had been in hazardous positions before, but none that had left him feeling so silly. He rolled off the young woman on the floor and onto his back, considering and discarding hasty plans to escape with his life—and possibly his dignity intact. Finding himself facing two narrow-eyed gentlemen, the pistol in the younger man’s hand aimed at his heart, he threw any concerns about dignity to the winds and concentrated on saving his life. He did not recognize the two men who stared so menacingly at him, but he did recognize them as belonging to the gentlemanly class. He sighed. He really would throttle Elizabeth when he finally got his hands on her. If she had not taken it into her mind to run away with her dashing captain, none of this would have happened. Julian was fair—it wasn’t his stepsister’s fault that he had been found rolling around on the floor with a young woman who was obviously not the sort to enjoy a stolen kiss, but it was because of Elizabeth that he was here at all. And if he managed to avoid being shot this morning, he had every intention of letting her know in just what a devil of a fix she had landed him.
Gazing at the two men before him, he considered using his knife, but he hesitated. The two men probably had good reason for looking so outraged and lethal and he suspected their attitude was brought on by something more than his, uh, friendly tussle with the wench lying next to him. Despite their looks and the pistols, he sensed that he wasn’t about to be shot—at least not at this moment. So who were they and what was their connection to his companion?
The answer came from the fascinating creature herself. Scrambling awkwardly to her feet, the drag of her left leg very noticeable, she half-stumbled, half-fell into the older man’s arms. A sob broke from her as he clasped her to his bosom. “Oh, Papa!” she cried. “You found me! I so hoped that you would.”
Julian’s lips twisted. Oh, lud! He had certainly plunged himself into a tangle this time. The fetching little baggage was the gentleman’s daughter. His position became even more invidious—even the most indulgent parent would not look kindly upon finding the daughter of the house lolling about on the floor with an unmarried gentleman. He frowned. Any man, for that matter. But what the devil, he wondered with a frown, had she been doing here alone and garbed in nothing more than a nightgown? It appeared that her lack of proper attire was just another mystery connected to the young woman and, of course, he had always been intrigued by mysteries…
The two men forgot about Julian as they reassured themselves that the woman was unhurt. Since they were not paying attention to him, he sat up. The younger man, recalled instantly to his presence, flashed him a glance and said, “Do not move, you black-hearted villain! How dare you lay a hand on my sister!”
Well, that was a relief, Julian thought, he had been a trifle worried that the younger man had been a husband—and husbands, in his opinion, were very unreliable when it came to their wives…especially wives found in the arms of other men.
The younger man stared at him puzzled. “Do I know you?” he asked. “You look familiar to me—have I seen you before? Perhaps in London?”
“He says his name is Weston,” said the young woman, turning in her father’s arms to stare at Julian with troubled eyes.
“Weston!” exclaimed the younger man. “Are you related to Wyndham?”
Julian smiled wryly. “Despite my less than sartorial elegance at the moment and the pressing need for a bath and a barber, I am indeed related to Wyndham. I am Wyndham.”
“Never say so!” exclaimed the older man. He studied Julian’s face and despite Julian’s unshaven cheeks and rumpled clothing and his resemblance more to a dangerous brigand than to the elegant Earl of Wyndham, Sir Edward realized he spoke the truth. “Yes, I recognize you now,” Sir Edward said. “You have been pointed out to me. I have seen you about London.” He looked bewildered, but politeness took over. Putting away his pistol, he motioned for Julian to rise and said stiffly, “I am Sir Edward Anslowe. This is my son, Robert, and my daughter, Miss Eleanor Anslowe.”
Julian rose to his feet and bowed. “My pleasure—although I could have wished to meet you under more pleasant circumstances.”
Frowning, Sir Edward looked from his daughter to Julian. “I do not understand any of this,” he began slowly, “but what in blazes, man, was your reason for snatching my daughter from her very bed last night? Was it some infamous wager you made? I cannot believe that a gentleman of your stature would act so dishonorably and seek simply to ruin her.” Looking even angrier and confused, he demanded, “If you fancied her, why did you not approach me? We are not as wealthy and powerful as your family, but our name is a proud one and my daughter is an heiress in her own right—surely you must have known that I would have approved your courtship.”
Nell gasped and glanced horrified up at her father. “Papa, I have never laid eyes on the man before this morning! And he is not the person who t-t-took me away last night—that vile creature was Tynedale.”
Julian stiffened. “What does Tynedale have to do with this affair?”
“I think a better question,” said Robert, as he put away his pistol, “would be what do you have to do with Nell’s abduction?”
Leaning his hips against the table, Julian crossed his arms over his chest and said, “I had nothing to do with, er, Nell’s abduction. It is an unfortunate set of events that has brought us together.” He glanced at Sir Edward. “My presence here is by accident—my horse bolted during the storm last night and left afoot I remembered this place and sought refuge. I had no idea that anyone else was here.”
Sir Edward cast an uneasy look down at Nell. “If it was Tynedale who snatched you last night, how is it that we found you alone this morning with Lord Wyndham? And in a most compromising position?”
Forgetful for the moment of his own precarious position, Julian watched the volatile emotions that rushed across Miss Anslowe’s face. She shot Julian a burning look. “It is not my fault that you found us in such an awkward situation!”
Julian smiled sunnily at her, thinking that she really was a taking little thing with those fairy features and tumbled tawny hair. Which was just as well, he decided dryly, since he had a very strong notion where this was going. He sighed. He had sworn never to marry again, but fate seemed to have other ideas. At the moment, he didn’t see any honorable way out of the circumstances except marriage. And there was the mention of Tynedale. He was not a stupid man and he had already put together much of what must have happened last night. Tynedale had been the abductor, but the clever wench had escaped from him and found her way to the abandoned toll house. That the young lady was an heiress explained much; Tynedale had planned a runaway marriage. Julian eyed Nell, noting again the high bosom and slender form only partially hidden beneath her thin garment. And if he knew Tynedale, and he did, Tynedale’s interest had not been just in her fortune. She was a fetching armful, and if he could deprive his enemy of her, well, putting his head into the parson’s mousetrap was a small cost to pay.
Nell gritted her teeth at Julian’s smile. Turning her back on his aggravating presence, she spoke to her father and brother. After assuring them that she had escaped from Tynedale with her virtue intact she finished by relating the sequence of events that had brought her to the toll house. “I slept so soundly that I never heard him”—she flashed Julian a dark look—“enter the building. My first indication that anyone else was here with me was when I awoke this morning.”
Sir Edward rubbed his chin, looking unhappily from Julian to Nell. Julian knew what was on his mind.
Sighing, he straightened his shoulders and said, “Sir Edward, I understand your predicament and though none of this is anyone’s fault, except Tynedale’s, I am prepared to do the honorable thing and marry your daughter.”
