ou did.” She smiled and sighed with relief. “Then you will give up this plan to challenge him.”

Ian unlocked the door before answering. He opened it and stepped into the hall.

“Ye should have realized by now, lass, that I dinna give up my plans once I’ve set my mind on them.”

Chapter Fourteen

“Did you say, Squire Renton is here to call?” The man could not be that foolish. Perhaps he had come to ask her to plead with Ian on his behalf. That would be an intelligent thing to do. Not that it would make any difference of course. Ian had remained impervious to both her threats and her pleas. She would have to explain this to the squire.

“Show him in, Creswell.” At the look of disapproval on her butler’s face, she sighed.

“Please call my aunt down as well.”

The servant’s demeanor lightened infinitesimally.

Moments later, a shaken-looking squire entered the drawing room. He fell on his knee by Annabelle’s chair. “My dear. I am so sorry to have caused you distress.” She frowned at the man on the carpet at her feet. “You may not address me so familiarly, Squire Renton. You have greatly mistaken yourself and caused us both a good deal of trouble.”

The squire dropped his graying head, his chin touching his chest. “I know. I am terribly sorry, Lady Annabelle.”

“Perhaps if you said that to my fiancé, he would not feel the need to act out this farce.”

At her words, the squire’s head lifted. Putting his hand to his heart, he sighed. “So, you know about the duel. I suppose it was too much to think it could be kept completely private.”

Annabelle could not hide her exasperation. “You are dueling with my fiancé over a perceived insult to me. Naturally, I know about it. Oh, do sit in a chair.” He looked wounded, but did as she bid. “I came to seek your mercy, Lady Annabelle.”

She wished she could offer some measure of hope, but knew it was useless. “I have already begged Ian to call off the duel and it is no use.” A spark of anger showed in the squire’s eyes, but it was gone immediately and she wondered if she had seen it at all. “I did not come to ask you to plead on my behalf, my dear lady. I had hoped that for the sake of our once great friendship, you would be willing to accompany me to a lecture by Mrs. Burnaby.” The man truly suffered delusions. Great friendship indeed. They had run into each other on occasion and discovered a very few mutual interests. “I am afraid I must decline.”

“You would not deny possibly my last request, would you?” Annabelle was much more moved by the fact that Ian might be hurt than the squire’s theatrical fear of his own demise. However, she did feel some responsibility. The man had believed she shared his feelings. “I do not think that would be wise.”

“I wanted to fill my now empty life with service to the cause. I hope you would introduce me to others involved in it.”

“If you are dead, you won’t have a life to fill,” she could not help pointing out.

His hand went back over his heart. “I do not believe I have dishonored you. My actions were prompted by the purest of motives. Love.” He sighed. “Therefore, it would not be dishonorable to leave Town rather than meet the laird at dawn.” He was willing to leave Town? Ian would not risk hurt or worse. She had promised Ian that she would not attend any lectures without him. He would be angry when he found out, but he would be alive.

“I merely sought something to fill the vast void left in my life by my unrequited love.”

At least now he realized she did not return the feelings. Besides, his desire, so like her own when her parents had died, moved Annabelle. She would introduce him to leaders in the cause, who could give him fulfilling assignments in the country. He would leave Town. Ian would be safe and her guilt over this ridiculous man’s tendre would be assuaged.

“Very well. When is the lecture?”

He smiled and stood. “In less than an hour. We must hurry if we are to arrive in time.”

At that moment, Lady Beauford entered the room. She looked at the squire with mild interest. Thankfully, Ian had told no one about the altercation in the bedchamber. “Squire Renton. How are you?” Her tone implied: and what are you doing here?

“I’ve come to take Lady Annabelle to a lecture.” Annabelle’s aunt turned a troubled gaze to her niece. “It isn’t one of those lectures in Cheapside again is it?”

Before Annabelle had an opportunity to answer, the squire jumped in. “No, my lady.

We will be attending a lecture on the scientific properties of magnetism. Quite the rage.” Lady Beauford’s eyes lit up. “I should love to accompany you.” Her face fell.

“However, I promised the mantua maker I would be in for a fitting this afternoon.” Annabelle breathed a sigh of relief. If the squire was going to lie to her aunt, he could at least have made their excursion sound boring. She gave him a look that she hoped expressed her displeasure. “We must be off then. You did say the lecture was to begin any moment.”

“When shall I expect you back?” asked her aunt.

Again the squire spoke. “There is to be a reception afterward, it could be quite late this afternoon.”

Annabelle frowned. “I’m sure we won’t stay for it.” Neither her aunt nor the squire said anything and Annabelle followed him out to his waiting carriage, much to Creswell’s obvious dismay. The rumor mill among the servants was much more up to date than her aunt’s cronies.

As the squire helped her into the carriage, Annabelle glanced briefly at the horses.

Not an avid rider, horseflesh usually did not interest her. However, there was something familiar about the squire’s steeds and carriage.

The squire didn’t seem inclined to speak, so Annabelle held her own counsel.

Perhaps accompanying him to the lecture was not a good idea. Could she not have simply sent him with a letter of introduction? Annabelle admitted to herself that she was motivated in no small part by guilt. The squire was giving up his life in London because of his affection for her.

They had been riding in silence for several minutes when she suddenly remembered where she had seen the horses and carriage before. It was very similar, if not identical, to the one Mr. Thorn had disappeared into.

Did Squire Renton know that his friend was a blackmailer and a rogue? An even more unsettling thought surfaced. Was the squire in collusion with Mr. Thorn? Fear curled up her insides. She had to get out of the carriage immediately.

“We must return to my aunt’s house. I had forgotten, but my fiancé is coming to call.

He will be furious to discover I am gone.”

A look very like satisfaction settled on the squire’s face. “I am certain he will survive your absence for one afternoon. He will have your company every day for the years to come.”

“I really must insist that you return me to my aunt’s house immediately.” All pretense of the grieving, rejected suitor vanished. The squire stared disdainfully at her. “Frankly, your preference is of little moment to me. Do you truly believe that I would let you marry that Scottish buffoon and waste your treasure on his estates?” Desperation seized her. “What are you saying?”

“My dear, we are very nearly to the North road and from there, it is but a few days to Gretna Green. I’m sure if you think hard, you can imagine my plans.” The sneer in his voice frightened her more than the words.

“If you love me as you say, you cannot consider forcing me to wed you.” He laughed and the sound brought forth feelings far from joy in her chest. “Love?

You’re no more than a whey-faced, bluestocking spinster. The only thing I love about you is your fortune, which I will have complete control of once we are married.” The dishonest poser. “What fortune? My dowry is no more than moderate.” His evil laugh issued forth again. “Do not attempt to deceive me as you have the rest of the ton. You are an heiress and your money is going to bring my life back to rights.

Now be quiet. I am not a man with patience for foolish chatter.” Annabelle had no intention of sittin

g back and calmly allowing the blackguard to kidnap her to Gretna Green. If she did not get out of the carriage now, they would be on the North Road and going too fast for her to make the jump. She could not wait any longer.

Moving as quickly as possible, she dove for the door handle. Shoving the door open, she tried to leap out of the moving vehicle.

The squire cursed. He grabbed her gown. Hauling her back into the carriage, he slammed her against the upholstery. He pulled a pistol from his waistcoat and pointed it at her.

“I do not have to kill you to stop you. A bullet through your shoulder or leg would be enough to prevent any more attempts to escape.” Her mouth went dry at the threat. Forcing herself to remain calm, she sat up straight against the cushions and averted her face.

“You may ignore me for now. You’ll learn soon enough how to treat your lord and master after we are married.”

She turned back to glare at him. “I will not have a lord and master. I do not believe in that drivel.”

“Drivel. It’s the Common Law of England. Once we are married, I’ll as good as own you. Drivel is what that old biddy spoke before the riot. What I put myself through to woo you.” His gave her a disgusted look. “I tried to give you a proper courtship, but you would have none of it. You insisted on engaging yourself to that barbarian.” With each word spewed forth from his mouth, her apprehension grew. The man was totally wicked. She had no doubt now that he was connected to Mr. Thorn and the blackmail scheme. Well, she wasn’t going to marry him, no matter what he believed. She would find a way to escape. She averted her face again and set her mind to the task of outwitting the evil man.

“She’s with who?” Ian’s voice rose in fury as the words Creswell had spoken registered.

“Just so, milord. They left not an hour ago. I took the liberty of listening at the door while waiting for Her Ladyship to arrive for propriety’s sake.”

“Where did they go?” Ian would kill her when he caught up with her. What did she think she was doing going driving with that fiend Renton? The man could not be trusted.

Tags: Lucy Monroe Romance
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