Capturing the Bride (The Kidnap Club Book 1) Read online

  Russell straightened. “I’ve dealt with a crying woman before. Plenty of them cry on the journey.”

  “Funnily enough, they’re usually still crying by the time they reach me.” Nash leaned forward. “How exactly did you deal with them?”

  “Well, I—”

  “Enough,” ordered Guy. “We have business of which to attend, and nothing is going to change. This will remain our meeting place and Russell will continue to deliver the women—crying or not—whilst Nash looks after them.”

  Russell glowered at Nash while he grinned boldly. Oh, how he loved to jest with him. It was the only way to make him seem human sometimes. He always had an odd, sort of uncaring attitude to him, as though he would be happy to put up his feet anywhere and go to sleep. He rarely unleashed any emotion—with the exception of a fiery temper that seemed to come from nowhere.

  Nash didn’t know much about the man, aside from the fact he was loyal to a fault and a damn good fighter. Thankfully, Nash had never ended up on the wrong end of Russell’s fists, but the tall Welshman had got them out of a sticky situation a time or two with great ease.

  Not that Nash was any kind of pacifist and had wound up in a brawl or two in his lifetime, but he’d far rather have Russell on his side than not.

  Guy dashed a hand through brown hair that looked like it was due a cut. The stubble on his jaw was decidedly un-earl like too. What was going on in Lord Guy’s life, Nash could not say. They had been friends since before college but once he had inherited his title and started this kidnap lark, the earl hardly had a second to spare. Nash would suggest taking on a wife to share the burden, but Guy steered clear of women since that bloody awful Eleanor had shattered the man’s heart.

  Nash, on the other hand, had all the time in the world to spare. He was just counting down the days until his father died and he could prove to the old stick he wasn’t as bad as his father feared. Had he gambled a small fortune away? Admittedly, yes. But had he also been utterly prepared to change his ways once he inherited? Well, perhaps not at the time. But things were different. Especially now he was damned poor.

  Nash still didn’t think it was a good reason to cut one’s only son off. After all, there were plenty of lords to be out there who did far worse than spend a little time in gaming hells.

  “So who is the woman this time?” asked Russell.

  “A Miss Grace Beaumont,” said Guy.

  Grace Beaumont. Pale haired, rosy cheeked. Curves a plenty. Wide eyes. Of course, he had no idea who the woman was but that was how he pictured her. “And the reason we are helping her?”

  “Something to do with escaping a fiancé. The man was known to be violent with his wife,” Guy explained.

  “Bastard,” hissed Russell.

  Nash leaned forward. “Is she attractive?”

  Guy rolled his eyes while Russell gave an annoyed grunt.

  “What?” Nash lifted his hands. “I have to know what the girl I’m looking after looks like or else I might get the wrong damned girl!”

  Russell peered down at him. “You have to know what the girl—who I am handing directly to you—looks like? For fear I might be handing you the wrong girl?”

  He shrugged. “It could happen.”

  “It doesn’t matter anyway,” Guy said. “I didn’t meet her.”

  “Who did you meet?” Nash demanded.

  “The aunt. She’s the one arranging it. Heard about us from Lady Smythe. We helped her cousin if you recall.”

  Nash nodded. Lady Smythe’s cousin had spent many a day crying whilst he watched over her before she was dispatched to Ireland. She was a sweet thing, though, and he didn’t much mind comforting a crying woman. If there was nothing else he could do with his time, he might as well offer his broad shoulders for some use.

  “What of the aunt?” Nash asked.

  Guy frowned. “What of her?”

  “Is she attractive?”

  “Good Lord, Nash, she was thirty years my senior.”

  Nash lifted his shoulders. “I’m an equal opportunities lover.”

  Guy thrust a finger his way. “You will be avoiding all opportunities of being a lover or you’ll be out,” he warned him.

  “Yes, yes, I know.”

  There was no chance Nash would give up this easy way of earning money nor being part of The Kidnap Club, as they had deemed themselves.

  Admittedly, he had the least exciting part of the job, watching over the women whilst their escapes were planned, or finances were organized, or lovers were brought to them for elopement. He suspected Russell had the best part, taking the women then protecting them on the road, but he was happy to put his forgotten and neglected estate to use, and he didn’t have to worry about armed drivers deciding their jobs were worth more than their lives and letting off a few shots.

  Nash folded his arms and grinned. “Sometimes I think you only want me for my house.”

  Guy’s brows lifted. “That’s precisely why we want you.”

  “You know how to make a man feel loved,” he grumbled.

  “The girl,” Russell pressed. “What of her?”

  “We shall be kidnapping her in two days’ time. She’ll be on the road, travelling to see a friend in Somerset with her aunt. That’s when we’ll take her.”

  “You said the aunt organized this. The girl does know what is going to happen, does she not?” asked Russell.

  Guy nodded. “She knows all about it.”

  Nash laced his fingers together and leaned back, looping his hands behind his back. “What will we be doing with her? Escorting her to some spinster aunt in the middle of nowhere? Sending her to Gretna with a lover?”

  Guy shook his head. “We’re going to ruin her.”

  Nash nearly choked on his next breath.

  “What the devil?” said Russell under his breath.

  Nash peered at Guy, wondering now if the long hair and unkempt appearance was a sign of madness rather than busyness. When Guy had brought him onboard to help a cousin of his escape an awful marriage and it had become clear there was a need for their strange sort of service, there had been strict orders of no ruining. Not even any kissing. Nash was to be as uncharming as possible.

  A tough feat indeed but he had managed it thus far.

  “Miss Beaumont is an heiress. She inherits all her money as soon as she turns one and twenty—in just over a month’s time. At which point, she is entirely independent. The plan is to hold her for ransom until she is of age then we’ll deposit her back in London, older and most likely ‘ruined’ by one of the kidnappers. Her fiancé-to-be will lose interest and she will be free of him.”

  Russell hissed out a breath. “This sounds dangerous, Guy. Hold her for a whole month?”

  “Indeed,” Nash agreed. “We’ve never held a woman for more than two weeks. We’d better be getting paid a fortune for this.”

  Guy made a face and Russell groaned. “What is it?”

  “We will get paid. Twice actually.”

  Nash clapped his hands together. “Sounds perfect. I like it.”

  “Once the ransom is paid and once again when Miss Beaumont gets her inheritance.”

  “The ransom?” echoed Russell.

  “No,” said Nash. “Recall the last time we tried to collect on a ransom? They are for guise only, you always said that. To keep people on their toes and ensure no one hunts the women.”

  Russell nodded. “No ransoms you said, even if we demanded them.”

  Guy held out both hands. “Let us just say, that although Miss Beaumont is an heiress, she is still a woman of simple means. She cannot afford our fee.”

  “And you only said one charity case a year,” pointed out Russell. “We need that money or else we can’t continue doing this. At least Nash and I do.”

  “I know, I know.” Guy rubbed a hand across his chin. “The ransom will be more than enough.”

  “If the ransom can be paid by her family, why isn’t the aunt simply paying our fee?” Russell queried
.

  “The aunt is poor. The uncle is not. He’ll pay it, she is certain, just to get his niece back so he can wed her off.”

  A headache was beginning to start behind Nash’s eyes. Even if Miss Beaumont was fair-haired and rosy-cheeked, she might not be worth this much danger. “And when we don’t return her? How can we guarantee they won’t try to come after us?”

  “We cannot,” Guy admitted. “But we are careful. We always have been. No one will track her to your estate, and this will be over before we know it.”

  Nash rubbed his forehead. “You had better hope she is worth it, Guy. I have little intention of being strung up over this Miss Grace Beaumont.”

  Even if she was the prettiest girl in the world.

  Chapter Three

  It was hard to decide whether to be horrified or excited by this whole ‘kidnapping’ matter.

  Was she addled to go through with this?

  Probably.

  Desperate too.

  Grace eyed the unfamiliar countryside passing by at a rapid pace and clutched the cat tighter to her. Claude wriggled in protest and she released the animal. He stretched, took a dainty step off her lap, and twisted around several times before settling on the cushion beside her. She wished she could feel so at ease having been bundled into this stranger’s carriage by a masked man with long legs, and little to say for himself.

  She understood the urgency, really she did, but she’d rather hoped for a few words of comfort from her kidnapper.

  Horrified. That’s what she should be.

  The whole matter had been such a strange, swift affair. The man had held up the carriage in which she’d been travelling with her aunt and taken her away at gunpoint in mere seconds. Her aunt did a fine job of playing distressed, but Grace was not so certain her own acting had been convincing. Especially when she’d refused to part with Claude.

  The cat had been with her for years and as dismissive of her as the cat seemed now, he needed her.

  And she needed him. If she was going to embark on this madcap plan, she needed her cat. Needed at least one familiar thing, considering she had left all her worldly belongings behind—what few she had that was.

  It was a little exciting, though. She was leaving the awful Mr. Worthington behind and escaping her uncle’s clutches. It was like an adventure story, even if she did envisage her time away to be rather dull. She was not entirely sure what to expect but it sounded much like she would pass her days hunkered down, just making sure no one found her.

  Hopefully, wherever it was she was to stay was not too uncomfortable or boring but having lived with her uncle, she had grown used to existing on little while he hoarded whatever he could for his own luxurious lifestyle. These days, she was lucky to own even a single book as most of them had been sold or were used to ensure his room looked the part.

  The carriage hit a bump in the road, and she gripped the edge of the window. Claude opened an eye, twisted around, and resettled.

  “It’s all very well for you,” she muttered to him.

  How lovely it must be to be a cat. Nothing to worry about apart from where the comfiest cushion was. No fears of what might be ahead.

  Good Lord, what was she doing? She never did anything different or unusual. She certainly never put her fate in the hands of strangers, especially for money. What if he intended to harm her? What if they wanted more money? There were so many things that could go wrong, and this was the most foolish, illogical thing anyone could ever do.

  Horrifying, most definitely.

  What woman in her right mind would go through with such a thing?

  But, according to her aunt, these men were practiced in this and entirely trustworthy. She said an important man led the whole thing. Why an important man would wish to get involved with ransoms, and kidnappings, and helping women escape their fates she did not know, but how angry it made her that there was such a need for this service.

  She frowned to herself. If it could be called a ‘service.’ It seemed a little silly to name it such a thing but what else could one call it?

  If only the masked man had stopped to tell her where they were going or how long they would be travelling. They had been on the road for at least three hours and the interior of the carriage was growing cold. A blanket had been provided but it was thin and threadbare. She hoped this was not indicative of the care she was going to endure over the next month. She was no prissy, demanding lady but she loathed being cold.

  At least the rain had stayed away, she supposed. Gray clouds had hung over the day like an ominous sign. Wet roads would have made the travelling all the harder and presumably made their already long journey much longer. She only hoped they were nearing the end.

  Hauling the blanket a little higher, she shook her head at Claude. “The least you could do is sit on my lap and keep me warm.”

  Claude ignored her, apparently sleeping, though Grace was certain she’d seen one eye slide open oh so briefly.

  Grace shook her head and gave the cat a quick pet then returned her attention to the road outside. Lines of barren trees passed by before giving way to open land. Fields stretched out for some distance with no sign of life anywhere. Everything was tinged a dark gray by the threatening sky so that even the rolling hills looked unwelcome. They passed a tall pile of stone, set at odd angles and with chunks missing, and she realized it must have once been an entrance arch. Perhaps they were nearly there.

  How exciting.

  She craned her neck to see ahead, pressing her forehead against the glass of the window. The road continued down a hill then curved up a little. It wasn’t until they reached the brow of the hill did she see the building ahead. A huge house sat nestled in the valley, silhouetted against the hills behind it.

  A shiver ran down her spine. The dark windows looked like little demon’s eyes, all black and emotionless. Even from here, she could tell the house was not lived in. The grand building offered up an air of neglect with untidy lawns, scrawny trees and bare vines wrapped around stone.

  Horrifying. Most Definitely Horrifying.

  UGLY. MOST DEFINITELY ugly.

  Hairy too but not necessarily in the right places. Bald patches provided a strange pale pink contrast to the black and white tufts.

  Nash peered around the cat, currently held at arm’s length by Russell. “What is this?”

  Russell shrugged, his expression masked by the cloth covering his mouth and nose. “She insisted.”

  “You were kidnapping her. How the devil did she find time to insist?”

  Russell shrugged again, offering the cat forward once more. The animal blinked lazily at him, apparently unbothered by the long journey and the man holding him. Nash took it and glanced the wretched creature over. As ugly as it was, it looked clean, though he still could not fathom what sort of a woman would insist on bringing a scraggy thing like this on a kidnapping.

  “Don’t put Claude down,” a woman commanded. “He’ll run away.”

  Claude?

  Russell stepped aside and a child clambered down from the carriage. Nash blinked several times and looked to Russell. That’s her? he mouthed. Russell nodded.

  Nash glanced her over. He knew her to be twenty but her slight appearance had him deceived for a moment. Everything about her was tiny. Small, pursed lips, delicate chin, little pinched nose. He reckoned he could span her waist with both hands, and he made that judgement even with the added weight of her cloak. The only thing that wasn’t small about her was her wide, dark eyes that seemed to take everything in. Her gaze darted up to the pediment above him, down to the steps on which he stood, and back to him, skimming up and down him a few times.

  Small for certain.

  Not ugly, though.

  Unlike... “Claude?”

  She nodded and opened her arms. “The cat.”

  He handed the creature over and watched while she fussed over it, cooing words that didn’t sound right at all muttered to such a scruffy thing. Things like darling boy,
and cute baby. He wrinkled his nose. How anyone could love such an animal, he did not know.

  “Well, I shall leave you to it,” announced Russell. “All went well, and we weren’t followed.”

  Nash was half-tempted to try to persuade Russell to stay. He couldn’t say why but there was something disturbing about this Miss Beaumont. Or perhaps it was just the cat that threw him off.

  For goodness sake’s anyone would think he had never seen a cat or a vaguely pretty woman before. He cleared his throat and clasped his hands behind his back, forcing a charming smile across his lips.

  “I’ll get Miss Beaumont settled.”

  “Right you are.” Russell tipped his hat and climbed back into the driver’s seat.

  “Mary will be here any moment,” Nash said.

  Miss Beaumont clutched the cat tightly to her, her eyes still wide. “Mary?”

  “She will cook and help care for you.”

  “What are you to do?”

  “I’m your protector, of course.”

  She tilted her head. “Do I need protection? I thought the idea was no one would find me here.”

  No one had ever traced any of the women to this house, that was true. It was so old, remote and forgotten, not many knew it ever existed. With the exception of a few very trusted people to help keep them fed and warm, of course.

  That did not mean, however, the women could be left alone. Sometimes they wanted to change their mind and go home. Other times, they begged to go visit a friend or a relative, and he was the one who had to persuade them to stick to the plan. Thankfully, he was a persuasive sort of a person.

  “No one will find you,” he promised. He gestured up at the house. “I am here for your protection and because this is my house.”

  She blinked a few times. “It is...um...a little tired.”

  He laughed. “You could say that. But it works perfectly for our purposes.”

  “I see.”

  “Come in, no doubt you are tired after your journey, and...” He sighed. “Bring the creature with you.”

  “Claude,” she corrected. “As in clawed.” She wrinkled her nose. “It’s supposed to be funny.”