Ruined by Moonlight (4 page)

With two gloved fingers the elderly butler extended a card. “Lord Whitbridge is here. He insists on seeing you at once.”

“My uncle is here?” Alicia looked pleased, though Benjamin wasn’t sure why. Her mother’s brother could be a bit pompous, in his opinion, and he wasn’t particularly delighted to hear of his arrival, especially right now.

Yeats cleared his throat again. “Yes, my lady, but while he sends his regards, he wishes to see his lordship alone.”

T
he earl sat very upright and Benjamin noticed the efficient Yeats had ushered him into a comfortable chair by the fireplace and given the man a generous snifter of brandy.

Always one step ahead was Yeats. Ben was grateful that his visitor had not been seated behind his desk, for, truthfully, Lord Whitbridge held quite a commanding presence. Instead Ben took that chair and nodded in greeting. “Good afternoon.”

His lordship sat back and stared at his glass with an intense scrutiny, as if he were judging the quality of the beverage. But after a few moments he glanced up, his features tight. And without even the courtesy of a greeting, said, “My daughter is missing.”

Ben was hardly a contemporary so it wasn’t as if they were close acquaintances, but still, the blunt disclosure was a bit startling. Slowly he responded, “Elena?”

“She is my only daughter, is she not?”

It was rather difficult not to take exception at the man’s waspish tone, but maybe the circumstances warranted a certain edge. Ben said calmly, “Alicia said nothing to me about it.”

“That is because she doesn’t know. And before she hears of it—before all of London proper hears of it—I would like you very discreetly to find Elena.”

As he was hardly the keeper or seeker, for that matter, of flighty young women, Ben’s brows lifted a fraction. “I am sure I have no idea why you think I can help you.”

The earl was still fairly fit in his middle age, his thinning blond hair brushed back from a high forehead, his blue eyes steady. He was immaculately dressed, composed, almost lofty as he surveyed the confines of the comfortable study with its somewhat faded draperies and a fine layer of dust on the shelves. Ben preferred to have it cleaned only upon his orders, and habitually he forgot about it. Perhaps tomorrow he would order a good airing.

Lord Whitbridge spoke in a crisp cool tone. “I am told you can and I trust my source.”

“What source?”

“The Iron Duke himself. He’s an old friend of mine and apparently an admirer of yours. He swears if anyone can accomplish the task it is you. He said to tell you he was calling in a favor, but I would think our family connection to be quite enough. Imagine my surprise when I went to him and asked who could help me and your name was the first that came up.”

The condescending tone was hardly flattering, but, again, Ben had always done his best to seem unremarkable. It was a cultivated talent and it had served him well.

But Wellington knew the truth.

Well, hell and blast
. This wasn’t what he needed after that confounding scene in the garden with Alicia. Where had his very orderly day gone? Ben blew out a short breath. Once—only once—he’d asked for special consideration
from the duke and been granted it, and it was true he owed the man. “I’m flattered in his confidence but also retired from his service.”

“You won’t even hear me out?”

Ben wouldn’t have or so he told himself, but Elena Morrow was his wife’s cousin and he knew Alicia was fond of her.

At his hesitation, Whitbridge said in a voice that cracked slightly, “When you have a child, you will perhaps understand the depth of my desperation.”

The evidence of emotion when his guest sat so negligently in his chair and sipped from his glass caught his attention. In fact, if he was to wager on it, he would place money on the probability that his austere lordship was moved almost to tears and the man was usually so dignified his bearing could almost be called haughty. Ben had never particularly even
liked
his wife’s uncle before this moment, but damn all if the man wasn’t more human than he let on.

Devil take it
.

Thoughtfully, as if he were tuned to the nuances of the meeting even before it happened, Yeats had also poured Ben a snifter of brandy. He picked it up and took a sip. This appeared to be an afternoon that needed extra fortification. “I will listen,” he said evenly, “if you keep the recital short, to the point, and without emotional inferences. Just the facts, if you will, in as concise a manner as possible. What happened?”

Whitbridge seemed grateful for the excuse to blink several times and compose himself. “We were at the theater and she never came out to the carriage once the performance was over. As you know it was drizzling last eve, and I went out to stand with the footman to wait,
and my wife joined me but Elena never emerged from the crowd. At first we thought she must have met a friend and been detained for a few moments, but after a while we became irritated at the delay and then alarmed, so we sent someone looking for her. There was no trace.”

That
was
curious, and despite his vow to relax easily into the role of a cultured gentleman and his conviction he didn’t miss the hunt, Ben found himself intrigued. “No one saw her leave?”

“No one saw anything.” Whitbridge was emphatic. “When I realized what had happened I questioned the footmen and attendants myself. She retrieved her cloak, but after that, nothing.” He stopped, seemed to recall the admonishment to not show his feelings, and then added hollowly, “It is as if Elena has just…vanished.”

Not certain how diplomatic he had to be when the man was seeking his assistance, Ben took another sip from his glass before he said neutrally, “Elena is quite lovely and Alicia has mentioned her popularity more than once since her debut this season. Is it possible she has eloped with one of her many suitors?”

“No.” The earl decisively shook his head.

“You sound very certain.” Considering the young lady’s age and the ridiculous romantic notions women entertain upon occasion—his own wife a case in point that had a pertinent immediacy—Ben wasn’t nearly as certain. It seemed to him the most likely explanation for the whereabouts of the errant Lady Elena. She was the reigning belle of the
ton
, her blond beauty both fashionable and striking. “I am sure the idea doesn’t please you, but what if she had a penchant for a man you would not approve of? It has happened before.”

“She would never worry her mother and me in such a
fashion, trust me. If she
had
run off—which I don’t think is what occurred for a moment—she would at least leave us a note of some sort. She’s always been a very levelheaded girl. It would be very out of character to be so inconsiderate. Besides, she is newly engaged to Lord Colbert.”

That jibed with how Alicia had always described her. Not prone to vanity even with her current level of popularity and inclined toward physical pursuits like riding and archery rather than embroidery and practicing the pianoforte, which did not please her mother.

“I take it you have already made certain he isn’t also missing. They would not be the first couple to decide that a long engagement is inconvenient.”

“Of course.” The words were crisp and the look Ben received was disparaging. “I did not wish to alarm him unduly, but naturally I sent someone to find out if Colbert was aware of the situation. He was very much in residence and had no idea.”

So the word was out, which made discretion somewhat of a dicey proposition. It also did not mean Lady Elena had not hared off with another suitor, but it was hardly politic to point it out.

“You can think of no one who might be a part of this?” Ben leveled a direct look at his guest. Truly, he had no time to dabble in an investigation. But if he had to—and it appeared he must, though his new life was supposed to be calm and free of intrigue of any kind—he needed to get started at once. He had taken over the role of earl…it wasn’t all that challenging, but it was his duty, and his schedule was already quite full.

Besides, with every passing moment, he knew from experience, locating a missing object, be it an important
document, a valuable piece of information, or, in this case, a person, became more of a challenge.

“No one,” the earl said and drained his glass in one convulsive swallow.

“Women confide in each other. I can ask Alicia if—”

“No!” Whitbridge thrust himself to his feet but at least he had the grace to calm his voice. “I want as few people to know of this as possible. Colbert knows but I was obligated by honor to tell him. I am fond of my niece, but Alicia is young and female and perhaps might not understand the ramifications if she divulged our family’s current dilemma. I prefer you say nothing, Heathton. Understand?”

Just when he was supposed to be dedicated to pleasing his wife he was supposed to keep an important secret from her?

Perfect.

He muttered, “I understand, but this is deuced bad timing.”

A full day.

By the illumination, albeit difficult to discern through the colored glass of the windows, it was at least late afternoon, so they’d been locked in this room at least a
whole
day.

Ran fought the urge to pace.

He was restless by nature anyway and usually he rode every morning without fail for exercise. Not to mention that they’d been so far given nothing besides the water, and the delectable Lady Elena was probably also hungry and God knew he was famished.

“When do you think they will at least extend us the courtesy of more water?”

It was a good question and followed his own thoughts directly, and, actually, he had to admire Elena Morrow for asking it so calmly. He was close to wanting to pound on the door in frustrated fury yet again. So far that tactic had proven useless. The walls were too smoothly constructed to scale and the window too high to reach even if the bed were dragged under it. To escape it would have to be through the door, which was as solid as if it had been constructed to withstand a battering ram from an invading army.

“It seems like the least of common decency to do so,” he agreed, trying to ignore that even though she was wrapped in a sheet, he well remembered what she looked like in just her shift. “But as you have witnessed, pounding on the door and letting whoever is behind this know that we are not only awake but full of questions has done absolutely no good.”

Maybe that is the idea,
he wondered wryly. To starve them to death was a bit crude, though he was still mystified as to why anyone would wish either of them harm. There was no doubt he had a few people out there who disliked him, but to
this
extent? No, he could think of no one.

His most recent mistress, Beth, perhaps, but they had parted ways in a friendly fashion. And besides, while she was undeniably luscious in an overblown fashion most gentlemen found appealing, she did not have the deviousness to somehow drug him and maneuver him into his current predicament. To her credit, he also doubted she had the malice in her either. They had freely enjoyed each other and that was the extent of it. The affair had been pleasant but brief.

Lady Elena held the sheet modestly closed at her
throat, a faint frown on her lovely face. “I must admit the idea that someone touched me while I was unaware of it is…disturbing.”

“I like it as little as you do,” Ran admitted, leaning a shoulder against the cool wall. His coat, cravat, shirt, boots—all were missing and he had no recollection of removing them. “It gives me a feeling of helplessness I acknowledge affronts me as a male.”

“Females experience helplessness quite often,” she said with a hint of asperity. “Perhaps it is retribution for your sins.”

“Perhaps.” For the first time since he awakened, disoriented and locked in a place he had never seen before, he smiled. She had been perfectly right earlier; he had made no attempt to be anything but marginally civil so far, and she was not only younger, but no doubt did feel quite vulnerable. Quietly, he went on. “But while I have my faults, a disparaging attitude toward women is not one of them.”

His reassurance might have been a good idea, for she visibly swallowed. “I’ve no doubt you have great admiration for my sex, Lord Andrews, but that is nice to hear.”

What he might have said next was interrupted by the sound of the bar lifting on the door, the scrape making him straighten out of his negligent pose, every muscle going tense. He was not feeling very charitable toward whoever had orchestrated their imprisonment.

However, the young boy who entered was certainly not the villain. No more than ten years of age or so, he carried a tray full of covered dishes. Behind him came an elderly man with a carefully balanced salver with two different decanters and crystal glasses.

Immediately Ran demanded, “Why are we here?”

He didn’t get so much as a glance in response, and the boy hurriedly set down the tray on the small table. Ran waited a moment while neither of them said anything and then moved purposefully toward the open door.

“Not so fast. I’d stop if I were you, milord.”

The pistol leveled in a very businesslike way at his chest did give him pause in the doorway. A swift glance revealed more stone walls and a circular staircase, the ceiling low, going downward outside the room. Ran prudently took measure of the man standing there blocking his exit. The guard had graying whiskers a bit unruly around a pugnacious jaw and his jacket showed some wear at the hem, but the gun was polished to a high sheen. The thickness of the guard’s shoulders and his implacable expression weren’t all that promising, and as efficiently as the kidnapping had gone so far, Ran should have known it was foolish to expect an easy escape.

“What is it you want?” he asked evenly, still eyeing the gun.

“Just for you to stay put without a fight, guv. There’s food, drink, and a lovely lady. Sounds like a fine evenin’ to me.”

“Who hired you? I can pay more.”

The man just chuckled. “I never tire of you rich toffs trying to best each other…but no, thank you. I’m decent satisfied as it is and not inclined to take me chances.”