Page 8 of Fortune Favors the Frivolous (Matchmaking Mischief Makers #2)
A nd so she tried one more time.
“Please, kind sir, I don’t know this area.
I were… I were kidnapped and I wanna go home, but I were tryin’ to help out in a desperate situation when I was caught by the men who put me in this box.
” Caroline stared fearfully—though hopefully—between Henry and Barnaby, her heart hammering as she waited for their response.
A cold wind swept across the fields, carrying the scent of approaching rain while the moon kept slipping behind scudding clouds, plunging them into moments of absolute darkness before emerging again to cast its silvery light over the scene.
“Kidnapped!” Barnaby’s voice dripped with scorn. “Why’d anyone want to kidnap a scrap like you? What have you done, eh? Up to no good, I’ll warrant.”
“Where do you live then?” Henry narrowed his eyes, and Caroline thrust her face up, hoping desperately for some sign of dawning recognition without voicing this to his untrustworthy companion.
But once again, the moon disappeared behind clouds, casting Henry’s beloved features in shadow just when she most needed to read his expression. Her most desperate mission was not yet lost. But, right now, only Henry could help her.
“I live back there—” She hooked her thumb to the south. “But me… me mistress were kidnapped and forced into a carriage. Lord Windermere is taking her to his hunting lodge. He’s forcing her to marry him, and that’s why I’m trying to stop them.”
“Lord Windermere?” This got Henry’s attention immediately. “I know Lord Windermere.” The curl of his lip indicated he didn’t think much of the man. “Who is the young lady?”
“Miss Venetia Playford.” Caroline tensed, watching his face carefully.
“By God! I know Miss Playford. And her aunt, too.” To Caroline’s relief, the effects of drink were suddenly no longer in evidence. He appeared—miraculously—alert and ready for action.
Until Barnaby said in a bored tone, “He’s playing you, Ashworth. Come, just leave him to his own business while we attend to ours.”
“Which is?” Henry’s tone had grown suddenly cold as he looked at his companion. “Mindless drinking at some tavern?”
“We’ve been invited to the Gimleys—your sister will be waiting for us. But here you are, about to be bamboozled when we could be enjoying ourselves at what promises to be a riotous house party.”
Caroline put her hand to her mouth in horror. How could dear Charlotte be marrying this awful man?
But time was of the essence—her most important task was convincing Henry to help Venetia.
“Please, sir! Me mistress, Miss Venetia, is in danger. Unless someone stops Lord Windermere, her future will be in ruins.”
“No one marries against their will,” Barnaby scoffed.
“Do you know her?” Henry turned sharply. “Of course you do! I came to know Miss Playford very well during a house party at Pendleton Castle, where I formed a very high opinion of her.” He vaulted into the saddle. “She certainly is no adventuress!”
“You’re not about to do something crazy, are you, Ashworth?” Barnaby frowned. “Racing into the dark on a wild goose chase only to discover that this lad is parroting names of the gentry that he’s only heard. Surely you don’t really believe him?”
“It’s true! And I do know where he’s takin’ her!” Caroline piped up. “That’s why he put me in a box so I’d cause no trouble. Please, sir, you’ve got to help me!”
“What’s your name, lad?” Henry leaned down to address her, ignoring Barnaby.
Caroline blinked. Lord, what was her name? She tried to think of something male and non-aristocratic and could only come up with her brother Frederick’s horse.
“Flash, sir,” she said, swallowing hard.
“Flash. Odd name,” Henry observed, but he reached down his hand. “Well then, you’ll have to come with me and tell me where they’re going.”
Caroline grabbed his hand, gasping as she was hauled into the saddle in front of him. The familiar strength of his arm around her waist made her breath catch. How many times had he steadied her thus during childhood riding lessons?
“You can either follow or go home, Barnaby,” Henry said firmly. “Venetia is in danger, and I won’t stand by and do nothing.”
“The lad is lying!” Barnaby’s face flushed dark. “Good God, man, he’s simply repeating names he’s heard. It’s a trap!”
“How could this lad make up such stories with the right names if at least some of it weren’t true?” Henry’s voice was resolute. “Follow me if you will, otherwise I’ll see you when next we meet.”
Caroline didn’t know if Barnaby followed, for it took all her strength just to keep from sliding off the galloping horse. The night air slashed at her face as they rode, but Henry’s warmth at her back was both comfort and torment.
Poor Venetia. She didn’t want this marriage, yet she was powerless against her aunt. This abduction had taken both girls completely by surprise.
“I see a light!” Henry pointed ahead.
Caroline’s heart leaped as she spotted the distant glow of carriage lamps. “That’ll be them, sir. Lord Windermere’s coach.”
Henry reined in behind a thick stand of oak trees. “There’s an inn just ahead—the Red Lion. They’ll need water for the horses before the next stretch.”
The sound of approaching hoofbeats made Caroline stiffen. Barnaby had followed after all, his face mottled with exertion and anger as he drew alongside them.
“Ashworth, this is madness,” he hissed. “You can’t interfere with a private matter between a gentleman and his intended bride.”
“Intended bride?” Henry’s voice was sharp. “Miss Playford has made no such agreement. From what young Flash here says, this is abduction, not elopement.”
Caroline felt Henry’s arm tighten around her waist. “The coach is moving again,” she whispered urgently.
“We’ll follow at a distance,” Henry decided. “Once they’re past the crossroads, the only place they can be headed is Windermere’s hunting lodge at Thornwood.”
“And if you’re wrong?” Barnaby challenged. “If this lying guttersnipe has sent us on a fool’s errand and we discover we’ve been had? With knives at our throats?”
“I’m willing to take the risk. At worst, I believe I’ll have lost nothing but a night’s sleep if the lad is lying,” Henry replied coolly. “But if I’m right, and I fail to act…” He left the implications hanging.
They set off again, maintaining distance while keeping the coach’s lights in view. Caroline could feel the tension in Henry’s body, so different from his usual easy manner.
“I know men of Windermere’s ilk,” Henry shouted to his friend over his shoulder as they slowed to round a bend. “Men who believe their position entitles them to whatever—and whomever—they desire. If there’s even a chance Flash is telling the truth, I won’t abandon Miss Playford.”
The coach ahead began to slow as they approached a fork in the road—one path leading north toward Scotland, the other east toward Thornwood.
“Now we’ll see,” Barnaby said triumphantly. “If they turn north, it’s to Gretna Green, a proper elopement. If east… well…” He shrugged.
Caroline held her breath as the coach’s lamps illuminated the signpost. For a heart-stopping moment, it seemed to hover at the intersection. Then, decisively, it turned east, towards Thornwood. She let out a slow sigh. At least they were not pressing on towards the border.
“Well?” Henry’s voice was grim. “Windermere’s hunting lodge is this way.”
Barnaby’s face contorted with frustration. “Perhaps the lady is accompanying him willingly.”
“Willingly? At this hour, without a proper chaperone, if what Flash says is true?” Henry shook his head. “You know what such an action would do to her reputation, willing or not.”
“It’s not our place to interfere,” Barnaby insisted weakly. “Think of your sister, man! What will Charlotte say when she learns you’ve forced me to abandon her to chase after another woman?”
Henry’s jaw tightened. “I’m forcing you to do nothing. And Charlotte would expect nothing less than that I act honorably. Honor demands I investigate this.”
Barnaby wheeled his horse around, sending up sprays of mud. “Do what you want, Ashworth. I wash my hands of this foolishness. But don’t expect me to explain to your sister why you’ve gone haring off after another woman when you were meant to be at Gimley’s.”
His voice dropped to a menacing hiss. “I will tell her exactly what her noble brother has been up to—racing about in the dark on the word of some filthy stable boy.”
“Are you threatening me, Barnaby?”
“Merely stating facts. You’ve made your choice.” Barnaby’s horse pranced sideways. “I’m returning to civilized society where I belong. Good luck with your… rescue.” The last word dripped with derision.
His hoofbeats faded into the darkness, leaving them alone in the night. Caroline barely noticed. Her attention was fixed on the coach ahead and on Henry’s reaction to Barnaby’s threats.
Heavy drops of rain began to fall, cold and insistent. The road would soon turn treacherous, but the coach was picking up speed again, and Venetia’s future hung in the balance.
“Hold tight, Flash,” Henry murmured, urging their horse forward into the rainy darkness. “We’ve got a rescue to accomplish.”
Caroline shivered, unable to respond over the wind and rain, but Henry’s solid warmth and determination to do what was right gave her hope. Whatever came next, she was no longer alone in this desperate quest to save her dearest friend.