Page 12 of One Night of Temptation
He stroked her back as he held her. “Have you any siblings?” he asked, curious about her family and whether she was the sole focus of her parents.
She seemed content to remain in his arms. “A younger brother. He’s at Cambridge. My older brother died a little over two years ago after a prolonged illness.”
Hugh knew what it was like to lose family. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“My father was devastated. He and Henry were close.” She sounded almost emotionless.
He pulled back slightly so he could look down at her. “You werenotclose, I take it?”
“When we were younger. It’s just that…” She shook her head against him. “My parents treat their sons very differently than they do me. Despite their bereavement, they made certain to communicate their disappointment that my debut had to be postponed for two Seasons.”
The more Hugh heard of her parents, the less he wanted to meet them. But he supposed he must when he took her home. He pushed the thought away.
The need to continue to keep her safe, to protect her from all danger, physical and otherwise, was overwhelming. He forced himself to let her go. If he didn’t, he might never. She was soft, and she curved in just the right places, reminding him of how long it had been since he’d enjoyed female companionship. The night before them stretched long and temptingly.
He stepped away from her and went to the basket on the table. “There’s cheese, bread, brandy, and cards,” he said.
“Brandy? I’ve never had brandy.” She joined him at the table.
He pulled the bottle from the basket along with two glasses and set them on the table. “I can’t promise you’ll like it any better than the ale, but it’s not bitter. Shall I pour you a glass?”
“Please.” She sat down.
Hugh splashed the brandy into the glasses and handed one to her. “Let us discuss how you’d planned to return home tomorrow.”
As she took a sip of brandy, her nostrils flared slightly. Then her eyes widened as she replaced the glass on the table. “Definitely not bitter. But…strong.” She settled back against her chair as he sat opposite her. “I was going to take a hack to Mayfair. I planned to tell my parents I was lured from the museum by a distressed child and then abducted outside.”
Whether it was a believable scenario or not—and he supposed it was—they’d thought this through. “What about how you escaped?”
She gave him a sheepish look. “Maisie said we’d work that out when we met up this afternoon.”
“Except she wasn’t there.” Hugh intended to find Maisie, if he could, and talk some sense into her before she did something that ended badly for her. He also wanted to take her to task for swindling Lady Penelope. Not just cheating her, but preying upon her when she’d felt desperate and alone. Finally, he’d recover Lady Penelope’s money—if she hadn’t already spent hers as Joseph had—and return it.
“No, and now I must wonder if she’d ever intended to see this through or if her plan had been nefarious all along.”
Hugh suspected it was the latter. “I think Maisie saw an opportunity to increase her earnings through an actual kidnapping and ransom, and she needed Joseph’s help. Your plan should still work, however.”
“Will it?” she asked. “What if Maisie never sent the ransom notes?”
That was possible, and perhaps even likely. He heard the dismay in Lady Penelope’s voice and didn’t want to say so. “You will still be gone overnight. Won’t that be enough to ruin you?”
“Perhaps.”
He wished he could guarantee what she needed. Instead, he focused on what hecouldhelp her with. “Let us determine how you escape. Did you see who kidnapped you?” He sipped his brandy.
“No, they put a bag over my head.” Her lush lips spread into a half smile. “That much was true.”
He couldn’t smile about that—not yet and maybe not ever. He’d kept a cool head when he’d spoken with Joseph, but he’d wanted to shake the man. “Did they keep the bag on your head and tie you up so you couldn’t remove it? It’s best if you can’t identify anyone so there’s no one for your family to pursue.”
She nodded, then frowned. “If I’m tied up, how do I get away?”
“You worked yourself free?” he suggested. “Your captors weren’t very good at tying knots.”
She giggled. “They aren’t very good kidnappers, are they?”
Now he smiled. Her laughter was impossible to ignore. “Apparently not.”
“Then what happened?”
