The Capture of the Earl of Glencrae Read Online Free PDF Page B

stared stonily at the dark silhouette that was him, all but filling the doorway. “Ou-t-u-tine.”
    He looked at her for a moment, then climbed into the carriage. “Matters took longer than I’d hoped. Your family didn’t leave until nearly the end of the soiree, then I was waylaid by a friend as I left.” He slid one large hand, then his arm, beneath her, and hefted her up.
    Still wrapped like a mummy, she bit her tongue and held still as he maneuvered her out through the door.
    When he had her free of the carriage, he hoisted her over his shoulder.
    â€œ Mmph !” Wriggling furiously, she glared down the long length of his back.
    His arm tightened about her legs, trapping them against his chest. “Just wait. I’ll carry you into the house and untie you there.”
    She recognized his tone. His voice was even deeper, but he might have been one of her brothers talking to some female they were resigned to protecting.
    Resigned ?
    Her temper boiled again.
    A corner of the blanket had fallen over the back of her head, but she could see to either side. As Debenham started walking, she glimpsed the coachman and groom, but they were merely shadows in the gloom.
    Debenham ducked and carried her through a gate in a high stone wall into what appeared to be an extensive back garden. She looked about, trying to get some idea of where his house was. What she saw didn’t definitively answer the question, but from the areas she glimpsed—kitchen garden, small orchard, various outbuildings, paved courtyard outside the back door, with raised gardens of lawns and shrubs stretching to either side—this was one of the old mansions still to be found in some of London’s best streets.
    The restricted glimpses she caught of the house confirmed that; old carved stonework surrounded the windows, and the house rose three stories and more above the rear gardens, its massive bulk outlined against the night sky.
    She was still deep in the heart of the ton.
    Both Heather and Eliza had been whisked directly out of London, but neither had been kidnapped by the mysterious laird himself. Angelica was increasingly certain that the broad shoulder over which she lay belonged to that elusive nobleman.
    She was looking forward to the moment when he removed her gag.
    He carted her into the house via the back door. The huge room beyond was warm, comfortable, and well lit. Chairs scraped; the instant Debenham walked into the light, exclamations erupted from several throats.
    â€œMerciful heavens! Is that her?” A woman with a Scottish accent.
    â€œI thought you were planning on just looking tonight.” An older man, also Scots.
    â€œThe countess’s rooms are ready, my lord.” A much more refined individual, not, Angelica thought, Scottish. “The candelabra are lit—I thought you might wish to view the refurbishing.”
    â€œGood. Miss Cynster and I will talk up there.” Her captor handed something—his cane?—over, then proceeded to walk through the room.
    Angelica caught fleeting glimpses of the three she assumed were members of his staff—a neatly dressed maid, an older man whose attire suggested he was a majordomo, and a short, slightly rotund individual who bore all the hallmarks of a gentleman’s gentleman, and now held the cane. All three looked surprised, but pleased, positively happy that their employer was returning from his evening’s entertainment with a kidnapped lady wrapped like a package and slung over his shoulder.
    Debenham ducked through another door and into the corridor beyond; as the servants’ hall fell behind, Angelica frowned. What the devil was going on? He’d kidnapped her and his staff thought that was wonderful?
    Were she to attempt an escape, clearly she could count on no assistance from them.
    Debenham pushed through a swinging door and continued into a large front hall. She saw a wealth of fabulous paneling, impressive