Gwendolyn turned, the change of topic catching her off guard.
Her ladyship continued, her gaze on the pond, but her mind seemed to be elsewhere. “I hadn’t anticipated that my husband would ascend to the title. You must understand that. It was not foreseen.”
Gwendolyn had kept her tone carefully neutral. “It must have been a shock to have his brother die at a relatively young age.”
“So many deaths.” Lady Middlebury had shaken her head as if it had still surprised her, and perhaps that was true. She might not have known the last marchioness had been murdered.
Murder...The word gave Gwendolyn a shivery chill.
“I’ve had a very good life,” Lady Middlebury had continued. She’d nodded to the gazebo, and they had started moving in the direction of the thicket. They went inside. It was quite close, and the humidity mingled with the scent of earth and growing things. “Middlebury built the gazebo for me the year he came into the title. He designed it himself from a picture I admired of a Chinese garden. He combined the Orient with the English. He is clever.” She’d said this last as if reminding herself. They came out of the thicket, the exit placing them right at the gazebo’s open entrance.
“It is quite unique,” Gwendolyn had murmured. Of course, she preferred the simplicity of the river cottage.
“See the flooring?” Lady Middlebury had said. “It took the masons weeks to copy the pattern of the floors inside the house.”
Gwendolyn had looked down to inspect them.But as she did so, she used the moment tochange the subject. “Why did you decide we should play whist today?”
“I thought it is what you and Lady Orpington wished. Ellen has been most vocal.”
“Absolutely, and yet you shut her down. But then you changed your mind abruptly. Why, my lady?”
The marchioness had eyed her. “Time was needed to make arrangements. Cards were the easiest excuse to keep you here.”
“For what reason?” Gwendolyn had asked—just as two masked men had climbed over the railing from the thicket. She had caught their movement in her peripheral vision and had given a shout of alarm. The men had grabbed her arms. She’d struggled, but they had held her tight.
Lady Middlebury had watched the attack before shaking her head. “It is a pity I won’t be able to play whist against you, Miss Lanscarr,” she had said. “You may blame Mr. Curran for that lamentable fact.” She’d left the gazebo.
Gwendolyn had fought to free herself from the men’s rough holds. She’d doubled her fists and kicked and attempted to cry out for help, but she’d been overpowered. They had stifled her with a vile rag stuffed into her mouth. It tasted of sweat, and she wanted to spit it out but couldn’t.
Once they’d had her trussed up, the men had carried her like a sack of grain to a coach waiting deeper in the forest. They had dumped her into it without even trying to be gentle. She’d found herself face down and half on, half off a coach seat.
After the door had been slammed behind her, she’d heard one captor say, “Now for the next one.”
“Me shoulder is giving me problems,” the other had complained.
“I’ll ’elp ya carry the man,” had been the answer.
The man.That meant Beckett. She was certain of it.
Gwendolyn had struggled to sit up, her mind frantic with the knowledge that Beckett was about to be attacked. Long skirts had not made the endeavor easy. She’d managed to push herself up and leaned back in the seat. She hated the gag to the point of tears, but before she could break down into angry, frustrated sobs, she realized she was in Lady Orpington’s coach.
And that was when the strange sense of calm had descended upon her.
The coach shades had been drawn but she could crane her neck and see around the edges. She suspected she was being used as bait to trap Mr. Steele. That action confirmed that Lady Middlebury knew who he was. The true him. The supposed dead fifth marquess.
However, was Lady Orpington involved? Had her asking Mr. Steele to find her a whist partner been part of an elaborate ploy?
Gwendolyn’s mind chewed on the possibilities. Lady Orpington had behaved oddly all afternoon. Even though she had nagged everyone to play cards, she had not been good-humored about it. A few times, she had played the wrong card when Gwendolyn had known she’d had a better card in her hand. It was unlike Lady Orpingtonto be so distracted over whist. Had she been nervous about this abduction? Gwendolyn hoped if she was involved, she experienced some remorse. This was a betrayal, and she wanted Lady Orpington to feel the sting of it.
She also prayed that Beckett saw through whatever ruse they created to lure him to this coach. And that he was on his way to rescue her.
The bindings on her wrists were too tight. Gwendolyn moved her fingers, trying to keep the circulation in her hands. Evening was beginning to fall. The summer days were growing shorter. Soon it would be time to sit down to dinner. Would anyone notice her missing? Or would there be a plausible excuse as to why? She prayed they didn’t claim she’d had a fit of the vapors. She was made of sterner stuff than that.
Of course, the worst part of her situation was the waiting. She strained her ears, listening for the slightest sound.
Nothing, save an occasional stamp of a hoof or a snort of the nostrils from the coach horses—
She heard voices arguing. Were her kidnappers returning, or was this Beckett coming to rescue her...?
