She didn't answer. Instead, her hands flew to the blindfold around her eyes and with a tug, she wrenched it free.
When her vision adjusted, she turned to face the man seated across from her. He looked just as startled as she felt. Young, no more than a few years her senior. His surprise seemed to mirror her own.
"You're not Joyce," he said at last.
"No. I'm Alethea. Joyce is my sister," Alethea blinked.
"Bloody hell," he muttered again, rubbing a hand down his face. "You're not Joyce. This was not supposed to happen."
Alethea could see the panic rise inside of her, turning his rather pale cheeks red. He frantically ran his fingers through his already tousled hair.
"What sort of devilish game is this?" she asked, firmly.
"I should askyouthat!" the stranger exclaimed. "Why in God's name were you in Joyce's room?"
"She's my sister," Alethea said icily. "And that is my room. At least it used to be."
The young man groaned, clearly flustered.
"This is all terribly wrong. It was not supposed to be you. None of this was supposed to happen like this."
"You intended to abduct Joyce?" Alethea asked, bewildered.
"No!" he said, his voice rising. "Well, yes, but not in the way you think."
"Save your breath. You're clearly a scoundrel and a scam. And whatever scheme you're running…"
"I amnota fraud," he cut in, "I am Theodore Lockhart. Younger brother to the Duke of Redhaven, if that means anything to you."
"It doesn't," she snapped. "And if you think a title will excuse this madness then you are sourly mistaken."
"No," he said, eyes narrowing. "I don't. But you clearly don't understand."
"Pray tell what is there to understand?" Alethea said, surprising herself with the confidence she had on display. She was not used to being in the company of men alone, let alone speaking to them this frankly. But the anger that coursed her veins made her discard her own notions of decorum. "You are now telling that it is my widowed sister that you aimed to kidnap instead, as though it makes this whole thing better."
Before another word could be exchanged, the carriage jolted to a halt. The door flung open with such force that Alethea nearly fell forward.
A man stood at the front of it. He looked between Theodore, and then at her. His gaze darkened as he took in the sight. Alethea noted now he had a rather imposing presence, so much that even Theodore seemed to shrink beside him.
"Inside," he said curtly, gaze snapping between the two occupants of the carriage. "Now."
"Have you completely lost your mind?" Oliver Lockhart barked at his younger brother. He had little patience for ridiculous behavior and Theodore was already pushing his limits. The carriage door slammed behind them. He turned to his brother, eyes narrowed. "Do you want our entire family ruined?"
"Oliver, I can explain," Theodore tried.
"You had better," Oliver bit out. "But not here. Get inside. Immediately."
He stepped aside, gesturing toward the estate's front steps. The lady followed, though she had yet to say a word. The last thing Oliver wished to do was create a scene in front of the staff, which would only lead to more gossip. Oliver waited until the doors closed behind her before turning on his brother.
"Theodore," he began, "Tell me again, do youwantto ruin this family? Or are you simply incapable of thinking?"
"I didn't mean…"
"No," Oliver snapped. "You meant it. You scaled the Carter wall like a common burglar to abduct one of their daughters."
"I thought it was Joyce," Theodore flushed.
"Yes," Oliver interrupted. "You thought. You didn't check and you certainly did not stop to wonder if it was the correct room, let alone the correct sister."
