The Wicked Heir (Spare Heirs #3)(95)
“I’ve had my fill of walking for one day, thank you.” She sighed and glanced down at her hands, already weary of the man’s company. “I arrived here a bit lost, but I’ll manage.”
“I have a carriage nearby. I was…in the area on some business when I thought to stop for a moment. There’s no need to walk any farther than that street right there. I could see you home.”
“That wouldn’t be proper. I can’t.”
“My only concern is your welfare, Lady Isabelle.” He stepped closer, the look in his eyes a bit intense.
What could be a display of worry over her well-being set off alarm bells in her head. Her newfound lack of trust in gentlemen was as disconcerting as that look in Mr. Grapling’s eyes. “Even still,” she muttered.
“I insist.” In the next moment, she was on her feet and being pulled by the elbow toward his awaiting carriage.
If anyone happened to be watching, they would look like a couple out for a stroll, unless one noticed that Isabelle’s feet were leaving trenches in the dirt as she tried to stop her momentum and that Mr. Grapling’s grip on her arm was unyielding.
“I can find my home on my own, sir. Really. It would be a scandal. I can’t.”
“You must come with me.”
Isabelle blinked up at the man who had once sent her jewelry and flowers. Had she ever known this man at all? She had spent the majority of the season locked away with Fallon, but this was rather a different Mr. Grapling than she’d experienced before. She pulled against him, but his grip on her arm was too tight. She was still moving toward the man’s carriage whether she liked the idea or not. “I should get back to my family now. Though I do appreciate your offer of assistance, I must refuse.”
“Nonsense. I’ll even ride up top with my driver.”
“How…kind of you. But I must decline.”
“I won’t hear of it, Lady Isabelle. You’ll get into my carriage, or I’ll place you there.”
She gasped and shoved against his hold on her, but he only increased his speed. How had this man been at the top of her ideal match list at one time? She’d been horribly wrong about Fallon, he did horrible things with his time, but he’d never made her feel unsafe. If he were only here, he would help her escape this man. But he wasn’t here, and he wasn’t coming.
The carriage that waited ahead looked to be the same carriage she’d seen earlier. Had he followed her? Or was her imagination getting the best of her again? Simply because he was forceful with his will for her didn’t mean he was stalking her movements. Be calm. You’ll find a way to escape this situation without inviting ruin, she told herself. And she would—only how? Screaming would hardly help her avoid a scandal. No one was going to rescue her. This wasn’t a book, and there was no happy ending.
“Mr. Grapling, I understand that you are attempting to be considerate, but you must let me go. I simply cannot get into your carriage. It would cause a scandal.”
“There was a time when I was concerned with saying the proper thing in order to please you, my lady. That time has passed. And it pleases me to no end that I no longer have to fawn over you. Actually, I can now treat you however I choose. It’s quite freeing. I’m certain you’re familiar with the concept of kidnapping.” He opened the door and pulled her closer. “Get in the carriage.”
She saw the flash of warning in his eyes at the same time she caught sight of the pistol in his other hand. Reasoning with him was her only option, and it wasn’t a good one. “Why are you doing this?”
“Because it’s my move.” He shoved her into the interior of the conveyance, the shadows swallowing her whole.
She scrambled toward the door, but he blocked her path. “What do you mean, your move?”
There was no answer, only the slamming of the door and the sudden jolt of the carriage wheels set in motion. After a minute, her eyes adjusted to the dark carriage interior. She had to get out, but they were moving. She couldn’t leap from a moving carriage. Perhaps there would be traffic ahead. There was always a delay somewhere. There had to be. She would wait. “Wait for the right time,” she whispered in order to calm her frayed nerves. Well-worn fabric covered the seats, and she slid down to lean her head on the back of the seat. “Wait.”
The carriage was traveling quite fast now. The force of corners at high speed pushed her left, then right. Lifting her feet to the opposite bench, she propped them on the edge of the cushion for stability.
The carriage jostled over a larger-than-normal bump in the road, and the seat beneath her feet lifted a fraction before slamming shut once more. Pulling her feet back to the floor, she eyed the bench. There was some sort of storage space beneath that seat. Could there be a weapon in there? It seemed her best option at the moment. She shifted forward and lifted the cushion-covered wood. Peering inside, she saw only a leather bag propped in the far corner. No pistols. Not even a knife. She would have been grateful for a length of wood—anything that would help even the odds of this situation. But it was a blasted bag. It most likely held papers of some business dealing or other. Dull documents, nothing more…
She stared at the bag as they rolled past two buildings without slowing before she shot forward and opened the latch that held the bag closed and lifted the flap of leather that covered the opening. Even if the bag held only papers, they were information. Perhaps there was some document that would explain all of this to her. She’d always seen her curiosity as a weakness, but if she’d pried a bit more where Fallon was concerned, she could have saved herself a great deal of heartache. She wouldn’t be making the same mistake again with any gentleman.