Kidnap Confusion Read online

  For a moment she lay staring in puzzlement at the ceiling; then it all came back to her, and she hurried to the window, hoping that the coach she'd heard belonged to the earl's brother and not her own. To her disappointment she could not see the vehicle that had stopped in the yard in front of the house, so she hurried from the room and down the stairs just as the earl, who was partaking of a late breakfast in the private parlor, strolled into the hall expecting the arrival of John and the old nurse.

  They collided at the bottom of the stairs, and the earl's arms automatically enclosed Miss Tolliver to prevent her falling. "So sorry," both murmured, abashed, just as the coach's occupant walked through the door. His startled "I say!" made them turn and part so quickly that Miss Tolliver had to grasp the bannister to keep from almost falling again. The gentleman who stood before them in a drab driving coat sporting a boutonniere the size of a small nosegay was unknown to her, but it was apparent the earl found him no stranger.

  "Chuffy!" Giles seemed thunderstruck as he stared at the newcomer, but his amazement was nothing compared to that of the Honorable Charleton—Chuffy to his friends— Marletonthorpe. In fact, that gentleman seemed to be able to do little more than stand and goggle, his jaw opening and closing as he stared first from the earl to Miss Tolliver and back again. Instinctively Giles stepped forward to block his view of the lady, and his brow darkened. "What the devil are you doing here?" he asked irately.

  At that, the Honorable Charleton found his voice.

  "Live here, old boy," he said apologetically. "Well, not here but nearby. In the district, that is."

  Giles, who remembered now that Marletonthorpe Manor was in the area, said with petulance that that fact did not explain his friend's appearance at the inn.

  "But it does, old boy!" the other man assured him, his head moving up and down in a vigorous motion that put Miss Tolliver in mind of a horse. "Truly it does. Heard the rumor rumbling through the village this morning about this earl and a lady putting up at—uh—" He seemed to lose himself in his sentence and his face grew red as Miss Tolliver peered around the earl to eye him consideringly.

  "Go on." The earl's voice was barely audible, but there was a note in it that made both Marletonthorpe and Miss Tolliver flinch.

  "Well, the thing is," the unhappy visitor said, "—the thing is, I said to Harry, you can bet it's all a hum, Harry, because Giles is a high stickler, he is, and you know he wouldn't be staying at an inn with an unchaperoned lady— or even one of his ladybirds, for that matter. . ."

  His voice trailed off again as his eyes met Miss Tolliver's, but after a brief struggle he went manfully on. "So I said, 'Harry, I'm just going to pop over to that inn and lay this all to rest before anyone further maligns my good friend Giles

  This time he seemed unable to continue, as the earl, with a slow expulsion of breath, said, "Are you telling me that Harry is in the area also? That both of you—in the middle of the season—have retired to the country?"

  Chuffy nodded his head sadly, his expression making it apparent that he regretted their meeting as much as the earl. "Had to, old boy," he apologized. "I had business here. Harry's pockets are to let. All to pieces. Thinks if he stays around long enough, I'll drop my blunt just to be rid of him." The gentleman considered for a moment, then nod­ded. "Probably right, too. Awfully hard to countenance, is old Harry."

  The earl sighed again. "I suppose it would be too much to hope that you might drive away and forget you ever saw us?"

  The Honorable Charleton appeared even unhappier. "Be happy to, Giles. Really happy. Want to oblige you. But— thing is. . . never could keep a secret from old Harry. Or from anyone else, for that matter."

  Miss Tolliver, feeling her world tilt, was thrown even further off kilter by his lordship's next words, so at odds with his tightening mouth and the disgust apparent in his eyes.

  "Then you, Chuffy, are just the man I want," the earl said, his voice even in spite of his anger at the circum­stances in which he found himself, "for there is no secret in the fact that I am about to take a bride." He turned to Miss Tolliver, and with a slight bow, said, "My dear, I would like to present to you the Honorable Charleton Marletonthorpe. Chuffy, this is my affianced wife, Miss Margaret Tolliver."

  So great was Chuffy's astonishment that he did not notice that Miss Tolliver's was far greater. She stood stock still, her mouth an O and her eyes wide as she stared at the earl. Her cheeks, bright red only a moment before, drained of color. "You—you—" she started, but her accusation was cut short by the sound of another carriage pulling swiftly into the innyard.

  "And there," the earl said, his words cutting across hers as he reached for her hand and gripped it hard, drawing her fingers through the crook of his elbow, "unless I very much miss my guess, is your chaperone, my dear—back from a morning drive."

  Chapter 11

  The earl more pulled than led Miss Tolliver from the hallway into the yard, and they were followed closely by a bemused Chuffy Marletonthorpe, whose mouth hung slightly ajar until the earl reminded him in the dryest of dry tones to shut it. This Marletonthorpe did, opening it again to say in strangled tones, "Betrothed?" The thought obviously horri­fied him. Miss Tolliver shared his sentiments exactly.

  "No, no," she started, "there has been a mistake—ouch!"

  She stared up at the earl in indignation, for his sharp pinch to her fingers made her break off her sentence in surprise.

  "Yes, yes, my dear," he soothed, his tone at odds with the angry warning in his eyes, "I know we didn't plan to make it known until later. Bereavement in the family. . ." the earl explained to Chuffy, and Miss Tolliver thought bloodthirstily of the person she would like to suggest should die. She was not allowed to dwell on the thought, however, and her color heightened as Lord Marletonthorpe, always punctilious in such matters, expressed his condolences. Her disjointed response was thankfully cut short by the fast and furious arrival of another coach in the innyard, just as John, apparently harassed and not a little apologetic, was helping an elderly lady from the first carriage. Her dress, and the way the earl said "the devil!" at the elderly lady's appear­ance, suggested that she was not the expected nurse. Miss

  Tolliver, seeing the earl's brows snap together, sighed heavi­ly and awaited further developments.

  They came quickly. The earl stepped toward the first coach, dragging Miss Tolliver with him. John, seeing their approach, turned to his brother with a "This wasn't my idea. Giles, believe me! Grandmama arrived this morning just as Nurse and I were ready to leave, and nothing would do bet for her to come along. I tried, to discourage her. Truly I did!"

  He seemed to have little hope that his excuses would be listened to, and he was right. Giles afforded him only a curt nod, and the little lady to his left only crinkled up her nose at his explanation as she craned her neck up at the eldest of her grandsons.

  "Well, sir?" she challenged him, her head to one side as her sharp brown eyes met his cold gray ones.

  "Grandmama," Giles replied, bending to place a quick kiss on her cheek before straightening again. "I did not know we were expecting you."

  The words might have been considered a setdown by some, but the old lady grinned heartily at his frown. "Weren't," she replied briefly. When he did not immediate­ly reply, she said in the most affable tones imaginable, "Knew you would be delighted to see me, of course. Always are.''

  The earl bowed. "We are, of course, always pleased to have you with us. But at present we find ourselves not easily able to entertain visitors—"

  "It was Caroline," the dowager countess replied, as if he had not spoken, "Fretting me to pieces with her 'Now, Mama, should you eat that?' and 'Now, Mama, you know the doctor said that isn't good for you,' Couldn't abide it another moment. So I packed up and came to see you. For there's one thing about you, Giles, you don't fret me. Don't bore me, either, like John there—" her finger jabbed at the harassed Mr. Manfield "—or throw me into high fidgets like Cassandra. If ever a child was well named, it'
s my Cassandra! Between her and Caroline—well! I must say, Giles, you are the best of the lot. Could be it's because I don't see you that often. But whatever the reason, I like you, boy. Always have. There it is. No understanding it."

  His grandmother's speech did not appear to gratify the earl unduly, perhaps because he too was acquainted with his Aunts Caroline and Cassandra, and did not find an admis­sion that his grandmother considered him better company than either of her daughters any huge compliment. But it did a great deal to restore Miss Tolliver's tranquility, appealing as it did to her ever-ready sense of humor and making her like the outspoken little lady before they were ever introduced.

  That might have been remedied had not Lord Marletonthorpe picked that moment to approach the dowager countess to make his bow and to inquire if she was enjoying her stay in the country.

  The old lady, who, as she was want to put it, did not suffer fools gladly, frowned haughtily at the unfortunate Chuffy and replied, "Enjoying, you idiot? I just got he—"

  "Back." her last word was interrupted as Giles finished for her. "You just got back, Grandmother. And we hope you and John and Nurse"—for that good woman had some moments ago climbed down from the coach and was staring at him as if he were five again, and had just gotten into the cherry tarts—"had a good drive."

  "Nurse?" Chuffy questioned, striving to understand the situation. A light struck. "Feeling a bit under the weather are you, Countess?"

  "Never—" The old lady began, frowning at him again. But before she could voice the word better, the earl interrupted her again.

  "Never one to complain, is Grandmother," he said. "We sent her off this morning with John and Nurse because we thought fresh air might avert the migraine she felt coming on. Did it, my dear?"

  "Migraine?" his grandmother echoed, glaring up at him. "What on earth are you talking about, Giles? You know I never get the—"

  By this time she had read the warning in his eyes, and broke off abruptly. "Oh yes. The migraine. As a matter of fact, I feel it coming on again, right now."

  "I feel one coming on, too," Miss Tolliver said in hollow tones as the door of the second carriage opened and her brother painfully descended, groaning as his heavily wrapped foot came in contact with the ground. He stood for a moment, leaning heavily on his cane and glaring balefully at them all. Then he started forward.

  "You, too, ma'am?" Chuffy inquired with real concern. "Dear me! Never knew the migraine to be catching."

  "Oh, yes," Miss Tolliver said, the sight of her brother spurring her to desperate measures. "Quite catching. In fact, sir, if I were you, I would make haste to leave here because you never know when you, too, might feel a headache coming on."

  Chuffy tried to demur, saying he was never ill—unless you counted that inflammation of the lungs he had last Christmas.

  Miss Tolliver assured him that the migraine almost always attacked persons who had suffered an inflammation of the lungs last Christmas.

  "Really?" He looked to the earl for confirmation and that gentleman nodded as, with Miss Tolliver, he started moving his friend back toward the horse 00 which he had arrived.

  "Margaret!" Sir Charles shouted, furious to see his sister moving away from him.

  "Oh dear!" The words were involuntary and the earl, watching her deeply flushed face, motioned to John to accompany Lord Marletonthorpe to his horse as Giles, with a most interested Grandmother and Nurse looking on, turned with Miss Tolliver to meet her brother.

  "Margaret Marie!" Sir Charles thundered just as the confused Chuffy climbed onto his horse. "What is the meaning of this?"

  "Noisy fellow," Chuffy observed to John. "Wonder what it is he wants to know the meaning of?"

  "Wouldn't know," the harassed John said, raising a hand as if to wave good-bye to his friend. The friendly Chuffy was waving back as John's raised hand came down— accidentally, Chuffy thought, but hard—on the rump of Lord Marletonthorpe's horse, and Chuffy galloped from the innyard. So overwhelmed was he by all he had heard and seen that it didn't occur to him until he reached home and Harry asked that he realized he still didn't know what the earl was doing at the small out-of-the-way inn, attended by so many mem­bers of his family. Chuffy shook his head thoughtfully and hoped Giles wasn't growing too eccentric in his middle years.

  By the time Chuffy Marletonthorpe exited the innyard, Sir Charles had made his painful way up to his sister, pausing only when he stood mere inches from her, waving his cane for emphasis as he repeated his question.

  "What is it, Margaret Marie? What have you done?" he demanded.

  Miss Tolliver, acutely aware of their interested audience, and of the display her brother tended to make of himself when in a temper, tried to forestall a public washing of family linen by suggesting that they go into the inn and talk about it, but her suggestion was ignored. His mind too fully occupied even to hear her words, Sir Charles continued.

  "My coachman," Sir Charles said, stabbing his cane toward that individual, who stood several paces back but definitely within earshot, "returns to my home, rousing me from my sickbed—my sickbed, Margaret Marie—with some faradiddle about kidnappers and a holdup on the Great North Road."

  "It was a mistake—" Miss Tolliver tried. Her brother was having none of it, and charged ahead with his accusations.

  "Then," Sir Charles said, frowning greatly, "then he tells me that when, in the line of duty, he wounded one of the ruffians and had his sights on another, you told him to put up—to put up, Margaret Marie—so that not only did you keep him from doing his duty, and ridding the world of one more highwayman, you also ordered him to bring you and the villains to this inn. And when he tried to represent to you the impropriety of your actions—when he told you exactly what I would have told you. in the same circum­stances—you sent him about his business."

  "Your coachman," Miss Tolliver said, frowning angrily at that individual, who took a thoughtful step backward, "is a fool—"

  Still Sir Charles was not listening, and he plunged on. "I am shocked, Margaret Marie! Shocked and sickened that a member of my family—a gently nurtured female, given every advantage from the moment of birth—could behave in this manner, as if she were a common . . . a common—"

  Words failed him, and he stood glaring at his sister, his eyes fairly bulging from his head, the muscles of his jaw working as his chin jutted forward.

  "—and so are you," the gently nurtured female complet­ed his thought. Mortified that he had played out his scene in front of such an audience, she turned without a word and walked away.

  "Margaret!" he roared, taking a hasty step forward. He was stopped by a heavy hand on his shoulder, and looked up to see the earl, his face devoid of expression, staring down at him. "Unhand me, sir!" he bellowed.

  The earl did not. Instead he bowed slightly, his eyes never leaving Sir Charles's face. There was something in them that made Sir Charles shift slightly and tug at his neckcloth.

  "How do you do?" Giles said. "I am the Earl of Manseford. This is my brother," he said, indicating John, whose face showed that he would rather be anywhere but in that innyard at that moment, "and this is my Grandmother, the dowager countess."

  Sir Charles, feeling as if control of the situation was slipping from his hands, but not understanding how, nodded begrudgingly to John and made a stiff bow to the countess. She favored him with a very slight nod, and her eyes, remarkably like her grandson's despite the difference in color, returned to Giles's face.

  "Pleased to make your acquaintance," Sir Charles mum­bled, because it seemed to be expected of him. Once again he tried to twist out of the earl's grasp. Giles's hand only tightened.

  "I hope so," the earl said. "I hope so, indeed. Because we are all about to become related, Mr. Tolliver. Your sister and I are betrothed."

  Chapter 12

  "What?" The word came from several mouths, and several pairs of eyes grew wide at the earl's announcement.

  "Betrothed?" Again the word was said by several voices, but aft
er that questions pelted the earl with such speed, mixing and mingling with each other to such a degree, that he could not distinguish one from the other. He raised a hand for silence, and when that did not work, he barked the word " Quiet V with such force that even his grandmother, the most redoubtable of dames, was startled enough to stop speaking.

  "That's better!" the earl said, frowning at them all. "Now then. One question at a time, if you please."

  "How?" The question was a chorus again, and there was a slight lessening of the earl's frown as he surveyed their faces and considered the ridiculousness of it all. For some curious reason he felt he was onstage, playing the lead in a period farce. For a moment he almost smiled, then his brows snapped together.

  What, he asked himself severely, was there to smile about in this situation? True, the people before him had all the appearances of a gaggle of startled geese, and that struck him as funny. But the reason for their consternation was also a matter of deuced inconvenience to him, and that, he had to admit, was anything but laughable. Accustomed to run­ning events, the earl was not pleased to find events running him, and he was brusque as he turned toward the bristling Sir Charles.

  "Your sister," Giles told him, "probably saved one of my brothers' lives yesterday when she prevented him from bleeding to death and brought him here so that a doctor might attend him."

  "What?"' his grandmother interrupted, horrified.

  "Gillian," Giles said briefly, and the old lady sighed.

  "Gillian," she repeated, as if that was enough of an explanation.

  "She kept another of my brothers from being shot by your overanxious servant there." The coachman eased back a step, his eyes on the ground, but the earl's attention was diverted from him as the dowager countess stared at her second eldest grandson.

  "Surely not you, John?" she questioned. His vigorous denial and explanation that it was Peter made her sigh again. "I thought not John," she said sadly. "Not that kind of spirit. Poor Peter!"