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T he church square hummed with adults and children. Tiffany had to concentrate every time she had a bill of sale to organize. She was tired from little sleep last night and the early start to set up the stall. In her dreams, she’d danced with Wolf all night, instead of only two waltzes. She’d woken tangled in her bedsheets.

Today she was going to become betrothed to the man of her dreams. And her body hummed with joy. She couldn’t wait for the event to be over.

The churchyard was still full of people two hours later. The stall was a huge success. They had been busy the whole time, and soon all the clothes and other items they had available would be gone. They had raised a lot of money for Ivy’s orphanage.

“Do you need a break?” Wolf asked. He’d stayed by her side the entire time. “I’m sure I could manage your duties for a few minutes.”

“I could use a cup of tea and a chance to stretch my legs.” She looked over to the busiest table, Valora’s. The crowd had dispersed, as most of the gentlemen’s clothes and items had sold first. The ladies would remember this idea for next time. Then it struck her. Valora was not at the table. Tiffany glanced around. She couldn’t see Valora anywhere. Please don’t let her have gone alone to Mrs. Buchanan’s. “Thank you, Wolf.”

She leaped to her feet and almost ran to Claire’s side. “Where’s Valora?”

“She went to the retiring room.” Claire straightened from rummaging through the last pieces in one of the boxes. “But that was a while ago.” Claire looked at her. “Oh, no. She wouldn’t.”

“Who wouldn’t what?” Farah asked.

“Valora is missing,” Tiffany said quietly.

Farah began looking around. “Oh! We have to stop her. Have we got time? When did she leave?”

“I don’t know.”

Farah peered over her shoulder. “There’s Rockwell. Let’s ask him to go after her.” Before they could stop her, Farah was off.

“If Rockwell tells Vale, Valora will be married off immediately.” Claire sounded close to tears. “I could strangle that girl. Why didn’t she tell one of us?”

“She told me at the ball last night that she still wanted to go, but I thought I’d convinced her not to.”

“You should have told us and we would have kept a closer eye on her.”

Tiffany didn’t want this day to be spoiled. It was supposed to be her day. She was getting engaged. “This is not my fault. You know that no one would have been able to stop her.”

Farah arrived with Rockwell. “I’ll find her,” he said. “I just hope no one sees us or I could end up married to her.” Farah’s face turned pale.

“Perhaps you could take Lord Axton Fancot with you, Valora’s other brother,” Claire suggested. “He’s here with Lord Julian, who is helping in place of Serena.”

Farah’s eyes opened wide. “What if Axton tells his brother, Vale? Valora will be in so much trouble.”

The girls stood there arguing, and it took them a moment to notice Rockwell had left and collected Wolf. They walked back to the ladies. Wolf stopped in front of Tiffany. “I’ll make sure we stop Miss Valora from doing anything foolish. Stay with Axton and Julian. We’ll be back soon. We have a meeting to attend.”

Farah said what they were all thinking. “I hope they get to her before she is ruined. My brother will not let me visit at the Wolfarth’s. I don’t want to add the Vale residence to the list.”

“I’m just going to slip to the retiring room before rescuing Julian,” Tiffany said. “I think the ladies buying goods are flirting with him and he’s too shy to stop them.”

They looked across to where a very red-faced Julian sat taking orders, and they all giggled. “I can’t wait to tell Serena. He looks adorable,” Claire said.

Tiffany slipped into the tiny room set aside in the church hall for the ladies. The young maid overseeing the room smiled at her. She was holding a pair of gloves that Tiffany thought were an old pair of Ivy’s. “Those are beautiful,” Tiffany said.

“My beau bought them for me. I haven’t even been stepping out with him for very long and look what he gives me. They are the softest leather I’ve ever felt.” She ran the leather over her cheek.

Tiffany inwardly smiled at the young maid’s dreamy-eyed look. Tiffany knew exactly how she felt. She couldn’t wait to announce to the world that a man like Wolf loved her. Actually, she didn’t care what others thought. Just knowing he loved her was enough.

She slipped behind the screen and took care of the necessary. On her way out, she dug into her reticule to find a tip for the maid. She had just reached the entrance when a hand covered her mouth and she was lifted off her feet. For a moment, shock and confusion rendered her immobile, and then instinct kicked in and she started to struggle. But her captor was too strong. Another man appeared in front of her and shoved a rag into her mouth, silencing any attempt to scream. As the two men carried her out, she saw the young maid prone on the floor, the gloves her beau had bought her lying by her feet.

*

Wolf and Rockwell found Valora pacing on the corner of Mrs. Buchanan’s street. She looked relieved when she saw them.

“I couldn’t go in. I am such a fool.” Rockwell placed her hand on his arm and turned her back toward the churchyard. “Please don’t tell my brother. And oh, dear lord, don’t tell Lord Marlowe.”

Rockwell smiled. “Tell them what? That you needed some fresh air after working so hard at the stall?”

Wolf accompanied them on her other side. “Any man would be honored to have you bestow a smile on him. A man who doesn’t notice you is a man too tied up in himself, and is probably not worth your devotion.”

Valora laughed. “Marlowe is your friend.”

“I know. But that doesn’t mean I’m blind to his faults. Just that I accept them. No one is perfect.” Wolf thought back to Margo’s death and how Marlowe had been there for him every day during that bleak time. And he’d helped rescue Ashleigh. And had kept the family’s deep, dark secrets of that day.

“I’m certainly not perfect. I’ve risked my reputation, friendships and the orphanage by using the stall as a means to be foolish beyond measure. Why can’t I fall in love with a man who wants me?”

“They say men always want what they can’t have. Would it be any different for a woman?” Rockwell said.

“Interesting. You are implying that I want Marlowe because he’s never been one of my many admirers.” She walked along in silence for a moment. “You could be right. I can’t say I know him particularly well.” She smiled up at the two men. “And there are plenty of handsome gentlemen for me to flirt with.” She batted her eyelashes at Rockwell.

“See, brother. No beautiful woman is going to flirt with you now you’re practically married.”

“And I do not care.” And Wolf didn’t. He’d never felt this content with his life. Tiffany’s love filled the deep scar in his heart.

“I hope I find what you’ve found with Tiffany,” Valora said as they neared the church. “And you’d better treat her like a princess or you’ll have all of the ladies to deal with.”

“I’m sure you’ll find your prince. From my experience, it happens when you least expect it,” Wolf replied.

They entered the church courtyard to find it in an uproar. People were being asked to leave, and Claire and the other young ladies were sobbing in the corner. Julian came racing over. “Tiffany is missing. We found a young maid in the retiring room. She was knocked out. That’s the last place Tiffany was seen entering.”

The world swam, and he thought he would be sick. “Sprat. It has to be Sprat. He’s taken Tiffany.”

“You don’t know that,” Rockwell said, “but it’s likely. He won’t harm her, she’s too valuable.”

“How do you know that? He might simply kill her for revenge. I’ve destroyed his swindle and he’s a wanted man.”

“I’ve got the men checking the whole area. A young lad saw a carriage racing away up the mall. Axton took some men and have followed on horseback. They shouldn’t get too far.” Julian looked as if he’d aged ten years. “I’m sorry, I should have kept a better eye out.”

“It’s not your fault. We all thought Sprat had fled to Ireland.” Once again Sprat had bettered him. A black haze clouded Wolf’s vision. “Which direction did they go?” He had to get to Tiffany. He could not bear it if anything happened to her. It would be his fault. He’d tried to take on Sprat and failed. He’d failed, once again, to protect the woman he loved.

If he lost her… He wanted to hit something—no, someone. Sprat. He’d kill him if he touched even a hair on her head. He blocked out the memory of what had happened to Margo. It couldn’t happen twice. Could it?

Rockwell read his mind. “He won’t hurt her. He won’t have time. We’ll get him. Come on, Julian has organized horses for us.” If Rockwell was trying to hide his fear, he was failing. Wolf could read his brother better than a book written in English.