Chapter 1
Jolted awake as her head banged the side of the coach, Prudence Lancaster mumbled something extremely unladylike.
If there wasn’t a sack over her head, she could see where she was going or if it was still night.
She assumed it had to be. While she’d managed to doze, the rough road didn’t allow her to rest for long.
She had no idea where she was going or who had kidnapped her, let alone why.
That anyone would go to the trouble of snatching her—an unimportant paid companion—was perplexing to say the least. Hopefully, she would have some answers when they got to wherever they were going. She prayed that would be soon.
With her hands and feet bound and a cloth tied around her mouth, she was quite uncomfortable. She’d long ago tumbled from the seat and hadn’t been able to get herself back onto it. Her captors were not the least considerate.
The sound of rain against the roof soothed her, at least.
She rolled to her back and was grateful that her hands were bound in front instead of behind. She’d prefer they weren’t bound at all, of course. Every attempt she’d made to loosen the rope had been utterly futile. She’d given up some time ago.
How long ago was that exactly? She wasn’t even sure what time they’d abducted her because they’d roused her from a dead sleep.
All she recalled was that she’d fallen into a dreamless slumber upon returning to the inn in Croydon after the boxing match.
She’d rushed there from London with Cassandra, the duke’s daughter to whom she was companion, so Cassandra could find the man she loved.
Lord Wexford had been one of the fighters.
He and Cassandra had been happily reunited, then they’d gone to spend the night wherever he was staying.
Since Prudence was not a chaperone, as she’d reminded Cassandra repeatedly, she’d done nothing to stop them. On the contrary, she was thrilled that Cassandra was so happy.
Decidedly less thrilling was the manner in which Prudence had been rudely awakened at some point in the night. She hadn’t seen the face of whoever had grabbed her before a cloth was tied tightly around her mouth and a bag pulled over her head. Shock and terror had quite stolen her senses.
They’d then bound her hands and feet, and the pair had carried her downstairs and out of the King’s Arms. She assumed they were a pair since she’d heard only two voices by that point.
They’d joined a third man outside before setting her into the coach saying she’d “be with him soon” and there was “nothing to fear.”
With whom? And how in the bloody hell could she remain unafraid given their careless handling of her? Many parts of her ached from bouncing about the floor of the coach, and there was a thoroughly disgusting taste in her mouth from the cloth they’d used to gag her.
But Prudence refused to break. She’d eventually get free.
And then what?
She supposed that depended on whom she’d be with soon. Since they’d said she had nothing to fear, Prudence clung to that. Perhaps there was a good explanation for her abduction.
The dread that had lived in her spine these many hours said otherwise.
The rain increased to a heavy staccato, and she hoped it wouldn’t slow their passage. She wanted to get wherever they were going. The thought of stretching her body and taking a deep, unhindered breath was incredibly appealing.
Eventually, she closed her eyes and was again lulled into a half sleep where she remained aware of the bump and rustle of the coach. Then the coach stopped. That catapulted her into full wakefulness.
She sat up just before the door opened—behind her, she realized.
“Oi! She’s on the floor!” one of them called out.
“Just pull ’er out!” another responded.
Large hands hauled Prudence from the coach into the rain. At least my head’s completely covered, she thought wryly. She was also glad for the cloak they’d thrown over her night rail before dragging her from her room.
The man tossed her over his shoulder and carried her some distance. She was cold and wet by the time they walked into a building. Warmth suffused her, and she closed her eyes in a mixture of relief and gladness.
The emotions didn’t linger, however, as she realized she was surely about to meet the “him” she wasn’t supposed to be afraid of. Tension knifed through her, and unease swirled in her gut. Bouncing against the brigand’s shoulder as they climbed stairs didn’t help matters.
A door opened, creaking softly, before they moved inside. She heard it close behind them. Then they set her on the floor, but the one who’d carried her kept his arm around her. As much as she would have preferred that he erupt into flames instead of touch her, she needed the support.
“What the devil have you done?” a fourth gentleman, who sounded vaguely familiar to Prudence, not that she could place him, asked with a mixture of shock and anger, his voice low.
“We brought ’er ’ere just like ye said. Where’s the money?”
“You were supposed to bring her, not truss her up like a pheasant after the hunt!”
A pheasant after the hunt? This was a gentleman, but she would have guessed that based on his refined speech alone.
“We don’t take chances when there’s this much blunt involved,” the same brigand responded. “Now give us what you promised, or we’ll take the chit and go.”
She heard a thump and wondered what that noise could be. How she wished she could speak!
“I hope you didn’t wake the innkeepers.”
“We came in quiet, just like you said to. Now give us our blunt.”
“Fine,” the gentleman said caustically. There were footsteps and some shuffling. “Here.”
“Count it,” the brigand growled.
“It’s all ’ere,” another of the kidnappers said. “Let’s go.”
“Pleasure doing business with you, m’lord.” There was no mistaking that the brigand was smiling as he said this.
Then the arm around her was gone, and Prudence wobbled. Another set of arms came around her, along with the scent of pine and bergamot. This was the gentleman.
The sound of the door closing filtered through the sack covering her head just before it was whisked away.
“My apologies, Lady Cass—”
Prudence blinked into a face she knew. Bright blond hair and stunning blue-green eyes, chiseled features with sculpted lips. Lord Glastonbury?
He recoiled in horror. “You aren’t Lady Cassandra!”
Prudence’s response was muffled by the gag. He’d planned to kidnap her employer? Not that Cassandra was her employer, but Prudence was her paid companion.
“Oh my God.” He reached behind her head and untied the infernal piece of fabric.
As soon as it was loose, she spit it from her mouth. “A drink, please.”
“Yes, of course.”
“Perhaps after you untie me,” she rasped, her body suddenly screaming of thirst, but not as loudly as it was for freedom.
Glastonbury hastened to pluck the rope from her wrists, then bent and did the same at her ankles.
When she was free, she contemplated sending her foot into his chest and knocking him back on his arse.
Instead, she rubbed her wrists and glowered at him as he stood to fetch her a glass of whatever was in the bottle on the table.
He handed her the glass, his brow deeply furrowed. “I don’t understand what happened.”
Prudence drank half the glass—it was ale—before pausing. “You had me kidnapped, it seems.”
“Not you. Lady Cassandra.”
That he’d planned to steal Cassandra, the daughter of a duke, from her very bed was beyond astonishing. “As you can see, they nabbed the wrong person.” And Prudence could guess why.
“I don’t know how. I told them where she would be and what she was wearing—a purple cloak.” His gaze dropped to the purple cloak draped around Prudence.
“We switched cloaks.” Prudence glared at him. “They woke me, gagged me, put a bag over my head, tied my hands and feet, and dragged me who knows where in the middle of the night. But you intended for that to happen to Lady Cassandra?”
His face flushed red. “I didn’t intend for them to do any of that. I paid them to bring you to me without being seen.” He frowned, his gaze dropping to her reddened wrists. “It seems they took things too far.”
“You think so?” she asked with razor-sharp sarcasm. She finished the ale and thrust the glass back at him. “Do you have anything stronger?”
“I do not. Would you care for more ale?”
“If that’s all you have. Though, port or madeira would be preferable,” she muttered darkly.
He flinched, then refilled her glass. “Miss Lancaster, I am terribly sorry for all this.”
She was shocked he recalled her name. Most gentlemen wouldn’t.
Though Prudence might have preferred a fortified wine to ease her pains, she was grateful for any flavor, even ale, to wash away the taste of the last hours.
She took several more sips before lowering the glass.
Then she walked to the hearth, where a low fire burned, and held one hand out to the warmth.
“Your apology is inconsequential. I am glad they took me instead of Lady Cassandra. To think of her suffering what I have…” She shuddered.
Turning, she pinned him with a furious glare. “Why would you do this?”
He hesitated, frowning more deeply than before. His gaze flicked to the floor. “We were going to elope.”
“I’m fairly certain elopement involves both parties’ agreement and consent.”
His head snapped up. “How do you know she didn’t give them?”
Prudence scoffed. “I’m her companion. I know precisely what we were doing in Croydon, and it had nothing to do with you.”
He exhaled. “Not an elopement exactly, but I feel confident she would have been amenable once she arrived here and saw me.”
“Amenable after being dragged through the night trussed, as you say, like a pheasant after the hunt? Tell me, Lord Glastonbury, how many pheasants have you trussed?”
“None. Others take care of that.”
“Of course they do,” she whispered through a sneer. “Your kind don’t do anything for yourselves. Mustn’t soil your hands when you can have someone else do it for you.”
“My kind?”
“Entitled gentlemen.”