Taking the Spinster - Samantha Holt Page 0,3

caught up with him, but he wouldn’t put it past the damned woman to sprout wings and fly over the rooftops just to pester him with more questions.

Questions he really could not, would not answer. Questions that were almost worse than why exactly did Miss Amelia Jenkins end your engagement a mere week before the wedding?

He could answer that one but well, she ran screaming from the bedroom really wasn’t an answer he wanted bandied about.

As for the missing women, if he so much as uttered a word to a snooping reporter, all of them could end up in danger. Somehow, he suspected Miss Haversham would not let the matter drop so he was going to have to conjure a way of putting her off the story.

Damn. He ran a hand over his face and marched toward the park, satisfied no stubborn-chinned woman was following him. How had she even connected the women to him? He had been careful. Ridiculously so. Word of The Kidnap Club was a closely guarded secret and anyone who knew about it had either been kidnapped, sought their help, or was one of their own. Being seen with one of the missing women was hardly a crime, and if he recalled correctly, he had run into Lady Steele accidentally, just prior to her kidnapping, and she had wished to be just as cautious as he.

He stepped through the wrought iron gates of Green Park and made his way to the fountain. In warmer weather, the park would be thronged with pedestrians but at night the dark paths were more often home to footpads and drunkards. Precisely why he had brought his pistol. He could handle himself in most situations, but it never paid to be careless.

When he emerged out of the other side of the park by Piccadilly, a carriage moved forward from the shadows of a side road. The door opened and he stepped into the darkened confines. Shadows masked the woman’s face but there was no mistaking the regal bearing of Lady Clearbury, Duchess of Newhampton.

“Your Grace,” he greeted, settling opposite her.

The vehicle jerked forward, and he gripped the edge of the open window with a gloved hand.

“Thank you for meeting with me, Henleigh.”

He waited, the silence punctuated by the rolling of wheels and the clack of hooves. In his experience, women who came to him struggled to find the words to describe their situations. It was best to leave them unprompted until they found their courage. To seek out his services took enough mettle as it was without a man demanding answers, and he had learned over the past few years to treat these women with a tender hand.

Not that he had ever treated women with a rough hand. Nor would he. He’d seen what those beasts of men could do to women, and if he could string them all up, he would, but, alas, there was no recourse for a man who laid hands on his wife.

Lady Clearbury cleared her throat and twisted her hands together. He’d assumed her marriage a pleasant one. She and the duke appeared close and had been married at least two decades. But appearances could be deceiving. He knew that all too well.

So many thought him to be the classic bachelor. A mistress tucked away somewhere perhaps but most certainly entirely attached to remaining single and making love to all the ladies of the ton behind their husbands’ backs. The mistaken impression served him well, but it couldn’t be farther from the truth.

“I need your assistance,” she said, her voice a little hoarse.

“I’m not sure what I can do to aid you,” he replied cautiously.

“I think you do.” She fixed him with a firm gaze, the passing streetlight highlighting her stern features. “I know you have helped women.”

He didn’t respond.

“I want you to help my sister.”

“Your sister?”

She nodded. “Lady Louisa Pembroke. She is close to your age. No doubt you went to her coming out ball.”

“Ah yes.” He frowned. “I regret, I have not seen her in years.”

“For a good reason.” Lady Clearbury tightened her lips. “Her husband controls her every move. She is rarely allowed to go anywhere.”

“I see.”

“I have not been able to see her for two years.” Her voice cracked, and she leaned forward. “The fact is, Baron Pembroke—her husband—is a brute who beats her on a whim. My sister is obedient and was keen to prove herself a fine wife. There is no chance she deserves any kind of cruelty.”

“I am of