The Wedding Escape by Karyn Monk Page B

replied tersely. “I’ve a message for you.”
    Panic rounded Lord Philmore’s eyes into two tea saucers. “I told Hawkins I would pay him as soon as I’m able,” he blurted out desperately. “He just has to be patient a little longer—”
    â€œI’m not here about that,” Jack snarled. “I’m here about Amelia Belford.”
    Lord Philmore’s expression puckered with confusion. “Amelia? I haven’t seen her in months. Of course I read in the paper that she was abducted yesterday—surely you don’t think that I had anything to do with that!” His expression grew agitated. “I swear to you, I know nothing whatsoever about—”
    â€œI’m here to give ye a message from her.”
    Lord Philmore withdrew a white linen kerchief from his pocket and dabbed at the moisture beading on his brow. “What message?”
    Everything about Lord Philmore disgusted Jack, from his twitching mustache to his sexual inclinations to his frantic protestations of ignorance. No wonder Amelia’s parents had been appalled when she informed them that she was betrothed to the quivering squirrel. At least Whitcliffe’s arrogance gave him some small measure of backbone.
    Lord Philmore momentarily paused in his ministrations to his forehead. “Did Amelia send you to me?”
    Jack hesitated. And then, remembering it was Amelia’s wish to be reunited with her viscount, he reluctantly answered, “Yes.”
    A flicker of something lit Philmore’s eyes. “Where is she?”
    The fact that his first enquiry wasn’t regarding her immediate welfare bothered Jack. Shouldn’t his initial concern be whether or not she had been harmed?
    â€œShe’s in London,” Jack replied vaguely. “She wants to see you.”
    There it was again. Something was bubbling in Lord Philmore’s mind, but whatever it was, he was clever enough to try to mask it in Jack’s presence.
    â€œWhen?”
    â€œTonight.”
    â€œWhere shall I go to see her?”
    â€œI’ll bring her to yer home. Make sure there’s no one else there, an’ wait ’til we come.”
    â€œI’m afraid that won’t do,” Lord Philmore protested. “I have an engagement.”
    Jack regarded him incredulously. “Cancel it.”
    â€œUnfortunately, that is impossible.” His forehead sufficiently dabbed, Philmore carefully folded the linen square and replaced it in his pocket. “I am the guest of honor, you see. But that does not mean I am not most anxious to see Miss Belford,” he quickly assured Jack. “It just means we shall have to make alternate arrangements.” He pulled a small card from his coat pocket and began to write upon it with a gold pencil. “If you would be so kind as to give this note to Miss Belford,” he continued, slipping the card into an envelope, “it will tell her exactly where we should meet.”
    Jack took the creamy stationery in his grimy hand, smearing it with grease in the process.
    â€œHere is something for your trouble.” Lord Philmore dropped a half crown in Jack’s hand, taking care not to mar the pristine finger of his glove as he did so, then rapped twice on the carriage floor, signaling for the driver to stop.
    Jack stared at the silver coin resting against his grubby, callused palm. He had done everything he had said he would. He had found Amelia’s betrothed and arranged for them to meet. If all went well, she would be back in her soul mate’s arms that very evening, leaving Jack free to return to Inverness and get on with directing the affairs of his shipping business. He should have felt profoundly relieved.
    Instead he climbed down from the carriage filled with self-loathing, as if he had just betrayed his runaway heiress.

Chapter Four
    M AKE WAY—COMIN’ THROUGH!”
    Blinded by a tower of boxes, Beaton barreled