Regency Society Collection Part 2. Ann Lethbridge

other man would get to her first. He lengthened his stride. Put his head down, bunching his fists, pumping his arms. He dodged an elderly couple with a curse.

      A third man appeared between Frederica and Bliss’s front door, his arms outstretched ready to catch her.

      A barrel bounced off the cart, and then another. Before many seconds passed, beer was running in the gutters and every man, woman and child on the street turned to gape.

      Everyone except Robert and Frederica, and the man blocking her path.

      Robert hit him at a run. Knocked him to the ground. Robert grabbed Frederica’s hand and dragged her along.

      ‘Stop, thief,’ someone yelled.

      Bastards.

      ‘Run,’ he said to Frederica. He looked over his shoulder. Lullington had dodged the fallen man, Wynchwood was puffing along the pavement behind him. Robert smiled grimly. Too late.

      He pulled open the door and thrust Frederica inside. A quick glance at the lock. No damn key.

      The outer office was empty. Another door led into the inner sanctum where Bliss no doubt hid himself away. The lawyer and his clerk must have gone inside. Damn it all.

      He thrust Frederica ahead of him. ‘Through there.’

      Behind them the outer door opened. ‘Robert Deveril,’ a voice rang out in stentorian tones, ‘I arrest you in the name of the law for theft and kidnapping.’

      ‘Go on,’ he urged Frederica and whirled around, pulling his pistol from his pocket.

      Frederica stopped short.

      ‘Don’t wait for me,’ Robert yelled.

      He levelled his pistol at the first man through the door and cocked it. Lullington, followed by Wynchwood, pushed their way in.

      ‘Stand back, all of you,’ Robert growled. ‘This lady has legitimate business with Mr Bliss.’

      ‘The game is up, Deveril,’ Lullington said, a triumphant light in his blue eyes.

      Robert curled his lip. ‘Not yet it isn’t.’

      ‘Don’t make it any worse for yourself, lad,’ the runner said.

      ‘Arrest him at once,’ Wynchwood cried, his face red and dripping with sweat, one hand clutching his heaving chest. ‘She is my niece. Don’t let her get away.’

      Out of the corner of his eye, Robert saw Frederica preparing to throw off her hood. Lullington was staring at her in a very odd manner.

      ‘Through that door,’ he said. ‘I’ll hold them off here.’

      ‘Jump him,’ the runner said.

      ‘Which one of you gentlemen is accusing my son of theft?’

      Robert’s jaw dropped at the sound of the familiar voice and his head whipped around. He looked into the face of…‘Mother?’

      ‘May I not visit my lawyer in privacy without all this hullaballoo?’ she said. ‘I’ll have your heads, sirrahs.’

      The Bow Street runner faltered in the face of her regal rage.

      ‘Your Grace!’ Lullington choked out. He made a leg. ‘I beg your pardon. I thought—’

      ‘I know what you thought. I sent for Lady Caldwell after I spoke with Lord Radthorn earlier this morning. While I laud your attempts to help a lady in distress, I do not approve of your methods. Pig’s blood indeed.’

      Robert gaped at her.

      Lullington made a choking sound.

      ‘What is going on here?’ Wynchwood said, still game. ‘Arrest him, I say.’

      Robert closed his eyes briefly. The lawyer and his clerk. They had to be John and Frederica. That’s why they’d seemed so damned familiar. They were already inside with Bliss. ‘Good God, Mother. If Father caught wind of this—’

      Wynchwood pushed the runner forwards. ‘That man abducted my niece. I demand—’

      ‘Who is this fat flawn, Robert?’ the duchess said in a voice as cold as ice. ‘I am certainly no niece of his.’ She sniffed. ‘Nor would I admit any relationship to such an ill-mannered fellow.’

      Lullington’s face showed grim amusement. ‘Capotted, by Gad. Your Grace, allow me to introduce Lord Wynchwood. Her Grace the Duchess of Stantford. Robert Deveril’s mother.’

      Wynchwood snatched the wig from his head and threw it down. ‘What has the duchess to do with the kidnapping of my niece?’

      Lullington curled his lip. ‘Where is she, Robert?’

      ‘Actually,’ her Grace said, ‘I can answer that question, my lord. She is no doubt speaking with Mr Bliss.’ She smiled serenely. ‘Robert, do tell this gentleman of the law to go away. I find it quite tiresome with so many people crowding this room.’

      Robert raised his brows at the gentleman in question, who was mopping his florid brow with a very large handkerchief.

      ‘Beg your pardon, your Grace,’ the runner said. He abased himself and backed out of the door in a swirl of chill air from the outside.

      ‘Get back here,’ Wynchwood howled. ‘Do your duty. Arrest this man.’

      Her Grace drew herself up to her full height. ‘Are you accusing my son of stealing silver plate, or was it a string of emeralds, Lord Wynchwood?’ Her astonishment was palpable.

      Wynchwood looked to Lullington for support.

      ‘He didn’t,’ Lullington said. ‘We were simply trying to stop Miss Bracewell from reaching this office. A hue and cry seemed the only way.’

      Snively chose that moment to stomp into the office. ‘Waste of good beer that. I knew it would never work.’

      He stopped short and stared at the duchess. ‘Where’s Miss Bracewell?’

      Her Grace nodded to the closed door. ‘In there.’

      ‘Congratulations, your Grace,’ Lullington drawled, his lisp no longer in evidence. ‘You have us all at point non plus.’

      ‘That was certainly my intention.’ A gleam of mischief shone in her eyes.

      Robert wanted to shake her. ‘I’ll murder John for involving you in this.’

      She cast him a haughty look. ‘Your manners have not improved in your absence, my dearest Robert.’

      Robert felt like a boy again beneath that searing glance. ‘I’m sorry, Mama, but you could have been badly hurt.’

      ‘By this pack of lily-livered fools? I think not.’

      ‘Thank you, your Grace,’ Lullington said.

      ‘Oh, do stop it, Lullington. I knew you when you wore short coats.’

      Robert grinned as Lullington flushed. His mother was a force to be reckoned with and stronger men than Lullington had been ploughed down by her will.

      ‘As for you, Robert,’ her Grace continued, ‘you should have been the one to bring Miss Bracewell to me. Not John.’

      Dash it. When would she realise he was banished?

      A footman in ducal livery entered the office. ‘Ah, Frompton,’ her Grace said, ‘your timing is excellent.

      Your arm, if you please. I have had enough adventure for today. It is time I went home. Robert, you will visit me tomorrow afternoon. Without fail.’ She swept out.

      The men looked at each other, Wynchwood on the verge of apoplexy, Snively wary, Lullington picking at a fleck of lint on his coat and a glint of wry amusement in his usually cold eyes.

      The door to the inner office opened.