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N o,” she said flatly, ignoring the frisson of awareness that his perusal sent dancing down her spine. “I am not. But I am confused why you say you are the one who will need to marry an heiress. I can name a dozen or more gentlemen who, when faced with this same problem, have sold their unmarried sisters and daughters to the highest bidder without a backward glance.”

For the barest moment, anger shone in his eyes. But as quickly as it came, the sentiment was replaced with sardonic amusement. “You have a very poor opinion of gentlemen, Miss Penhallow.” He stretched his legs out before him and studied her as if she was some rare creature on display in the Royal Menagerie. “I suppose I should be grateful I have chosen a solution that meets with your approbation.”

“It is not for me to approve or disapprove of your actions, my lord,” she said, lifting her chin at the challenge in his tone. “Though I will admit to no small degree of relief that you will not make Meg sacrifice herself in such a manner as those others I mentioned.”

Before he could respond, a shout rang out from beyond the open French doors on the far side of the room. Some instinct had her rushing toward where the shout had come from.

“What was that?” Will asked as he followed her.

They both stepped out onto the terrace, and despite the hour, the moonlight served to illuminate the garden. A glance to the left revealed a few couples in conversation outside the doors leading from the ballroom, but they had no reason to look toward where Lucy and Gilford stood.

“I don’t know,” Lucy said, keeping her voice low so as not to draw attention to them. “It was probably laughter from one of the guests nearer to the ballroom.”

A sharp wind brought a tinge of cold that explained, perhaps, why there were so few dancers congregating outside. Even with the stuffiness generated by filling a room with more dancers than it could reasonably hold, there were those who would prefer it to the least bit of chill.

But just as she was about to turn to go back inside, Lucy heard the sound again. This time she was able to determine more clearly what it was. A woman had screamed.

Even before she could fully consider the wisdom of doing so, Lucy was hurrying down the steps of the terrace toward the path leading through the garden.

As she went, she saw a black carriage beyond the gate leading into the mews from the garden. To her horror, she saw a burly man in dark clothing struggling with a red-haired young woman in an evening gown.

Vera.

Her friend’s name flitted through Lucy’s mind, because it was undoubtedly her friend the man was attempting to subdue.

“You there,” she shouted, heedless of who might hear. “Let her go.”

Her words must have reached the struggling couple, because the man glanced around as if searching for the voice. Almost immediately his attention turned back to Vera, who had used his distraction to pull away and attempt escape. To Lucy’s dismay, he met this bid by striking her friend in the head and tossing her over his shoulder.

As Lucy moved as quickly as she could in her constrictive ball gown, she watched as the man wrenched open the door of the carriage and tossed Vera inside. Without a backward glance, he climbed in after her. He must have rapped on the ceiling of the vehicle, because the horses trotted into motion. Before Lucy’s horrified eyes, her friend and her captor were gone.

By the time Lord Gilford reached her side, there was nothing left to see beyond the Leighton-Childes’ garden gate.

“They’re gone, I take it.” It was a statement, not a question.

“Yes.”

Lucy blamed herself. If she hadn’t lingered in the library with Gilford, she might have reached Vera’s side sooner. She would have liked to pretend she’d been there because she was concerned for Meg’s family. But that wasn’t all it had been. She’d been captivated by her friend’s handsome brother. Had wanted to spend more time alone with him.

And now Vera had been taken heavens knew where, and Lucy was at least partly responsible for it.

“You know the lady who was taken?” Gilford asked now, interrupting her guilty thoughts.

“She’s a friend. One of the Ems.” She continued to stare down the lane, as if against all sense the coach would come racing back any minute. “Vera Blackwood. The daughter of the American industrialist.”

An heiress , she almost added, remembering Gilford’s question earlier. But her petty decision not to offer up Vera to him on the proverbial silver platter—out of jealousy, she now admitted—was immaterial at the moment. Besides, he could figure it out for himself.

If he recognized the name, Gilford didn’t mention it. Instead he simply nodded and said, “No doubt he’ll be willing to pay for her safe return.”

Before she could respond, a shout from the garden behind them alerted Lucy that the guests on the terrace had heard the shouting.

Turning, she saw both Meg and Elise coming toward them.

“Here you are,” Meg said with a purposely wide-eyed look between her friend and her brother. “Lucy, your long absence from the ballroom has been noted, I’m afraid.”

Neither Lucy nor Gilford needed more explanation from Meg to interpret the warning embedded in her words.

“We did what we could to downplay things.” Elise gave them both a sympathetic wince.

As if conjured, Mrs. Penhallow appeared on the path behind Meg and exclaimed with relief when she saw Lucy, though when she saw Gilford beside her, her relief turned to alarm. “Lucy, what is this?”

Before Lucy could formulate a response, she felt Gilford stand up straighter at her side, and when she glanced over at him, she saw that his expression was grim. “I’m afraid Miss Penhallow and I were too late, ma’am.”

Deciding that his apparent decision to brazen out the situation and sound the alarm was the correct one, Lucy nodded. “Lord Gilford is correct, Mama. We were unable to stop them.”

“What do you mean, Miss Penhallow?” asked Lady Exley from where she hovered behind Lucy’s mother and the other guests, who had begun to gather just far enough away to watch the unfolding drama. “Of whom are you speaking?”

“Miss Vera Blackwood, my lady,” said Lucy, hating herself for using Vera in this way, but knowing it could not be helped. “She’s been abducted.”