A Rose at Midnight by Anne Stuart Page B

missed anything interesting?”
    Calm, even-tempered Tony wanted to snarl. Instead he leaned back, letting his eyelids droop sleepily. “Not a thing, Miss Binnerston. Lady Ellen and I were just discussing the weather.”
    Miss Binnerston had her virtues, which included neither sensitivity nor silence. She proceeded to launch into a rambling discourse about the chilly spring weather, and Tony closed his eyes. He found he couldn’t look at Ellen or at her shocked expression, for another instant. If he did, he might startle all of them by leaning over and kissing her on her astonished mouth. And it was much too soon to bestir himself.
    Ghislaine felt dizzy, floating, as Nicholas Blackthorne carried her down the long sweeping stairs at Ainsley Hall. She’d underestimated his strength. After their abortive battle he seemed to have no difficulty at all carrying her out to the carriage, the enveloping cape shielding her from the curious servants. He was right; struggling would avail her nothing. None of the people there would come to her aid, even if they knew she was being taken against her will. And while she might break her neck, and quite possibly his, if she managed to wrench herself out of his grip, the chances were just as likely that she’d simply break her leg. Thereby ruining any future chance for escape.
    For the moment she remained docile. There was a cold rain falling when he stepped out into the early-morning air, and the bright silk cape was no protection at all. She refused to shiver in his arms.
    She refused to do anything as he dumped her in the corner of the carriage, throwing himself down opposite her. The hood obscured her vision, and for that much she could be glad. She’d found an unexpected measure of peace at Ainsley Hall, and she knew full well she’d never see it again. She didn’t want to risk any sentimental weakness by watching it disappear.
    That’s what had brought her to this sorry pass, sentiment and weakness. If she’d simply taken the butcher knife in the first place and dispatched Blackthorne, she could have made good her escape before anyone found his body.
    Failing that, her fatal weakness had been Charbon. She hadn’t owned a pet since she was fifteen years old, hadn’t allowed herself to care for even the lowliest of God’s creatures. But when Ellen had presented her with the sweet black puppy, she’d been unable to resist.
    And that puppy had been her downfall. If she could have stood idly by and watched Charbon drink poison, then Nicholas would have followed suit.
    It was a lesson she thought she had learned long ago. Never allow your heart to soften, even for a moment. The most innocent of creatures could engineer your downfall.
    The carriage started with a jerk, and she realized that the omnipresent Taverner was nowhere to be seen. She shook her head, knocking the hood clear, and stared at Nicholas in the murky morning light.
    He looked both elegant and dissipated, his legs stretched out in front of him, his neckcloth slightly awry, and he was watching her with a certain dangerous interest.
    “We’re on our way,” he said, and the unnecessary announcement filled her with foreboding. “I don’t know how long we’ll be on the road this first day, but I imagine we’ll have a great deal of time to kill. Let’s see how interesting we can make it, shall we?” And he leaned forward and began to unfasten her gag.

Chapter 6
    “She can’t be gone!” Ellen said flatly, staring at her smugly correct majordomo. Wilkins had never liked Gilly, had always disapproved of her position in the household, and there was a faint gleam of triumph in his flat brown eyes.
    “Mr. Blackthorne personally informed me, Lady Ellen, that Mamzelle would be accompanying him on his trip to Scotland. That she had grown tired of working for a living, and decided there were easier ways to earn her keep.” Wilkins’s pinched expression made it clear that one could expect no less from a French