Eloping with the Princess (Brotherhood of the Sword #3)(50)

“A Lady Candace to see you, Lady Ellis,” he said in his deep voice.

Isabel nearly winced. Precisely what had she done to deserve an evening call from her?

“Very well,” Isabel said. “Send her in.” Isabel moved away from the window where she’d been standing, but not precisely looking out at anything.

Lady Candace entered the room, grace personified, at least until Isabel glanced at her face. The smugness was nearly too much to bear, but Isabel forced herself to smile.

“Good evening,” Isabel said. “Lovely to see you again.” She resisted the urge to ask the woman what in heaven’s name had brought her back to Isabel’s door.

“This isn’t a social call,” Lady Candace said. “My father asked me to courier this over to you straightaway.” She held out an envelope.

Isabel might be a novice when it came to some proper etiquette, but she was almost certain that it wasn’t customary to send messages through one’s daughter. She took the note. “Would you care for tea? It’s a little late, but I’m certain the kitchen can prepare some.”

“There isn’t time. My father said you should read that immediately,” Lady Candace said.

Isabel’s pulse sped. She knew for certain that this was not customary. She turned over the envelope and slid a fingernail beneath the brown wax seal, quickly unfolding the letter.

Your Royal Highness Isabel Fiona Rindquest, Princess of Saldania:

We have your husband. Should you prefer to see him before he meets his demise, please accompany my daughter back to my address. I shall await your presence with bated breath.

Yours,

Lord Edward Blakely.

She leveled a gaze at Lady Candace. “Do you know what this says?”

The woman’s face went pale at the severity in Isabel’s tone. She shook her head. “Father does not discuss business with me. He merely requested I bring this to you and then wait for you to read it.”

Isabel nodded. This Lord Blakely was clever. He’d obviously known that Jason had Isabel heavily protected. So, he’d sent his daughter on what appeared to be a social call. The guards would not question her leaving with Lady Candace for a dinner engagement. Jason had told her he was trained, that she wasn’t truly putting his life in danger, and she’d wanted to believe him because selfishly she wanted to be his wife. This was her fault. She had brought this onto him. Well, she refused to allow them to hurt her husband.

“We must leave straightaway,” Isabel said. She grabbed Candace’s arm and pulled her to the door.

“Go where?”

“To your townhome. It would seem I’ve been invited to dinner,” Isabel said.

…

Jason stood in the shadows watching Lord Blakely’s townhome. He’d seen this townhome hundreds of times before, as it was directly next to the late Sir Potterfield’s townhome. But Jason had never paid much attention to the brown brick or white columns of Lord Blakely’s home. Jason had met him on more than one occasion, although they did not know each other beyond colloquial greetings.

The man himself had not left the building for more than two days, although he’d had a handful of visitors. His wife and daughter, however, were in and out as if the door spun on its hinges. The younger Lady Blakely had left not more than half an hour earlier.

He wondered if Somersby or Lynford were having more success with the houses they were watching. Eventually they’d uncover the man and money behind this entire traitorous operation, but so much rode on this being solved sooner rather than later. Namely, the safety of his wife.

One of Blakely’s carriages pulled to a stop and the daughter stepped down, followed by another woman. The second lady turned her head, glancing up and down the street, and Jason swore under his breath.

Isabel.

And then his world went black.



Jason winced against the pain pounding in his head. He didn’t know where he was and couldn’t manage to open his eyes. He tried to sit up, but a great force pressed onto his chest, pinning him down.

“Leave him alone!” Isabel said, and her voice sounded panicked.

Jason forced his eyes open but was met with only darkness. Fabric brushed against his eyelashes. But he could hear Isabel’s voice.

“The letter said that he would be unharmed if I agreed to come here,” she said. “I demand to see Lord Blakely.”

“We never promised nothing,” a man said, his voice thick with a cockney accent. “We’ll have to kill ’im eventually, since they want you to marry that other bloke.”

Pain radiated from the base of Jason’s skull—the point of impact, he’d guess. The last thing he remembered was seeing Isabel step down from Lord Blakely’s carriage, behind his daughter. They’d lured her here because they’d known he was there. Hiding outside. He’d been careful, but evidently not careful enough, and he’d put his wife in harm’s way.

“Now you two be quiet in here,” the man said. Then a great and heavy door slammed, and his footsteps retreated.

“Isabel,” he whispered.

“Jason!” She moved her hands to his blindfold and peeled it away. “I’m so sorry.”

The look of concern on her face was a knife to his gut. If he ever got them out of this, he’d make things right with her. Treat her as she deserved to be treated. He’d been such a fool.