Page 5 of Kidnapping Cordelia

“Er… yes, well, do go and warm yourself then, my dear.”

Hiding a satisfied smile, Delia got to her feet and stood by the fire, warming her hands. When the clink of cutlery recommenced, she turned her head to assure herself Enoch was intent on his meal before bending at the knee and lowering herself down. Not taking her eyes from him, she searched the hearth with her fingertips until she found the cold iron of the poker. She curled her fingers around it and stood, her heart beating too fast. Though she knew she must escape him, it was one thing to attack a man in the heat of anger, quite another to strike him over the head from behind. Yet she was not strong enough to resist him if she fought him openly, and he was deaf to her pleas. He had brought it on himself, she told herself firmly, before taking two quick steps forward, raising the poker as she moved.

The sound it made when the poker connected to his head quite turned her stomach, and she stumbled away with a squeak of mingled alarm and disgust as he fell like a stone. The chair clattered to the floor and Delia just stood, unmoving, not even breathing, as she listened for a hue and cry and people storming in to accuse her of murder. Whilst she was quite ready to demand help and admit what she’d done to free herself, that would be easier to do without a body at her feet.

Had she murdered him? Anxiously, she got to her knees, turning him onto his back and more than relieved to see the steady rise and fall of his chest. Not dead, then. Thank the Lord.

With no time to lose, Delia scrambled to her feet. She did not know how long she had before Enoch revived, so she ran for the door and tugged it open. For a moment she toyed with the idea of going straight to the innkeeper, but there were so many people about and she had no desire to ruin herself. With luck, her brother had kept the whole affair under wraps, and if she got home with no one the wiser, there would be no damage done. Wrexham would have no trouble silencing Enoch once she was safe. No, the best thing was to get her hands on a horse or gain passage onto a carriage heading back to London, though she quailed a little at the idea. As a sheltered young lady, she had never so much as set foot outside of her house without a chaperone. On the day Enoch had kidnapped her, he had blackmailed her maid into aiding him with his dreadful plan. If only the poor girl had confided in Delia that she was with child, she would have helped her, but the foolish creature had fallen prey to Enoch’s nosy beak, and this was the result.

Moving stealthily down the corridor, Delia kept a sharp lookout, certain that at any moment Enoch would leap out at her, having not been out as cold as she’d hoped. A side door beckoned, and Delia’s heart quickened. It looked as if it might lead out to the stables. Her hand had just grasped the latch when another, larger hand pressed against the door, over her head, holding it shut.

With a gasp, she turned, and to her horror, found herself staring up into the cold, dark eyes of Lord Malmsey.

“M-My lord,” she stammered, putting up her chin. “If you would excuse me, I need to use the necessary.”

“And without an escort? Tut, tut. But your poor husband is unconscious, is he not? Tricky for him to escort you anywhere in such a state, I fear. Your handiwork, was it, my pretty one?”

Delia stiffened, horribly aware that she might just have exchanged a dreadful situation for a dire one. She knew very well that Malmsey was a violent brute with no morals and not a shred of honour to his name. Enoch was a selfish, unpleasant little sneak, but Malmsey was another creature altogether.

“Unconscious?” she said, trying to feign surprise. “Oh, the poor dear. I must go to him at once.” She tried to push past him, only to find herself caged in by his arms. She shrank back against the wall, truly afraid now in a way she had not been until this point.

“Nice try, pet,” he said, his thin lips curling with amusement. “But I’m afraid I don’t buy it. I thought perhaps it was an elopement, but I see now Mr Goodfellow had the right idea. I’ve recently lost out on a nice, fat dowry and a pretty little wife. But one duke’s daughter is much like another, I fancy.”

“I’ll not marry you,” she said, her voice breathless with terror. “Not now, not ever.”

He chuckled at that, an unpleasant sound that made all the fine hairs on her body stand on end. “Oh, I think you will, sweetheart, given the right inducement.”

There was a look in his eyes that Delia did not mistake. This was a man who had no compunction about using violence to get his own way. A ridiculous desire to find herself back in the far more manageable hands of Enoch Goodfellow hit her hard and fast and Lord Malmsey grinned, apparently reading her mind.

“Better the devil you know, eh, love? I don’t doubt you’re right, but you’ve got me to deal with now, and no fireside poker will save you this time. Try it and I’ll show you just how much harder I can strike back.”

Delia went cold at his words, which only confirmed everything she had ever heard about him.

“Come along, my lady. My carriage is waiting, and I think I prefer to make haste before your beloved awakens. We don’t want any shocking scenes, do we now?”

Laughing softly to himself, he grasped her by the arm, so hard his fingers bit into her flesh and would certainly leave bruises. He opened the door and guided her through, holding on tight the entire time.

To Delia’s dismay, the door did not lead to the stables, but out into a small courtyard behind them. Though she could hear the bustle of people and the sound of horses' hooves on cobbles, they were out of sight on the other side of a high wall. Malmsey strode quickly, tugging her behind him. At the end of the yard, he paused, for here was a door sized opening that led out onto the busy stables. Before she could think of screaming, he clapped a hand over her mouth and bent to whisper in her ear.

“We’re going to move quickly and quietly, and no one will notice us. If you make so much as a squeak of protest, I shall make you sorry for it. Do you hear me, pet?”

Delia nodded, recognising the ring of truth in his words. Yet she feared what would become of her if she did not take this slender chance. What if there was no other opportunity to escape, what if this was her only hope?

Closing her eyes, she sent up a silent prayer that she would come through this ordeal unharmed and, as Malmsey took a step forward, she bit the hand covering her mouth with all her might.

Chapter 2

Dearest Kitty,

I hope you will not be terribly vexed with me, but I have decided to come to town after all. If all goes well, I shall leave first thing tomorrow morning, but I thought I had best warn you of my arrival.

―Excerpt of a letter to the Right Hon’ble Kitty Baxter, The Countess of Trevick, from the Hon’ble Miss Violetta Spencer (cousin and adopted daughter to The Right Hon’ble Kitty and Luke Baxter, Countess and Earl of Trevick).

25th March 1850, Spinney Cottage, Alconbury, Cambridgeshire, England.

Muir looked around at the sound of a contented sigh and smiled at Sally.

“Must you go?” she asked, giving him an admiring glance as he sat and tugged on his socks.