The Reluctant Reformer Read Online Free PDF Page A

there,” he said. “Find something for us to tie her up with.”
    The Bow Street runner’s eyebrows rose. “Do you really think that’s necessary, m’lord?”
    â€œI intend to take her to my country estate and keep her there until we find an alternate career for her. Do you think she will come willingly?”
    â€œNo, I suppose not,” the runner admitted with a grimace; then he asked, “What of her household?”
    James’s surprise showed in his voice as he asked, “What household?”
    â€œHer servants. I realize she has no family left to be concerned about her disappearance, but her servants might raise a hue and cry when she doesn’t return. What do you intend to do to prevent that?”
    â€œDamn, I had not thought of it.”
    They were both silent for a moment; then the runner suggested, “Ye could write a letter. Tell them that you have invited Lady Margaret to the country to rusticate for a couple days and that she has taken you up on it.”
    â€œDo you think they would believe such tripe?” James asked dubiously.
    â€œThey are servants, m’lord. Servants don’t question the word of the nobility—at least not out loud. Besides, you are a friend of the family. Well, at least you’re a friend of her dead brother’s. A letter should keep them quiet for a couple days at least, long enough for you to convince her to write something else to them, reassuring them she is fine.”
    James considered his suggestion for a minute, then sighed and nodded. “It will have to do. I will write a letter once we get back to my town house, and you can deliver it. In the meantime, we still need to tie her up.” His gaze slid around the carriage, then to the runneragain. “Perhaps we could use your cravat. Do you think it is long enough?”
    Johnstone glanced down with surprise. “I think so, but…Oh, what the hell,” he decided, setting to work on the garment, then he offered James a cheeky grin. “I’ll just bill it to ye.”
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    Maggie was slow to awaken. When she did, it was to find herself bundled in a darkened corner, her cape wrapped tightly around her—so tightly she couldn’t move, she realized with dismay. No, wait . It was not her cape that restricted her movements, but her hands were bound. Her feet appeared to be as well. What the devil was going on?
    Blinking in an effort to adjust to the blackness, she peered around at her surroundings. While she saw nothing, she could deduce that she was still in the carriage—the rocking motion of the seat she sat on and the steady clip-clop of horses’ hooves made that obvious. Oddly, though, the noise of hooves was the only sound she could hear. The normal hustle and bustle of London’s streets was missing. And she could still see nothing.
    Then the darkness enveloping her was broken, the hood of her cape was tugged aside, revealing to her why it had been so dark. Without the material covering her face, Maggie could see the gray light of predawn creeping through the window.
    Her gaze slid around the carriage, taking in the dark outline of a man seated across from her. He was the only other occupant of the conveyance. It was hard to see his features in the dim interior of the coach, but shecould see his size, and that was enough to intimidate her.
    â€œYou are awake.”
    She blinked in surprise. His diction was perfect, his speech cultured. This was no street ruffian, but a gentleman. She had been abducted by a gentleman?
    Abducted? Swallowing, she dropped her eyes to her lap to hide her confusion. She, Maggie Wentworth, had been abducted: dragged from Madame Dubarry’s, suffocated to unconsciousness, and, apparently, carted off in a carriage. But why? For ransom? There was no money for which to ransom her, and even if there were, there certainly was no one from whom to demand it. Then, all at once, the answer seemed