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T iffany didn’t need her eyes uncovered to know who sat on the seat opposite her. Her captors had blindfolded her before shoving her roughly into the carriage. Her knees had hit the floor, but her cry of pain was muffled by the rag in her mouth.

She tried not to panic as she fought for breath through her nose.

“I underestimated Lord Wolfarth. I was sure he’d pay Melville’s purchase orders. He’s never struck me as a man who likes a scandal.”

Shows how little you know him. If she could just get her hands free of her bindings. They’d stupidly left her feet unbound. They had also not removed her gloves, which gave her the ability to work her wrists without the rope cutting into them. If she could just slip even one hand free…

Luckily the carriage was clattering along at a good pace, rocking and bouncing over the jagged cobblestone streets, hiding her movements. The rope seemed to slide over the fine leather gloves, and with building elation Tiffany realized she could slip her right hand free.

Suddenly the rag was tugged out of her mouth. She didn’t scream; her cries would not be heard over the pounding carriage ride, and he’d simply shove the rag back in. Would he remove the blindfold? She hoped so. It would be so much harder to escape without her sight.

“Unlike me, Lord Wolfarth wasn’t so gullible.”

He laughed in her face. “Who would have thought a lady of some social standing was one of my most successful investors. I got very wealthy from following your advice. A pity it’s going to have to end.”

Her limbs went rigid. That didn’t sound good.

A hand landed on her thigh and she could smell Sprat’s breath near her face. “Then again, I could keep you alive for a while and use that mind of yours. The risk of Wolfarth finding me would almost be worth it.”

It took all her self-control not to whip her freed hand round to slap his face. “So you’ll kill me, like you killed my father and mother.”

He tore the blindfold off and she was staring into the eyes of evil. “My, my, that mind of yours is too sharp. I have plans for you. While you’re useful you’ll live. Who else knows about your parents?”

“Everyone.”

He sat back then, chewing his bottom lip. “That changes things. Does Wolfarth know about…” He eyed her warily. “No. He couldn’t know. He’d have searched harder.”

“Know what?” she asked, not expecting him to answer.

But Sprat surprised her. “It was Wolfarth who made my career change into stockjobbing possible. My previous career was a tad more unsavory and risky to my personal health. I was part of a gang that used to rob na?ve pansy gentlemen.”

Wolfarth had never been a pansy. “It was you in Richmond Park. Your gang attacked and raped Lady Margo and stole from Wolfarth.”

“Yes, the rape was unfortunate, and one of the reasons I left the gang. Not my cup of tea. The man who raped the young lady was dealt with. I didn’t want to kill your parents either, but your father didn’t care about the scandal and he called my bluff. I couldn’t have that. All the other men I was blackmailing would band together and my income would fall away or worse, I’d be run out of London.”

“Like you are now?”

“Yes. I thought it clever to send the money to Ireland. Did they really think I would have only one bank account, at one bank? I chose the account with the least funds and transferred it to Ireland, knowing Wolfarth would believe I’d fled there.”

Tiffany fought back nausea. Sprat would never let her escape now. She knew too much—enough to hang him. If she didn’t rescue herself, she would not live long enough for Wolf to find her. “So where are you fleeing to?”

“The Americas, of course. The land of opportunity for a man with money.”

“My money,” she ground out.

“I must admit I did feel a bit guilty. Your plan of financial security so you didn’t have to marry… But now it appears you are quite keen to marry. Wolfarth is a wealthy man, and with your skills, his fortune can only grow. I can’t have that.”

She looked at him blankly.

“Wolfarth has taken money from me, so I’ll ensure he doesn’t make any extra from his marriage to you. You’ll come with me and while you keep making sound investments, you’ll live. And Wolfarth will suffer, knowing I’ve bested him and have what he wants—you.”

She wanted to tell him to go to hell, that she’d never give him advice again. But she would do whatever she must to stay alive until she could escape—however long that took.

*

Wolf pulled on his horse’s reins; they needed to pace the animals. At least they could travel faster than a carriage, but were they even going in the right direction?

“I bet he’s heading to the docks. He must have a ship standing by,” Rockwell yelled at him.

Wolf had never prayed so hard. The thought of what the man could do to Tiffany had his heart retreating behind its fortress. He couldn’t go through this again. Couldn’t fail. He had to rescue her.

“What if he’s not?”

“Julian and the rest of the men have each taken a different road out of London. However, Sprat knows a carriage cannot outrun men on horses. Fleeing by carriage is too dangerous. He’ll need to flee London faster. A ship would do that.”

“What if he’s not fleeing, merely hiding?”

Rockwell’s jaw grew taut. “Then we check escape routes at the docks first and then if we need to, we regroup. Tiffany is strong and smart. We will find her.”

She’s not Margo! The more he kept telling himself that, the more he feared it would make no difference. She was strong and smart, but so was Sprat.

Why had Sprat taken Tiffany? To punish him for exposing his swindle? Once again, he’d put a woman in danger, and he’d not been robust enough in his protection.

“If he’s hurt her?”

Rockwell grimaced. “I doubt that. She’s too valuable. I have a feeling Sprat needs her for her skill set. I’m sure he’s made plenty of money off her investment skills.”

Rockwell was right. She was too valuable for Sprat to kill. An even worse thought hit him. Sprat was taking her with him. Wherever he was fleeing to, Tiffany would go. If Sprat set sail, Wolf might never see her again.

Wolf wanted to howl. The pain racing through him almost saw him come off his steed. He loved her, and no matter what Sprat did to her, he would shower her with his love and help her heal. He would not let others keep him from her side, like they had with Margo.

*

Tiffany had no idea in what direction they were traveling. He’d removed her blindfold but not the coverings on the windows. She’d have only one chance to escape. Jumping from a fast-moving carriage onto hard cobblestones was risky. If she hit her head, or broke a leg…they would capture her again, but at least there’d be witnesses who could tell Wolf they’d seen her if he came looking.

Soon the rocking lessened. The carriage was definitely slowing down. To her joy, Sprat pushed the window covering aside, and she could see they were in a high traffic area, carriages and wagons everywhere. She could hear gulls. They were near the docks. If she didn’t go soon it would be too late. She couldn’t let him reach the dock where she assumed he had more men waiting. If he got her on a ship, she’d never escape.

Both hands were now free of her bindings. All she had to do was reach into her pocket where she’d hidden a small Queen Anne pistol, hoping she wouldn’t need it at the stall. But she was lucky she’d brought it. It might not be powerful enough to kill Sprat instantly, but it could do some damage. Especially where she would point it.

Her moment came when Sprat pulled down the window to talk to his man. She slowly reached one hand toward the door. With his attention diverted, she made an instant decision to run. She flung the door open and jumped. Thankfully the carriage had to stop to let a wide wagon pass, and she landed and rolled. She didn’t even have time to catch the breath that was knocked out of her, because Sprat was already scrambling from the carriage, yelling at his men.

One of them jumped from the back of the carriage and came after her. She ducked behind the lumbering wagon and into the crowd, running as fast as her skirts would allow, back the way the carriage had come.

Unfortunately, she stood out in the crowd. Her clothes, hair, and the fact she was clean made blending in difficult. She wasn’t about to dive into an alley though; she had to stay in the open and hope someone came to her aid.

She glanced over her shoulder. The man was gaining on her. Another carriage was moving swiftly toward her and, timing it perfectly, she nipped across the road, right in front of the wheels, and made it to the other side. The driver yelled at her, but the maneuver had bought her some time as her pursuer had to wait to go around the carriage.

Her lungs burned with each deep breath. She’d never outrun him. Her legs couldn’t go any faster. She glanced behind. He was almost within arm’s reach. She saw another large wagon, coming fast up the other side of the road, and decided to dash back across. If she timed it perfectly, he’d never make it.

To her horror he tried, and the noise as the horses hit him and he fell under their hooves would live with her always. She didn’t stop. Didn’t look back. She kept running up the street, and only when she was sure no one still followed did she slow to a walk, chest heaving and her trusty pistol still in her pocket unused.

Looking around, she didn’t have any idea of her location. She needed someone to help her. After a quick glance at those around her, however, she decided that trusting anyone here wasn’t a good idea. Even now, walking at a regular pace, she was drawing significant interest.

She kept her hand in her pocket, on the handle of her pistol, and kept walking the way the carriage had come. Anyone trying to rescue her would likely come down this road. Her slippers were in tatters and she felt every sharp stone through their soles. Her feet were wet, too, but she refused to notice what she was treading in. She forced herself to keep moving, and prayed that Wolf and the others knew she’d been taken.

*

Wolf’s stomach tightened, the closer they got to the docks. Would they get to Tiffany in time? So lost was he in his misery, he almost missed the fact Rockwell was slowing his horse and pointing down the street.

He pulled on the reins so hard, his horse reared. He shook his head and looked again. Tiffany was walking, head down, slowly up the street. She was limping.

He leaped from his horse and raced across the road, dodging wagons and carriages. “Tiffany.”

Her head snapped up, and as soon as she saw him, she came running. He scooped her into his arms and held her tight. “I knew you’d come for me.”

They stood hugging at the edge of the road, and he couldn’t care about anything except the fact she was safe in his arms.

Rockwell arrived with both horses behind him. “Let’s get her home.”

Wolf pulled back. “Where’s Sprat?”

She pointed down the street. “His carriage is way back down the road. I assume he’s reached his ship by now because he only sent one man after me and…the man was hit by a wagon. I don’t know if he’s dead, but if not, he’ll be badly hurt. No one else came after me.”

“He can’t have set sail yet. The tides are not in his favor until this evening.” Wolf looked at Rockwell. “Do we have time to take her home before going after Sprat?”

Tiffany placed her hand on Wolf’s arm. “I don’t want you going after him. He’s not worth it. He told me he’s sailing to the Americas, and I believe him. Too many people here are after him. Powerful people. He knows it’s too risky to stay. Especially after kidnapping me.”

Wolf was torn. “What if he comes after you again? I need to know he’s either dead or sailed on that ship.”

“Take your betrothed home, brother. Send more men to the docks and I’ll go and find which ship Sprat is on. I won’t do anything until the men arrive, but at least we will have an eye on his movements.”

Wolf hesitated. He didn’t want Rockwell to have to clean up his mess, but he also couldn’t bear to let Tiffany out of his sight. “I’ll see Tiffany home, but I’ll come back with the men. Don’t approach the ship until I return. Safety first.”

Rockwell nodded his agreement. Wolf swung into his saddle and Rockwell helped Tiffany onto the horse. Wolf made her sit side saddle in front of him. He didn’t want to let her out of his sight.

As they set off for home, he said, “I can see your feet have taken a battering. Are you hurt anywhere else?”

“I suspect I’ll have a few bruises from jumping out of the carriage and hitting the ground. And my palms are scraped from breaking my fall. But other than that, I’ve escaped with relatively few injuries.”

“How did you manage to escape?”

“They stupidly bound my hands behind my back without taking my leather gloves off. The gloves were always loose on me, and I simply worked the bindings until I could slip my hands out of my gloves. Then I sat and waited for the carriage to slow a bit and Sprat’s attention to be diverted. I was thinking of using the pistol in my pocket but I didn’t need to. Sprat didn’t expect me to get free.”

She really was quite the woman. A pistol in her pocket. “Was he going to take you to the Americas too?” A shudder ran through him at the idea.

“Yes. He said you had cost him money and he didn’t want me marrying you and helping you accumulate more wealth. He wanted me to be his investment adviser once we reached the Americas. I certainly would have helped him lose money. But I would have done anything to stay alive until you found me, or I could make my own way back to you.” She cupped his cheek. “I would never have given up, no matter what Sprat did to me.”

She bit her lip. “I learned something I think you should know. It was Sprat and some other men who robbed you and Margo all those years ago. The money and jewels he stole helped him set up as a stockjobber. It was your robbery that gave him the idea to stop Father. However, he played no part in Margo’s rape and in fact made a point of telling me the man who raped her had been dealt with. What happened to Margo was one of the reasons Sprat decided to abandon thieving—only he didn’t leave thieving behind, he just stole in a different way.”

“He can steal all my money as long as I have you. If I’d lost you…”

“But you didn’t. I just want to go home and have a long hot bath and soak these aches away. I wish you’d reconsider going after him. If I lost you over a man like Sprat, then I’d be—well, I’d be very angry. He’s already cost me my parents.”

“I was reconsidering until you mentioned Margo. He deserves to be punished. He might not have raped her, but he didn’t stop the man who did. I owe it to Margo. And your parents.”

Would Tiffany, could Tiffany, understand the guilt that he’d lived with? Dealing with Sprat would go a long way to putting his past to rest, and let him move on with her.

“I want to avenge my parents too. But not at the expense of your life or Rockwell’s or anyone else’s. I’ve learned there is something far more valuable than money or revenge—love. The people you love and those who love you. A family.”

Wolf said nothing more. A part of him wanted to see Sprat in the flesh to either kill him or arrest him. Only then could he be sure Tiffany would be safe.

She fell asleep just as they neared home.

His heart still pounded in his chest even though he held her safe. This was what love did. It made you fear. He didn’t know if he could live his life afraid. Afraid to love and face the loss.