The Marquis and I (The Worthingtons #4)(66)

“If they didn’t eat her out of house and home,” Con muttered to himself.

“Come. Let us take you to our room.” Charlotte helped the woman up and said to him, “Will you relock the door?”

“Certainly. I’ll join you soon.”

No sooner had the lock snicked closed, than the sounds of a coach coming into the yard reached him.

Doors opened and shut. Jemmy appeared at the top of the stairs and announced in a loud whisper, “Lord and Lady Merton are here.”

They might be of assistance in getting Miss Cloverly out of this place. It would be much easier to deal with the villains and the tavern keeper and his staff with more help. “Tell them to come up.”

Jemmy nodded and ran back down the stairs. Not more than a minute later, Merton and his lady were striding down the narrow corridor toward him.

“Is she safe?” Lady Merton asked, concern writ on her features.

“Yes. Charlotte is with her. We must decide how best to proceed.”

Her ladyship swept past him. “We shall, but in the chamber where we’ll not be overheard. It is at the end, correct?”

“Yes.” With his long strides Con managed to get to the door first. Why that was important, he didn’t know. Only that it was. “Charlotte.” He tapped on the door. “The Mertons are here.”

The bolt drew back, the door opened, and Charlotte and Lady Merton flew into each other’s arms.

“Dotty, I thought you were going to remain in Richmond.” Charlotte took her friend’s hand, leading her into the room.

For a second, Con felt forgotten, then she caught his gaze, her blue eyes sparkling with delight.

“We decided you might need us. There was no knowing how many scoundrels would be here.” Lady Merton grinned. “It could be helpful to have two marquises instead of just one.”

From the corridor, he heard a gruff laugh before Merton commented, “Intimidation and access are the only uses she has for my title.”

Con might say the same about Charlotte. His title meant nothing at all to her. Until he had admitted he’d been wrong about his mistress and had tried to make reparations, she’d had as little as possible to do with him.

He had never wanted a woman who would marry him only for his title, but, until he’d met her, he had considered it to be one of his more desirable attributes.

“Cousin, please come in.” She stood aside. “Kenilworth reserved a parlor downstairs, but I do not wish to leave Miss Cloverly alone.”

“Of course,” Merton said, entering the small chamber. “I suppose we must decide how we’re going to get her out of here.”

“Indeed.” His wife pulled a face. “I’ve looked at the windows, but there is no way for her to climb down without being seen.”

“I say we simply take her out,” Merton said. “Our outriders and I are armed.”

Con brightened. Simple and straightforward. It also might mean he would be able to hit someone, which, after seeing how they had tied Miss Cloverly up and distressed his betrothed, he desperately wanted to do.

“I suppose that would work, my love.” The lady glanced at her husband a bit dubiously.

“But, as with spiriting her out of here, that does not net us Miss Betsy,” Charlotte said, effectively quashing the idea.

“Or any of her tools,” Con said, trying to think of a way to accomplish all their goals even if it meant he wouldn’t get to fight anyone.

Charlotte began to pace from one end of the chamber to the other. After a few moments she stopped. “Jemmy.” The lad turned, giving her his complete attention. “Did the landlady appear to be concerned about Miss Cloverly’s behavior?”

“Yes, my lady.”

“They were most likely told the same type of story that was told about me.” Charlotte’s blue gaze once again held Con’s. “Why do we not try to make them our allies? We shall tell them what Miss Betsy is really up to, and recruit their help in arresting the men who brought Miss Cloverly here and capturing Miss Betsy when she arrives.”

“That might actually work,” he responded. They would require a backup plan. “And if they do not believe us?”

“In that event”—Charlotte gave him a wicked look—“you, Merton, and his servants will simply have to fight our way out.”

She was a minx when she wanted to be. Con’s life had definitely taken a turn for the better when he had met her. “Jemmy,” Con said to the boy, “please ask the landlord and his wife to attend us.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“And Jemmy,” Charlotte said, “make sure Lord Kenilworth’s carriage is harnessed, and tell Lord Merton’s outriders to go into the taproom and prepare themselves for trouble.”

The lad grinned widely. Well, at that age, Con would have thought this was a great deal of fun as well.

Merton lounged against the wall on one side of the door, and Con took the other side. Miss Cloverly was seated on the bed. Lady Merton and Charlotte sat in chairs pulled next to the bed, flanking Miss Cloverly. Both ladies drew out their pistols, placing them in their laps under their reticules.

A few moments later, a knock came on the door. “My lord,” the landlord called. “Your lad said you wished to see me and my wife.”