Chapter 23

At first, all Bella felt was the sharp pain in her head.

It floated in and out of her dreams in various forms. At one point, she felt she was being attacked by a man with a sickle. At another, she was falling over and over again, hitting her head against the rocky stones of some seashore hideaway.

In yet another dream she was riding free on the moors in Ireland, and her mount threw her down hard. In each, the pain returned, and the feeling that she was not in control of her own body.

Then the pain was connected to a sound—a rattling and squeaking it took her too long to realize was a carriage. Where am I?

She opened her eyes, slowly. The world was dark, and the parts illuminated by lantern from outside the carriage were blurred and indistinct. She blinked and tried to focus again, pushing aside the blinding headache as she groaned.

She couldn't move, at least, not well. She stretched her aching neck and tried to sit more upright. It took all her strength, and with a start she understood that she was mainly using the muscles of her torso to stay upright. Her limbs, for whatever reason, were not of any aid. She dropped her gaze to her hands, blinking away the blurred blackness, and saw that she was tied hand and foot.

Her heart thudded into a panic, and she looked for the first time at the bench seat across from her. Her vision was still unclear, and the darkness complete, but she could make out a figure leaning against the far wall in the black interior. It was a man, she could tell from his tall hat, and that man appeared to be asleep.

I'm tied up, in a carriage, with a strange man. Bella's mind was not functioning clearly, that much she could tell at once. The entire experience felt so strange she almost imagined herself still in one of the dreadful dreams from which she'd recently woken. No, this is real. She tested her bonds and found them tightly secured. She focused all her attention on the figure sitting across from her. If I can just figure out who he is…

He seemed slight of figure. His features were obscured by the hat and the shadows, but his long hands were ungloved in his lap. She knew those white, spidery fingers. Only a day ago they had been gripping her own in the thralls of a passionate proposal.

Lord Ramsgate. The shock was almost as disorienting as the pain in Bella's head. She did not much like the man, but she would never imagine him capable of anything this blatant or dishonorable. Where is he taking me? How did I come to be here?

The last thing she remembered was walking out into the darkness of the park and—no, she remembered something more…someone more. Lady O'Mara had been there, cloaked in darkness. She had spoken a few sentences to Bella, her French accent tinged with cold humor. Bella remembered thinking that the other woman was contriving something, but Bella had been unable to discern what it was before she felt a sharp pain and fell into blackness.

She orchestrated this somehow. Something about that very fact fueled Bella's anger enough to drag her from the fear of the unknown. The mischievous, courageous woman she had buried long ago reared her head. Whatever Lady O'Mara is planning, it is not going to work.

Bella had no idea where she was, or what was going to happen when she arrived, but she knew she wasn't going along with it for a second longer than necessary. She tested her bonds again, but finding she couldn't escape she kicked out with both feet as hard as she could, slamming her boots into the shins of the man across from her.

He woke at once, yelling in alarm.

"What are you doing with me?" Bella cried, even as Lord Ramsgate rubbed his bruised legs. "Where are you taking me?"

Lord Ramsgate passed a hand across his eyes, struggling to wake fully from his slumber, and sat upright. "That is a most unpleasant way to wake, my lady."

"You should try being bound hand and foot and waking in a dark carriage," she shot back.

Even in the flickering lantern-light, she could see a shadow of uncertainty cross his face. "See here, my lady—this wasn't my plan."

"While I am very much interested in who orchestrated this madness," she said stiffly, "I am far more interested in what exactly your plan is."

He sighed, shame-faced. "I can't wait to marry you, my lady. We are going to Gretna Green to handle the matter as swiftly as possible."

Gretna Green. She had heard tales of young women coerced into marriage against their will, dragged across the border to Scotland where the laws were looser, and officiants would turn a blind eye to a woman's distress. The tales seemed more like nightmares than truth, concocted to keep unruly girls in line.

"You don't mean it. You cannot marry me against my will." Even as she said the words, she knew she was wrong. In some cases, the rights of a woman mattered about as much as the rights of an animal.

"You're wrong," he said. "All I have to do is hold you in place while the legal requirements are met, and then you are mine." He looked apologetic. "Are you familiar with the laws regarding divorce in England?"

"I have never needed to be."

"Well," he laughed drily. "Suffice it to say they are firmly in my favor. You cannot even have counsel, and if you attempt to go through with it you will lose everything—your money, your title, and your reputation."

"And you, I hope," she snapped.

"No, you can't lose me, even if the court sees our case." Lord Ramsgate had fully recovered himself after the rude awakening, and crossed his arms as he regarded her coolly. "Even after losing all that you hold dear, the courts will likely leave your wellbeing in my care. I am the responsible party, after all."

The horror of it overtook Bella. She had never felt more trapped. She screamed, as loud as she could, praying that they were passing beside some farmyard or through some village—praying that the coachman was a man of morals who would come to her aid. She screamed until her throat was sore and then fell back against the seat, exhausted.

Lord Ramsgate had regarded her quietly during the entirety of her screaming, and now gave a sad little sigh. "If I was concerned about you being rescued, my lady, I would have gagged you. The driver is aware of your plight already, and unperturbed. We are far from any village or town. You are alone, and your fate has been decided for you."

Bella felt hot tears piercing her eyes. "If you force me to do this, I will never love you. You will be married to a woman who hates you for the rest of your life."

"I'll manage," Lord Ramsgate said wryly. "I never really expected to have your heart, after all, and I've no need of your bed." He spread his long, narrow fingers in a helpless gesture. "But, as I said earlier, this wasn't my idea. I was forced into it. I suppose you could say…" he chuckled, "…my hands are also tied."

Bella laid her head back against the upholstery of the carriage, her breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps. She would not marry him. She could not marry him. She would have to think of some way of escaping him eventually, but for now she could see that all attempts were useless. She was bound, he was stronger, and even if she did escape the carriage, she would have the driver and empty countryside to deal with. She would be lost and hunted.

"Who is forcing you to do this?" she asked, hating how shaky her voice sounded in the dark. "Perhaps there is another way. Perhaps, if you told me the whole of the story, I could help you."

"You? Help me?" Lord Ramsgate's laugh was harsher this time. "No, I don't think so. When I'm in need of assistance I do not regularly turn to weak-willed women whose only interest is in the next society party."

"Is that how you see me?" If I keep him talking, maybe he will reveal something I can use to save myself.

"Frankly, my lady—may I speak frankly?"

"I don't see why not." She held up her tied hands. "There is little pretense left between us, I'd say."

"Well, then frankly I did not see you at all until you were presented as an option for overcoming a rather unfortunate personal problem He shrugged. "You are not the sort of woman who catches a man's eye, I'm afraid."

"But my inheritance is?"

"That, and you had other connections." Lord Ramsgate drummed his fingers against his knee. "Allow me to offer you a bit of advice, Lady Isabella. Sometimes the enemies you make are as important as your friends."

Cryptic, but a little closer to the truth, I think. "And Lady O'Mara—she is an enemy of mine?"

He narrowed his eyes in the shadows. "I said nothing of Lady O'Mara."

She switched tactics. "Perhaps you will find you've underestimated me, Lord Ramsgate. Perhaps you will find that I am not as weak-willed as you first imagined."

"I think it highly unlikely." He peered at her. "I did my research before wooing you, my lady. I learned all about your escapades as a child, and your long exile in Ireland. I was hopeful that you would make the chase a bit more fun, under the circumstances, but instead you were insufferably dull. If ever you had the spine and ingenuity to stand up to the likes of Lady—" he caught himself and adjusted, "—of myself, you lost that spine across the channel."

Bella gripped her hands together, trying to hide the fury his words brought out in her. Just because a woman has learned how to say what a man wants to hear doesn't mean she's weak, she thought. I am as dangerous as I ever was.

But now was not the time for that. She should save her energy. Gretna Green would come soon enough, and she guessed she would only have a few moments to act before Lord Ramsgate hauled her off to the priest.

She didn't answer him or waste words arguing with his calm cruelty. Instead, she laid her head back and closed her eyes, hot tears leaking out from beneath her eyelids. They were tears of anger and frustration, but Lord Ramsgate did not need to know that. Let him think he had broken her with all his talk of spineless, weak women. Let him underestimate her the way she had been underestimated her entire life. Lady Isabella Collingwood was itching for a fight at last.