Phil was looking out the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of James. She had spotted him when she’d entered the carriage, and her cheeks had felt as hot as flames. For his part, he had studiously avoided her gaze.
“Philomena Anne Duncombe, are you listening to me?” her mother demanded.
“Yes, Mama. Mrs. Draven will not turn us away. For one, Phineas served under her husband in the war. Two, Catarina, her sister Ines, and I are friends.”
“I hardly think inviting them to our box at the theater makes you friends.”
Phil smiled. Her mother did not like her to make friends who were not titled, but she’d liked the Portuguese sisters the first time she’d met them. They were not only talented lacemakers but witty and entertaining.
The duchess peered out the window. “Ah, here we are then.”
They’d arrived at the shop, and Phil noticed there were several women admiring the lace in the window outside. Catarina lace was highly coveted and also outrageously expensive. A footman—not James—handed Phil and her mother down, and Phil didn’t dare look over her shoulder to peek at James. She knew he was there, and that would have to be enough. Perhaps she could look out the window of the shop and spot him.
She followed her mother inside, where they were greeted by both Catarina and Ines, served tea, and regaled with stories of Ines’s foolish suitors and Catarina’s very naughty cat.
Finally, they discussed lace, and her mother ordered her what amounted to a fortune and asked that it be sent to Madame Renauld’s so the modiste could finish her dresses for the Season with it. As her mother and Mrs. Draven discussed the last details, Ines rose and offered to show Phil about the shop. “I think the last time you ordered lace, we were working from Lieutenant Draven’s home.”
“You’ve certainly moved up in the world,” Phil said as Ines showed her the work room and the showroom.
“We owe a great deal to your brother as he is the one who found this shop and negotiated the purchase.”
“He does have a knack for negotiation,” Phil agreed.
“There is even a room upstairs. I keep telling Catarina I should move here and give her more privacy, but she likes me close. Come, I’ll show you.” The ladies climbed the steps and Ines showed Phil the small but cozy bedchamber.
“I like that it has a separate entrance,” Phil said, opening the outside door and looking down the steps that entered from the back. “One could come and go without having to walk through the shop.”
“Exactly. Catarina thinks that makes it less safe, of course. But perhaps if I can convince one of the lacemakers to stay with me, she will reconsider.”
Phil nodded then she leaned in close. “Ines, tell me the truth, you really haven’t met a single man in London you fancy?”
Ines’s cheeks went pink. “The truth?”
Phil nodded.
“I have met half a dozen men I fancy, but none have that special...I do not know the word in English.”
“Quality?” Phil offered.
“Something like that, yes. None of them—how is it you say?—sweep me off my feet. I want to be dizzy with love. Breathless with it.”
Phil smiled. Ines was still a romantic. And she could understand. Hadn’t James swept her off her feet and left her quite breathless?
“You should wait until you find that man, Ines.”
Ines sighed. “I am impatient. Catarina says I have plenty of time, but she would say that when she has a man in her bed. I am lucky if the cat will sleep with me!”
Phil laughed. “I understand, I do.”
Ines hugged her. “I know you do.”
“Senorita Neves?”
Ines pulled back. “Oh, that will be the shop manager. Let me see what she wants.” She hurried out of the room, and Phil followed, joining her mother in the showroom.
“We had better be off,” her mother said. “Philomena slept quite late and has made us tardy to all our appointments.” She pushed Phil ahead of her. One of the clerks opened the door, and Phil continued outside. She had barely stepped clear of the shop when the breath was knocked out of her as a man barreled into her.
She tried to cry out or murmur an apology as she must have stepped into his path, but she couldn’t seem to manage a word. Before she could even react she was being thrust along, away from the shop, and down the sidewalk. She heard her mother and her servants cry out and then the man who held her tightly began to run. She fought but another man at his side grabbed on to her and together they propelled her forward. Other shoppers’ faces passed in a blur, their shocked looks terrifying her as she continued to fight.
And then she was thrust into a carriage, pushed to the floor, and held there by something or someone heavy. A moment later the coach was moving, and she slid to one side. She could hardly even think what might be happening as she was struggling too much to breathe. Whatever was holding her down pushed all the air from her lungs.
“Get off her. Jaysus, she can’t breathe,” said a voice.
Slowly, the weight holding her down lessened and moved away. Phil took a breath and then another then looked about her. She was in a hackney or some inexpensive conveyance. The straw on the floor was none too clean and the squabs had tears in their fabric coverings. A man was sitting in front of her; she could see his feet and legs. The other man must be behind her. She’d already been scared but now terror gripped her. Who were these men and what did they intend to do with her? They’d abducted her right from in front of Catarina’s shop. They were obviously bold criminals. They might demand a ransom from her and then kill her. Or rape her or both.
She looked up at the man sitting in front of her, her heart thundering so loudly she feared it might burst and save the criminals the trouble of killing her. Something about his clothing looked familiar. She looked higher and higher until she met his gaze.
She jolted and gasped in a breath.
No wonder his clothing looked familiar. It was her family’s livery.
And the man in front of her was James.
He looked away, guilt like a mask over his features. But Phil didn’t avert her eyes. She kept them fast on his face, allowing her hatred to burn through her and into him.
He’d been a part of this scheme. For that was what it was, she could see that now that her mind had a chance to catch up. He had probably planned it. Oh, and she had played right into it. She had made his work easy for him.
She struggled to sit upright. “How could you?” she practically spat.
“It’s not like ye think, me lady.” He still didn’t look at her.
“No? I think I’ve been abducted. Is that wrong?”
He shook his head. “No,” he said quietly.
“I also think you and this man”—she gestured to the man behind her who wore his hat low over his face—“abducted me and plan to force my mother to pay ransom for my return. Is that wrong?”
“No,” he said, his voice barely audible.
“I am such a fool! And to think I trusted you! I believed you!”
He winced. “Ye weren’t a fool.”
“How long have you been planning this? Weeks? Months? Since the very beginning?”
James didn’t answer and the other man nudged him with a boot. “Why don’t ye answer the lady, James? Tell her ye’ve been planning it from the start.” His hard eyes met hers. “Sure and it’s nothing personal, me lady. We need the money, we do. As soon as yer ma pays the ransom, we’ll let ye go. No harm done.”