She forced herself to keep still. The blanket swaddling her smelled strongly of horse. As her mind cleared, she realized that she was in George's hands. Her captor was a big man, like George, and she could feel his flabbiness, feel the excess flesh rolling over his frame as he held her against him. A shudder of revulsion ripped through her. What was he going to do with her? But she knew the answer to that perfectly well. In her mind's eye she saw George in his cups, his little eyes lusting, his loose lips wet and hungry. She could almost feel his great hands on her body, pulling the clothes from her, falling onto her as she lay pinned beneath him, his fetid breath suffocating. . . .
Panic flooded her and she began to struggle again, her legs flailing desperately against the confining folds of her skirts and the enfolding blanket. Again the wadded material pressed against her nose. Again she fought for breath . . . and then suddenly the vehicle lurched to a halt. There were confused shouts, bumps. A violent thud that set the coach rocking as if someone had jumped into the vehicle. The pressure was abruptly lifted. Her lungs gulped at the hot, stale air trapped in the musty folds of the blanket.
George was bellowing, still clutching at her but not as securely as before. She renewed her struggles to free herself from the blanket. She had no idea what was going on around her, but whatever it was, it gave her a slim chance to escape.
George's arms suddenly went slack, and she tumbled off his knee and onto the floor of the carriage. She rolled over onto her hands and knees and heaved herself upright, throwing off the blanket, emerging pink, breathless, and sweaty … to find George slumped unconscious against the squabs of the hackney and Ted, his hand still in a fist, regarding her with undisguised irritation.
"I've better things to do than chasin' all over town looking for you," he stated before throwing open the door and calling up to the box. "Hey . . . jarvey. 'Elp me get rid of this bloke."
The jarvey appeared in the open door. He gazed dispassionately at the unconscious George. "Who'll be payin' me fare, then?"
Ted didn't answer. He grabbed George by the shoulders and hauled him off the bench. " 'Ere, take his legs."
The jarvey obliged. A small crowd had gathered around them, but no one seemed concerned as the two men swung George out of the carriage and propped him up against the wall of a tavern.
"Right," Ted said, brushing off his hands. "Albermarle Street, now, jarvey."
"So ye'll be payin' the bloke's fare as well as your'n?" the jarvey asked suspiciously.
"Ye'll be paid," Ted said impatiently, swinging himself into the vehicle with surprising agility for such a big man. It occurred to Juliana that the thump she'd heard must have been Ted's surprise entrance into the hackney.
"Right y'are." The driver, whistling cheerfully, mounted his box. "Go anywhere, do anything, that's Joe Hogg fer ye. Jest as long as I gets me fare. All in a day's work to me."
Juliana kicked the smelly horse blanket under the seat. Presumably the obliging jarvey had lent it to George. After what she'd seen in the streets of London since her arrival in the city, she was not surprised that George had been able to abduct her without interference.
Ted slumped in a corner, regarding her in morose silence.
"How did you know where to look for me?" Juliana asked tentatively.
" 'Is Grace 'ad an inklin'."
So he had read the letter. But why hadn't he said anything… done anything to prevent her giving Ted the slip? But perhaps she hadn't given Ted the slip. "Have you been following me all morning?"
Ted grunted an affirmative.
"So I was never really in any danger from George," Juliana mused, relief giving way to anger. Ted had deliberately let her walk into George's ambush.
Ted made no response. The carriage drew up at Albermarle Street, and Juliana jumped to the ground after Ted. Leaving him haggling with the jarvey, she stalked up the steps and into the house.
"Where's His Grace, Catlett?"
"Here." The duke spoke from the library door before Catlett could answer. His gray eyes were cold as a winter sky, his mouth tight. "Let us go to your bedchamber. Lady Edgecombe." He gestured that she should precede him up the stairs.
Juliana hesitated, then acquiesced, reasoning that she couldn't give full rein to her own outrage in front of the butler. The duke might consider he had a grievance, but she had one as well.
She marched up the stairs and threw open the door of her bedchamber, swinging round to face him as he entered behind her. He slammed the door and, before she could open her mouth, took her by the shoulders and shook her. "Just look at you, Juliana. You look as if you've been dragged through a hedge backward. You're a disgraceful sight." He propelled her toward the cheval glass. "Take a look at yourself! Anyone would think you'd been rolling in a ditch with a farmhand!"
Juliana was so taken aback by this seemingly irrelevant attack that she couldn't speak for a minute. She stared at her image in the glass. Her hair was tumbling loose around her shoulders, bits of fluff and what looked like straw clinging to the curls. Her gown was covered in dust and woolen fibers and what were clearly horse hairs. Her face was smudged with dirt.
She found her voice. "What do you expect me to look like after I've been manhandled by that oaf, rolled in a stinking horse blanket, and half suffocated? And whose fault is it, I should like to know? You let me walk into his trap." Her voice shook with renewed anger. "You're an unmitigated whoreson!" She rubbed the side of her hand over her mouth, trying to rid her tongue and lips of still-clinging threads of blanket hair.
"So George is responsible for your state! Dear God, you are an incorrigible chit!" Tarquin exclaimed. "He does what he's been threatening to do for weeks because you almost invite him to, and then you dare blame me for your reckless stupidity."
"Yes, I do," she cried. "Ted was following me all morning. You read Lucy's letter and you knew where I was going, and you told Ted to let George abduct me."
"Oh, now wait a minute!" His hands closed hard over her shoulders again. "Hold your tongue and listen to me. You deliberately exposed yourself to a danger that you knew was out there. You deliberately chose to evade the protection I had provided for you. You did the same with Lucien, and though I'm willing to accept some share of the blame there, I will not shoulder any responsibility for this morning! Do you hear me?" He shook her in vigorous emphasis.
"Maybe I did underestimate George, but you aided and abetted him," Juliana stated, aware, to her fury, that tears were starting in her eyes. "You're a treacherous cur!" She sniffed and dashed a hand across her eyes. "Of all the heartless, vile, despicable things to do. You let me walk into George's trap. You let me be frightened and manhandled. You let me think I was in danger when I wasn't."
"I don't know what you're talking about," he said impatiently. "I had no idea George was on the scene this morning. I knew only that you were planning some expedition with Dennison's girls. I didn't tell you I knew because I rather hoped that your better judgment would prevail. When it didn't, I sent Ted after you. I never tell Ted how to do his job. His instructions were to see that no harm came to you and to bring you back, when I intended to make my feelings known to you in no uncertain terms. How he accomplished his task was his business."
Juliana swallowed, her anger doused as effectively as a fire with a bucket of water. "You didn't tell him to let me be kidnapped?"