His Wicked Charm

“You should do that more often,” Con told her.

“What?”

“Laugh. You look beautiful.”

“Oh.” She hoped the darkness concealed her blush. Otherwise, Con would doubtless tease her about it every time they met.

Except, of course, she would not see him now that the wedding was over. Constantine Moreland didn’t frequent the sort of parties Lilah attended with her aunt. He preferred more exciting entertainment. Even when they did attend the same function, Con did his best to avoid her. Her life now would return to its usual pattern. Lilah sighed as she thought of the weeks ahead, paying calls and receiving visitors in her aunt’s parlor.

“What is it?” Con asked. When she glanced at him questioningly, he explained, “You sighed just now. Is something wrong?”

“What? Oh. I didn’t realize I had.” Her cheeks, already pink, flamed. “I was, um, just thinking that things would settle back to normal now that the wedding is done.”

“Yes, it will likely be more boring.”

“I didn’t mean that,” she protested. “I meant, it will be quieter. Calmer. But that’s a good thing. One can rest and relax and, um…”

“Embroider handkerchiefs?” Con suggested, raising an eyebrow.

She glowered. “I’m sure there will be nothing so mundane for you. You’ll be off chasing ghosts or seeking the meaning of Stonehenge.”

“Hopefully I’ll find an adventure or two to pass the time.” He grinned down at her. “Here, now, don’t look so grim.” He smoothed his finger over the lines of her frown, then moved to her cheek, lightly skimming a strand of hair that had escaped its pins.

Self-consciously Lilah moved to pin the stray curl back in place, but Con reached out to stop her. “No, don’t. It’s lovely like that.”

“Like what… A mess?” She forced a bit of tartness into her voice to combat the sudden heat his touch stirred in her.

“I doubt that anything about you is ever a mess.” Con stroked his thumb lazily along her cheekbone. His smile was still there, but different now, no longer amused but warm and inviting. There was a look in his eyes very like the one she’d seen in Alex when he gazed at Sabrina. Dark and a little hazy.

Lilah’s breath caught in her throat, and her thoughts went tumbling madly. She definitely should not have drunk that glass of champagne. Con leaned in. Lilah tilted her face up.

Masculine laughter burst from the ballroom as three men stepped out onto the terrace, chatting among themselves. Lilah froze. What was she doing? Con had been about to kiss her. And she had been about to let him. Worse yet, she had been about to kiss him back. “I—I’m sorry—I shouldn’t—goodbye.”

Lilah slipped around him and hurried back into the ballroom.

CHAPTER THREE

LILAH WAS BORED. She had spent the morning in the drawing room with her aunt, answering correspondence. There was little of that, as her father, to whom she had once written faithfully, had passed on two years ago, and it had been many years since she’d exchanged letters with his sister, Vesta. Sabrina, with whom she had maintained the longest, largest correspondence, was away on her honeymoon.

She missed Sabrina. Her friend had lived in London for only a couple of months, but for that time it had been as if they were together in Miss Angerman’s Academy for Young Ladies again. Sabrina was not the only one she missed. In the process of preparing for Sabrina’s wedding, Lilah had become friends with the Morelands, as well. All the Morelands had returned for the wedding, along with their spouses and broods of children. It made for an occasionally chaotic environment, but one that was always entertaining and congenial.

There had been any number of lively conversations with the duchess, ranging over a host of topics, and though Lilah and the very forward-thinking Duchess of Broughton had disagreed from time to time, their discussions were invigorating and even enlightening. Megan told entertaining stories about her years of reporting and traveling the world with her husband, Theo Moreland. Kyria, vibrant and warm, was almost impossible not to like—as were the duke and his diminutive uncle Bellard, a veritable treasure trove of knowledge once one got him started.

Thisbe, Theo’s twin, was a scientist who spent much of her time in her laboratory working on things Lilah neither understood nor, really, cared to understand. But Thisbe was also possessed of a dry wit and an easy, outgoing nature much like her twin’s, and Anna, Reed Moreland’s wife, was a quiet spot of serenity amid the noisy bustle of activity at Broughton House.

Lilah had especially come to like Olivia, the youngest of the Moreland daughters. Olivia, though she shared with Constantine an odd interest in the occult, was as devoted a reader as Lilah, and once they discovered their mutual interest in books of mystery and danger, they had spent many a pleasant afternoon chatting.

The days since the wedding had seemed quite empty. Lilah hadn’t any reason to visit Broughton House. Without her friend Sabrina there, it seemed a bit presumptuous to make a social call at the house of a duke, at least until they had called on her. Lilah would hate to be thought a social climber.

Worse…what if Con were at home? What if he thought Lilah was there in the hopes of seeing him? Given the way she had behaved the other night—it made her blush even to think of it—he would be justified in assuming she was setting her cap for him. Nothing could be further from the truth of course. Lilah would never pursue any man, much less someone like Con. He would be the last person she would want to marry—not that he would ever ask someone like her.

Con probably thought it was funny that such a prim and proper woman as Lilah had acted so unlike herself. He knew she had been about to kiss him. No doubt he would tease her about it. He would laugh, that rich, warm laughter that made one want to join him, his lips curving up and his eyes lighting with mischief. It was most unfair that his teasing made him even more attractive.

That was the root of the whole problem with Constantine Moreland—he was so utterly appealing. Lilah liked the straight black slashes of his eyebrows—the way they lifted when he was amused or drew together fiercely when he frowned. She had more than once felt a strange desire to reach out and smooth a finger along one of them. His eyes were such a sharp green, darkened by that thick row of black lashes. Those cheekbones, that jaw, that chin. That mouth. Thank goodness she had always had firm control of herself and had kept such thoughts hidden.

But then she had destroyed all her efforts by going out onto the terrace with him. Standing there in that dark secluded corner with him, a situation so intimate, so warm, so ripe for seduction. Turning her face up for his kiss. If only she hadn’t drunk that champagne. If only he hadn’t asked her to dance.

No. She must not call at Broughton House, even if she could come up with a good reason to do so. She should settle back into her normal life. It might take a bit of time, but she would become accustomed to it. Being around the Morelands had been exciting. Entertaining. But that wasn’t how Lilah lived. She was not flamboyant; she didn’t crave adventure and excitement; she wasn’t driven by wild uncontrollable passion. All she had ever wanted was a quiet, pleasant, rational life. The sort of life she had.

Lilah gave a little nod of her head, feeling a bit as if she had won an argument. She glanced over at Aunt Helena, whose head was bent over her embroidery. Lilah was forcibly reminded of Con’s comment about spending her days on embroidery.

“Do you need anything done?” Lilah asked. “Is there an errand I might run for you?”

Aunt Helena looked up and smiled. She was a small, neat woman, her blond hair now touched with gray at the temples. Lilah felt an upwelling of affection. Aunt Helena had welcomed her and raised her, and Lilah could never repay her for that. It was no easy task to take on a girl of twelve and guide her into womanhood, to train her in proper behavior and the ins and outs of society. Con might sneer about mundane things like needlework—and, frankly, Lilah was not fond of embroidering either—but there was nothing wrong with spending one’s time that way. And her aunt’s work was excellent.

“Oh, no, dear, no need for that. Cuddington has gone to the apothecary to pick up my tonic, and Mrs. Humphrey has the house in order as always. Why don’t we discuss our calls this afternoon?”

Calls weren’t what Lilah had in mind to relieve tedium. They were tedious, more often than not. But Lilah held back her sigh. Making and receiving calls was a fact of life.

“I thought we would go early in the afternoon,” Aunt Helena said. “That way we’ll be back by the time Sir Jasper comes.”

“Sir Jasper is visiting us this afternoon?” Lilah asked in some dismay. “He was here just two days ago.”

“Well, of course, I don’t know he’ll call on you.” Aunt Helena gave her a small, conspiratorial smile. “But given his recent behavior…”

Her aunt had hopes that Sir Jasper had matrimony in mind. Unfortunately, Lilah suspected she was right. She wished Aunt Helena would not encourage the man. But she had no desire to get into a discussion of that, so she said only, “Who were you thinking of visiting?”

“Mrs. Blythe, of course, to thank her for that lovely little dinner party last night. And it’s been some time since we’ve called on Mrs. Pierce.” Lilah couldn’t hold back a small groan at that name, and her aunt smiled. “Yes, I know, dear. Elspeth Pierce is a dreadful gossip. But that’s exactly why one mustn’t get on her bad side.”

“I suppose.” She didn’t really mind the woman’s gossiping; it was the insipidity of her conversation that wore on Lilah’s nerves. But her aunt was right; when Mrs. Pierce took a dislike to one, she was deadly.

“I really should call on the vicar’s wife,” Helena continued. “But their daughter is ill, so that will excuse us from that.”

“It seems visiting people shouldn’t be such…a chore.”

Aunt Helena smiled. “It would be nice. But we cannot shirk one’s social obligations, can we?”

Lilah thought somewhat resentfully that the Morelands seemed to be able to do so easily enough. But, of course, Lilah wouldn’t want to be viewed as the Morelands were. She cast about for something to occupy her until this afternoon’s calls.

“Perhaps I shall go to the bookstore first.” Lilah popped up from the sofa as a sudden thought occurred to her. “On my way, I can drop off a book for Lady St. Leger. I have a Wilkie Collins she has not read yet, and I promised to lend it to her.” Olivia wanted the book; it wouldn’t be rude or out of place to visit the Morelands as long as she had a reason. Indeed, the proper behavior would be to take the book to Olivia, as Lilah had promised. And there was no reason to worry about running into Con; he was doubtless off on one of his adventures.

“Lady St. Leger?” Her aunt’s forehead wrinkled a bit. “Do I know her?”

“She’s one of Sabrina’s sisters-in-law. She and her family came to stay at Broughton House for the wedding.”

Her aunt’s frown grew. “One of the Morelands? Dear, do you think that’s wise?”

“I promised, Aunt Helena. I can hardly ignore a promise.” Lilah was feeling more cheerful by the moment. It would be good to see Olivia again, to have a nice long chat about books. Much as she loved and respected her aunt, Helena was not a reader. Maybe Kyria would be there, too. Or the duchess.

“Of course not,” her aunt agreed reluctantly. “I just thought now that the wedding is over, you wouldn’t be seeing them as much.”

“I haven’t seen them. It’s been four days,” Lilah reminded her. “I should go now so I’ll be back in time for our afternoon calls.” She turned toward the door.

“It’s rather early for paying a call, don’t you think? Not yet noon.”

“The Morelands pay no attention to things like that.”

“I know,” Aunt Helena said darkly. “Well, if you must go, take your maid with you.”

“Aunt Helena…I hardly need a chaperone to go from here to Broughton House in broad daylight.”

“Of course not, dear. It’s how it would look.”

“Society’s rules are not so rigid anymore,” Lilah protested.

“That may be. But that’s no reason for us to lower our standards.”

“Poppy has several things to do—um, mending my clothes and, uh…”

“I wish I hadn’t sent Cuddington to the apothecary. She could accompany you.”

“No, no, I’ll take Poppy with me.” The last thing Lilah wanted was to drag her aunt’s dour maid along with her.

Lilah hurried upstairs, calling for her maid, and opened her wardrobe closet. Her casual morning dress would not do for paying a visit; it required something more stylish—this honey-colored walking dress with the rust-brown piping, for instance. It went well with the reddish-blond color of her hair, and the nipped-in waist gave her tall, willowy figure a more fashionable hourglass shape.

She could wear her new half boots. They were, perhaps, a trifle unusual, with their paisley print and curved line of gold buttons, but the colors went well with her dress, and anyway, no one would see them beneath her skirts. Well, except someone like Con, of course, who apparently made it a habit to keep an eye on ladies’ ankles. But that sort of man was not interested in either fashion or propriety.

She set off for the Morelands’ home, book in hand, Poppy trailing along a few steps behind her. It was annoying having to take her along. Perhaps Lilah should visit her home in Somerset, where she could hike wherever she wanted and not worry what society might think. It would provide her with an escape from the tedious round of courtesy calls—not to mention Sir Jasper’s attentions. She could relieve her boredom.

The problem, of course, was that Aunt Vesta was there. Lilah hadn’t stayed at Barrow House since her father’s sister had returned. Lilah had been fond of her as a child, but children were so undiscerning, so easily pleased. And Aunt Vesta hadn’t yet plunged the family into scandal.

Smeggars, the Morelands’ butler, greeted Lilah with a smile but said, “I fear the duchess is out today.”

“It was actually Lady St. Leger I wished to see.”

“Lady St. Leger is with the duchess.”

“I’m sorry. I should have inquired before I came,” Lilah said in disappointment.

“Perhaps you would like to speak with the duke or, um…”

“No, I’ll just leave this,” Lilah began, holding out the book.

At that moment Con came trotting lightly down the stairs. “Miss Holcutt.” He grinned. “The ladies are all out. I’m afraid you’ll have to make do with me.” He turned to the butler. “I think tea would be in order.”

“Of course, sir.”

“No,” Lilah protested as the butler left. “I mustn’t stay. I was going to the bookstore, and I remembered that Olivia—Lady St. Leger, that is—had expressed an interest in reading one of my books.” Lilah realized she was babbling and clamped her lips together. It was annoying that she should be so jittery and embarrassed at seeing Con again, whereas he was so obviously, so coolly unaffected.

“That sounds like Livvy.” Con reached out and took the book from her hands. “Ah, Wilkie Collins. Yes, she will enjoy reading it.”

“She said his stories were favorites of hers, but she had not read this one.”

“Please, sit down.” He took her arm without asking and steered her down the hall toward the sitting room. “All the women except Anna left earlier. Anna had one of her terrible headaches and had to stay behind.”

“I’m sorry.” Lilah resisted the urge to sit down as he had suggested. There was no reason to stay. She had run her errand. She shouldn’t sit down for a tête-à-tête alone with a man. Yet she lingered. “They’re on a shopping expedition?”

Con let out a crack of laughter. “No, Mother’s taken them to one of her suffragists’ dos. They’re standing vigil in front of Edmond Edmington’s house.”

“Edmond Edmington?” Lilah couldn’t hold back a smile.

“Yes, he had alliterative if unimaginative parents. Sit down, Miss Holcutt, please. Smeggars will be crushed if you don’t stay for tea and petits fours. He’s always trying to turn Mother’s meetings into parties, with little success.”

“No, I should be going. I was just—” She gestured toward the door, taking a step backward.

“Going to the bookstore. Yes, I know.” His eyes twinkled. “Come, Lilah, I won’t make any unwanted advances…not with Smeggars lurking about.”

What if they weren’t unwanted, she thought, then blushed at her wayward mind. “You would make some jest about it.”

“About what?” he asked innocently, moving closer.

“You know what.” She scowled. “What we—the other evening on the terrace.”

“Ah.” He leaned in, far too close for polite behavior. “You mean when we talked?” His eyes widened in mock shock. “Unchaperoned.”

“Yes.” Her word came out in little more than a whisper. Irritated, she cleared her throat and went on in a firm voice. “No. I mean it was more than that. We were—we almost…”

“Yes?” His eyes danced. “We almost…”

She had known he would tease her. She should not have come here. “Oh, stop it. Just leave me alone.”

“Of course.” He sighed and stepped back. It was what she wanted, yet perversely she felt let down at his easy acquiescence.

She should go now. It was silly to be so reluctant. Lilah drew a breath to say goodbye but was brought up short by a shout from upstairs. “Reed! Someone!”

“Anna!” Con ran from the room.

Lilah followed him. When she reached the bottom of the staircase, Con was already halfway up the flight to his sister-in-law, who stood still and staring, her face deathly white.

“They’ve been taken!” Anna cried. “You have to save them.”

She folded after that pronouncement, and Con grabbed her, easing her down to sit on the stairs. “Here, put your head down. Just breathe. Slowly now.”

Steps pounded down the long stretch of the gallery, and Reed burst into view, his face almost as drained of color as his wife’s. “Anna! What happened? What’s the matter?”

Reed leaped up the stairs, pulling his wife into his arms and cradling her against his chest. Con stepped back. “Reed, she was saying—I think she’s having one of her visions.”

One of her visions?

Con’s words didn’t seem to shock Reed, who only cursed and continued to stroke Anna’s back. “It’s all right, sweetheart. Everything’s fine.”

“No!” Anna pulled back. She had regained some of her color and her eyes were no longer wild, but she was clearly distressed. “You have to find them. You have to—”

“Who?” Con asked, his voice sharp. Lilah could see that his body was suddenly coiled tight as a spring. “Who is in trouble, Anna?”

“All of them!” She looked from her husband to Con and back. “The duchess. Kyria. Olivia. All of them. They’ve been kidnapped!”

CHAPTER FOUR

CON WHIRLED AND ran from the house. Lilah followed right on his heels. Signaling a hack, he ran out into the street and jumped into it before it completely stopped. Lilah climbed in after him. Con cast a glance at her, and for a moment Lilah thought he was going to protest her presence, but he only turned and called out an address to the driver.

He looked nothing like he usually did, his eyes as fierce as they were normally laughing, his mobile face stern and set, his body taut. He had undergone the same transformation two months ago when he had raced to free his twin.

Lilah wanted to ask him about Anna’s bizarre pronouncement. Anna seemed the calmest of all the Morelands, but nothing could have been madder than her staring eyes and terrifying words. Yet Con and his brother Reed, while alarmed, had not appeared surprised. Moreover, it was clear that Con believed what she said, dashing off immediately to his mother and sisters.

But that was absurd. Wasn’t it? Anna couldn’t have actually seen something happening in another place. No doubt Lilah and Con would arrive at their destination to find the women unharmed and exactly where they were supposed to be. They would all laugh over it. “Anna must have had a nightmare. It was her headache. One often has strange dreams when one is ill.”

Con shook his head. “She saw it.”

That was nonsense of course, but she didn’t want to argue when he was so worried. “Why would anyone want to harm the duchess?”

He cast her an eloquent glance.

“Well, yes, the duchess could have antagonized a number of people over the years, but surely not enough to harm her.” Lilah frowned. “Do you think the police arrested the suffragists? For simply standing in front of someone’s house?” She realized that now she was talking as if it had really happened.

“Lord only knows what they were doing. But no, I doubt it was the police,” he replied grimly.

The carriage had been traveling at a fast clip but now, after careening around a corner, came to an abrupt stop. Lilah looked out the window and saw a number of women milling about in the street in front of a stately residence. Signs were tossed here and there, and everyone was talking excitedly. A policeman was arguing with one of the women, and several other women were clustered around something on the sidewalk. Was that a body?

Con let out an oath and threw open the carriage door, running to the constable. Lilah cast another quick glance around as she stepped down from the vehicle. She could see none of the Moreland women.

“Here, now!” The cabdriver protested at Con’s abrupt departure without paying him.

“Stay here,” Lilah ordered crisply. They would need transportation home as soon as Con found his family.

She caught up to Con at the side of the policeman. He was barking questions at the man. “What the devil happened here? Where is the duchess?”

“Wh-who? I don’t know, sir! I just arrived.”

The woman who had been talking to the constable, a solid woman dressed in the style of the rational dress movement, let out a snort. “You’d do better if you tried listening, young man.”

“Mrs. Ellerby.” Con moved to the woman’s side.

“Lord Moreland! Thank heavens you’re here. They attacked us!”

“Who?”

“The police, most likely.” She turned to glare at the unfortunate policeman, who began to splutter.

“No, there weren’t any uniforms!” another woman put in.

“It was a gang of ruffians! I saw them. All in black, with masks on.”

“Oh, Ernestine, what rubbish,” Mrs. Ellerby declared. “There weren’t any masks, just caps pulled down so you could barely see their faces.”

“They might as well have been masks.”

“Mrs. Ellerby,” Con said through clenched teeth. “Where is my mother?”

“She’s gone! They drove up and jumped out and grabbed them. The duchess and her girls, all of them—except for Lady Raine.” She gestured toward the women hovering over the thing on the sidewalk.

“Megan!” Con went pale and whipped around.

It was a body. Lilah’s breath caught, and she ran after Con. The women stepped aside at Con’s approach, revealing the woman on the ground. It was indeed Megan, but she was now sitting up.

“Thank God. Megan.” Con scooped Megan up and set her on the low stone wall that edged the property. He squatted down to look her in the eye. “Are you all right?”

“Of course she’s not all right.” Lilah sat down beside Megan. “Why do people always say that?”

Dirt and grit decorated Megan’s dress. There was a large red spot on her cheekbone, and the skin around it had started to swell. The other side of her face was scraped and dirty. Her hat hung down, barely anchored by the long hatpin, along with strands of reddish-brown hair. Her eyes had a glassy look that worried Lilah. Lilah pulled out her handkerchief and began to gently brush the grime from Megan’s face.

“Megan.” Con took one of her hands. “Say something. Anything. Tell me to hush, even.”

That brought a faint smile to Megan’s lips. “I’m fine.” She cleared her throat and straightened. “Really. I—I’m just a little woozy. I think I hit my head.” She gestured toward the back of her head.

Lilah twisted around to look and let out a gasp. “Con! Her hair is bloody.”

Con was instantly up and bending over Megan. He pulled out a pristine white handkerchief from his pocket and pressed it gently against Megan’s wound. His voice was as gentle as his hand as he went on, “What happened, Megan?”

“I heard someone scream, and I turned around. And I saw these men—they’d grabbed Kyria, so all the others were trying to stop them. I ran to help, but I was too far away. So I picked up some rocks and started throwing them at the man Thisbe was fighting. Olivia was trying to free Kyria. Then he came after me and punched me.”

Lilah saw fury light up in Con’s eyes, but he kept his voice even. “He knocked you down?”

Megan nodded, then winced at the movement. “Yes. I hit the ground. I remember that but nothing afterward. I must have hit my head when I fell. Next thing I knew, I was lying on the ground and Miss Withers here was trying to awaken me.”

Con looked at the other women. “What happened after that?”

“Those men threw all of them in the carriage and took off. They were gone before any of the rest of us could move a muscle. I’m so sorry.” Tears sprang into Miss Withers’s eyes. “I wasn’t any use at all.”

“Which way did they go?”

“Down the side street.” She pointed.

“They turned left at the first street,” one of the other women offered. “Then they were out of sight.”

Con shoved the handkerchief into Lilah’s hand and took off at a run.

“He won’t see them. They must be long gone.” Lilah watched Con as she held his handkerchief to Megan’s head.

“That won’t keep him from trying,” Megan replied, a thread of amusement in her voice. Lilah looked into Megan’s eyes and saw that they were clearer.

Con stopped at the end of the block and stood for a long moment, looking to his left, before he loped back to them. With Lilah’s help, Megan rose to meet him.

Con’s jaw was set and his eyes blazing. “Lilah, take Megan back to the house. I’m going after them.”

“How do you intend to do that?” Lilah asked. “You don’t know where they’ve gone.”

“I’ll figure it out.”

“That sounds excellent,” Lilah said crisply, taking Megan’s elbow and turning toward the carriage. “Find a carriage and head off in the general direction they took sometime ago. No planning, no information, no idea what the duke or any of the other husbands think or why your mother and sisters were taken. I’m sure you will do wonderfully well.”

Beside her, Megan snickered. Con’s face was a study in frustration, but he scooped Megan up and strode toward the waiting hack, saying in an aggrieved tone, “Yes, I know. I’m impulsive and quick-tempered, and you, of course, are logical, rational and right.”

The coach took off as soon as they were settled. Con leaned back against the seat, arms crossed, sunk in a deep study. The driver set a pace fast enough it made Megan wince as they rattled over the cobblestones, but she didn’t protest. When they reached the house, Megan handed back Con’s bloody handkerchief and insisted on walking into the house unaided.

“You are not carrying me in like some invalid. Theo will treat me as if I’m at death’s door.”

They found a thoroughly distressed Smeggars hovering in the entryway. He greeted them with a cry of delight and hustled them down to the Sultan Room. Even before they reached the salon, Lilah heard the agitated male voices. Inside, the room seemed to be filled with large men—standing, pacing, arguing, looking grim.

The butler, adept at gaining attention from years spent in the Morelands’ service, stepped in, announcing grandly, “Gentlemen! The Marchioness of Raine.”

Silence fell instantly and they all swung around to stare at Megan, flanked by Lilah and Con.

“Thank God!” Theo crossed the room in two strides and pulled his wife into his arms, squeezing her so hard she let out a squeak of protest.

“What happened, Con? What’s going on?” Reed came forward. Lilah saw for the first time that his wife, Anna, was also in the room, sitting against the wall. She was still pale, her face stamped with worry.

While Theo fussed over his wife’s injuries, the rest of the men bombarded Con with questions. Lilah left him to the interrogation and made her way to Anna. “How are you?”

The other woman attempted a smile. “Better. The headache’s gone. It usually disappears. But it always leaves me tired.”

“Perhaps you should rest.”

“Thank you. I’ll be fine here. I couldn’t lie down and sleep, knowing they were still out there. I feel so awful that I didn’t go with them. If only I’d realized earlier—”

“You mustn’t blame yourself. If you had been there, how could you have prevented it? It’s far better that you and Megan aren’t missing, too.”

“No doubt you’re right. Tell me what happened. You found only Megan?”

Lilah related to her everything they had done and discovered, a good deal more quickly and in better order than Con was managing with the frantic and furious men across the room. Fortunately, Smeggars wheeled in the tea cart, along with iodine and bandages for Megan’s injuries.

“This is no time for tea,” Kyria’s husband, Rafe McIntyre, protested.

“Oh, no, sir, I think you’ll find it’s exactly the right time.” Smeggars smiled benignly.

“Yes, yes, you’re right, Smeggars, as always,” the duke agreed. “We’re accomplishing nothing this way. Let’s sit down and think this thing through. There has to be a way out of this. They won’t hurt my girls.”

Rafe started to object, but Stephen St. Leger clapped a hand on his shoulder and cast a meaningful glance at the duke. Rafe nodded and subsided.

“You’re right, sir,” Stephen said. “We shouldn’t panic. That’s what they want—to rattle us so much we can’t think.”