Lady Sophia's Rescue (Traditional Regency Romance) Read online

  Mr. Birmingham stiffened, then ever so slowly turned around to face her, searing anger in his eyes.

  Uh oh. She could not allow Mr. Birmingham to send her back to her lawful husband. "Pray," Sophia rasped, remembering that she was supposed to be ill, "I beg that you . . ." she clutched his forearm and grasped at her chest, "take us away from these beasts, especially the odious Lord Finkel." Then she went into a mock swoon, knowing full well she would find herself in His arms before she met the pavement.

  * * *

  Damn the cursed woman! Would that he'd never heard the name Isadore. How could he have been such a fool to even consider that she might be The One? He could have looked high and low over the three kingdoms and not found a more disreputable woman.

  Just this morning, the no-good, smuggling, lying, married charlatan had feigned her damned illness. Not twenty minutes after he'd reluctantly left the infirm beauty, he'd come across the able-bodied wench and – foolishly thinking she was a helpless maiden – once more had been obliged to extricate her from cutthroats. For he was convinced a man as dastardly as Finkel would not have men in his employ unless they were those lowest sort of criminal.

  But if Isadore was Finkel's accomplice in his sordid dealings, why would he be trying to force her back to him? And why would she display unmistakable signs of repugnance at the mention of her husband's name?

  William hadn't heard of Finkel marrying. Just two weeks ago he was heiress hunting.

  Good lord, had the fiend Finkel forced Isadore into marriage in order to get his hands on the gold bullion? Isadore might be a lying cheat, but he could tell when someone was terrified. Both the Door sisters – if that was their real name – were so frightened, he'd had to force two glasses of brandy down them in order to quell the trembling in their limbs and quiver in their voices once he got them to the safety of his house.

  He faced Isadore as she sat on the silken sofa in his library, a glass of brandy in her elegant hand. He made no effort to hide the signs of his blistering rage. "So the terribly ill Miss Isadore Door rather easily roused herself from her sickbed?" His narrowed eyes took in her cowering form. "You, Lady Finkel, bloody well will not leave this house until I get the eighty-thousand guineas worth of gold bullion."

  Her great eyes widened, but she said nothing.

  "Tell me, my lady, did Finkel force you into marrying him? Did he have. . .documents he was going to suppress from being published—"

  "How did you know?" she asked.

  "I've been aware of the man's underhanded methods of amassing riches since he caused the death of my friend five years ago."

  "How did he cause the death of your friend?"

  "My friend had conducted an affair with his own brother's wife. The only person who knew of it, beside me, was Finkel. The publisher Josiah Smith threatened to publish the details of the affair in his Evening Chronicle if my friend did not pay an exorbitant sum to suppress publication. When my friend failed to raise the sum, he committed suicide rather than face his brother.

  "Finkel had to have supplied the information to Smith. I believe that brokering such information is the method by which Finkel's managed to rescue his estates from the auction block."

  "Dear God," she said, her brows lowered. "You must be right!"

  "I take it, in your situation, he possessed information about the bullion."

  Silence penetrated the chamber like a resounding echo. Finally, she said, "That. . .and more. He told me if I would marry him he would keep the printer Smith from disclosing something which would ruin my younger sister."

  "When did this marriage of yours take place?"

  "The night I met you was my. . .thwarted wedding night."

  Something deep inside him uncoiled, and his anger began to dissipate. "You had the good sense to leave him?"

  She nodded solemnly. "I panicked as soon as I was alone with him. I couldn't. . ."

  He held up his palm. "Say no more. I understand. You will not return to the vile creature."

  "I did not know until this very morning of Finkie's wickedness – not until I realized he meant to force me back. Those men were so brutal."

  His hands fisted. Leaving those animals tied up on Half Moon Street was too good for them! "Which is no accident. Be assured Finkel's servants have to be unscrupulous in order to work for him. He's been threatened many times. A pity no one's ever been able to prove his misdeeds."

  "We must stop him."

  "My thoughts exactly. And, of course, if the man's misdeeds can be proven, it should be a simple matter for you to annul the marriage. A woman cannot be forced to wed."

  "Or to bed," she said, her eyes flashing.

  The very thought of bedding her aroused him.

  "But I shouldn't want the reference to my sister to ever come out." She tossed her head back and smiled. "I suppose I could say I was the one who'd be ruined by the printer's revelation. I daresay my reputation's already ruined by my association with the wretched Lord Finkel."

  Why would a woman who smuggled gold bullion ever have been concerned about protecting her reputation?

  Suddenly a loud commotion came from his entry hall. Panicked voices. He catapulted toward the door.

  Just as it slammed open, barely missing him. He froze. A band of six men – sinister looking, all of them – stood there, and the one in front directed a musket at him. When the man's glance moved from Dorothea to settle on Isadore, he smiled. His teeth were rotten. "I'll jest relieve ye of these women, Mr. Birmingham."

  Isadore immediately stood and turned to William. "It's all right. Please don't try to be a hero. I shouldn't like to see you killed."

  She moved toward the man wielding the rifle. Then her silent sister joined her.

  "One more thing, Lady Finkel," the gang's leader said. "We'll be needin' that valise you stole from his lordship."

  Isadore froze for a moment, then she said, "You'll find it upstairs in the second room on the left, the Blue Room."

  Her room.

  A minute later one of the men returned with a dark green valise.

  "Before you take me away, sir," Isadore said to the man with the gun, "I beg that you allow me to kiss my lover good-bye. I promise to go quietly after that."

  The swarthy man peered from her to William, then he nodded.

  What the hell?

  She moved to William, her back to the men, and he drew her into his arms and lowered his head. Just before his lips brushed across hers, she whispered. "You must get the other valise from my sister's room." Then her arms came around him, and she settled her lips upon his for a long, extremely satisfying kiss that left him stunned when she walked away.

  Chapter 6

  Was this the case Finkel wanted to get his hands on? Obviously, Isadore was substituting her bag for the one Finkel really wanted. Valises far better than this could be found at any second-hand shop in London. William bent over and opened it. It was empty, and it was still damp from the rainstorm which deluged all of them the night before last. Good God, had he only known Isadore that short a time? He felt so intimately connected to her. Even more so since the scorching kiss.

  Why in the hell was the vile Lord Finkel so mad to get his hands on this? Had it been the means by which the bullion was transported? But if it were, there was no way Isadore could have had the strength to lift it, much less carry it. William was almost ready to clamp it shut when he noticed a slight bulge along the seam of its lining. "Pray, give me your penknife," he said to Thompson, who stood over him.

  His servant proffered the instrument, and William used it to pry open the seam. He felt the heat of Thompson's body as he stood directly behind him, peering over his shoulder. The opened seam revealed a flattened pouch made of thin oilcloth that had been folded over in much the same way as foolscap. "What have we here?"

  He unfolded the oilcloth, found three handwritten pages, and quickly scanned just a small portion of the first sheet. He felt disgustingly like a voyeur. Half a page was enough to tell him
he was reading a torrid love letter, and the crest on the paper indicated the author was Lord Wakefield, a peer who held a high office in government. No doubt, the letter had been written to a woman who was not his highly respected wife. "It appears the oilcloth protected these pages from the effects of the other night's rain."

  "I take it the papers are important?"

  "They're worth a great deal of money to Finkel. He obviously needs these to blackmail Lord Wakefield."

  Thompson nodded. "When do we rescue the ladies?"

  "Very, very soon, my good man." He had to get Isadore before Finkel forced himself on her. Which William was convinced the man would do. "I've got to get to Finkel's before they discover they've got the wrong valise. You're to go to Nick and tell him everything. And have him put this somewhere safe." He handed Thompson the Wakefield letter. "I'll go out the front; you go out the back."

  At least no one was watching his house from the square, he thought as he rounded the corner to the mews to get his horse, his senses alert. A knife was safely tucked into the specially made sheath inside his boot, and his hand cradled the hilt of the sword at his waist.

  As he neared the livery stable, he slowed. Something was wrong. His mount should have been saddled by now and partially out of the darkened mews.

  His step slowed. "Jonah?" he called out to his groom.

  There was no response.

  He stopped and drew his sword.

  Just as three members of Finkel's "gang" stepped out, Rotten Teeth holding a dagger to Thompson's throat.

  "If ye value yer man's life, ye'll drop that sword," the man with rotting teeth said.

  * * *

  The very same servants who had been tied with her dress sash watched her through narrowed eyes as she entered Finkel's house on Curzon Street, now with her own hands bound behind her.

  "Some very disreputable men you employ, my lord," she said to their employer, her voice full of malice.

  "That is exactly why I do employ them." He stood in his drawing room, arms folded in front of him and a satisfied look on his face. "How good it is to see you again, Lady Finkel."

  "Don't call me by that odious name. I have no intentions of staying married to you."

  "You'll not be getting away from me." His voice was guttural. "I will have my way with you, and I will have your fortune, too."

  "But you cannot want me now that I've been another man's lover."

  He slammed his knuckles into his palm. "You will pay for that. Who is this skilled pugilist who's you lover?"

  She thought of William Birmingham, and her heart softened. "It is not necessary that you know his name."

  "Of course it is. I will crush him."

  "You're not nearly as powerful as you think you are, just because you manipulate people's lives. You have no authority over me. I'll leave you the minute my hands are unbound."

  "Then, my dear, it appears I shall have to see that your hands stayed tied." His gaze flicked to one of the servants whose livery still bore the tatters from this morning's scrimmage. "Take Lady Finkel to my bedchamber, and have Frockmorton bring me the valise."

  The brute came up from behind, closed burly arms around her so tightly it hurt, then began to lug her – kicking like a windmill – across the room, then up the stairs.

  Chapter 7

  All William could think of was Isadore. He had to get to her, had to save her from being debauched by that worm Finkel. Yet he was powerless. He dropped the sword, and one of Rotten Teeth's underlings scurried to pick it up.

  "I've held up my part," William said. "Now remove that dagger from my man's throat."

  His gaze not leaving William's, Rotten Teeth moved the knife but did not sheath it. "Get in here," he said to William, a swing of his head pointing back into the mews.

  It was so dark within, it was a moment before William saw that his groom had been bound and gagged.

  Their captors set about roping his and Thompson's hands. A sense of hopelessness engulfed him. He could not bear to think of Finkel laying a finger on the beautiful Isadore, could not bear to think he might never see her again.

  Damn but it was hard to believe he'd only known her two days. He could not deny that she had gripped his heart so thoroughly he did not care if she was wed to another, he did not care if she smuggled gold bullion. All he cared about was making her his own.

  And making an honest woman of her.

  "What are your plans for us?" he asked Rotten Teeth.

  "We've merely been instructed to keep ye out of his lordship's way until he can get out of Lunnon."

  William felt a rush of relief. "Well, then," he said, plopping down on a mat of fresh hay, "I believe my man and I will relax and wait."

  Thompson knew what to do. They had been together so long they could almost read each other's thoughts. Thompson dropped into the hay beside him.

  His idea must have sounded good to his captors because the three sat right down on the dirt floor just where the sunlight's line of demarcation fronted the stable.

  The darkness of the stable was in William's favor. He waited a moment, waited for the men at the front to get caught up in a conversation, then he reached into the top of his left boot. Given that his hands were tied at the wrists, it was a very tight squeeze, but his patience paid off a moment later when he unfastened his sheath and pulled out his knife. He cut Thompson's ropes, and Thompson cut his.

  Halfway between him and the captors, his sword gleamed on the stable floor. He knew if he dove for it, they'd hear him and possibly kill him, but it was risk he had to take.

  For Isadore.

  He whispered instructions to Thompson, who kept the knife.

  Then he dove for the sword.

  All three men leapt up at the sound, knives drawn.

  But as they watched William, Thompson disabled the man closest to him, which caused the others to flinch, giving William the split second he needed to lunge into Rotten Teeth – just as the man's knife came sailing toward William's chest. William dove for the man's feet, his own body slamming into the dirt floor with bruising force – and Rotten Teeth's knife grazing his back.

  That his sword had embedded into the other man's side rendered the man powerless to stop William from pummeling the last man until he begged him to stop.

  With the three men writhing in the dirt, William instructed Thompson to tie them up, untie the groom, then head to Nick's.

  * * *

  The Finkel carriage was being packed for a journey. It was good that William had not been detained a minute longer.

  When the well-built butler answered the door, William forced his way in. "Lady Finkel's lover, to see his lordship."

  The man's eyes rounded.

  Standing in Finkel's entry hall, William quickly saw Finkel looking down at him from the third floor landing.

  "I believe I have in my possession something you want, Finkel." William held up the battered gray valise. He began to mount the stairs.

  "And you are?" Finkel asked.

  "William Birmingham."

  "You are related to Nicholas Birmingham?"

  William had covered a dozen steps. "He is my brother."

  When he reached the first landing, he lost view of Finkel, who was directly above him. "If you wish the return of this valise, you must release her ladyship."

  "I believe I'd be within my rights killing a man who tried to abduct my wife from her own house," Finkel shouted, much too gleefully for William's comfort.

  "There's a very big problem for you if something happens to me."

  "And what might that be?"

  "My brother knows I was coming here." He started up to the next floor. "And he has in his possession something which - - -"

  Now he could peer into Finkel's eyes, "will prove by what illegal methods you've been restoring the Finkel fortunes."

  Finkel's gaze darted to the valise. "You found it. Wakefield's letter."

  William nodded gravely. "I know everything, including by which means
you trapped your. . .wife into marrying a reprobate like you, and I plan to expose you."

  "Of all the families in England," Finkel said, shaking his head, his shoulders slumped, "it's my bloody misfortune to run up against the unimpeachable Birminghams, probably the only men in the kingdom who can't be bought."

  "In that, you are correct." He came abreast of Finkel. "Where is she?"

  Finkel tossed a defeated glance over his right shoulder.

  William had to assure himself she was all right. Just as he started toward the room where she was being held, from far below the eerie sound of men's screaming voices echoed.

  And then he heard the sickening thud. The thud of a body hurled from above striking a marble floor.

  Chapter 8

  Considering that rough ropes scraped against her wrists where he had bound her to a chair, Sophia felt very little remorse when she realized Lord Finkel had splattered himself over his home's entry hall. She only prayed she would be spared the sight.

  Quite a bit of time passed before Mr. Perfect came to her.

  "You know what's happened?" he asked, effecting a remorseful expression.

  She gave him a solemn look and nodded.

  "My brother and I have dealt with the magistrate. Thankfully, my brother's far better known and better respected in London than I." He moved to the wooden chair she'd been tied to, squatted down, and began to untie the rope.

  From down the hall, a woman screamed. "Get me out of here."

  "Who in the blazes is that?" he asked.

  "My maid. I fear she's been tied up, too."

  "Thompson!" he shouted toward the corridor. "Pray, go untie the lady's maid."

  "Yes, Mr. Birmingham."

  "I have a good mind to keep you tied up," he said lightly.

  She peered down at him as he managed to undo one of the knots. "You're too much the gentleman to force yourself on a lady."

  "How could you possibly know that?"

  "I just do."

  His hands stilled. He rested his full weight on his knees. Their faces were level, his eyes beginning to smolder. His proximity, his musky scent, his ruggedly handsome face were doing strange things to her.