Love's Misadventure (The Mason Siblings Series Book 1) Read online

  “Lane, can you help me out of these ropes?”

  “I will do my best. I have been tied, as well.” He shuffled across the floor toward her. “Perhaps we can sit back-to-back; it might be easier to untie each other.”

  She turned her back to his voice and waited while he continued to shift. His hands gripped her sore bottom, and she gasped, gritting her teeth together.

  “Apologies,” he mumbled.

  “It’s all right,” she assured him. “I am merely sore.”

  He was silent for a moment. “Did the ruffians do anything to you?”

  “Besides kidnapping? Nothing that I did not provoke them into doing, I assure you.” He reached her wrists and began to untie them. “Were those the men to whom you owe funds, Lane?”

  “No. I have never seen those men before.” She kept pulling at the ropes that tied his wrists. “I have a confession, Anna,” he continued. “I didn’t really—”

  “Oi! Tha’s ’nuff ye two!” Anna jumped as two of their burly kidnappers burst into the room.

  She squinted in shock from the dim light in the hall beyond their abductors. The four silhouettes made her frown. She’d thought there were only three captors. Though, she supposed someone must drive the hack.

  The fourth man had red hair and ghastly red scars puckering up the side of his neck, over his jaw, and onto the lower portion of his left cheek.

  “Get up off yer arses. It’s time te move.”

  Anna hesitated, her internal voice screaming at her to attend to her own needs. She licked at her suddenly dry lips. “May I please have a few moments to take care of some…personal needs?”

  The taller of the giants, Toby, gestured to a tattered privacy screen positioned in one dark corner of the room. “Ye got one minit.”

  Anna was aghast. Surely he did not mean that. “There is no conceivable way that I am going to use a chamber pot with all of you in the room! The screen is very nearly transparent!”

  “Couldn’t we step out of the room and give Anna some privacy?” Lane asked.

  “No.” Toby scowled at Anna. “Ye either do ’t wi’ us in ’ere or ye piss yer prissy dress.” He spit on the floor not two feet from her. She recoiled in disgust. “We ain’t gonna leave ye, so get on wi’ it.”

  Her stomach in knots, Anna reluctantly made her way to the privacy screen. She used her fingertips to lift the back of her skirt, but could only manage to raise one side. She spread her legs and tried to rest some of the riding habit’s long skirt on the top of one thigh, but it kept slipping off. Uninhibited, a growl of frustration escaped her.

  “’Avin’ a problem, missy?” The ruffians chuckled.

  “As a matter of fact, yes.” She knew she had no other recourse but to plead for help. She sighed. “Is there any way that I can request Lane’s help?” She felt her blush rise from her breasts to her hairline. One more humiliation and she would dissolve into tears.

  The sound of shuffling came from the other side of the screen, then heavy, approaching footsteps. Please let that be Lane and not one of the blackguards!

  The relief she felt when Lane rounded the side of the screen was fleeting once she remembered that he had to help her lift her skirts.

  With a meaningful glance that she could not possibly interpret, he turned his back to her and they worked together to lift her skirts. She managed to arrange herself in a way that allowed her to perform her necessary functions, mortifying though it was. Once Lane had helped her rise to her feet once more, she turned to face him while straightening the back of her skirts.

  Now that she thought of it, she had read innumerable gothic novels, and not one of them mentioned having to use the chamber pot while one’s hands were tied, nor of needing help to do it. It was a terrible oversight.

  Her blush flamed hot in her cheeks as embarrassment swamped her. “Thank you.”

  His eyes softened. “Everything will turn out well, Anna,” he whispered, then led the way around the screen.

  “Took long ’nuf.” Toby watched them suspiciously.

  “With our hands tied behind our backs, you left us little choice, sir,” Anna snapped.

  “Grab ’em, will ya, Billy? The Boss wants ’em there by wensdee night.”

  Three days? They were to ride for three days in close quarters with these barbarians?”

  “Sure thing, Toby.” The man named Billy grabbed them both by the elbow and dragged them out the door.

  Anna narrowed her eyes against the light in the corridor. They appeared to be in a small inn. She assumed it to be far from town on a road not frequently travelled, as was wont to be the way villains travelled in her books.

  The scent of burning tallow wax, smoke, and stale urine assailed her nostrils. The acrid odour grew stronger as they strode down the hall, forcing Anna to breathe through her mouth.

  Oh Lord, I can taste it.

  She distracted herself by asking the question that had been niggling at the back of her mind. “Why?”

  Chapter 8

  Lane waited with interest for one of their kidnappers to reply.

  “Why have you abducted us?” Anna clarified.

  Lane wanted to learn the answer to that question, as well, for he had quickly realized that these were not the men he had hired.

  “We gots orders,” Toby grunted.

  “From whom?” Lane probed.

  “Ain’t none o’ yer business!”

  Billy’s grip tightened on Lane’s upper arm as they tramped through the inn’s taproom. There were two rough-looking patrons huddled together in deep conversation near a low-burning fire. Did they not find their presence alarming? What of the innkeeper? Surely he found two bound persons being led by four villains out of the ordinary?

  A blast of cool, humid air hit them as the inn’s door opened. They were quickly ushered out into the innyard where their hack awaited them. Thick, heavy droplets of rain pelted them mercilessly from the dark night’s sky.

  Lane dipped his head instinctively as Billy thrust them toward the hack. “In. Now,” the big man grunted.

  Another blow to the head was keenly undesired, so Lane did as was demanded of him, though his gentlemanly instincts allowed Anna to precede him. She struggled with the length of her habit’s skirts and tumbled forward into the dreadful equipage.

  “Anna!” He stepped forward and peered inside. “Are you well?”

  She groaned as she fumbled to right herself. “As well as anyone can claim to be in this circumstance,” she grumbled sarcastically.

  She was well enough, then.

  Lane climbed in the hack just as Anna settled herself on the forward-facing seat. Toby pushed him to the seat opposite Anna and entered to sit beside him. Frenchie and Billy clambered in and took their seats as one of them hit the ceiling with their fist.

  The hack lurched into motion, the wheels rumbling over dirt, hay, and manure. The damp from the rain was seeping through Lane’s riding coat, leaving him chilled.

  The rainwater and cold night were not the only things sending shivers down his spine. Whoever had hired these men to kidnap Lane and Anna had a reason behind their actions. The question was, why? And what did they intend to do with Lane and Anna when they’d been delivered to The Boss?

  Those questions, however, paled in comparison to the one glaringly obvious problem they faced. How were they going to escape?

  * * *

  The past forty-eight hours had been the worst of her life thus far. Anna sat on the edge of a hard mattress, which had been placed on the rough, dirty, wood-planked floor of a miniscule and tattered room. This was the fifth inn, what Anna was sure was a long line of inns, at which they would stop.

  Their journey had been long and rough, as was evidenced by her very sore bottom.

  A loud snore echoed through the room, and Anna’s gaze slid toward one of her captors, Billy, where he sat in an armchair that was dwarfed by his large size. Their kidnappers took turns watchin
g Lane and Anna in their respective rooms. And though she was grateful that hers had fallen asleep, his chair was pressed against the door to the hallway, and the other door connected to Lane’s bedchamber, where his guard would surely stop them from escaping, should they attempt it.

  Faint candlelight flickered over the walls, lending the dilapidated room an air of intimacy, though it was anything but. Something scuttled around in the corner of the small bedchamber, searching for food or the materials for a nest.

  She shivered, running her fingertips over the once fine material of her dark blue riding habit. How she wished she had a clean frock…and a bath…and a meal…and hot chocolate.

  Anna grimaced at the loud rumble from her stomach. Their captors had only fed them scraps of stale bread and weak, cold tea for sustenance; her body craved so much more.

  She removed the hairpins from her flagging, bedraggled coiffure and tied the dark-blonde strands in a knot at the base of her neck. She had lost her bonnet and gloves at some point over the last two days, but she couldn’t muster any outrage over the loss.

  As much as she wished to have the comforts of home, Anna settled for having her wrists unbound and a night of sleep.

  How had Mama, Papa, and Charles taken the news of her abduction? Were they terribly concerned? By now the fact of her kidnapping would be circulating around the ton as the latest scandalous gossip. Anna sighed. She was ruined. She had been in a hack with four men, without a chaperone, for two full days and had spent time with them in five separate inns. There was no possibility that the haute ton would forgive those iniquities, deliberate or not.

  She couldn’t hold back the tears that welled in her eyes. Her hopes for a future were gone. Anthony would no longer wish to wed her…no gentleman would wish to wed her! Her hopes for children were gone. And she hadn’t a clue what was going to happen to her and Lane. Would they expect him to repay the debt he had incurred in his own blood? Would they be tortured? Killed?

  Her shoulders began to shake as she openly wept, letting out her fears, pain, and sadness in a cathartic release.

  The adjoining door suddenly opened, and Anna swiped at her eyes and cheeks with the backs of her hands.

  “Lane,” she whispered wetly as she stood, her arms outstretched.

  He hedged a glance at her guard before he glided forward to pull her into his embrace.

  “I was worried about you,” she murmured into his travel-worn riding coat.

  “Me?” He pulled back to search her face. “I was worried for you, Anna.” His astute gaze locked on hers. “You have been crying.” Anger burned in his gaze. “What have they done to you?”

  She rolled her stinging eyes at him. “What an absurd question, Lane. We have been kidnapped.” She sniffled. “What haven’t I to cry about? Anthony will no longer wish to seek my hand—”

  “If Boxton cannot see past something that is not your fault, then he is not worth fretting over.”

  “This is not merely about Anthony, Lane,” she said, her voice a heated whisper. “This is about all gentlemen. Don’t you see? I am ruined! Not only will I not marry, but I will also be shunned. Women will shield their daughters from the sight of me. I have no care for the state of my pride, but my heart desires a child to love. And Charles! Poor Charles will be in want of a wife in a matter of years, and having a pariah for a sister will render his efforts futile.

  “Our current circumstance has me frightful that…” Her chin trembled and her eyes clouded over once more. “I would,” she squeaked, “I would hate for anything ill to happen to you, Lane.”

  His arms came around her once more, and she sank into his warmth.

  “Shh, shh. It will be all right, Anna. We will find a way to escape.”

  She nodded against his shoulder.

  “I…” His grave voice rumbled against her ear. “I have a confession.”

  He pulled away from her once more and gestured for her to resume her seat on the mattress. She sat, watching him pace the floor for several moments before he sat beside her.

  He was agitated and tense, his hair dishevelled from raking his fingers through it.

  Anna dried her eyes and waited nervously for him to speak.

  “I am not in debt,” he blurted.

  Her brows drew together. “I beg your pardon?”

  “I am not in debt,” he repeated. “I am, in fact, very wealthy.”

  “You lied to me, Lane?” Hurt cut through her.

  Lane ran his hands through his blonde hair. “Yes, I lied to you. But I had what I thought was a good reason. Though, in retrospect, it was a ridiculous plan.” He faced her, his expression pleading. “I arranged to have us kidnapped.”

  Anger charged through her, quickly replacing all feelings of sadness and self-pity. She surged to her feet in indignation. “You did what?” she hissed.

  He rose to his feet as well, his hands open in a pleading gesture. “Please allow me to explain, Anna.”

  She crossed her arms beneath her breasts, her jaw clenched tight as she awaited his excuse. As little as she wished to hear him speak through the growing fury in her chest, he was her closest friend—or so she had thought—and deserved to be heard.

  He sighed, as though in relief. “These are not the men that I hired.”

  “Who are they?”

  Lane shrugged helplessly. “I do not know, Anna. I truly do not know. But this is most certainly not what I had orchestrated.”

  Anna chewed on her bottom lip as her anger began to ebb. She did not know what to think, what to feel. If these were not the men that he had hired, if this was not his scheme, then they were precisely where they were before his confession; kidnapped by blackguards with no knowledge of where they were headed and what was to happen to them.

  Lane watched her uneasily for a reaction, his posture stiff.

  She took a deep breath and released it slowly. She had no reason to be cross with Lane for their current circumstance. Thank goodness.

  “What was your plan?” she couldn’t help but ask.

  His gaze was wary, as though fearing a trap.

  She clucked her tongue. “I believe you, Lane. I believe that you would never hire men to abuse us in such a way.”

  He sighed gustily, relief written on his features.

  “If you will not tell me what your plan was,” she murmured, “at least do me the courtesy of telling me why you arranged the deception.”

  He held her gaze, though she could sense his great desire to look away.

  “I wanted to give you an adventure, Anna.”

  His admission took her aback.

  “I knew you intended to accept a proposal of marriage from Lord Boxton, should he ask. I merely wished for you to first experience something grand. Something about which you might read in your books.”

  Anna gazed at him in silence, her heart thundering in her chest.

  He stepped toward her. “Annabel, there is something else I need to discuss with you.”

  His neck and cheeks turned a ruddy rouge. Anna kept her jaw from dropping. Is he blushing?

  Suddenly, Billy snorted, falling in a heap to the floor with a winded oof. Heavens, he’d made the ground shake!

  “Wha’? Whazzit?” He rose clumsily, blinking his eyes in the dimness of the room. “Oi!” he shouted at Lane, pulling a pistol from his pocket to aim it at them. “Back te yer own room! Y’ ain’t gonna plan no escape on my watch. Off! Go!”

  With one last, enigmatic glance at Anna, Lane quit the room, closing the door behind him.

  What was it that he had wished to discuss?

  “Git some sleep, girl. The Boss ’spects us te be there on time. Ain’t no one crossed The Boss an lived te tell the tale.” He resumed his position in the chair blocking the door and closed his eyes.

  Anna curled on her side, resting her head on her arm, unwilling to put her head directly on the mattress. Her thoughts were consumed with their circumstance. How were th
ey to escape? Would they find an opportunity? What was it that Lane had originally planned for her adventure? Why had none of these men attempted to harm her? She was eternally grateful for their restraint, but what did that mean for their intent?

  Was it wrong for her to feel flattered that Lane had thought to orchestrate an adventure for her? Did it mean anything more than a gesture of friendship?

  Her thoughts wandered from one question to another until she finally drifted into a fitful sleep.

  Chapter 9

  Anthony Walstone, Viscount Boxton, leapt fluidly from his chestnut gelding and stalked up the front steps of the Bradley family town house. He had not received a single letter or note from Annabel over the past two days, and he was getting fed up with this entire charade. He would rather tup the plump wench, force her to wed him, and get his hands on her satisfyingly large dowry.

  If it were not for the stipulation in his grandfather’s will that he marry a well-bred, untarnished female in order to receive the vast estate outside Bath, Anthony would continue to fuck his way through the ladies of London until his cock shrivelled to nothing. Unfortunately, there was a stipulation in his godforsaken grandfather’s will. And he needed Annabel’s dowry. It was the largest of all the unmarried ladies in London, and his father’s debts were great, indeed. Annabel was the female he required as his wife.

  Anthony raised the door’s knocker and let it fall with a clunk.

  He had come by the Bradleys’ home yesterday, but Major Bradley had said that Annabel had the headache and refused him entrance. He did not for a moment believe the bastard’s tale.

  The front door opened, and the Bradleys’ butler, Tim, stood in the opened doorway.

  “Good evening, my lord.”

  “Good evening, Tim. I am come to inquire after Miss Bradley’s health.” He didn’t give a rot about the chit’s health.

  “Miss Bradley is not at home, I’m afraid, your lordship.”

  Anthony heaved a sigh as sharp annoyance jolted through him. “Might I inquire as to her whereabouts?”