Page 8 of Wickedly Yours
Peabody jerked, as if he had only been waiting instruction to knock the inertia from him. Bowing to Rowan, he hurried from the room.
Nick’s aunt rocked back and forth against the chair, dropping bits of mud on the expensive Persian rug beneath her feet. “Lady Cupps-Foster,” Rowan knelt and took the glass from her. She’d long since lost her gloves and her hands were like blocks of ice. “Start at the beginning.” He handed her the handkerchief from his pocket. “I will do everything I can to help as Nick has not yet returned from Scotland.”
“The bloody rain. It’s delayed him and with Jemma’s condition…my nephew worries for her. Hopefully the rain will also delay that vile cur’s abduction of my niece as well.”
Nick was incredibly protective of his wife and given that Jemma was with child, he likely wouldn’t want her bounced around on muddy roads which explained their delay in reaching London. They were either holed up at an inn or had found accommodations at some lord’s estate along the way. Rowan thought the latter more likely. He should have assumed such when the duke didn’t arrive earlier today. It would take time to locate the Duke of Dunbar. Cold fingers of dread caressed the back of Rowan’s neck. Only one man would dare take Arabella. “Augustus Corbett.”
“Yes. The very same. He’s taken her.” Hard, tear-filled eyes looked up at Rowan. “He must have been planning this for a long time, virtually since the time Jemma was rescued. Seagraves and Barker, the footmen, were in his employ for several months. They were with the coach on our journey to Wales.” She shook her head. “Why didn’t he take Arabella then? Why wait?”
Timing, Rowan surmised. Nick was still in London when he’d banished his sister and Corbett hadn’t yet laid his false trail. Corbett wasn’t stupid.
“A coach blocked the road to Camden. A dirty, shabby thing that looked to be in trouble. John sent Seagraves and Barker to see if we could assist the occupants or help in some way. Arabella thought it a mail coach on the way to London. John was hurt and Teddy Mac tied up.” She sniffed in distress. “Seagraves, the larger of the two brutes climbed into our coach.” Her mouth grew hard. “He dared to put his hands on me. On my mouth. He tied my wrists together and threatened to gag me.”
“Corbett was mentioned by name?”
“Yes. When Seagraves left the coach for a moment, I overheard him speaking to Barker and Corbett’s name came up several times. Seagraves was to stay with the Dunbar coach and us until at least the following morning. He drove us to a small shack off the main road. He’d packed food and water. Barker was to drive Corbett’s coach.” She blotted her eyes and clutched Rowan’s hand. “Scotland. Gretna Green. Another sob escaped her. “Corbett is taking her to Gretna Green to be married. Seagraves said as much.”
All things considered, Corbett’s plan was actually quite clever. By planting the two false footmen in the Dunbar household, Corbett always knew the whereabouts of the Duke of Dunbar and Arabella, until he found the perfect time to strike. There was nothing between Twinings and Camden. No coaching station. Few inns. The road itself was not well-traveled. And the Duke of Dunbar was in Scotland. “How did you get away from Seagraves?”
Dark circles stood out starkly against the whiteness of Lady Cupps-Foster’s skin. “Seagraves did not assumemeto be a threat. I offered to cook.” She lifted a brow. “I’ve never cooked a thing in my life. But the shack had a large cast iron skillet. Teddy Mac distracted Seagraves while I brought the skillet down on the top of his skull. I had to hit him several times before he fell to the floor. I untied Teddy Mac and together we managed to get poor John into the coach. Teddy Mac drove the horses.” A tired sigh escaped her, and she wiped at her eyes. “I had no money. Corbett took my purse.” Her eyes welled with new tears. “I bought us some bread and cheese along the way with my silver buttons.”
Indeed, she had. Rowan noticed that all of the buttons were gone from the front of her traveling cloak. Only the threads remained.
“Lady Cupps-Foster, why did you not summon the constable in Camden to chase after the coach? Certainly —”
“And what would I have told him? Arabella’s reputation would be in shreds before I finished speaking. Her abduction would be public knowledge in theton. My niece already suffers society’s scrutiny for a variety of things that are not her fault. I suppose it was foolish.” She sniffed. “Arabella’s virtue may already be gone. But at least I can protect her from more gossip.”
“My lady, I will go immediately to Bow Street and I can assure you of their discretion. I’ll send a messenger to find His Grace and—"
“No, Lord Malden, it will be far too late.” She closed her eyes and bent her head and clasped his hands. “Youare an honorable man and a friend to my nephew. Please, you could go after her. I trust you to protect her reputation and shield her from gossip.”
Rowan looked away from the pleading look in her eyes. “Lady Cupps-Foster, is there any possibility,any at all, that Arabella went with Corbett of her own accord? She did help him once.” The thought occurred to Rowan all during Lady Cupps-Foster’s recitation. He wouldn’t put such a thing past Arabella.
Lady Cupps-Foster did not lift her eyes to meet his. Instead, her gaze remained focused on their clasped hands. “I watched Barker drag her kicking and screaming from the coach. She fought him. If nothing else, if Corbett manages to become her husband, he could use the opportunity to discredit your family, or worse. Please. I beg you. There is no one else. Neither of my sons are near enough to offer aid and who knows how long it will take to find my nephew.”
Bloody Hell.Lady Cupps-Foster was right even though Arabella certainly deserved her fate. He should let her rot. But he couldn’t.
“Very well. I'll go. I'll find Lady Arabella.”
6
Thank God.
Arabella breathed in relief as the coaching inn finally came into view. She was tired, damp and hungry. The rain, barely a drizzle as they’d approached Camden, had turned into a steady downpour that showed no sign of abating. Moisture pelted the coach relentlessly as the ancient vehicle labored in the general direction of Gretna Green. Corbett’s coach was less than comfortable and in desperate need of new springs. Arabella was bruised from the constant jostling and exhausted from the non-stop travel. He had allowed only minimal stops, barely allowing time to relieve herself before they started off again. Barker deliberately kept the coach off the main road, but the action slowed their travel. Twice the coach had gotten stuck in the mud causing a delay of several hours. She’d been begging Corbett since early that morning to stop, if only to find relief from the constant rain.
Barker agreed with her, snapping at Corbett that the horses were exhausted and needed a rest. The footman, if she could call him that, had grown even more surly. He glared at Arabella as if the entire journey was her fault. Which of course, in a way, it was.
Corbett finally agreed to stop at the next coaching inn.
Barker handed her out of the coach, his rough features hinting at the cruelty that lay within. “My lady.”
Arabella refused to be intimidated, particularly by a man like Barker. Like the feral dog he was, Corbett’s henchman would smell fear on her and attack. Shaking off his hand, she followed Corbett to the inn, head bent down, pulling her cloak tight. Truthfully, shewasafraid. After being trapped inside that filthy coach with Corbett, she’d heard a constant litany of hatred directed at both her brother and Jemma. His handsome face would take on an almost maniacal cast as he crowed about his impending revenge. He also took every opportunity to touch her until Arabella found herself squeezed in the corner furthest from him. It had taken relatively little time for Arabella to determine that she loathed Corbett, but she forced herself to think of the freedom and revenge this marriage would bring her. Surprisingly, the prospect brought her little joy.
Corbett took her arm, leading her across the busy courtyard to step inside the inn while Barker disappeared, probably to see to the horses. Honestly, Arabella didn’t care, relieved to no longer have to tolerate his smirking presence.
Stepping inside, Arabella saw the coaching inn was crowded with people making their way to London. The interior was dim, but she could make out a taproom to her left. The hum of dozens of voices met her ears as guests ate, drank and availed themselves of the fire blazing from the hearth.
She shivered, as much from the cold as from fear she’d be recognized. The inn was in Lancashire and a main stop on the way to and from London. She kept her head down, tugging the bonnet she wore to hide her face.
