Page 9 of Only Scandal Will Do

“Thank you, ma’am.” At a loss, she simply sat beside the woman, silent, trying to think of nothing. It seemed safer.

The door opened, interrupting her reverie, to admit the constables of the night watch with another man whose self-assured air attested he was in charge. They came toward her and she shrank back on the settle, clutching the blanket to her chest.

“It’s all right, miss.” The gentleman with the authoritative mien spoke gently. “My name is Reginald Matthews, one of Sir John Fielding’s Runners. No one means you any harm.”

The man appeared quite distinguished, perhaps thirty, with dark blond hair neatly clubbed back. His kind blue eyes exuded concern while his conservative dress, in gray coat and waistcoat, invited trust. He tempted Kat to try her story again.

“Can you please help me?” She searched his handsome face for some speck of understanding. “Two men kidnapped me earlier this evening from a carriage carrying me and my brother, the Earl of Manning, to Lady Beaufort’s masquerade ball.”

The absolute shock on Matthews’s face made Kat want to laugh until he responded,

“Lady Katarina Fitzwilliam?”

Her jaw dropped. “You know who I am?”

Matthews blinked at her in astonishment. “We’ve been looking for you since early this evening, my lady. Your coachman gave the alarm as soon as he reached home. Your butler contacted me and reported that two men had abducted you, then gave a vague description of them. And a somewhat better one of you, thank goodness. We’ve had runners dispatched all over the city trying to find some clue to your whereabouts.”

Safe! Katarina could scarcely comprehend the sudden fairy-tale ending to her journey through hell. Her shoulders heaved as great wrenching sobs tore from her throat, relief rolling through her as though she had escaped the gallows.

Matthews sat beside her and eased an arm around her in comfort. The gentle touch sent a wave panic through her. Her elbow shot out, connecting with his stomach. A grunt escaped him and he slid to the other end of the settle, breathing heavily.

“She don’t like bein’ touched, that’s fer sure. Bashed Collins a right good one out on the street,” volunteered the elder watchman, who got elbowed by his companion for his pains.

“So I see.” Matthews stood slowly, checking his ribs for damage. “Lady Katarina, neither

I nor anyone in this house wishes you harm.”

Her crying slowed as she sniffed and Matthews passed her a plain, square linen handkerchief. Blotting her face, Kat rallied her courage. The biggest unknown right now--

“Where is my brother?”

Reginald Matthews’s mouth tightened. “He was removed to your home and is being cared for by one of the best physicians in London, but he has not yet regained consciousness.” Ice stole toward her heart. “The blow hit your brother quite close to his temple, which I’m told can be dangerous. A footman is stationed at the house to bring me word of his recovery.”

Horrified by this news, Katarina struggled to her feet. The ice that froze her heart now flowed out through her veins, numbing her. She clutched the blanket around her shoulders like armor. “You must take me to him. I must go to Jack!”

She glared defiantly from one man to the next, and when none moved, shouted, “Get out of my way! You will not keep me from my brother!” She pushed past the cowed watch.

“My lady.” Matthews’s low voice, designed to soothe, remained calm. He pistoned an arm out to the wall to keep her from the doorway.

She shoved against him in vain before he curled a large hand around her shoulder in gentle but firm restraint. She went still, staring at him in accusation.

“I give you my word, you will see your brother soon. As he seems in no immediate danger, I must insist on questioning you now about your abduction. Getting all the information as quickly as we can will make all the difference in apprehending your kidnappers.”

Katarina closed her eyes to get herself in hand. Such a wild display would not help Jack. Though part of her had been spoiling for a fight all evening, if she was going to trust any man tonight, Matthews was the one.

“I do beg your pardon, Mr. Matthews.” She forced herself to take a breath and relax. Matthews apparently remembered his sore ribs and moved away from her. “I am not always so violent toward strangers, but my ordeal this evening has left me...defensive.” A deep breath, slowly exhaled, and she could meet his light blue gaze. “If you would question me, may we begin now? I would like to see my brother as soon as possible and change out of these disgusting clothes.”

Matthews nodded. “Of course, my lady. If you would be so good as to sit down again?”

He motioned toward the settle and glanced at the matron. “Mrs. Dove, please bring more tea for

Lady Katarina, and a change of clothes if such can be found this time of night.”

“Yes, sir.” The cheery Mrs. Dove dipped a curtsy and left the room, followed close at heel by the night watchmen.

Left alone with Matthews, she returned to the settle, drawing the blanket around her shoulders more securely. “You have questions for me, Mr. Matthews?”

“Yes, my lady.” His tone was low and inviting. “And perhaps it will put you at ease to know that we are distantly related.”