Page 30 of The Dandy Lyon

“You should be worried.”

“But I’m not.” She rounded on him, her own fury rising. “Much as you disapprove, I love Marcus. And as I told you in Scotland, I will never agree to marry anyone else. If we have to wait three years and marry without your blessing, then so be it. But if you make us wait Geoffrey, so help me God, you will not be the one disowning me.” She raised her chin. “I will declare myself no longer part of this family.”

He stared at her for a moment, the lines of his face hardening. “Then so be it.” He scooped up the bag of coins and thrust it into his pocket. “You may find three years too long a time to wait. Or Dandridge might. In any case,” he turned for the door, “you will wait it out at home at Longford under lock and key until you come to your senses—or reach your majority.”

“You’re making a mistake, Geoffrey.” Her voice rose to a frenzied pitch.

“Better that I make one rather than you.” He paused at the door. “We leave for Longford in the morning. You are confined to this house until we do. I have given the servants their orders regarding this and have spelled out the dire consequences if they disobey me.” He gave her one last furious glare as he left. “I will see you in the morning.”

Joanna watched him enter the corridor and squared her shoulders. “We’ll see about that.”

Marcus stared at the scribbled-on sheets of foolscap scattered over his desk, each one representing a possible argument to put forward to Lord Longford regarding his marriage to Joanna. Unfortunately, every single one had been crossed out with a vicious X. He’d spent the hours since Joanna’s departure wracking his brain for ways to persuade her brother that the two of them should be allowed to marry. Trouble was, short of befriending King George and managing to have himself created an earl or viscount, Marcus feared there was no argument that would convince Longford that the marriage should go forward.

If Marcus could change his lineage, he’d do it without a qualm or a glance backward. But that wasn’t possible. So how was he to change the earl’s heart when nothing he could do would make an iota of difference? He was coming to the dismal conclusion that if he wished to marry his love, he would have to do the dishonorable thing and elope with her. For so many years, Marcus had prided himself on being an honorable man. He was ruthless in his business dealings to be sure, but even when making hard decisions, he always tried to keep his honor intact. It sat badly with him to think that in this most important of decisions, he might have to abandon the one thing he held almost as dear as he did Joanna. The key word being almost.

With a sigh, he picked up a fresh sheet of paper, dipped his pen in the inkpot and began to write out yet another reason to present to Lord Longford when distant shouting out in the vestibule of the club caught his attention. Whoever was making all that noise must be greatly agitated for the sound to carry through the thick English-oak door. Marcus laid the pen down and rose from his seat. He hoped to God it wasn’t Bartlow again. That would certainly put paid to this day’s disturbances.

Before Marcus could move from behind his desk, the office door burst open and Lord Longford strode in, his face dark with rage. “Where is she?”

“You’re looking for Lady Joanna?” Marcus backed up, keeping the expanse of desk between him and the crazed nobleman.

“Do you think I’m searching for Queen Charlotte?” Longford lunged across the desk and Marcus danced backward until his back hit the bookshelf. His lordship looked as though he’d throttle him if he got the chance.

“Lady Joanna is not here.” His gazed darted here and there, searching desperately for some sort of weapon to hand.

“Don’t lie to me, Dandridge.” The earl feinted to the left, but Marcus didn’t take the bait. “I know she was here earlier and there’s nowhere else she’d go.”

“She was here this afternoon, I will admit that. But I sent her away and she has not returned.” Fear for his life faded as a new horror took its place. “Do you mean you don’t know where she is?”

“I saw her just before we sat down to dine. I’d just told her I knew of your meeting this afternoon and that we were leaving London in the morning.” Longford’s face was drawn. “We argued and I confined her to the house, so I didn’t think anything of it when she didn’t appear at dinner. But when Lady Longford went to check on her afterward, she wasn’t in her chamber and her maid hadn’t seen her.” He looked at Marcus like a man lost in a fog. “I was certain she’d come here.”

“Did you check to see if she took a carriage?” Marcus began to churn out possible scenarios, where Joanna might go and how.

Lord Longford shook his head. “I’d left strict instructions the coachman wasn’t to take her anywhere, nor allow her a horse.”

“She could have taken a hack.” Dangerous for a lady alone at night, but safer than other possibilities.

“No, she’d no money. I’d taken that as well.”

Marcus glared at the man, now wanting to strangle him. “Then certainly she’s on foot. Come on.”

He hurried out the office door, Longford at his heels. “The street to the right is the direction she’d come from Mayfair. It’s less than a mile. If we’re lucky, we’ll find her along the way.”

“My carriage is out front—”

Marcus shook his head as they stepped out into the dark night. “If she’s afoot, it’s best we are as well. Easier to see into the alleyways in case she’s taken a wrong turn.” Or been taken down one of the dark pathways by some random scoundrel. Marcus’s blood ran cold at the thought, and he hurried his pace down the sidewalk. The streets weren’t as crowded as usual, which was a mercy. In the quiet, it would be easier to hear someone being accosted. Why must his mind turn to such gruesome images? He badly wanted to call her name in the hopes she’d become disoriented and hidden herself away somewhere, but that seemed too risky at this point, so they continued their silent hunt.

Their measured pace allowed them not only to search all the passersby, but to peer down the dark alleys as well. “Longford, you should take the other side of the street. There’s no telling which side she might have taken.”

The earl nodded and waited for a carriage to pass before stepping off the sidewalk to cross the road. He’d just reached the pavement on the far side, however, when a woman’s scream pierced the dark night followed moments later by the crash of a pistol shot.

Marcus wheeled around—the scream had come from an alleyway to his right that they had just passed—and sprinted back up the pavement, praying that they had found Joanna and that they were not too late.

Chapter Fourteen

“Joanna!” Blood pounding in his ears, Marcus ran as though hell hounds nipped at his heels. He was running so fast, in fact, he overshot the alleyway where screams of “Help! Help!” continued to ring. He skidded to a halt, then dashed down the narrow passageway, cramped with pieces of empty wooden boxes and various bits of smelly offal tossed out by the occupants overhead. “Joanna, can you hear me?” Marcus threaded his way through, the passage so close sometimes he thought he might have to turn sideways.

At last, a figure in a light-colored cloak—the one he’d given Joanna that afternoon—came into sight, leaning against the stone wall, head drooping. “Joanna!”