Just Another Lady (Xcite Romance) by Penelope Friday

the driver was deaf or he was ignoring her, because she got no reply. Instead, the door of the carriage was pulled open by a scruffy looking man with greasy hair. ‘Excuse me. I think you mistake yourself,’ Elinor said haughtily.
    ‘Nah, I don’t,’ the man replied, looking her up and down. ‘Mrs Crozier, aren’t you?’
    ‘I do not think my identity is any of your business.’ Elinor realised the carriage had started moving again and rapped on the window. ‘Driver, stop! Please. Oh listen, won’t you?’ she cried crossly.
    ‘He’s not going to listen,’ said the man beside her. ‘He’s being paid too well.’
    ‘Mr Crozier arranged – this?’ Elinor demanded in disbelief. When Lucius had arranged for a carriage, he surely hadn’t arranged as well for a – a what? An escort? An escort who looked like a petty thief? This was a joke, and it wasn’t a funny one.
    ‘Oh yeah, sorry about that an’ all. The carriage “his nibs” arranged had a bit of an accident. Terrible thing,’ said the man conversationally, running a grimy hand down Elinor’s arm in a manner which unnerved her more than she liked to admit. ‘Quite indisposed, or whatever yeh posh word is.’
    ‘I don’t understand,’ said Elinor, having a sudden bad feeling that she did.
    ‘Yes, you do,’ he said, confirming the unspoken anxiety. ‘Didn’t I tell you? This ain’t a trip to a card party. This is a kidnap.’
    Elinor’s first feeling on hearing the words said aloud, despite the fact that it confirmed what she had been beginning to fear, was sheer disbelief. One simply did not get abducted in a smart carriage at seven o’clock in the evening. Surely abductions should be carried out late at night, or with someone important?
    ‘What is happening?’ she demanded imperiously. ‘Who are you?’
    The man smiled, giving Elinor a good look at his yellowing and rotted teeth. ‘Call me Ted,’ he suggested. As to the rest, you’ll find out. Nice girl like you, you’ll find out.’ He ran his hand down her arm again, and Elinor shuddered.
    ‘Please keep your hands to yourself.’
    ‘Oh, it’s “please” now. I like a lady with manners,’ Ted replied, moving his hand across her front until it rested across her right breast. Elinor slapped it away, and he caught her arm in his grasp. ‘Now, you shouldn’t ha’ done that, should you? That wasn’t polite, was it?’ He twisted her arm a little bit, and Elinor bit heavily into her lip to prevent herself from crying out in pain. ‘Remember them nice manners your mam taught you.’
    ‘Where are we going?’ Elinor fought to keep her tone even, though it was pitched several tones higher than usual. ‘Please,’ she added again, hoping to appease the man.
    He let go of her arm, but did not answer the question. Elinor turned to look out of the window: they were heading into a part of London she did not know – and which, by the look of the run-down buildings and dirty streets, she felt quite lucky not to have known before. Dusk had fallen, but there were few lights visible. At another time, Elinor might have found it spooky; at the moment, she was too bound up in what was happening to her to care much about any ghostly imaginings.
    The driver pulled up outside a grubby looking house, and Ted stepped out. Elinor considered, for a moment, trying to run; but she knew that she would not get far before they caught her. It would be a pointless gesture, and she preferred to keep her options open for a more hopeful situation later.
    ‘Get out,’ ordered Ted gruffly. Elinor obeyed. He grabbed her shoulder and propelled her firmly towards the door of the house, turning to say to the driver ‘Now, be off with you,’ in a voice which brooked no argument.
    ‘Why have you brought me here?’ she asked softly as Ted opened the door with a rusty-looking key.
    ‘Why …’ replied a new and familiar voice from inside, ‘I invited you here to meet me.’
    Sir Hugo Mansfield. Elinor