The ormolu clock on the mantel chimed three times. Jeremiah sighed impatiently. The countess had been gone nearly an hour, far longer than she’d indicated. He rose and walked to the window, pushing back the heavy curtains with two fingers as he looked toward the driveway.
Before a hired carriage parked at the base of the steps stood Caro and a man. Though Jeremiah was too far away to hear them, it was obvious they were arguing, Caro waving her hands in short, angry motions to emphasize her words. Abruptly the man turned to speak to the driver on the box, and Jeremiah recognized him as George from the night before, the man he’d guessed was the countess’ lover. So much, thought Jeremiah cynically, for all her careful pledges of devotion to her husband.
As Jeremiah watched, Caro twitched her skirts away from George and, with her head high and the last word, began up the stairs. But before she’d taken three steps, George had thrown his arm around her neck, and pressed a handkerchief over her mouth. She fought against him, tearing at his hands as he dragged her down the steps to the carriage, until her struggles became weaker and by the time George lifted her into the carriage she was limp and still in his arms.
Though he knew he’d be too late, Jeremiah raced from the room and down the hall, reaching the front door in time to see the carriage disappear behind the first stand of beeches on the way to the road.
“Lady Byfield regrets that she will no longer be able to continue your interview,” said Weldon behind him. “She has been unexpectedly called away.”
Jeremiah swung round to face the butler. “Damn your impudence! Where are your eyes? She wasn’t called away, she was kidnapped! That man drugged her and hauled her off without so much as a by-your-leave!”
“Mr. Stanhope is his lordship’s nephew and heir,” said Weldon with infuriating calm. “I do not believe he would wish her ladyship any harm.”
“That bastard’s the old earl’s heir?” How neatly the pieces now fell together! No wonder George Stanhope wanted her money, and no wonder, too, that she didn’t want to give it to him. Besides, he was relieved she had better taste in men than to choose such a sorry specimen, and mentally he apologized for doubting her loyalty to her husband.
“Yes, sir. That is, he is not a bastard, but the son of my lord’s sister Lady Stanhope.” Weldon let a gleam of smug contempt flicker briefly in his eyes, and Jeremiah remembered how the illegitimate daughter of a prostitute had become a countess. Trust a servant—an English servant—never to forget the scandalous details. “Mr. Stanhope is a fine gentleman. It will be an honor to serve him in time.”
“No time soon, if I have anything to say about it.” Jeremiah stared out into the direction the carriage had gone, already making plans. They wouldn’t get far before he found them, for though Stanhope was impulsive, he wasn’t particularly clever. He’d find them and rescue her, for Davy’s sake, as well as her own.
“And Weldon.”
“Yes, sir?”
“As the lady said, Weldon, you go to Hades, too.”
Chapter Four
Jeremiah found Desire in her garden, sitting alone with a book turned open on her knee, in the shadow of a tall boxwood hedge. It was late in the day, too close to dusk for reading any longer, and she had pulled her cashmere shawl over her shoulders and around her arms against the chill. Preoccupied with his own thoughts, he failed to notice how she was here alone at this hour and not inside with Jack or the children, or speaking with the servants concerning supper, and in his eagerness he began speaking as soon as he’d spotted her.
“That woman, Des, that woman’s told me the most amazing thing! She swears that Davy Kerr is still alive, and I’m almost halfway to believing her.”
Desire looked at him sharply. “Whatever are you talking about, Jere? You’re making no sense at all. What woman?” “Caro Moncrief. Lady Byfield. You know, that pretty little countess who tossed me her diamonds.” He sat on the bench beside his sister, resting his hands on his thighs as he stretched his legs out across the grass. “Though I haven’t learned how just yet, she’s come by some sort of paper to the King of Naples that lists prisoners in Tripoli up for ransom, and Davy’s name’s on the list.”
“And you believed her?” asked Desire with dismay. “Oh, Jere, I thought you’d promised not to go near her again!”
“I never promised you anything of the kind, and a good thing, too.” Her lack of excitement disappointed him. Of anyone here in England, he’d expected Desire to be the one who’d understand. “Just as she was explaining it all to me, that same whining little bastard from last night—George Stanhope’s his name—appears on her doorstep, quarrels with her, and when she doesn’t say what he wants, he slaps some sort of smelling spirits over her face and hauls her off in his carriage, just like that! And the worst of it, Des, is that her own people, her butler, who saw the whole thing, are pretending none of it happened.”
“So of course you’ve appointed yourself her savior?”
“I can’t let him get away with kidnapping her, not when she knows about Davy!”
“Or says she does.” She took his hand in hers. “Listen to me, Jeremiah. You can’t let yourself get tangled in Lady Byfield’s affairs. She could have trumped up this whole business about David simply to draw you into her quarrel with George Stanhope. The whole county follows it like a sparring match. It’s been going on for years, all the way back to Frederick’s mother.”
“But Des—”
“No, you listen to me! Most likely Caro learned enough of your past from Jack to appeal to you, and because she can be quite—quite charming, you believe her. Even Jack’s willing to forgive her all manner of impositions, and he’s known her for years.”
“That’s Jack’s folly, not mine. I’m no greenhorn, Desire.” Indignantly he pulled his hand away, folding his arms across his chest. “The woman knew too much about Davy to be cozening me.”
She sighed with exasperation. “Listen to me, you great fool! Even if you manage to separate her from Stanhope, and if she has proof enough that David lives, what then? Go to Tripoli to rescue him, too? Or have you forgotten that America’s at war with the Turks, and that if you’re captured again, this time they’ll make sure they kill you?”
“Oh, aye, and what do I say to Davy’s wife? I’m sorry, Sarah, but I couldn’t go after him from fear of soiling my trouser hems?”
“And what do you say to me, Jeremiah?” demanded Desire. “We’re all that’s left of our family, you and I, and I don’t want you risking your neck because some pretty little chit winks and simpers your way. When I think of how close to death you were when they brought you here—”
Suddenly her voice broke, more emotion than he’d expected spilling over into her words. “I can’t lose you, too, Jere. I can’t. I want you to forget Caro Moncrief and all her foolishness, and I want you to sail for home the way you’ve planned, so I can picture you there in our old house, safe at last.”
She closed her eyes and pressed one hand over her mouth to try to stop the sob that broke through anyway. With her other hand she cradled her belly, striving to calm the child within her, who’d sensed her agitation