“Papa?” His son tugged at his hand. Noble put the hand on the boy’s head, surprised at his lack of surprise at seeing him. Why should he be surprised? Hadn’t Gillian included Nick in every other of her harebrained schemes?

“Not all of them, Papa,” Nick answered solemnly. “She didn’t let me meet your ladybuds.”

“Ladybirds,” Noble said without thinking. “Er…that is…oh, hell, never mind. It doesn’t matter. Where is your mother? I don’t see her anywhere.”

“She went out the door with that man who didn’t have anything on underneath his skirt.”

“Kilt,” he replied absently, then suddenly grabbed Nick by both shoulders. “She what?” he bellowed at the boy. “When did she leave?”

Nick’s face turned pale. “Just a few minutes ago, but Papa, I want to tell you about—”

Noble was off before Nick could finish his sentence.

“—the man who hurt you,” he said softly.

“McGregor!” Noble roared as he pushed his way through the remaining gawkers, his heart feeling as if it was going to burst out of his chest. “McGregor!”

He’d done it; the bastard had done it. He’d taken Noble’s soul and crushed it to a lifeless pulp. If he’d done anything to harm her… Noble choked on the thought. He rounded up his men and, after giving them a brief tongue-lashing for letting Gillian out of their sight, raced down the stairs and out onto the street, the entire population of Jackson’s following swiftly on his heels.

***

Noble paced back and forth in front of a house in Cheapside, muttering to himself just what he’d do to that murdering bastard McGregor when he caught up with him. He wanted nothing more than to be on the back of the nearest horse, hunting for his Gillian, hunting for the man who had spirited her away directly under his nose, doing something—anything—to find her.

“If he’s harmed a single hair on her head,” he threatened, shaking his fist at the sky, “by God, I’ll—”

“Tear his head off and spit down his neck, yes, Noble, we’ve heard that already,” Lord Rosse said as he strode down the front steps and toward his friend.

Noble spun around and took the marquis by the neck cloth. “What have you found out? Where did the devil take her? What did the murdering bastard’s man have to say?”

“Noble, calm yourself, you’re upsetting your son.”

Rosse waited until Noble released him before continuing. “Carlisle’s man doesn’t know where he’s gone, but he did verify that he had ordered a small case packed earlier, so evidently he’d planned this all along.”

“No, not this,” Noble said, resuming his pacing as his mind wheeled and turned frantically, trying to make sense of it. “He couldn’t have known Gillian would appear at Jackson’s. No, what he planned was something else, a plan he decided to abandon once he realized he could take advantage of Jackson’s madhouse to kidnap her.”

He combed an agitated hand through his hair as he stopped in front of his friend. “Where, Harry, where has he gone to earth?”