Saying I Do To The Scoundrel. Liz Tyner

thinking you could watch my stepfather after he receives the ransom request and relieve him of the purse as soon as he has it and before he expects contact.’ She squared her shoulders. ‘Be prepared to repeat your plans to me when I return as I want to make sure we both are in complete understanding.’

      ‘Perhaps you should write this down for me.’ He raised his chin, his eyes bland.

      ‘Perhaps you should pay attention.’

      She barely took a breath before she continued. ‘By Sunday, I will bring—’ she dropped her eyes ‘—a few personal items I will be needing and that will not be missed and I will expect them to be stored—safely—’ she glared at him ‘—in your residence until I am kidnapped and the ransom is procured and I can leave. Of course, you will need to spirit me away once we have our funds.’

      Then she looked at him. She smiled and her lips parted, and she could already feel the success of her plan. She would not let him ruin it.

      ‘If you should even think of double crossing...’ She indicated the door with a nod. ‘The woman outside will turn you in to the magistrate.’

      ‘Are you sure the men in your life would not assist you to leave?’

      She clasped her gloved hands in front of her and spoke, stepping back. ‘Thank you for your time and I will send someone around with a parcel of soap as a memento of our conversation.’

      He picked up the bottle and blew across the opening to make the low, whistling sound.

      Miss Wilder captured his attention again as she brushed at her sleeve without thinking, and spoke. ‘Sir, I hope after we complete our business you use the money to find an honest endeavour.’

      With those words, she rose as if leaving her subjects. He didn’t even stand as a courtesy.

      The door closed softly when she left. Brandt walked to the door, took the key from the wall and locked the latch. That would teach him to come home with enough drink in him to splash up to his ears.

      He refused to get bathing water, or his razor.

      He settled back in his chair and put his elbow on the table, and made a fist but extended two fingers and put his forehead against them.

      Miss Wilder solicited him for a crime, the likes of which he had never even contemplated before, and then chided him to find honest work.

      And she made him feel something—something different than a peaceful drunkenness or the black crevasse of desolation. He preferred their companionship.

      He took another swallow. Then, he pressed back, again raising the front legs of his chair off the floor, trying to recapture a moment of sitting unconcerned and relaxed. But the image of the woman standing at the door, condemnation in her eyes, would not go away. Anger rolled throughout his body and he could almost hear emotion rumbling in his ears.

      He moved, letting the front legs of his chair jar the floor, and stood. Grabbing his hat from the peg, he pulled it on so it covered much of his head. ‘Not as much sense as a tavern wench,’ he muttered, not knowing if he talked of himself or her. He clutched his frock coat and slipped it over his bare arms. He unlocked the door and buttoned the coat as he hurried, hoping he could still catch sight of the bonnet. He wanted to know where she lived.

      He wouldn’t let Miss Wilder fashion a noose for him. He’d at least select his own rope for the hangman.

       Chapter Four

      As soon as Katherine turned the corner and knew she was away from the windows of his home, she grabbed the arm of the older woman and pulled her to a stop. She gulped in breaths of air, concentrating on the movement of her lungs. ‘You must steady me as my knees are trembling.’

      Mrs Caudle put a hand on Katherine’s arm, and squeezed. ‘All of you is trembling.’

      Katherine closed her eyes, straightened her back and then looked into Mrs Caudle’s face. ‘I will not let Augustine destroy me. I will use him to grow stronger and then I’ll use that strength against him.’

      ‘You are as wilful as he is.’

      Katherine shrugged away the talk of her stubbornness and they crossed the street, moving towards the cared-for shops.

      The older woman kicked at a dried pod of horse dung. ‘You’ve got to move from your stepfather soon or Fillmore will have you in his grasp.’

      A carriage rumbled past, drowning the words.

      ‘I know,’ Katherine spoke. ‘And he is determined that Gussie be sent to a madhouse. As soon as I get the ransom, the very next time he tells you to take her away, do so. I will have a house for the three of us.’

      She shook her head. ‘Gussie’s his own blood and he wants her put away.’

      ‘He thinks she’s damaged because she doesn’t speak and hides from him,’ Mrs Caudle said. ‘But since she first toddled about, he would throw something at her or shout when she got in his way. She’s much better when he’s away, and he refuses to let her leave the house. I don’t know if it’s because he’s afraid someone will see her and think his blood tainted.’

      ‘Or because he thinks I will run away with her.’ Katherine nodded, stepping faster to hurry them past the windows. ‘We must separate her from Augustine. Otherwise, he’ll likely put her in St. Mary’s and she’ll be locked away.’

      ‘The sooner she gets away, the better,’ the governess said. ‘Another footman left the house this week because Augustine threw a dish at him.

      ‘If that wastrel doesn’t do this...’ Katherine tugged at her bonnet ties ‘... I will handle the kidnapping on my own. I just need someone who looks like a rogue and he does. I’ll prop him up if I have to. Augustine has to believe it is true.’

      Katherine pushed back a strand of hair which had escaped from her bonnet. She slowed and tried to catch her reflection in the windows as she walked. She wanted no hint showing of where she’d been.

      The old woman laughed. ‘You have to admit he doesn’t wish to kidnap anyone. That speaks highly of him.’

      ‘Yes, but we...’ She groaned, increased her speed, and put a hand to her hip. ‘I will just have to do it myself. I can, I’m sure.’

      ‘You need ransom money and a place to hide. And Fillmore has to believe it. The only way your stepfather will pay anything to have you returned is if his nephew says he must.’

      ‘We have to have someone Augustine doesn’t know,’ Katherine agreed, searching for a hackney. ‘That scruff of a man can do it.’

      ‘I wouldn’t call him a scruff. If you’re going down an ill-got path, he’d be the place to begin.’

      ‘I don’t want to go down any paths. I want to hide. Peacefully. In the country. With you and Gussie.’

      A donkey and cart awaited them, a young man with obsidian hair holding the reins of the donkey.

      Few people were on the street and she didn’t want any of Augustine’s friends happening upon her. She’d known better than to request the carriage. Augustine would have needed it for some reason or other. Or worse, he might have insisted he would go along. When they were trapped in a carriage, he complained or chastised with every turn of the wheels.

      ‘Child. The lad will kidnap you,’ the old woman insisted, helping Katherine into the cart. ‘He’s got the sight of you and he won’t be able to walk away. Remember, when you find yourself alone with him—don’t breathe the same air as he does. Men put off an elixir or something. I’ve thought on it for years and can’t get it figured for sure. I think it’s the way they breathe and it blinds us. Blinds us. Pulls our senses right out of our body. Makes us forget about all else, but having our way with them.’ She shook her head. ‘You don’t need