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It was exactly as Anna had described. A shiver ran through Lilah.
If they needed further proof, a dark wagon stood near the stump, with a pair of tethered horses grazing nearby. Con climbed down and took his horses by the head, walking them around so that the carriage faced the opposite direction.
As Lilah joined him, he murmured in explanation, “In case we need to make a quick escape.”
“Then you plan to confront them?” she whispered back.
“There were only three men.”
“And only one you,” she retorted. “That’s if they don’t have accomplices who’ve joined them.”
Con tilted his head, considering. “Still, I have the advantage of surprise, and my mother and sisters will help.” His grin gleamed in the darkness. “You should see my mother brandish a cricket bat.”
He reached up to pull the long carriage whip from its holder. “Unwieldy.” He unscrewed the handle from the long supple stick and leather lash, leaving him with a sturdy truncheon capped by an ornamental brass knob. He turned to her. “Stay here. If things go wrong, run. They won’t expect anyone else to be here.”
“I’m going with you.”
“What?” His eyebrows flew up. “You said you’d go for help if needed.”
“No. I said I could go for help.”
“Blast it!” he hissed. “You’ll get in my way. I’ll have to worry about protecting you. Stay. Here.”
“You said your mother and sisters would be a help to you.” Lilah grabbed the longer, narrow end of the whip that ended in a leather lash, and faced him defiantly. “Are you going to tell me I am less capable than they?”
“Not when you’ve got that whip in your hand.” Con started for the house. Lilah followed, her heart pounding. She stumbled over a root, nearly falling. Con swung around, and Lilah braced for a caustic remark, but to her surprise, he took her hand and leaned in to whisper, “Stay with me. I have good night vision.”
“Of course you do,” she replied waspishly, resenting the way the touch of his breath on her ear sent a shiver through her. This was no time to be thinking about things like that—or feeling that tremble of heat deep inside her.
Holding the front of her skirt off the ground with one hand, she went with him, surprised at how natural it was, how easy, to walk with him, shoulders almost touching, his fingers laced through hers. It made her feel faintly breathless—the warmth of him, the touch of his skin on hers—but somehow it steadied her, as well. She couldn’t count on him to be appropriate in a drawing room or ballroom, but here, in a situation like this, she trusted him completely.
They skirted the edges of the yard, staying close to the shadows of trees and shrubs. Their care was probably unnecessary, for the front rooms of the house looked dark, but Con was clearly taking no chances. He edged up to the front window. “Nothing.”
They slipped around the side. Light spilled from a window in a rear room. Con flattened himself against the wall and inched over, turning his head to peek inside. Pulling back, he whispered, “Two men at the kitchen table, playing dice.”
“What’s your plan?” she whispered back.
“Open the door and knock them in the head.”
Before Lilah could point out that this was not much of a plan, he crouched down beneath the window and moved to the door. Lilah did her best to imitate him. It would be far easier if she weren’t wearing a corset. As she stood up, Con took hold of the doorknob and slowly, silently turned it. The handle moved freely. Con raised his cudgel, knob end up, and looked questioningly at Lilah.
She nodded and took a firm grip on her whip. She’d never hit anyone with a stick before, but she was sure she could do it. In fact, she was rather looking forward to it.
Before Con could move, there was an explosion inside the house. Letting out an oath, Con flung open the door and charged inside.
CHAPTER SEVEN
IN THE KITCHEN, the two men jumped to their feet, turning toward the door. Several more bangs and crashes rang out upstairs as Con ran at the larger one of the men, swinging his whip handle like a club. The other man pulled a mug from the table and drew back to hurl it at Con, but Lilah swung the whip, cracking him smartly across the wrist. The mug fell to the ground, spilling ale over the floor. With a growl, he came at Lilah.
Lilah lashed the whip again, slashing across his torso, but the man grabbed the end of the stick and yanked it from her hand. Lilah jumped to the side as he slammed the stick down, hitting nothing but air. She darted away, grabbing a tin container from the counter as she ran, and whirled to throw the metal box at her pursuer.
He was quick enough to block the container with his arm, but the force of the blow popped off the lid, and flour exploded all over him. Coughing and cursing, he pawed at his eyes. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Con exchanging punches with the other thug. No help there. She must do something herself.
Frantically she glanced around and saw a broom. Picking it up, she ran forward, wielding the long wooden handle like a knight with a lance, and rammed the end into the gut of her temporarily blinded opponent. He let out a whoof, clutching his stomach, and Lilah charged in, reversing the broom and hacking away at his head.
She was prepared for it this time when he tried to pull her weapon away, and she hung on as hard and long as she could. As she saw his muscles bunch to yank even harder, she released her hold, so that his momentum sent him staggering backward.
Lilah whirled, looking for a new weapon, and she smiled grimly when her eyes landed on a large iron skillet. But as she swung back to face her enemy, skillet upraised, she saw that Con, who had dispatched his foe, was running across the room at them. He slammed his truncheon down on the ruffian’s head, and the man’s eyes rolled up. He dropped to the floor.
“Con!” Lilah ran to him, flushed with triumph, and Con, laughing, swooped her up and twirled her around. When he set her down, they remained that way for a long moment, Con’s hands still at her waist, only inches between them. His eyes went to her mouth. Lilah’s heart began to pound.
Just then, a man’s scream pierced the air. Lilah and Con whipped around to see a man rolling down the hall staircase. He landed in a tangled heap at the bottom. His head and shoulders, Lilah noticed, were strangely wet. A moment later, the duchess trotted down after him, carrying a broken earthenware pitcher in one hand.
“Hello, Mother.”
Emmeline Moreland glanced over and smiled. “Why, Con,” she said, as if she were in a parlor instead of stepping over a body on the floor. “Dear boy. And Miss Holcutt. What a nice surprise.” She kissed Con’s cheek.
“Yes, you arrived just in time, Con,” Kyria agreed as the duchess’s daughters trooped down the stairs behind her. All of them carried makeshift weapons. Kyria studied the first man Con had dispatched. “Though I was looking forward to bashing that fellow in the head.”
“You can have a go at him now, if you’d like,” Con told her cheerfully.
“That hardly seems sporting.”
Con hugged each of his sisters as they gathered in the kitchen, putting away their makeshift weapons. The Morelands, Lilah had noticed over the course of the past few weeks, were very prone to embracing one another. It had startled her at first, but Lilah was becoming accustomed to it now, and she was unsurprised when the women went on to hug her, too.
Thisbe patted Con on the cheek. “I knew you would find us, even though our trail must have been cold.”
“We followed your bread crumbs.”
“That was Olivia’s idea,” Thisbe said.
“A very good one.” He embraced Olivia last, pulling the small woman up off her feet.
“I was afraid they would get blown away or trampled, but it was the best I could think of.”
“You seem to have managed well on your own.” Con cast a glance at the man who had fallen down the stairs. “I feel quite unnecessary.”
“Oh, you’ll be very useful,” Olivia tossed back. “We need to tie up these men.”
“Yes, starting with this one.” Con pointed to the man he had fought, who had let out a groan and was now shifting restlessly. Con unfastened his cravat and squatted down to turn the man over and tie his hands behind his back. “What about him?” Con pointed to the ruffian who had come tumbling down the stairs. “Did you kill him?”
“Oh, no, he’s breathing,” Thisbe offered. “Mother just cracked him in the head with the washbasin pitcher.”
“This is all of them?”
Thisbe explained, “No, there was another one who was here when we arrived, but he escaped out the window and down the drainpipe.”
“How is Meg?” the duchess asked. “We weren’t sure what happened to her.”
“She’s probably going to have a black eye, and she was unconscious for a while—she hit her head on the ground when the thug hit her. But she was able to tell us what happened.”
They spent the next few minutes finding things with which to tie the men, who were beginning to awaken by the time they finished.
“What shall we do with them?” Kyria asked, using a glass-fronted cabinet as a mirror to repin the disarranged strands of her hair.
“I suspect your husbands would like to have a chat with them,” Con said. “So we’d best load them into their van and take them back with us.” He frowned. “Thing is, we have two vehicles. We could leave these chaps here while I drive you ladies home. Then Rafe and Stephen and I can come back to collect them later.”
“Leave them here tied up all that time?” The duchess frowned. “That doesn’t seem safe. What if something happened to them?”
“Mother, these chaps just abducted you and held you prisoner.”
“Obviously, they are criminals, but the goal should be to reform, not just—”
“More important,” Olivia put in before the duchess could gain steam, “they might manage to escape if we leave them alone here together.”
“But if I take them back, you ladies will have to remain here,” Con pointed out.
“Con, really, do you think I cannot drive a wagon?” Emmeline asked. “You know I was a country squire’s daughter. I learned to drive all the wagons and carts on the farm.”
Lilah doubted that driving wagons was part of the education of most country squires’ daughters, but it was little surprise that the duchess had done so.
“You take the girls home in the carriage, and I’ll follow you in the wagon,” the duchess decreed.
“Very well, if you will agree to take someone with you, just in case,” Con countered, clearly accustomed to bargaining with his mother. “You have just been through an ordeal.”
Con’s mother gave him an indulgent smile. “Miss Holcutt can ride with me. She can take the reins if I grow too feeble, since she was not abducted.”
“Though riding around with Con doubtless qualifies as an ordeal,” Kyria stuck in with a grin at her younger brother.
“Thank you, I would be happy to,” Lilah told the duchess. It would be better not to spend the ride back to London with Con again. At least she wouldn’t be lying when she told Aunt Helena that she spent the evening with the duchess.
“There. All settled. Let’s get these fellows into the wagon and go home. I haven’t eaten since breakfast, and I’m beginning to feel a mite peckish.”
Con had bound the men’s hands behind their backs and hobbled their feet, so they were able to march the still-dazed men out and load them into the wagon with only a little struggle. The duchess and Lilah climbed up onto the driver’s seat, which was much higher but far less comfortable than the one on the carriage, and set off.
To Lilah’s amazement, the duchess seemed cheerful, even invigorated. “Con’s job is actually harder,” she told Lilah, handling the reins with expertise. “Carriage horses are more mettlesome and easily spooked than these work horses. Though the carriage is better sprung,” she added as they jounced over the rough dirt lane. “Would you like to learn? I could teach you when we get on a better road.”
Lilah blinked. “I hadn’t thought of it. But yes, I believe I would.”
Her gloves, of course, were the wrong sort for the task, and she wasn’t sure how she would explain the wear and smudges on them to her aunt, but Lilah thoroughly enjoyed the lesson. The duchess was a clear and patient teacher, if somewhat inclined to inattention, and the horses were as amiable and plodding as Emmeline had suggested, giving Lilah time to correct any mistake she made.
Her shoulders and arms began to ache after a while, and once again she found her stiff corset a nuisance, but she kept doggedly at it. The thought of Con’s reaction to her newly minted driving skills was enough to keep her going.
The duchess took back the reins when traffic grew thicker as they neared London. Lilah was astonished at how little time it had taken to drive the route, which had appeared so endless earlier.
A footman on the front stoop at Broughton House ran back inside as soon as he caught sight of them. By the time the duchess pulled up, welcoming relatives and servants had spilled out onto the street. They were swept inside in a hubbub of questions, embraces and laughter. After the initial greeting, most of the men went outside to deal with the kidnappers, while the women split up to go upstairs and change out of their grimy clothes.
Con turned to Lilah. “I told Jenkins to keep the carriage out front. I thought you would want to get home as soon as possible.”
“Oh. Of course. It is terribly late.”
Con was right. Aunt Helena was doubtless upset about Lilah’s spending the day here in such an unplanned, casual way; arriving home later in the evening would be worse. Nor was there any reason to remain. Lilah had done all she could. And yet…Lilah felt disappointed at the way Con was rushing her out. Perhaps he thought she had no place here, that she had pushed her way into what was purely family business—which, of course, she had.
A faint flush rose in Lilah’s cheeks. She had acted in an unaccustomedly inappropriate way. Awkwardly, she went on, “I shall take my leave. Please give my regards to your family. I’m very happy they are home safe.” She started toward the door, glancing over at Con in surprise when he stayed by her side. “There’s no need to escort me to the carriage.”
“There is if I intend to get in it, too.” He arched an eyebrow at her.
“You needn’t see me home, Con—I mean, Lord Moreland.”
“Really, Miss Holcutt, don’t you think that after brawling together, we are well enough acquainted for you to call me by my given name?”
“Very well. Con.” He was making jest of her, as he always did, and yet the sparkle in his eyes, the curve of his lips, made her want to smile back. Made her want to do things that were better left unmentioned. Being with Con was always so unsettling.
He paused, gazing at her significantly, and after a moment, he nudged, “And may I call you Lilah?”
“Oh. Yes.” Her name sounded different when he said it, so silky smooth and rich. Whatever was the matter with her? She added tartly, “I am sure you have already.”
“It’s quite possible. You know how things are in the heat of the moment.” His face was perfectly bland, making her uncertain whether he had meant to convey the double entendre. He went on smoothly, “And you are wrong. I do need to see you home. However unmannerly you think me, I am not ill enough behaved to send a lady off alone at night.”
“I never said you were unmannerly,” she protested as he handed her up into the vehicle, then swung in to sit down beside her.
“Did you not?” There was that “Con look” again, so inscrutable, yet somehow conveying laughter bubbling just beneath the surface. Lilah pressed her lips together. “Perhaps I might have. Sometime when you were being particularly outlandish. But I—it was said—”
“In the heat of the moment?”
She sent him a dagger glance. “Could you please, for just a few minutes, stop being so provoking?”
He chuckled. “I think I can.” He leaned forward and took her hand. “I have to tell you how impressive you were this evening.”
“I was?”
“Indeed. When I saw you whacking that fellow with a broom, my heart swelled with pride.”
“Hush.” But she couldn’t hold back a smile. “You’re talking nonsense.”
“You were a veritable Valkyrie. An Amazon. A warrior goddess come to life.” His face turned serious. “You were a great deal of help today, and I apologize for ever thinking you would be a hindrance.”
“Constantine…” It was foolish to feel so warmed by his words.
He leaned closer. “Tell me, Miss Holcutt, would you slap me this time if I kissed you?”
Lilah’s heart skipped a beat. She should pull away from him. Toss back a sharp set-down for his boldness. But what came from her mouth was only a whispered “No, I wouldn’t slap you.”
He bent his head, and she closed her eyes, as if she could hide what she was doing from herself. Con’s lips brushed over hers gently…once, twice. She felt his smile against her lips, then his mouth settled onto hers, his arms gliding around her, pulling her to him.
His kiss was slow and easy and thorough, his tongue stealing into her mouth and setting off a firestorm of pleasurable sensations. It was overwhelming, his kiss as dizzying as the champagne she’d drunk. Lilah was flooded with hunger. Urges she’d never imagined roiled inside her. She had no idea what to do, but she wanted to feel more, have more.
Lilah wasn’t aware when she had put her hands on his arms, but now she dug her fingers into the cloth, holding on. It seemed like forever, yet it was over all too fast. Con raised his head and stared down at her, his expression caught somewhere between amazement and dismay.
