Mary Nichols – The Captain's Kidnapped Beauty (страница 1)
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The chairmen had turned down a dark alley and were trotting at a pace that was bone-shaking. She put her head outside and commanded them to stop. They ignored her; if anything their pace increased. She shouted at them again, but it soon became evident that they had no intention of obeying her. Now she was very frightened indeed. Where were they taking her? And why?
Captain Carstairs’s warning came to her mind. She was being kidnapped!
After several more minutes they stopped outside a dilapidated tenement and let down the chair. She hurried to open the door and escape. But they had anticipated that and grabbed her arms and dragged her, protesting loudly, into the building, along a corridor which was as dark as pitch, and into a candlelit room.
A woman rose from a chair to face them. ‘You got her, then?’
‘We did, Molly, we did. ‘Twas as easy as winking, though she made a deal of noise.’
He was a big man, with a weather-beaten face, a moulting bag wig and bad teeth. He was also the man who had grabbed her bridle in Hyde Park. Captain Carstairs had been right in saying they might try again. Oh, how she wished she had listened to him …
AUTHOR NOTE
This is number five in my
The ‘kidnapped beauty’ is the daughter of a coachmaker. It was fun researching the coachmaking business, which was once very lucrative; the best coachmakers would have been multimillionaires in today’s terms. Anyone who was anyone needed a coach or carriage to get about, and the richest had more than one—just as today’s millionaires will have several different cars.
Henry Gilpin, father of my heroine, has become exceedingly wealthy in the coachmaking trade. The trouble is that it is trade—and tradesmen were not admitted to the society of the nobility. He is doing his best to find his daughter a titled husband when she is kidnapped.
I would like to acknowledge the help of Clive Gilbert, Chairman of The British Society of Portugal, in researching this book.
About the Author
Born in Singapore, MARY NICHOLS came to England when she was three, and has spent most of her life in different parts of East Anglia. She has been a radiographer, school secretary, information officer and industrial editor, as well as a writer. She has three grown-up children, and four grandchildren.
Previous novels by the same author:
RAGS-TO-RICHES BRIDE
THE EARL AND THE HOYDEN
CLAIMING THE ASHBROOKE HEIR
(part of
HONOURABLE DOCTOR, IMPROPER ARRANGEMENT
THE CAPTAIN’S MYSTERIOUS LADY*
THE VISCOUNT’S UNCONVENTIONAL BRIDE*
LORD PORTMAN’S TROUBLESOME WIFE*
SIR ASHLEY’S METTLESOME MATCH*
WINNING THE WAR HERO’S HEART
*
And in Mills & Boon®:
WITH VICTORIA’S BLESSING
(part of
Did you know that some of these novels are also available as eBooks? Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk
The Captain’s
Kidnapped
Beauty
Mary Nichols
The regular meeting of the Society for the Discovery and Apprehending of Criminals, popularly known as the Piccadilly Gentlemen’s Club, was drawing to its close. Led by James, Lord Drymore, they were all gentlemen of independent means dedicated to promoting law and order in a notoriously lawless society. Some called them thieftakers, but it was a soubriquet they rejected only because of its unsavoury connotations. In general thieftakers were nearly all as corrupt as the criminals they brought to justice, but the members of the Piccadilly Gentleman’s Club were not like that and refused payment for their services.
Today each had reported on the case on which they were working. Jonathan, Viscount Leinster, was trying to trace two notorious highwaymen who had escaped from prison while awaiting trial and not having much luck. Harry, Lord Portman’s particular interest was counterfeit coiners and he often went in disguise to the rookeries of the capital in search of information, though to look at him, you would hardly believe it; he was the epitome of a dandified man about town. Ashley, Lord Cadogan, was chasing smugglers with the help of his brother-in-law, Ben Kingslake, and Captain Alexander Carstairs had just returned a kidnap victim safe and sound to her distraught parents without it having cost them a penny in ransom money. James himself was tied up with their sponsor, Lord Trentham, a Minister of the Crown, in maintaining law and order in an increasingly disgruntled populace.
‘Allow me to offer condolences on the loss of your uncle and cousin,’ James said to Alex as they prepared to disperse. ‘To lose both together was a double tragedy.’
‘And felicitations on your elevation to the peerage,’ Harry added. ‘Marquis of Foxlees, no less.’
‘Thank you,’ Alex said. ‘It was a great shock and I have hardly had time to gather my wits. A peerage is something I never expected and I’m not at all sure I like the idea.’
‘The same thing happened to me,’ Ash said. ‘My cousin was the heir and he died out in India and his father, my uncle, soon afterwards. It was an upheaval adjusting to it and just before my wedding, too.’
‘At least I don’t have a bride waiting for me,’ Alex said.
‘That will soon be remedied, my friend,’ Harry said, flicking a speck of dust from his immaculate sleeve. ‘Sooner or later, everyone in the Piccadilly Gentleman’s Club succumbs to falling in love.’
‘Not me. I will have my hands full sorting out my uncle’s affairs. It is just as well I have no case on hand at the moment.’
‘That, too, can be remedied,’ Jonathan put in.
‘I think we can allow Alex a short respite to sort out his affairs,’ James said with a smile.
They stood up, replaced hats on heads and headed from the room in Lord Trentham’s house where they held their meetings and emerged on to the busy thoroughfare of Piccadilly, where they went their separate ways.
Alex set off on foot to Long Acre because he wanted to hire a carriage to carry him to Norfolk and his newly inherited estate. He had not visited it in years, mainly because his uncle and cousin were so rarely there. They were seafarers, just as he was, just as his late father had been and his father before him. His uncle, his father’s older brother, had bought Foxlees Manor when his wife had decided, after a half a lifetime of following him all over the globe, that she had had enough of travelling and living in hot, uncomfortable places and wanted to stay at home.
That did not mean his uncle had given up his voyaging; the sea was in his blood and, being captain of an East Indiaman, he found it a lucrative business. He simply came home at the end of every voyage to spend a little time with his wife and their son, Harold, until Harold himself became a seaman and followed in his father’s footsteps. The marchioness had died soon afterwards and his uncle and cousin rarely visited Foxlees Manor after her demise. When not at sea they lived in their town house on Mount Street.
They had both been lost when their ship foundered in a storm while rounding the Cape of Good Hope and so Alex found himself a Marquis and owner of the Mount Street house and the Foxlees estate. It was something he had neither expected nor wanted, but he admitted the town house was a great deal better than the bachelor apartments he had hitherto occupied.
He enjoyed his life as Captain Alexander Carstairs, member of the Piccadilly Gentleman’s Club; it fulfilled his sense of adventure at the same time as he was doing some good in society. He had a full social life and many friends—what more could a man ask? But with his elevation to the peerage and the acquisition of an estate came responsibilities and these he could not shirk.
He emerged from Newport Street and crossed the road into Long Acre, looking for the coachmaking premises of Henry Gilpin.
‘The Earl of Falsham has failed to pay his interest again this month, Papa,’ Charlotte said, looking up from the ledgers on which she was working. ‘Last time I wrote to remind him, I warned him that if we did not receive at least some of what was owed, we would take him to court. He did not even favour us with a reply.’
The Earl had bought two carriages two years previously, a splendid town chariot for two hundred and ninety pounds and a phaeton for seventy-two pounds, borrowing the money from her father to pay for it. For the first six months he had diligently paid the five per cent interest on the loan, but since then nothing at all. Charlotte, who kept her father’s books, had written every month on behalf of the company to remind him, but the Earl had ignored her letters.