Page 8 of Swindled By a Spinster
Lord Foxton shifted his weight back and forth, while Lord Harrington eyed the seat next to her and Lord Archbroke began to pace. Clearly the men were both worried and agitated about the situation.
She needed to take the lead. “Who reported Kilman missing?”
“His valet reported Kilman had sent his carriage and four home, opting to take a walk before he was to meet you.”
Lord Foxton’s tone was not as accusatory as Lord Harrington’s had been, which gave Phoebe the courage to speak up. “I suppose no one has seen him since he left Lady Osbourne’s affair.”
Lord Harrington sat upon the edge of the settee and faced her. “Not exactly. One ofmyinformants reported sighting Kilman near White’s, which is on the way here.”
Under attack, she blurted, “I had nothing to do with Kilman’s disappearance.”
“I don’t believe that to be the case.” Lord Archbroke lowered himself into the chair facing her. “I believe you are the reason Kilman has been taken.”
“Me? How could I possibly be responsible?”
Lord Foxton squatted next to her chair. “I suspect the events of tonight are linked to the little adventure you and my sister took a few weeks prior.”
“Why would the thieves kidnap Kilman? He wasn’t even present.”
“Because their ultimate goal is to get to you.” Lord Foxton’s features were solemn.
“I don’t understand.” She looked at each man in turn, her gaze landing on Lord Archbroke last. “Why Kilman?”
It was Lord Harrington who explained, “You must have mentioned him or given the bandits the impression he isimportant to you. You stole their treasure, now they took something of value to you.”
Lord Harrington’s conclusion that Kilman was a key figure in her life didn’t garner a reaction from the others in the room. Phoebe blinked and flickered her gaze between Lord Archbroke and Lord Foxton. How did they perceive her relationship with Kilman?
She and Kilman were partners with a shared interest to carry out and support the efforts directed by Lord Archbroke. He had been the agent and she was his informant. The truth was they had been cognizant of the prying eyes of society and had agreed to retain a professional distance when in public. Only when they met in private did they let their guards down and allow themselves to succumb to the magnetic attraction that drew them together. Over the years, there had been more than one occasion where they found themselves forced to spend hours pressed against one another in a tight space, or alone in the dark in each other's arms, and even in rooms that contained only one bed, but they had been careful not to be seen. Heat flooded her cheeks at the memories.
Lord Archbroke cleared his throat, gaining her attention. “You are in love with Kilman, are you not?”
She’d never been confronted in such a manner, and it took her a moment to reply. “Of course.”
“Then why did you reject him?” Lord Foxton asked.
“I didn’t…” She paused. She hated having to explain her actions, but with Kilman’s future hanging in the balance she answered, “It was more important that Kilman be free to remain an agent than my wish to be wed to the man. Kilman needs the challenges he faces as an agent or he would go insane with boredom.” She shifted to look directly at Lord Archbroke. “I didn’t want him to forgo his future due to my mistakes.”
Lord Archbroke stood and began to pace in a tight circle in front of the windows. “When did you realize you were in love with Kilman?”
“Not long ago… when I—” Argh. Kilman’s disappearance was her fault.
She had sent word, seeking Kilman’s help while dealing with the crown jewel thieves. The brutes must have somehow intercepted her note that she had signed- With love, Phoebe. Only when she’d penned the note, believing her life was in real danger, had she fully acknowledged her feelings for the man who had made her life bearable for the past six years. Kilman was the reason she looked forward to the next day rather than merely existing, waiting for each day to pass.
The three men convened by the window, leaving her to sort through her own muddled thoughts. Apparently her half-spoken answer was sufficient. She studied the men huddled, heads together, strategizing over how best to locate Kilman. They were his family, they were what he needed most. Head bent, she clasped her hands in her lap, closed her eyes, and prayed. Prayed for Kilman’s safe return.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Pain shot through Torrance’s arm as he pushed himself up right. He was pleasantly surprised to find his back in contact with plush cushions rather than a dirt-packed wall or wooden crates. In addition, both his hands and feet were unbound. Peculiar. He rolled his wrists and then ran his hand over the velvety material next to him. A settee? He squinted into the darkness, but his vision remained foggy. Where in the blazes was he?
He turned toward what he guessed to be the window, where miniscule rays of silver moonlight seeped into the room. Gradually his sight cleared, but unable to gauge the distance to the window, he remained seated. Unlike his rash younger self, he knew better than to move before fully assessing his predicament. He faced forward and tried to make out his surroundings. Something glinted to his right. Books. The wall was lined with tomes with gold and silver embossed spines, shelves stretching into the gloom. He was being held in a study or library of a well-to-do gentleman. That was a presumptuous thought—he could very well be captive of a wealthy widow. He should consider every possibility until he obtained more facts.
Letting his eyes close, he sat for a moment and concentrated on the sounds and smells around him. There was a slight hint of lavender in the air. Lavender brought to mind Lady L, a senior agent for the Home Office. Banishing the absurd thought that he’d been abducted by a fellow agent, he held his breath and focused on what he could hear. Aside from the occasional gust against the windowpanes, there was only silence. His big burly kidnappers mustn’t be near or surely he would have heard them.
He squeezed his thighs to get the blood flowing to his limbs that ached with a soreness he normally only experienced after having to chase down bandits. Damn—he was getting old.
Hands firmly placed on the edge of his seat, he pushed himself up to roll to his feet. The room swayed for a moment before his knees buckled and he fell backward back upon the settee.
From the furthest corner of the room, a woman said, “You might want to remain seated until the effects of the potion wear off.”
