mma strode down the hall and barged into Shipton and Ames's room. "I found her. She's in room number seven."

"Does she look all right?" Ames asked quickly.

Emma nodded. "She hasn't been hurt. Yet." She took a breath and tried to still the nervous churning of her stomach.

"But there are two awful men guarding her. We have to get her out of that room."

"Maybe we ought to wait for his grace to arrive," Shipton suggested hopefully.

"We haven't got time." Emma wrung her hands together as she paced the room.

"I think that she's been kidnapped by Woodside."

At Ames and Shipton's blank looks, she said, "It's a rather long story, but he's somewhat obsessed with Belle, and I think he

may want revenge against our family. I—I insulted him once." Emma gulped as she remembered how she had laughed in Woodside's face when he had said he would marry Belle. And there was no doubt that he was furious over the loss of the gambling voucher. Ned had accused him of trying to collect the debt twice, and he had been publicly humiliated. That surely

stung even more than the loss of the money. The more Emma thought about it, the more worried she became. "We've got to

get her before he arrives."

"But how?" Shipton asked. "Ames 'n me, we're not as strong as those thugs."

"And they have pistols," Emma put in. "We're going to have to outwit them."

The two footmen looked at her expectantly. Emma swallowed nervously. "There was an open window," she said. She rushed

to the window, threw it open, and stuck her head outside. "There's a ledge," she said excitedly.

"Dear God, yer grace," Ames said, horrified. "You can't mean to—"

"There is no other way to get into the room when the men aren't there to let me in. I don't have any choice. And the ledge

isn't too narrow."

Ames poked his head out the window.

"See, it's about a foot wide. I'll be fine. I just won't look down."

"Lord have mercy on our souls, Shipton," Ames said, shaking his head. "Because his grace is going to kill us."

"What we need is a diversion. Something that will make them leave the room."

The threesome sat in silence for a few minutes until Shipton finally ventured, "Well, you know, yer grace, men do like their ale."

A small ray of hope began to form in Emma's heart. "What are you saying, Shipton?"

Shipton looked a little uneasy, unused to having his ideas listened to with such attention by the nobility. "Well, I'm just saying that men do like their ale, and it's a fool who passes up a free drink."

"Shipton, you're a genius!" Emma cried out, spontaneously throwing her arms around him and giving him a big kiss on the cheek.

Shipton turned beet red and started stammering. "I don't know, yer grace, I just—"

"Hush. Here's what we're going to do. One of you is going to go down to the street and start hollering how you've just become rich. Someone died, or something like that, and you've inherited some money. Then start yelling about how you're going to buy drinks for everyone in town. There's a tavern downstairs. The other one of you will stand guard in the hall and wait to see if the men leave. If they do, I'll sneak along the ledge and go through the window, get Belle, and come back here. Are we agreed?"

Both men nodded, but their eyes looked dubious.

"Good. Then which one of you wants to buy the drinks?"

Neither said a word.

Emma grimaced. "All right then. Ames, you're more flamboyant so I want you to do it." She pressed several coins into his hand. "Now get going."

Ames frowned, took a deep breath, and then exited the room. A few minutes later, Emma and Shipton heard his shouts.

"I'm rich! I'm rich! After twenty years o' service, the old geezer finally croaked an' left me a thousand pounds!"

"Quick, Shipton, go out to the hallway," Emma whispered urgently as she ran to the window and peeked out. She didn't have a direct view to the street, but if she looked down the alleyway, she could see Ames as he passed by on his way to the entrance

of the inn.

"It's a miracle!" he shouted, starting to laugh hysterically. "A miracle! A sign from God himself! I'll never have to wait on

another hoity-toity lord or lady for the rest of my days!"

Emma smiled, deciding that she'd forget about the hoity-toity comment. If he succeeded in getting the villains away from Belle, he'd be able to retire for life on the bonus his hoity-toity employers gave him.

Ames fell to his knees and started to kiss the ground. "Good Lord," Emma murmured. 'The man missed his calling. He should

have been an actor. Or at the very least a swindler."

Just then, one of the two villains stuck out his head, two windows down. Emma quickly pulled hers back in and began to pray.

Out in the street, Ames got down to business. "I wanna buy drinks for every man who's had to work for a living. Every man

who has had to toil, to use his hands. To The Hare and Hounds! We've earned our reward!"

A goodly amount of cheering followed the last statement, and Emma heard the sounds of a horde of people rushing into the inn. As she waited for Shipton to give her the word, the temptation to hold her breath was so great that she had to keep reminding herself to exhale.

An eternity passed in thirty seconds until Shipton burst back into the room. "They took the bait, yer grace! Left an' went downstairs. Looked plenty excited, too."

Emma's heart started pounding wildly. It was one thing to talk about sneaking around on ledges; it was quite another to do it.

She looked out the window. It was a long way to the ground. If a fall didn't bring death, it would almost certainly mean many broken bones. "Just don't look down," she muttered to herself. Taking a deep breath, she climbed out of the window and

balanced herself on the ledge. Thank goodness she wasn't facing the street. In the alley, no one was likely to notice the rather

odd sight of a woman pressed up against the side of the building, two stories up.

Taking small steps, she crept along, breathing a silent apology to Eustace and his companion as she passed by their room.

Finally, she reached Belle's window. She bent her legs very slowly, concentrating on her balance, and then hurled herself

through the open window, landing in a somewhat painful bundle on the floor.

Belle let out a little yelp of surprise as Emma came flying into the room, but it wasn't very loud because she'd been tightly

gagged. "I'll get you out of this in no time," Emma said quickly, gulping down her furor over the sight of her cousin bound

to the bedposts. "Damn it," she muttered. "These knots are tight."

Belle jerked her head, trying to motion to the bureau across the room.

"What? Oh." Emma raced over and found a knife sitting on the bureau next to the tray she had left there not very long ago.

It wasn't very sharp, but it did the trick, and less than a minute later she had Belle free. "I'll get that gag off of you back in my room," she said urgently. "I want to get out of here as soon as possible." Emma slipped the knife into her pocket, grabbed Belle's hand, and pulled her through the doorway.

Once they got back to Emma's room Shipton slipped outside to stand guard, and Emma quickly cut the gag away from Belle.

"Are you all right?" she implored. "Did they hurt you?"

Belle shook her head quickly. "I'm fine. They didn't touch me, but..." She took a deep breath, trying to compose herself, and then promptly burst into tears. "Oh, Emma," she wailed. "I was so scared. I think it was Woodside who arranged the whole thing.

And I couldn't stop thinking about him touching me. It made me feel so dirty, and..." Her words trailed off into a stream of hiccups.

"Shhh," Emma crooned consolingly, putting her arms around her cousin to soothe her. "You're fine now, and Woodside never

got near you."

"All I could think was that I was going to have to marry him, and then my life would be ruined forever."

"Don't worry," Emma murmured, stroking Belle's hair.

"I couldn't even divorce him." Belle hiccupped and inelegantly wiped her nose with the back of her hand. "I'm sure I couldn't

get one and besides, I'd be banished from society. Alex probably wouldn't even let you see me anymore."

"Of course I could still see you," Emma said quickly, but she knew that most of what Belle said was true. There was no place in London society for a divorced woman. "It matters not anyway. You're not going to have to marry Woodside so there's no point discussing divorce. Unfortunately, we're stuck in this inn because we've only got one horse. I had one of the grooms ask around and there isn't a horse or carriage for hire in the entire town."

"What about the stage?"

Emma shook her head. "It doesn't pass through here. We're going to have to wait for Alex, I'm afraid. He shouldn't be too long,

at any rate. Bottomley left for Westonbirt over an hour ago. I don't think we'll have to wait much longer than an hour." She

peered nervously out the window. "I think it would be safer to stay here behind a locked door than to venture out on foot."

Belle nodded, sniffling loudly. She blinked a couple of times, finally taking in Emma's strange appearance. "Oh, Emma," she giggled. "You look hideous!"

'Thank you!" Emma said enthusiastically. "It's a brilliant disguise, don't you think? You didn't even recognize me at first."

"And I wouldn't have if you hadn't started dropping Shakespeare into your every sentence. It's a good thing that my captors

were illiterate. It was all I could do not to scream with laughter once I realized what you were up to. But the one thing I was wondering was—how did you get here in the first place?"

"Oh, Belle, we were so lucky. I went to visit Sophie yesterday and decided to stop by to see you today. I just happened to

turn the corner as you were getting into the 'carriage. When you didn't go to the Ladies' Literary meeting I grew suspicious."

Belle sobered as she realized the degree to which Providence had played in her rescue. "What do we do now?"

"I'm going to get out of this awful costume. Those men might come looking for you, and it wouldn't do for me to look like

anyone other than the woman who checked into the room a few hours ago." She pulled off the wig, letting her bright hair

tumble down her back. "There. I feel better already."

* * *

If Bottomley had been tired when he got to Westonbirt, he was utterly exhausted by the time he reached Alex's London townhouse three hours later. He had never been to Alex's bachelor's lodgings before, but he had grown up in London,

so he located it easily from the address that Norwood had given him.

With desperation-filled eyes, he ascended the front steps and pounded on the door. Smithers answered almost immediately. "Deliveries," he said imperiously, "are made in the rear."

Before Smithers could shut the door, Bottomley wedged himself into the doorway, gasping, "That's not why I'm here. I—"

"As are inquiries for employment." Smithers's glare turned even frostier.

"Will you shut yer mouth for a second!" Bottomley burst out. "I work for his grace at Westonbirt. Drive his carriage." He paused, still breathing heavily. "It's her grace. She's in danger. Her cousin's been kidnapped. I've got to find his grace right away." Bottomley sagged against the doorframe, barely able to stand.

"He isn't here," Smithers said anxiously.

"What? They told me he was comin' to London an' I—"

"No, no, he's here. He's just not here. He went to White's. You'd best get to him immediately. Let me give you the address."

Thirty seconds later, Bottomley was back on his horse, feeling even more tired after his brief rest than he had before it.

He soon reached White's but the man at the front door refused him entrance.

"You don't understand," Bottomley pleaded. "It's an emergency. I've got to see his grace right away."

"I'm sorry, but only members are allowed to enter." The doorman sniffed disdainfully. "And you are obviously not a member."

Bottomley grabbed the man by the lapels, his eyes wild with exhaustion and panic. "I need to see the duke of Ashbourne now!"

The doorman paled at Bottomley's unbalanced demeanor. "I can send for him if you wait just a—"

"That ain't good enough. Aw, hell." Bottomley pulled his arm back, punched the doorman in the face, stepped over his body, and rushed into the sacrosanct halls of the club. "Yer grace! Yer grace!" he called. And then realizing that there may very well be several yer graces present, he started hollering, "The duke of Ashbourne! I need him right away!"

Twenty elegantly groomed heads swiveled in his direction. "Thank the Lord, there you are, yer grace," Bottomley breathed, collapsing against the wall.

Alex stood up, terror slowly building in his heart. "Bottomley, what on earth?"

Bottomley fought for great big gulps of air. "Emergency, yer grace. It's yer wife. She—"

Alex ran across the room and shook Bottomley by his shoulders. "What happened? Is she all right?"

Bottomley nodded. "Aye, she is, yer grace." He paused, trying to catch his balance. "But maybe not for long!"

For the fourth time that day, Bottomley found himself back in the saddle, and this time, it was all he could do to hang on to the horse's neck.

* * *

The village of Harewood rarely saw members of the aristocracy strolling along its narrow streets and, had all of its inhabitants

not descended upon The Hare and Hounds to take Ames up on his generous offer, they would have been rather surprised to

have seen the elegant figure of Lord Anthony Woodside, Viscount Benton, alighting from his carriage. Emma's appearance

had already caused quite a stir, but a fine lord was something else altogether.

He was, all in all, rather pleased with himself. Kidnapping the fair Lady Arabella had been a stroke of genius. In one fell swoop

he had solved all of his problems. He had his revenge against her brother, he had the woman he desired, and, in less than an

hour, he'd have access to the Blydon fortune.

He headed over to the local church to finalize his deal with the vicar who had agreed to perform the hasty wedding and overlook such trivialities as the consent of the bride. But he never quite reached the clergyman, for as he turned the corner into the

churchyard he saw an elegant carriage, even more elegant than his own. And as he was well aware, elegant carriages were not the norm in Hare wood. That was, after all, precisely the reason he'd decided to bring Arabella here. Quickening his stride, he approached the offending vehicle and studied the crest.

Ashbourne.

As in the duke and duchess of Ashbourne.

As in Arabella's first cousins and very close friends.

Woodside turned on his heel and made his way toward The Hare and Hounds. Something had gone very much awry.

He arrived at the inn a couple of minutes later and found it a mass of confusion. The entire town seemed to be packed into the tavern, and from the looks of it, most of them had taken more than the first few steps toward drunken oblivion. At the center of the crowd was an animated man dressed in servant's livery who was pontificating loudly on the plight of the working man. Woodside took a step closer. The servant's attire was really quite distinguished. Far more so than one would expect in this out-of-the-way burg. In fact, Woodside thought ruefully, it was the type of livery one might find in the home of a viscount if the viscount weren't perilously short of funds.

Or it might be the type of livery one might find in the home of a duke.

Woodside felt his insides clench in panic-edged rage. His disposition did not improve when he realized that the two thugs he had hired to snatch Arabella were down here drinking instead of guarding the lady. Someone had interfered with his plans, and he'd

bet his life it was that meddling cousin of hers, the new duchess of Ashbourne.

Damned American chit. She was nobody. Not of aristocratic lineage. She wasn't even a blood relation of the earl of Worth, only to the countess, and if his memory served him right, Lady Caroline had been bom a mere miss.

Woodside stalked out of the tavern and back into the reception area of the inn. Pulling himself to his full height, he walked up to the front desk and rang the bell. A stocky man scurried over to help him.

"I think my wife checked in here earlier today," Woodside said, smiling congenially. "I want to surprise her."

"What's her name, milord? I could look her up in the register."

"Well, to tell you the truth, I doubt she used her true name." He leaned forward in a confiding manner. "We had a bit of a spat,

you see, and I have come to apologize."

"Ah, I see. Well, then, perhaps you could describe her to me."

Woodside smiled. "If she's been here, you'd remember her. Rather petite, with hair the color of fire."

"Oh, yes!" the man exclaimed. "She's here. In room number three. One flight up."

Woodside thanked him and started to move away. After only a couple of steps, however, he turned around. "Actually, I really

do want to surprise her. Perhaps you could give me a copy of the key to her room?"

"I don't know, milord," the innkeeper said uncomfortably. "We do have a policy of not giving out extra copies of keys. Security reasons, you know."

Woodside smiled again, his pale blue eyes twinkling merrily. "It would really mean a great deal to me." He put a few coins on

the counter.

The innkeeper looked at the money and then at Woodside, contemplating the likelihood of two unconnected aristocrats

appearing in Harewood on the same day. He took the money and pushed the key across the counter.

Woodside nodded his head and pocketed the key, but when he turned around to head up the stairs, his eyes were no longer twinkling. They were two cold chips of ice.

Emma and Belle had been holed up in their room for about four hours when hunger got the best of them and they sent Shipton down to the kitchen for some food.

"What do you suppose is keeping Alex?" Belle asked, absently thumbing through the copy of Hamlet that Emma had brought

down from Sophie's.

Emma resumed the pacing that had been keeping her busy on and off for the last few hours. "I have no idea. He should have

been here two hours ago. It should only have taken Bottomley about one and a half hours to get to Westonbirt and another one and a half to get back. All I can think is that Alex wasn't at home. He might have been out visiting tenants. But it shouldn't have taken Bottomley so long to locate him."

"Well, he'll get here soon," Belle said, with more hopefulness than certainty.

"I hope so," Emma replied. "I've already gone and done the hard part by rescuing you. The least he could do is get here and rescue me."

Belle smiled. "He'll be here. And in the meantime, we're safe and sound in a locked room."

Emma nodded. "Although I wouldn't want to be around when Woodside gets here and discovers that you're gone." She sighed

and went over to the bed and sat down beside Belle.

And then, in the silence that was broken only by the sounds of their breathing, they heard the ominous sound of a key turning in

the lock. Emma gasped in fright. If it were Alex come to save them, surely he wouldn't sneak up on them. He would probably bang the door down, yelling and screaming at her for being stupid and reckless, but he wouldn't be so cruel as to terrify her this way.

The door swung open to reveal Woodside, his pale eyes glittering dangerously. "Hello ladies," he said in a menacing monotone. There was a pistol in his right hand.

Neither Emma nor Belle could find any words to express their fear. They both sat there on the bed, huddled together in terror.

"It was silly of you, your grace, to leave your rather conspicuous carriage in front of the church. Or didn't you realize that Lady Arabella and I were planning a wedding tonight?"

"She wasn't planning anything, you bastard," Emma bit out. "And she'll never—"

Woodside slammed the door shut, strode across the room and smacked her across the face. "Shut up, you little bitch," he hissed. "And don't you ever question my legitimacy. I am Viscount Benton, and you are a little nothing from the Colonies."

Emma held her hand to her cheek, which was fast turning red with the imprint of Woodside's hand. "I am the duchess of Ashbourne," she mumbled, unable to stifle her pride.

"Shhh," Belle implored, clasping her other hand.

"What did you say?" Woodside asked in a silky voice.

Emma stared at him mutinously.

"You will answer me when I speak to you!" he ordered, hauling her off the bed and grabbing her roughly by the shoulders.

Emma gritted 'her teeth as his grip grew painful.

"Please, let her go," Belle begged, jumping off the bed and trying to wedge herself between Woodside and her cousin.

"Get out of the way," he said, pushing her aside. "Now then, your graceless, tell me what you said/' He tightened his hold

on her upper arms, bruising her soft skin.

"I said," Emma gasped, thrusting her chin up in defiance, "that I am the duchess of Ashbourne."

Woodside's eyes narrowed and then he slapped her other cheek, knocking her down to the floor. Belle immediately rushed to

her side and helped her back up to the bed. She stared at Woodside accusingly with huge blue eyes but didn't say anything

that might provoke his temper.

Emma tried to gulp down the pain that rocked, through her head, but she was unable to prevent a couple of tears from

squeezing out of her eyes. She buried her head in Belle's lap, not wanting Woodside to see her misery.

"She irritates me," Woodside said to Belle. "I find it hard to believe that the two of you are related. I think we shall have to tie

her up." He picked up Emma's maid costume, which lay across the bureau, and quickly tore it into strips. He handed them to

Belle. "Secure her hands."

Belle looked up at him, aghast. "Surely you do not mean..."

"You don't think I'm going to tie her up? She won't kick and scratch you."

"You coward," Emma hissed. "Scared of a woman half your size."

"Emma, I beg of you, please be quiet," Belle pleaded. She swallowed nervously as she wrapped the cloth around her cousin's wrists and tenderly bound them together.

'Tighter," Woodside ordered. "Do you take me for a fool?"

Belle pulled at the cloth slightly.

Infuriated, Woodside grabbed the ends of the cloth from Belle and gave them a vicious yank, tying Emma's hands tightly behind her back. He picked up another cloth and moved toward her ankles. "If you even attempt to kick me," he warned, "I won't wait

for my wedding and I will take your cousin right here on the floor with you watching."

Emma went utterly limp.

"Anthony," Belle said softly, trying to win him over with reason. "Perhaps we should give ourselves a little time to get to know

one another. I don't think that a happy marriage is out of the question. But a forced wedding will not be a very good beginning

to our life together."

"Forget it, my lady," he laughed. "We'll be married tonight, and that's final. The vicar here doesn't hold a very high view of women, and he feels that their consent is not a necessary prerequisite to marriage. I'm just waiting for the sun to go down before I take you to church. I don't need a crowd of onlookers gaping at us."

Emma glanced out the window. The sun was low in the sky but hadn't started to set yet. She and Belle probably had an hour. Where was Alex?

Woodside tossed another strip of cloth at Belle. "Gag your cousin. I have no desire to listen to her appalling American accent."

Belle wound the cloth around Emma's head, tying the gag loosely. Luckily, Woodside was staring out the window, and so he didn't notice Belle's gentle treatment of her cousin.

"It's a good thing that I do have this hour or so before we go to church," Woodside said suddenly, turning his venomous gaze on Emma. "For it will

give me time to devise a plan to completely ruin you, my American duchess. I know it was you who stole the voucher. You left a hairpin on my desk."

Emma turned away, unable even to look at the man.

"I wouldn't have had to resort to kidnapping my wife if you had kept your nose in your own business—look at me when I speak to you!" Woodside strode to the bed and viciously grabbed Emma's chin, forcing her to look up at him. "Blydon didn't have the blunt," he bit out. "He'd never have come up with the money, and I would have had Lady Arabella in my bed weeks ago." He let go of Emma with a brutal push that slammed her head against the wall.

"Anthony, please!" Belle cried out.

Woodside's icy eyes glittered with desire as he turned toward Belle. "Your concern for your cousin is touching, my dear, if sadly misplaced."

Emma's teeth clamped down on the gag as she fought to contain her rage. She had never, ever felt as helpless as she did at that moment, but her one shining ray of hope was her knowledge that any plan of Woodside's to shame her would certainly fail. Because Alex trusted her. She knew that now. He trusted her and he loved her, and he would never take Woodside's word over her own.

She just wished he would get here soon, before Woodside could set any more of his nefarious schemes into action.