Page 4

A m I being punished again?

That was the thought that was going through Alethea's mind. The blindfold felt scratchy, and she had been transported into a much smaller space. Perhaps a moving carriage. The grip on her arms loosened at last.

Alethea barely had a moment to draw breath before the rough cloth was removed from her mouth, leaving her gasping.

"Are you quite mad?" a young male voice said to her.

"Is this meant to be my punishment?" she said, a pleading edge to her voice. "For I have not done anything wrong."

"Punishment?" the voice sounded confused. Alethea found it strange that the one who had kidnapped her did not seem to have a clear motive at all. "What in the devil are you talking about?"

She didn't answer. Instead, her hands flew to the blindfold around her eyes and with a tug, she wrenched it free.

When her vision adjusted, she turned to face the man seated across from her. He looked just as startled as she felt. Young, no more than a few years her senior. His surprise seemed to mirror her own.

"You're not Joyce," he said at last.

"No. I'm Alethea. Joyce is my sister," Alethea blinked.

"Bloody hell," he muttered again, rubbing a hand down his face. "You're not Joyce. This was not supposed to happen."

Alethea could see the panic rise inside of her, turning his rather pale cheeks red. He frantically ran his fingers through his already tousled hair.

"What sort of devilish game is this?" she asked, firmly.

"I should ask you that!" the stranger exclaimed. "Why in God's name were you in Joyce's room?"

"She's my sister," Alethea said icily. "And that is my room. At least it used to be."

The young man groaned, clearly flustered.

"This is all terribly wrong. It was not supposed to be you. None of this was supposed to happen like this."

"You intended to abduct Joyce?" Alethea asked, bewildered.

"No!" he said, his voice rising. "Well, yes, but not in the way you think."

"Save your breath. You're clearly a scoundrel and a scam. And whatever scheme you're running…"

"I am not a fraud," he cut in, "I am Theodore Lockhart. Younger brother to the Duke of Redhaven, if that means anything to you."

"It doesn't," she snapped. "And if you think a title will excuse this madness then you are sourly mistaken."

"No," he said, eyes narrowing. "I don't. But you clearly don't understand."

"Pray tell what is there to understand?" Alethea said, surprising herself with the confidence she had on display.

She was not used to being in the company of men alone, let alone speaking to them this frankly.

But the anger that coursed her veins made her discard her own notions of decorum.

"You are now telling that it is my widowed sister that you aimed to kidnap instead, as though it makes this whole thing better. "

Before another word could be exchanged, the carriage jolted to a halt. The door flung open with such force that Alethea nearly fell forward.

A man stood at the front of it. He looked between Theodore, and then at her. His gaze darkened as he took in the sight. Alethea noted now he had a rather imposing presence, so much that even Theodore seemed to shrink beside him.

"Inside," he said curtly, gaze snapping between the two occupants of the carriage. "Now."

"Have you completely lost your mind?" Oliver Lockhart barked at his younger brother. He had little patience for ridiculous behavior and Theodore was already pushing his limits. The carriage door slammed behind them. He turned to his brother, eyes narrowed. "Do you want our entire family ruined?"

"Oliver, I can explain," Theodore tried.

"You had better," Oliver bit out. "But not here. Get inside. Immediately."

He stepped aside, gesturing toward the estate's front steps.

The lady followed, though she had yet to say a word.

The last thing Oliver wished to do was create a scene in front of the staff, which would only lead to more gossip.

Oliver waited until the doors closed behind her before turning on his brother.

"Theodore," he began, "Tell me again, do you want to ruin this family? Or are you simply incapable of thinking?"

"I didn't mean…"

"No," Oliver snapped. "You meant it. You scaled the Carter wall like a common burglar to abduct one of their daughters."

"I thought it was Joyce," Theodore flushed.

"Yes," Oliver interrupted. "You thought. You didn't check and you certainly did not stop to wonder if it was the correct room, let alone the correct sister."

"I was told she slept alone."

"You were told." Oliver laughed at the ridiculousness of the entire situation. "Good God, Theodore. Are you a schoolboy with a crush or a man in pursuit of complete disgrace?"

"It was not meant to be her," Theodore asserted again, as though him saying that made the entire situation better.

"You thought you would conduct a midnight abduction without consequences? You were seen entering the Carter estate, you fool. Do you know what that means?"

Oliver had been informed of his brother's shenanigans through a member of the staff. One whom Oliver had chosen to keep an eye out on his younger brother for, as he had a penchant for trouble. It was especially needed after what had happened at the ball.

"I understand how this may look to you, but my motives were pure and I had a cause."

"A cause?" Oliver challenged. If he was not so angry, he might have even laughed. "Pray tell, what cause explains the kidnapping of a young woman in the middle of the night?"

"I love her," Theodore said. "Joyce, that is. I have fallen in love with her."

His brother said the words so calmly that Oliver wondered if he had practiced them many times over in his head already. It was the surety behind them that made him pause.

"What did you say?"

"I love Joyce," Theodore repeated, lifting his chin. "We had an understanding amongst ourselves and I was going to marry her."

"Oh, well then," Oliver drawled, "That settles the whole thing then. All is forgiven."

Theodore did not appreciate the sarcasm in his brothers' tone.

"You don't understand."

"No," Oliver snapped. "I understand all too well. You made a spectacle of yourself at the ball last week, two unchaperoned dances, and now you've given enough fodder for the scandal sheets to remain in business for weeks."

"That is hardly my concern," Theodore argued, shrugging in a way that could only be expected of someone of his age, "I don't care what they say."

"Well, I do," Oliver said sharply. "Because they will not just say your name. They will say mine and our family's reputation will be at risk. And they will say hers ."

He pointed at the girl then, and it dawned on him that he did not know her name yet.

"Forgive me, my lady. No one has yet bothered to inform me of your name," Oliver said to her. It was then that he got the chance to look at her properly for the first time.

"Alethea Carter," she said.

Oliver had not heard the name before, but he took her word for it. It took him a moment before spoke again, and he realized that he stared at her a moment too long.

She was beautiful, he acknowledged to himself. Which somehow made her involvement in this entire mess even worse.

"I must apologize," he said to her, rubbing a hand across his face. "For the actions of my brother, which are as senseless as they are inexcusable. This should not have happened and you should not be here."

"It wasn't foolishness," Theodore protested. "It was simply a plan that did not go the way I intended. You cannot hold that against me, for surely even a duke like yourself is capable of making mistakes."

"What you have done is more than a simple mistake. I can forgo it, but what of the ton ?" Oliver said.

"Return me to my home," Alethea said abruptly. "If you have an ounce of decency left, you will return me at once."

Oliver looked at her, surprised. She stood tall despite the quiver in her hands she tried to hide. But he saw it.

"It's nearly morning," he said, not unkindly. "We won't make it to the Carter estate without being seen. You were taken in the middle of the night. If you are returned at dawn, you will be spotted. That is not up for debate."

"There must be a way," she insisted. "I cannot see the utility of me being kept here either."

"There was a way," Oliver said, turning his glare to Theodore. "That way involved not kidnapping the wrong woman. If you truly wished to marry her, then you would have come to me first."

"You would have never agreed," Theodore snapped, his voice rising with desperation.

"You could have tried," Oliver said coldly. "You could have come to me like a man instead of sneaking off like a boy. If anything, this confirms to me that you are not yet ready for the commitment that you sought out to make."

"It is easier to chide me now that the event has taken place," Theodore argued, the flush in his cheeks betraying his guilt. "But I love Joyce. You don't understand what that feels like."

Oliver opted to ignore the jab. It was true, he was not one who bothered with love or all that came with it. It made one foolish, and nothing proved him right more than what his brother had done in the name of love tonight.

He noticed Alethea flinch at the sound of their raised voices. She crossed her arms in front of her, as if to protect herself. His anger dulled slightly. It was not good to lose one's composure in front of a lady.

"This is madness," she spoke again, more to herself than to either of them. "I did not anticipate listening to two men debate whether or not my presence will become a public disgrace."

Oliver exhaled and stepped closer to her.

"Miss Carter," he said, "I know this situation is intolerable. And I cannot undo what has been done. But I give you my word, I will do everything I can to preserve your dignity."

She looked up at him, as though trying to decide whether or not she should believe him.