostess and joined them.
Chapter Six
Beatrix had never been so terrified in her life.
Silenced, first with a hand over her mouth, and then a rag of some kind.
Her hands bound.
Before she was thrown over the shoulder of one of her assailants.
She did not need to be able to see to know she was then carried away from Shaftesbury House and bundled onto the floor of a carriage, before being driven off into the night.
All of it done without a word having been spoken by any of Beatrix’s kidnappers, to each other or to her. As well as terrified, she was astounded at the audacity of their having so blatantly removed her from the terrace of a much respected member of Society.
Her disappearance would not go unnoticed for long, she felt sure. But the kidnapping had been done so stealthily that, despite the snow, she doubted either her brother or any of his friends would know in which direction to look for her. Instead, they would be forced to wait to receive a ransom demand from her kidnappers.
What of James?
Would he be worried and upset when he learned of her disappearance?
Of course he would, if for no other reason than she was the sister of one of his closest friends.
To expect him to feel anything more would be unreasonable after the way Beatrix had refused his marriage proposal and then shunned him at every opportunity since her arrival in London.
Tears cascaded hotly down her cheeks inside the hood at the thought of perhaps never seeing James again. Of never having the chance to tell him how much she did truly love him.
She knew from stories she had read in the newspapers that when people were kidnapped, in London or anywhere else, they were more often than not found dead. That sometimes they had even been killed before the ransom money was demanded or paid.
James was a prime example of that, in that ten years ago he had been set upon by a group of thugs after visiting his London tailor. Believing him dead, his attackers had thrown him into the river. It had been pure chance that he had been rescued by three young Cockneys before he drowned.
The fact Beatrix was still alive now perhaps boded well for her own continuing good health.
She certainly hoped so.
She made a promise to herself that if she returned from this terrifying ordeal, she would give up this ridiculous game and tell James how she truly felt about him.
If she returned…
In the meantime, she had to do everything she could to divert her kidnappers from the idea of killing her.
James’s groom steered the carriage assuredly through the quiet London streets to their destination.
It was much later than James had anticipated. Beatrix’s disappearance had been discovered far more quickly than he would have liked and before he’d had opportunity to take his leave. Because of that, he had been forced to be a part of the search for her.
Winter had been furious, the ladies upset, and the gentlemen baffled—except Blackborne—as to why someone should have even thought of intruding into Shaftesbury’s garden in the random hope of finding someone they might kidnap. The consensus
