Rogue of the Isles (39 page)

“Is something wrong, Marissa?”

What should she say? Her aunt had had a horrible migraine the day before that had prevented her from attending Almack’s ball. Upon returning early last night, Mari had only poked her head inside her aunt’s chamber to say she’d not felt well herself. Aunt Agnes did not know what had transpired.

“Marissa?”

Mari sighed. “I told Nicholas last night that I did not want to marry him.”

Her aunt frowned. “I thought we had discussed this.”

“We…we did.” Mari got up and walked to the window, looking out into the empty street. “But last night I realized I just could not go through with it, regardless of the scandal.”

A long moment of silence followed her statement. “I see,” her aunt finally said.

Mari turned away from the window. “You do?”

“I suppose I do. I know Jillian wants you to have a choice. We will just have to live with the
on-dits
until the gossips find something else to talk about.” Aunt Agnes levied a stern look at Mari. “Did you speak with Mr. MacLeod last night as well?”

“No. I…I thought it better that I leave. Abigail’s father kindly lent me his carriage to come home.”

“Well, I am glad you did not make a spectacle of yourself. I will not allow you to chase after Mr. MacLeod like some street hussy. Is that understood?”

Mari nodded, unable to tell an outright lie. If Aunt Agnes even had an inkling she’d already sent a note to Jamie—let alone one that actually asked if he still wished to marry her—her aunt would have a conniption.

“Mr. MacLeod will hear about the situation soon enough. If he wishes to pay you court, he will announce it himself. A lady must not make herself too available, after all.”

Mari nodded again. If Aunt Agnes knew how available she’d already made herself to Jamie, she would surely have an apoplexy. Mari felt a tingle of warmth flash through her as she recalled Jamie’s hands roaming over her body, caressing bare flesh meant for husbands. Her nipples puckered and her breasts suddenly felt heavy and achy. Dear Lord. How she wanted to experience that again.

“Very well then.” Her aunt laid down her own needlework and rose. “I shall write a note to the earl, thanking him for seeing you home.”

“Thank you,” Mari said and turned back to the window as her aunt left. Where was Seth? She’d given him a half-crown to deliver the message. Perhaps he had decided to stop at the market. After all, she hadn’t asked him to wait for a reply since he was not to know what was in the sealed envelope.

Mari retrieved her embroidery only to put it down after she pricked her finger once again. Maybe she should read a book to take her mind off Jamie. The first book that came to mind was Malory’s
Le Morte d’Arthur
. Did she really want to read about Sir Gawain right now?

Givens appeared in the doorway just as she was about to go to the library. “This arrived by special courier,” he said and handed her an envelope.

Mari forced herself not to grab it from the butler and hoped her eagerness did not show on her face. Jamie had responded. Then icy cold sluiced through her veins. What if he had turned her down? “Thank you,” she managed to say, surprised her voice sounded calm. Givens nodded and moved down the hall. Mari sank down on the sofa, her hands trembling. She took a deep breath and broke the seal.

Dearest Mari,

Your letter was a welcome surprise. Please meet me in Hyde Park near Ladies Mile at four o’clock this afternoon. Come alone, if you can, because I have much to say.

Forever yours,

Jamie

Mari clutched the note to her heart, wanting to shout for joy. Jamie wanted her.

She glanced at the words again. She had so much to tell him too. He wanted her to come alone, which probably meant he intended to kiss her in a very improper way. At least, she hoped so. She remembered her conversation with Abigail. Maybe she’d just take the initiative herself.

It would not be hard to get there. She’d have the carriage drop her at Maddie’s, since the baron lived only a few blocks from the park, but instead of going in, Mari would wait for the carriage to drive away and then walk to the park.

She practically danced up the stairs to change into a different dress. Soon. Soon she would be seeing Jamie and everything would be all right.

Chapter Thirty-One

Mari watched the carriage drive away as she stood in front of the gate that led to Maddie’s townhouse. Guilt had niggled at her on the ride over and she decided maybe she should talk to Maddie first. They were best friends, and it was only fair to let Maddie know about Jamie.

“I am so glad to see you,” Maddie exclaimed, giving Mari a hug as the butler showed her to the sitting room. “Whatever happened last night? Did you and Nicholas have a romantic tryst?”

Mari shook her head at Maddie’s enthusiasm. “Nothing like that. Quite the opposite. I told Nicholas I could not marry him.”

Maddie’s mouth dropped open. “Why on earth would you do that? Let’s sit down and you can tell me everything.”

“I really cannot stay.” Mari hated to ruin her friend’s afternoon, but it was better the truth came out. “I am on my way to meet Jamie at the park. We are going to marry.”

Maddie’s eyes widened and then her face paled. “When…when did this happen?”

“I sent a note to Jamie this morning. He replied a short time ago, asking me to meet him in the park.” Mari hesitated and then decided to explain the hand-fasting that had transpired while she was in Scotland. “So you see, in a way we were already betrothed.” She took Maddie’s hand and squeezed it gently. “I am sorry. I know you liked him.”

Her friend’s face flushed, and for a moment she did not reply. “I think I always knew he wanted you,” she finally said in a small voice.

“Will you be happy for me?”

Again, there was a moment of hesitation and then Maddie nodded. Mari hugged her. “I really need to go. I promise I will call on you tomorrow.”

She felt strangely lighthearted as she walked down the street toward the park. The air had been cleared. Maddie understood.

As soon as Mari passed through one of the gates to the park, she saw a barouche waiting near the start of Ladies Mile. The driver appeared a bit rumpled, and the livery of the footman waiting by the door looked a bit too big for him, but it was the only carriage not circulating around The Ring or Ladies Mile. Mari smiled as she walked toward it. Jamie rode astride so he would have had to hire this coach and men. How sweet of him to go through so much trouble. With the drawn curtains, they were sure to have privacy too. In just a moment she would be in his arms.

The footman bowed as she neared, taking her arm to assist her, and then opened the door.

Mari peered into the dim interior. “You,” she gasped and then felt herself being shoved into the carriage. The footman climbed in behind her and slammed the door.

Agnes looked again at the folded note Effie had just given her and sighed. “I really wish I could impress upon Marissa the importance of having a chaperone along even if she just went to Madeline’s.”

“I do too, mum,” Effie replied, looking somewhat like a belligerent bulldog. “She sent me on a fool’s errand to pick up satin ribbon for a bonnet and left while I was gone.” Her scowl deepened. “She is a stubborn one.”

Agnes knit her brows. “Do you think she lied?”

“I helped raise Mari. I have not known her to lie, but when she takes it into her mind to do something that I do not approve of, she can be quite cunning.”

“Well, I intend to have a word with Marissa when she returns. She simply must be given to understand the implications of roaming about at will. There has already been enough scandal associated with her name this autumn.”

“I would like a word with her as well,” Effie said grimly as Givens appeared in the doorway, his face ashen.

“What is it?” Agnes asked.

“It is young Seth,” Givens answered. “He just now arrived in the kitchen, soaked and covered in mud—”

“Goodness gracious, why?” Agnes exclaimed.

The butler’s face grew even chalkier. “He says someone has abducted Miss Barclay.”

Mari tested the rope that bound her hands behind her and her body to the chair in the dingy flat and then stifled a gasp of pain from the rope’s pressure against her ribs. She’d tried to fight off the footman, but he’d laughed and slapped her hard enough that she’d fallen across the wooden bench, knocking the wind out of her.

Mari tugged at the bonds again. She could smell the brackish water of the Thames and hear muffled shouts and thumping noises so she thought she might be in a seedy neighborhood somewhere along the docks, but she wasn’t sure. Once she’d been subdued, she had been blindfolded and gagged.

Mari stared now at her captor, standing by a filthy counter in the small, shabby room, swilling whisky and grinning lecherously. A mantel clock ticked loudly on the other side of the room. “We thought you had gone to France.”

Wesley Alton poured more whisky and saluted her. “We plan to do that soon.”

“We?” Mari’s heart leapt to her throat. “Why would you take me to France?” Oh Lord, there was probably a ship readying to sail right now. By the time anyone realized she was missing, she might already be out to sea.

Wesley laughed, only it sounded more like a snarl. “You would prove too cumbersome to take along. Your family owes me. I am sure that damn Highlander will be willing to entail Newburn to pay handsomely for your return.”

“You want to send a ransom note to Scotland? That could take days.”

“It could, but I had in mind sending the ransom note to the
other
Highlander here in town who has access to the Cantford and Newburn accounts. After all, Newburn was supposed to be
mine
.” A strange glint appeared in Wesley’s eyes. “But maybe I should request dear Jillian in exchange for you as part of the bargain. She would have been
my
wife if that damn MacLeod had not interfered. I know she loved me.”

Mari opened her mouth and snapped it shut, remembering that Wesley Alton had been committed to Bedlam because he was delusional and dangerous. He confused Jillian with his young stepmother, Lorelei, who had also been his mistress until she mysteriously disappeared. “Jillian has been too ill to travel.”

A look of rage swept across Wesley’s face. “The damn bitch got pregnant.”

How did he know that? A sliver of fear slid down Mari’s spine. Had the man been spying on them all this time? She could feel the anger radiating from him and looked away, hoping not to provoke him further.

“Maybe your sister can make it up to me,” Wesley said softly, all trace of anger gone from his voice.

Mari glanced at him. That odd gleam in his eyes was back. Her uneasiness increased as he pulled a chair over and sat down close enough that she could smell the liquor on his breath.

He picked up one of her blonde curls that had come loose in the struggle to blindfold her. Mari tried not to wince as his hand bumped against the bruise she had on her cheek from being slapped.

“You do not look like her, but it does not matter.” He dropped his hand. “I will get you pregnant and she will be the aunt to my son. That would be nice.”

Cold terror sluiced through Mari. She had to do something. Would anyone hear her screams? Would anyone even be concerned if they did? The only women who came near the docks were harlots who sold their bodies for coin. “You…you do not want to do that.”

Wesley raised an eyebrow, giving him a diabolical look. “No? Why not?”

“Because…because…Ian and Jamie will pay the ransom. You will have your money and you can leave, but if you…you…you take my virginity, neither of them will rest until you’re dead.”

“Um.” Wesley curled his lip. “Perhaps I will kill Ian MacLeod first. That would make his lovely wife a widow once more… She could come to France with me.”

He rambled on, a vacant look on his face, and Mari prayed he would forget what he had just said. He lapsed into silence. Maybe she could distract him by playing along? “If you want Jillian to go with you, you need to treat me with respect. She will be very displeased if you do not.”

Wesley gave her a sharp look, any element of madness erased. “Do not trifle with me. Don’t you think I know what you are trying to do?” A hint of amusement sounded in his voice. “In any case, you will not be a virgin for long. I just wish I had not promised my son he would have honor of taking it.”

The ice that had replaced the blood in her veins made her feel rigid as a board, Mari frowned. “Your son?”

“Why, yes. Nicholas.”

The room suddenly began to tilt, and tiny points of grey flickered in front of Mari’s eyes. She struggled for a deep breath, ignoring her sore ribs, and tried to keep herself from swooning.

“Nicholas?”

“Yes,” Wesley said again as if speaking to a dim-witted child. “Since he is a talented painter and equally talented with the ladies, I asked him to come over from France with the express purpose of seducing you or abducting you. I did not care which. Dowry or ransom—the money would be the same.” He gave her a condescending look. “Stupid girl. You made the decision.”