“M’lady?” Jane said through clattering teeth.

“I’m sorry, Jane,” she said, forcing her thoughts away from Robert. “Here,” she said, removing her shawl from around her shoulders and holding it out to her maid.

Jane eyed the shawl with longing, but her training kept her from accepting even though her lips were starting to turn an interesting shade of purple. “No, thank you, m’lady,” she mumbled, forcing herself to look away.

With a muttered curse about the ridiculousness of propriety, Elizabeth stepped behind the trembling woman and wrapped the shawl around her shoulders before she stepped away and continued walking at a quick pace, needing the exercise.

“Thank you, m’lady,” Jane mumbled, gripping the shawl tightly around her shoulders as she did her best to keep up with Elizabeth.

“You’re welcome,” Elizabeth said, looking over her shoulder to give the other woman an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry that you had to come out with me in this cold.”

“It’s no trouble, m’lady,” Jane dutifully said when they both knew that the woman would rather be doing just about anything else.

Jane hated going for walks, which was why Elizabeth never asked for her company when they resided in the country. Out there the protection of a servant wasn’t needed. She could spend her days walking her father’s land freely without worry, but in London she was required to have a servant with her anytime she ventured away from the house without the protection of a relative. It was a ridiculous rule, one she’d argued about with her father every season, but one that she couldn’t seem to get out of.

Five minutes later she was regretting giving up her warm shawl as the cold finally managed to seep into her bones, making it painful to walk or breathe for that matter. Oh, why hadn’t she stayed home and waited for James to take her for a ride later? Because, she was stubborn and foolish, she decided as a violent shiver tore through her body, making her grind her teeth against the cold assault.

“What the hell are you doing out in this cold?” Robert snapped, startling her just as something rather warm was wrapped around her shoulders.

She looked down to find herself wrapped in a thick wool coat. Before she could argue, which she desperately wanted to do on principle alone, Robert was standing in front of her, giving her no choice but to stop walking as he finished pulling the coat around her and fastened the buttons.

“I’m perfectly fine,” she lied even as she gripped the inside of the coat to pull it more tightly around herself.

“Then why are your lips blue?” he asked softly as he gazed down at her.

“They’re not blue,” she argued, feeling herself tremble from something other than the cold as he reached up and gently pushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Why didn’t you wait for my brother?” he asked as he gently rubbed the back of his knuckles along her cheek.

Because she didn’t want to be courted by James, but she wasn’t about to admit that to him. Instead she thanked him for the use of his jacket and moved to step around him, but he wasn’t having that. He-

“Put me down!” she gasped as he picked her up and threw her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, turned around and started walking back the way they’d came.

“Just as soon as we reach your house so that your father can spank some sense into you,” he said, wrapping a rather large arm around her legs when she tried to kick her way to freedom.

“Put me down this instant, Robert!” she snapped, punching his bottom to emphasize her demand.

“I really shouldn’t be surprised,” he mused to himself, clearly uncaring that she was currently trying to fight her way to freedom.

“Sir?” Jane said, sounding unsure.

“Help get me down!” Elizabeth pleaded as she shifted so that she could send the maid an imploring look that was promptly ignored as the maid took in Robert’s size and determination. Noticeably swallowing, Jane shook her head, faltered back a step and focused all of her attention on the ground ahead of her.

“Traitor,” she muttered although she couldn’t really blame the woman.

“To be honest,” Robert went on, “I thought by now that your father would have you locked up.”

“I hate you!” she snapped, punching his bottom. If her attack hurt, it didn’t show.

“Hopefully, your husband will have more sense and will keep you locked up. Maybe in a convent where the sisters could beat some sense into you.”

“Robert Bradford, you put me down this instant!” she demanded, glad that the park was practically empty and other than a few street vendors trying to sell their wares, there was no one to witness her humiliation.

“Sure thing,” he said, quickening his pace, but he didn’t put her down. Instead, he forced her to grab onto the back of the thin lawn shirt that he wore to stop herself from bouncing all over the place.

A few minutes later, she was forced to tighten her hold on his shirt as he jogged up the stone steps to her father’s house. When she saw the freshly polished foyer floor, she sighed with relief, but it was short lived.

“You said that you’d put me down as soon as we reached the house,” she reminded him as she tried to wiggle out of his grip.

“I was planning on it until a thought occurred to me,” he said, sounding amused and instantly putting her on guard.

She was almost too afraid to ask, “What are you talking about?”

“Since your father is probably still in bed, you’ll have to wait until later for that spanking that you desperately need,” he said, walking down what appeared to be the back hallway. “Since we can’t have you running around and catching your death, I’m afraid that I have no choice but to lock you up for your own good,” he said on a longsuffering sigh that didn’t exactly match his tone.

“Don’t. You. Dare,” she bit out, trying not to panic and failing miserably.

“I wish that I had a choice, Beth. Truly I do, but I’m afraid that you’ve left me with no choice,” he said, chuckling as her ears registered the sounds of the click of a lock and a door opening.

“I’m not kidding, Robert!”

“Now, you just sit in here for a while and I’m sure that someone will eventually let you out,” he said as he quickly placed her on her unsteady legs.

Before she could push past him or demand her release, he leaned down and pressed a kiss against her stunned lips. It took her a few seconds before she realized that he’d shut the door, leaving her standing there looking foolish. The click of the lock brought her to her senses. She grabbed for the doorknob and tried to turn it, but it was good and locked.

A moment later, she realized that he’d locked her in the old music room. It was located in the back of the house and hadn’t been used in years since no one in the house played an instrument. It was also far enough away from the rest of the house that no one would be able to hear her cries for help, she realized with a growl.

“You bastard!” she yelled, uncaring that the declaration was unladylike as she kicked the door. “You’ll pay for this!”

Chapter 12

“Any idea how the fire started?” Lord Norwood asked as he poured four glasses of port.

The three Bradford men were clean and wearing freshly tailored clothes thanks to Edmondson’s, their family’s tailor, two days later. When Edmondson heard of the fire, he took it upon himself to start on all the men’s new wardrobes. He already had their sizes on file so it hadn’t taken him long. No Bradford man went anywhere else for his clothes, not since their great-great-grandfather.

“My man thinks it started on the second floor in the hallway. They believe a candle toppled over or was put down too close to the wall and set the silk on fire,” Harold explained.

The men took their port and sipped. Robert adjusted himself on the uncomfortable chair. Lord Norwood’s study was too damn feminine. The chairs were too small and dainty. Everything from the silk on the walls to the upholstery and rugs was designed with images of flowers. It was obvious who ruled the roost here, or at least made all the household decisions. His old study at the estate he’d sold in Fairford had been without question his domain.