Eloping with the Princess (Brotherhood of the Sword #3)(7)
“That is not the problem.” He stepped over to another bookshelf.
She hurriedly followed after him. “What is the problem then?”
He eyed the books for a moment before turning to face her. “Have you never looked at yourself?”
She glanced down at her dress. The dark blue frock was not the most flattering gown, but it was one of her nicer ones. Many of her other gowns had frayed hems and faded prints. It had been more than a year since Thornton had sent money for clothing. “I realize I am woefully out of fashion, but certainly the families here would not see that as a strike against my teaching and caring for their children.”
His head shook. “No woman in London is going to want you around her husband. Perhaps you can find a widower with a passel of children and he might hire you.”
She frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“Isabel, you are far too beautiful for any woman to want you so close to her husband.”
Were she the sort of woman to blush, this would have been another of those moments. She wasn’t accustomed to receiving compliments, so she said nothing.
“Besides, I should think being born a noblewoman, your station would afford you a more comfortable life. Do you not have aspirations of managing your own household someday?”
She looked away from him, and then absently retrieved a book from the shelves only to realize it was a volume on botany. “Yes, well, perhaps things are not always what they seem.”
He glanced down at the book she held. “Is this the book you were looking for?”
“It is,” she said, clutching it tightly. “Provided it is acceptable that I borrow it.”
A hint of a smile teased at his lips. “I have no current plans to read Historia Plantarum, although I suspect it shall be a most interesting read.”
“Indeed.”
“Yes, one can never know too much about the origins of plants.”
“Are you teasing me?”
He brought a hand to his chest. “I would never. I scarcely know how to jest.”
She grinned. She did appreciate his levity, although she would be damned if she’d put the book back, no matter how boring the subject matter. Perhaps someday she’d be called on to tutor a child about botany.
He stepped away from her and retrieved his stack of letters. “I believe I shall leave you to the books, then. Do let me know if you change your mind about having a bed moved in here and I’ll see to it straightaway.” He gave her a slight bow, then left the room.
Lord Ellis was a charming man. Was that the way with every gentleman in London? Certainly not. Lord Lynford had not been charming in the least, although her aunt had seemed to find something in him that appealed to her. Isabel obviously needed a larger sample to gauge an assessment of the overall charm of London gentlemen.
From outside the room, she heard a great thud, then something hit the corridor wall.
“Lord Ellis?” She heard no response. Curious. She walked over to the library door and peered out into the corridor. Viscount Ellis lay slumped against the paneled wall to her right.
“Good heavens!” She raced over to him, but never made it to his side. Large, viselike hands gripped her close to a hard body that smelled strongly of soured food and sweat. She pushed against her captor, but then he squeezed her neck, and everything went black.
Chapter Two
Jason ran outside his London townhome and peered in both directions, but the lady was nowhere to be seen. He swiped blood out of his right eye, then followed the hoof tracks to and from his house, noting a rock indenture in one hoofprint that crossed from well before his address to well after. In one direction, though, the tracks were slightly deeper, indicating a change in the weight of the rider.
He ran inside and scrawled a note to his fellow Brotherhood of the Sword members, then grabbed his pistol and raced out the door. He doubted he was that far behind Isabel and whoever had whacked him on the head. Still, he had no notion of how long he’d been unconscious and didn’t want to risk losing their trail. This was the skill he brought to the Brotherhood. If there was anything he knew how to do well, it was to ride and to track.
His friend, Gabriel Campbell, Duke of Lynford, had brought the girl to his townhome seeking shelter and protection. Jason had been entrusted with her safety, and she’d been in his care for less than twenty-four hours, and she had already been taken. He hadn’t realized the threat had been that great, or else he would have kept a closer eye on the road. As it was, he knew that someone had followed her to his townhome, broken in, struck him unconscious, and taken her. It seemed safe to assume that the danger was specifically aimed at Isabel.
His steed, Danger, thundered down the empty road. Thankfully the skies were dry, or else following the tracks would be infinitely more difficult. The trail led him directly into the heart of London, along the banks of the Thames to the docks.
He heard a female voice before he could see anything through the fog. He slowed Danger, then slipped off his back and crept forward.
“I said unhand me!” Isabel said, her voice full of the spirit he’d admired in her the previous day.
There was a gruff response that Jason couldn’t make out from his current position, but he’d finally crept close enough to discern the forms of two people in the darkened alley. Isabel stood next to a man, and he held her arms firmly in place behind her back. She was kicking at his legs and, even from this distance, Jason could clearly see that her assailant was rather large.