Page 9 of Kidnapping Cordelia

“Yes, indeed, Mr Anderson,” the fellow said, pocketing the sovereign. “Like I said, I run a respectable house. I cannot speak for everyone who witnessed what happened outside, but you may be sure no gossip about the lady will come from anyone I have any influence over.”

“Good man,” Muir said, slapping his shoulder, before making his way back up the stairs. He felt suddenly weary, and more than a little apprehensive about re-entering the room to speak to his fiancée.

Lady Cordelia was sitting on the edge of the bed, but she leapt to her feet as Muir came in and closed the door.

“Ye have no need to be feart of me, lassie,” he said with a sigh.

“I’m not afraid of you,” she said quietly. “I wanted to thank you for everything you have done and… and to release you from your offer. I know you only sought to protect me, and I only accepted to get free of Enoch.”

“Aye, I did seek to protect ye, and I still do. Ye cannae change yer mind. Ye have nae choice now,” he said, his voice flat, knowing she was not the only one.

She put up her chin, once more showing a strength of character he might not have expected from what he knew of her, nor by looking at her, considering the frills and flounces of an extraordinarily pretty, if tattered and grubby, gown. He could only admire her for the courage she showed. “My brother is the Marquess of Wrexham, my father the Duke of Sefton and—”

“And that will nae do ye a whit of good now, lassie,” Muir said firmly, sorry to have to crush her spirits, but it was best she had no illusions about just how bad things were. “I’m afraid ye have caught yerself in a scandal of the sort ye dinnae yet comprehend. I left London to escape it and now I have made it a million times worse with the death of that miserable devil Malmsey, curse him.”

Lady Cordelia stared at him in dismay, and Muir regarded her in return. She was a fetching creature, her curling hair the colour of old gold, though it was in a dreadful state of disarray after her ordeal. He had first met her a few years ago and thought her a charming but rather odd girl. She said the most extraordinary things and seemed to spend a good deal of her time in her head, daydreaming. Though he had liked her well enough, she was not at all the kind of woman he’d imagined as his wife. He needed a strong and capable woman, someone robust, who could handle being the wife of a man who was a farmer at heart and lived much of his life out of doors. A burst of resentment at having been caught once more in other people’s troubles made irritation surge through him but he pushed it back down. It was not the girl’s fault any more than it was his own.

“What do you mean?” she asked, recalling him to the conversation. “What scandal did you seek to escape?”

“The murder of Lord Richmond,” he said, running a hand through his hair.

She gaped at him in such horror, he almost laughed.

“Nae, I didnae murder him, though he well deserved it. I just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Everyone saw me go after him and—” Muir sighed and shook his head. “Sit down, lassie. I’ve ordered something to eat and some tea. Let me tell ye the whole and then ye shall see just how big a scandal we have on our hands. If we stick together, we shall ride it out well enough, but I reckon we shall need to keep our heads down for a good long spell.”

Chapter 3

Dearest Rex and Emmeline,

This is just a brief letter to tell you I am safe and well. It has been the most appalling few days and I hardly know where to begin, but I must tell you Enoch Goodfellow kidnapped me. He intended to force me into marriage, though I tell you now, he would not have succeeded.

I was feeling quite pleased with myself for having escaped him by bashing him with a fireside poker until I fell into Lord Malmsey’s hands.

I have never met a man so lost to honour and decency and I was truly in fear for my life. He tried to take me to his carriage, but I fought him as best I could. I should not have prevailed, however, if not for the intervention of Mr Muir Anderson. He came upon us and bravely fought Lord Malmsey. His lordship tried to kill Mr Anderson with a knife during the altercation, but in defending himself, Mr Anderson stabbed Lord Malmsey in the stomach. I am told he bled to death not long after.

It's all been quite remarkably awful, and I know that the scandal is of quite terrifying proportions. Mr Anderson is the most honourable of men, however, and has offered me the protection of his name. We are to be married in Scotland. He is taking me to stay with his brother, Viscount Buchanan and his wife whilst he prepares his home for my arrival.

He believes it is best we stay away from town for the foreseeable future until the dust settles. So, I may be back in a decade or so.

Oh, what a mess I am in!

―Excerpt of a letter from The Lady Cordelia Steyning to her brother, and sister-in-law, The Most Hon’ble Marquess and Marchioness of Wrexham.

25th March 1850, The Rising Sun, Alconbury, Huntingdon, Cambridgeshire, England.

“You’re quite sure she’s in no danger?” Delia said for the tenth time, blowing her nose on the huge handkerchief with which Mr Anderson had provided her. The terrible story he’d related concerning her dear friend Narcissa and the attack her brother, Lord Richmond, had made upon Narcissa’s new husband—and accidentally upon Narcissa herself—had brought Delia to tears.

“So said this morning’s papers. And ye ken her new mother-in-law has a hand for healing.”

“Oh, I wish I could go to her,” Delia said thickly. “And I thought I’d had a horrid few days.”

“And so ye have,” Muir told her firmly. “Dinnae fash yerself over Mrs Anson. She’s in excellent hands and by the looks of him, Ash would move heaven and earth for the girl. He’s head over ears for her if ye ask me.”

“It’s truly a love match, then,” she said with a contented sigh, her concerns eased by his words. “I suspected there was something between them, certainly on Narcissa’s side, for she was forever asking me if I had seen him or what event he was attending. Oh, how romantic it must have been, eloping to escape her vile father. I do hope they will be happy, they certainly deserve it.”

Mr Anderson said nothing more on the subject, intent on dishing up the meal a curious serving girl had brought up to them a few minutes earlier. The vexing little creature had been agog, staring between Muir and Delia as if she were viewing creatures in a menagerie. Her gaze had certainly lingered on Muir most of all, though, for which Delia could not blame her. She was finding it a little difficult to stop staring at him herself. The heroic way in which he had burst into her life was enough to make any girl feel a little weak at the knees, but being alone with him and in such close quarters, knowing he would soon be her husband… Well, it was all rather unsettling, to say the least. Muir had finally hurried the girl out of the room and Delia tried to turn her attention to the meal. It smelled divine, though after the vile eggs and bacon that morning, she was more than a little suspicious of it.

Rather to her surprise, Delia discovered the stew to be rich and meaty and well-flavoured, and finished a first helping with no trouble, even accepting the second serving that Muir offered her.