so she hadn’t anticipated her being quite so welcoming.
“May I call you by your given name?”
Like she could say no. “Yes, of course.”
Rosie looked at her, eyes crinkled with amusement. “Which is?”
“Oh!” She set down the biscuit. “Freya.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Freya. Now to your questions.”
“Well, yes...” She tugged a paper and pencil out of her reticule. “I hope you do not mind if I take some notes.”
“Not at all but I have little to tell you that is not already known.”
“You were taken at gunpoint, yes?”
Rosie nodded, her lips curving as though the memory amused her. “I was indeed.”
“By a lone man?”
“Only the one.”
“Can you tell me anything about him?”
She lifted a shoulder. “Tall, attractive eyes.”
“Attractive?” Freya scowled. What sort of a person would find their kidnapper attractive?
Rosie blinked. “Well, of what I could see, of course. He had a mask.” She gestured over her face. “I did not recognize him.”
“Did he say anything to you?”
“Just demanded I go with him. When I tried to fight him off, he grabbed me.”
“You tried to fight him off?” She glanced over the delicately coiffed woman. She wasn’t tiny or delicate, but it wasn’t easy to picture this elegant lady fighting off a brutish, world kidnapper. Especially one who, by all accounts, had successfully taken many women.
She glanced around and leaned in. “I keep a knife on me. It’s terribly useful. But, unfortunately, he knocked it from my hand and snatched me up!”
“Then what happened?”
“Well, he stuffed me into a carriage but thankfully I was able to escape. I hit my head during the tumble, but I suppose he did not notice I was gone.” She lifted her cup to her mouth, took a long sip and watched for Freya’s reaction.
“Goodness...” Freya jotted a quick note on her pad. “Did he say anything else to you when he grabbed you?”
“I believe he just cursed at me.” Rosie’s smiled widened then she swiftly pressed her lips into a line. “Of course it was terribly frightening, but it could have been worse.”
“Your aunt said you offered him money, but he refused it.”
“I imagine he thought he could get much more by holding me hostage.”
“It’s odd, though, that he did not return for you after all that effort, do you not think? It’s so much risk to take a woman.”
“Oh, I kept myself hidden and I suspect he likely realized I am more trouble than I am worth,” Rosie said lightly.
“Did he seem the sort to harm a woman?”
“He was a kidnapper!” She pressed a hand to her chest. “A dastardly, awful, frightful kidnapper. I’m sure he would have no concern harming his captive if needs be. I count myself lucky to have escaped.”
“No doubt your wits saved you, my lady.”
“Rosie,” she prompted.
“So that man was certainly alone?”
“Oh yes.” She nodded vigorously.
“And he said nothing else?”
“Not a word.” She sipped her tea.
“Tell me, what color were his eyes?”
“Blue,” she answered swiftly then paused and pressed a finger to her lips. “No. Brown. Certainly brown.”
Freya frowned. She found it odd Rosie recalled how attractive the eyes were but not the color. However, if they were really brown, that was the same color as Lord Huntingdon’s eyes.
Chapter Seven
He shouldn’t like it.
Seeing her dart behind a damned tree, that was.
Guy had expected she had given up with her investigations but apparently not. Miss Haversham was back to playing the stalking, nosy reporter, even after Rosie confirmed she had given away no information that would point the finger at them.
His lips twitched as she pressed herself into the trees. He forced his mouth into a straight line. Nothing amused him about her chasing after him, nothing at all, especially when he had been meeting with the duchess. If she figured out their connection, it could be dangerous once they managed to get a hold of Lady Pembroke.
Striding down the steps of the townhouse, he paced over to the black gates of the private park that was encircled by rows of white houses. He paused by the gates, adjusted his gloves and peered up at the patchy blue sky. He heard the rustle of leaves as she tried to remain still and shook his head to himself.
“Miss Haversham...”
He heard a low curse then she eased out from the bushes, a leaf hanging from the brim of her hat. She scowled at it, plucked it off and flung it away. A quick smile crossed her lips, as fake as the heavily corseted waists of the ton. Of course, there