Page 5 of Rescuing a Tantalising Heiress
“Yes, thank you, Hetty. Return to your duties if you please. I’ll handle this,” he said, turning to Isabella, who felt suddenly weak and light-headed.
“Please, I’m not a vagabond. I’m Lady Isabella Burlington, daughter of the Duke of Burlington. I’ve suffered a terrible ordeal—kidnapped in the night, taken against my will. I was in a carriage, but I escaped and ran through the woods, and…” she exclaimed, stammering out her words, even as the butler stared at her in astonishment.
“Lady Isabella Burlington?” he exclaimed, and Isabella nodded.
“Look—they bound my wrists with cords. Please, you’ve got to help me. Is your master here? Your mistress? Oh, please, don’t tell me they’ve left for the London Season already. Just tell me where I am, please!” she exclaimed, and the butler seemed suddenly convinced as she turned to reveal the cords binding her wrists together.
“My lady, what a terrible ordeal for you. Please, come this way at once,” the butler said, his tone changing, as he ushered Isabella through the door into the back of what was presumably the hallway, where a wide, red-carpeted staircase led up to a gallery above.
The maid who had shouted at Isabella from the window now appeared, carrying a coal scuttle, and she stared in astonishment at Isabella, whose cords were now being untied by the butler.
“You let her in, Mr Marston. How do you know she’s not here to do us all a mischief?” she exclaimed, and the butler looked up at her angrily.
“Mind your tongue, Hetty. And go and fetch his lordship at once. Tell him we’ve got a visitor—Lady Isabella Burlington, the daughter of the Duke of Burlington. Then bring her ladyship some refreshment,” the butler replied.
The maid’s eyes grew wide, and she mumbled an apology, even as Isabella knew she hardly looked like the daughter of a duke—not in her current state, at least. But now, she was curious as to whose lordship she was about to be introduced to. Fear still gripped her heart, and she wondered if the butler’s acceptance of her story was merely a ruse and recognition of the woman his master had intended to kidnap.
“Please, I’m curious—whose house is this?” Isabella asked as the maid hurried back up the stairs.
The butler had loosened her cords, and her hands were free. He stepped back, red- faced, and pulled out his handkerchief, his brow sweaty from the excitement of Isabella’s arrival.
“The Viscount Talbot, my lady,” he replied.
Isabella had heard the name of Talbot, and she believed the viscount’s name was Edward, though she could not be sure. But she knew nothing of an acquaintance between him and her father, and she felt relieved to think she had made the right decision to come to the house, for at that moment, hurried footsteps on the stairs announced the arrival of the viscount himself.
He was an attractive man with light brown hair and dark blue eyes, with a tall athletic build. He was wrapped in a smoking jacket, clearly just summoned from his bed by Hetty, who stood nervously behind him. He stared at Isabella in astonishment, and as she stepped forward, grateful to at last have found safety, she promptly fainted.
Chapter 3
“Marston, some water—quickly. And don’t just stand there gawping, Hetty. Help me with this poor unfortunate creature,” Edward Talbot directed as he clutched at the woman now lying limp in his arms.
It had been a rude disturbance that morning. Edward had been busy working at the desk in his bedchamber—he was an early riser and enjoyed the peace of the first hours of the day, before the inevitable disturbances came. A knocking at his door had roused him, and the maid, Hetty, had appeared with an excitable story about the arrival of a young woman claiming to be the daughter of the Duke of Burlington.
“She says she’s been kidnapped, my lord. You should see her—I thought she was a vagabond, and…” Hetty had exclaimed, and she would have continued her diatribe had Edward not silenced her.
He liked Hetty, but she had a tendency to exaggerate matters, and sighing, Edward had risen from his desk and followed the maid downstairs to find out what the commotion was all about. Now, he stood in astonishment, holding Lady Isabella Burlington—whom he recognized from her coming out—as Hetty rushed forward to help.
“We’ll get her into the drawing room. Good Lord, I wasn’t expecting this at such an early hour,” Edward said as he and Hetty carried Isabella between them into the drawing room.
They laid her on a chaise lounge by the window, and Marston hurried into the room, carrying a pitcher of water.
“I’ve sent for her ladyship, my lord,” the butler said, and Edward sighed. The last thing he wanted was for his sister to be disturbed.
She was a delicate creature, and excitement like this would only upset her.
“Did you have to, Marston? You know she needs to rest,” Edward replied as Hetty held a glass of water to Isabella’s lips.
“She’s dead to the world, my lord. You don’t think she’s…” Hetty exclaimed, her face turning pale as she backed away.
Edward groaned—servants could be so superstitious.
“No, Hetty. She’s not dead. She’s just fainted. But what’s all this about a kidnapping, Marston?” Edward said, turning to the butler, who shook his head.
“I know nothing more than the lady told me, my lord,” he said, just as Hetty interrupted.
“I saw her across the garden, my lord. I was just airing out one of the bedrooms, and I caught sight of her—wild, she looked. She’d been hiding in the trees. I called out to her—told her to go away, but she wouldn’t listen, banging on the door, and…” the maid said as Edward raised his hand for quiet.
“That’s enough, Hetty—let’s not embellish the story any further. The facts, please, Marston,” he said, looking pointedly at the butler, who seemed uncharacteristically at a loss for words.
