Regency Society Collection Part 2. Ann Lethbridge

news.’

      ‘It’s not what you think. Maggie worked her magic on Lull. He agreed that the jewels in your pocket weren’t Maggie’s at all and said they must have been part of your costume. For a moment I thought all would be well, until they discovered you missing, along with Miss Bracewell. Now you are wanted for kidnapping.’

      Robert’s stomach pitched. ‘The little fool.’

      ‘It gets worse. The silver plate has gone. They found signs of a struggle in the butler’s pantry and the butler is also missing. Apparently done away with by a desperate criminal. You.’

      Robert’s jaw dropped. ‘Bloody hell? Are you saying he stole the silver and ran off with Frederica?’

      ‘It looks like it.’

      Robert’s mouth went dry. ‘My God.’

      ‘I know.’ John gave him a pained looked. ‘They found your hat in the butler’s pantry. It seems your Miss Butter-never-passed-my-lips Bracewell neatly took a leaf out of Maggie’s book and left you to carry the blame for her abduction. No wonder she was so keen to set you free.’

      ‘She wouldn’t do that.’ She couldn’t have.

      What did Snively have to do with it? Was he the one who’d had her virginity? That old man? Disgust rose like bile in his throat even as he shook his head in denial.

      What other explanation could there be? She’d seen her chance and used him to take the blame. The cunning little witch.

      He struck out with his fist at the wall. Felt pain in his knuckles, felt the vibration up his arm and all the way to his chest.

      Damn it all. After Father’s betrayal, he’d sworn to trust no one. To rely only on himself. He’d forgotten his own rules.

      But Snively! How could she? Jealousy pricked like the point of a knife. He forced himself to think. Where would they have gone? She’d talked of Italy, which meant a port. Or was that a smokescreen? A lie to put him off the scent, if indeed he had any ideas of following her.

      One thing was certain, they would have to fence the silver. And London was the most likely place.

      ‘Where does Wynchwood presume we are headed?’

      ‘Ah, that’s where things start to get interesting.’

      ‘Out with it, man. I don’t have time for puzzles.’

      John sighed. ‘You spoil everything. Listen to this. Young Simon was in such a dither when I found him in his room packing he muttered something about finding them at a Mr Bliss’s office near Lincoln’s Inn Fields.’

      ‘A lawyer?’ It made no sense at all.

      John shrugged. ‘I was just about to question him further when Lullington joined us. He hustled me out of the door.’

      ‘Meaning he is in Bracewell’s confidence.’

      ‘I assume so. Even old Wynchwood is headed for town and he hasn’t been there for years. It all sounds a bit like a Minerva novel, don’t you think.’ John chuckled, clearly vastly entertained.

      ‘If Wynchwood’s for London, I am too.’

      ‘What I don’t understand is why Lullington is tagging along?’ John mused.

      ‘Lullington is short of funds.’

      ‘I don’t see how this would help.’

      ‘I really don’t care about Lullington. If Wynchwood thinks Mr Bliss’s office is the place to look for the runaway pair, I am going there too. I have to clear my name, John. I won’t let anyone turn me into a criminal.’

      John clapped him on the shoulder. ‘Nor you should. Come with me to the magistrate and we can clear the whole thing up.’

      ‘Can we? Or will they accuse me of doing away with her too?’

      ‘Ouch.’

      ‘Quite. I’ll catch the first stage that goes through Swanlea.’

      ‘I think not,’ John replied. ‘I’ll take you up in my carriage, as my groom.’

      Robert raised a brow.

      ‘You insisted on dressing like that.’ John grinned. ‘I’m going to enjoy giving you orders.’

      ‘Bastard.’

      ‘Numbskull. Why the hell didn’t you come to me before?’

      For the first time in a long time Robert didn’t feel completely alone. But his growing rage at Frederica’s dirty trick left little room for softer emotions.

      ‘Right. Let’s be off.’

      A duke’s son. Again the realisation twisted Frederica’s insides painfully. It was as if her mind refused to believe what she’d heard. Standing at the window of the private parlour Snively had procured at a down-at-heel inn near Lincoln’s Inn, she took a deep, calming breath. Dash it. She kept letting thoughts of Robert creep into her mind the way shadows creep into a valley at night. Thoughts of what she’d hoped.

      If wishes were horses, then beggars would ride. She had many wishes. But horses were in short supply.

      From one side of the mullioned window, she peered into the narrow street, careful to ensure no one would see her from below. Snowflakes floated past the window, turning grey when they hit the cobbles, then melted away. It would make an interesting drawing. If only she could settle.

      After visiting the publisher to arrange for the payment of her money, Snively had gone to find a friend he thought might prove useful. She paced to the blazing hearth on the other side of the room and held out her hands to its warmth.

      Robert had tried to warn her off. She just hadn’t wanted to hear. She’d thought he was trying to protect her because he thought her too good for him. Quite the opposite. In the end, she’d seduced him. Used his wicked male urges against him. Her body flashed hot, then cold.

      What man would resist a wanton? He’d tried to be honourable and she’d behaved with all the morals of a barn cat. If only he’d told her who he was, she would never have harboured such foolish ideas. It had to be his lack of trust that made her chest ache as if her breastbone was pressing against her heart.

      The door flew open.

      Frederica jumped. She swung around.

      ‘I told you to keep this door locked,’ Snively said, hanging his hat on the hook on the back of the door and shooting her a glare under his brows much as he’d done when she was a child tracking mud across the hall floor.

      ‘What did you discover?’

      ‘None of the Wynchwoods have called on Bliss as yet.’ He dropped into a chair beside the hearth. ‘An old friend of mine is watching the place.’

      They’d arrived in London yesterday and so far there had been no sign of pursuit. ‘Perhaps you are wrong about Uncle Mortimer,’ she said, sitting opposite, clenching her hands in her lap to keep them still.

      He wiped his brow with a large white handkerchief and stuffed it back in his pocket. ‘I’d be right glad if I was, miss. My nose tells me otherwise. ’Tis my guess he knows your father left a letter to be opened on your birthday.’

      ‘My father?’ Her chest squeezed. She couldn’t breathe. It was like falling off Pippin, the ground rushing up to meet her. ‘My father left a letter?’ she gasped. ‘You know who he is? Why didn’t you tell me?’

      Snively’s face turned red. Beads of sweat broke out on his brow. ‘A slip of the tongue, miss. Forget it.’

      ‘No. I need to know what this is all about.’

      ‘I can’t tell you.’

      She had never seen Snively sweat as he was doing now.

      She