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Page 28 of Only Earl in the World (Taming of the Dukes)

Briar’s heart was pounding in her chest as she and Jasper rode over the rise, cutting through her father’s property and approaching from the west. They made the sixteen-mile trip quickly, but when every minute counted, quick wasn’t fast enough.

But she was hopeful that Preston would not hurt Minthe, not when he clearly knew that Briar would come in exchange.

But the man was unhinged, and that meant he was unpredictable. Minthe was in trouble because of her.

They dismounted, tying the horse to a low branch before cutting through the woods. For a big man, the earl moved quietly, and the only sounds were their footsteps crunching on the forest floor and the bubbling sounds of a small brook.

“This way,” she said in a low voice. “This spring will take us to the northeast side of his property, where the kitchens are.”

Jasper still looked uncomfortable, his face wreathed in grim lines, but he would have to get used to her taking the lead.

Briar had spent many winters growing up on this estate, so she knew the area like the back of her hand.

She liked a protective man as much as anyone, but there was a huge difference between being protective and smothering someone.

She knew he was afraid for her, however, and that mollified her somewhat.

They moved more slowly when the turrets of the main house came into view.

The viscount’s house was quiet—most peers were settled in London proper for the season, but that didn’t mean no one was there.

It also didn’t mean this wasn’t some kind of elaborate snare, designed to get what he wanted.

The note Briar had received ordered her to come, or he would hurt Minthe and expose Briar’s secret.

If Sackley intended to force her to marry him, would he have a vicar there with a special license?

He’d almost been a vicar himself, but that didn’t mean he could perform the nuptials.

Then again, he didn’t need a priest to force her hand.

An unscrupulous man only had to get an unwed woman in a compromising situation, and they would be forced to wed.

Many a fortune hunter had done such a thing to a lady to marry her and gain control of her fortune.

It was despicable in the extreme…yet another way that men could control women.

That was what would happen to the property in Bath—as part of her dowry, it would become her husband’s.

When he’d initially spoken to her father, Preston had agreed not to sell it, but she didn’t trust a single word out of that man’s mouth.

The sound of a carriage pierced the air, and Jasper hurriedly pulled her out of sight, though they were still deep enough in the woods not to be noticed.

Frowning, they both watched as a fancy coach drove past the gaps in the trees and turned toward the main house.

Another conveyance followed right after. Did the viscount have company?

Something didn’t feel right.

“We should wait,” Jasper whispered. “The sun is going down, and we will have the cover of darkness to work out what’s happening.

That will also give your brother some time to get here with reinforcements.

” He caught her worried expression. “Sackley won’t do anything to Minthe until you arrive.

He was at Lethe for you, not her. She’s bait.

Did the messenger ask you to read it in front of him? ”

“Yes. And I had to send back a reply that I understood.”

“Good,” Jasper said. “The messenger will be paid to return with your reply, and we will have a small window. Not much, but enough for us to not be so exposed. For now, we wait.”

He lowered his big body down with his back pressed to the trunk of a large oak, and after a moment, she did the same right next to him against the tree. They sat in silence, but Briar was too agitated to sit quietly. She peered up at him. “Do you think Minthe will be all right?”

“Minthe spent a decade in the demimonde. She knows how to handle herself.”

Briar’s chest ached, her stomach churning with worry. “You didn’t see him. He was so angry.”

“We will get her back,” Jasper said, squeezing her hand and pulling her into his arms.

Briar let some of her rattled nerves be calmed by his warm strength.

She was furious at the viscount, but she was frightened, too.

At Lethe, she’d seen evidence with her own eyes of men’s cruelty to women.

And Sackley was a monster. He’d kept that affable mask in place so long and so well, but it had finally dropped that day in her study.

She’d seen his true face.

If anything happened to Minthe, she’d never forgive herself.

Curled against the earl, she watched as the shadows of the trees grew longer, the evening gloom creeping over the wood as the sun descended. It didn’t take long, but after a while, Jasper shifted and sent her a silent nod.

They stood and crept down the tree line, keeping to the shadows before racing to the nearest wall of the house. Inching their way around to where she knew the morning salon was, Briar peeked into the window and swallowed a gasp.

“What?” Jasper whispered.

“Penelope is there, and her mother.”

“Why would she—?” he began, but then clamped his mouth shut as he was likely realizing what Briar already knew.

If Sackley was planning to compromise her, he needed a witness with an unimpeachable reputation from the aristocracy. A countess would be more than enough. But how would Sackley have convinced a woman he’d jilted to help him? Even an oblivious Penelope wouldn’t be that magnanimous.

Briar peered in the window again and frowned. “There are other faces I recognize, too. This doesn’t make sense. Why would?—?”

The sounds of a scuffle made her whirl. She was much too late to react as she watched Jasper go down from a blow to his head, but when she reached for her pistol and opened her mouth to cry bloody murder, a cloth beneath a huge hand covered the lower half of her face. A sweet smell invaded her nostrils.

What was…that… oh …

It was her only thought before her eyes rolled back in her head and darkness took her.

The sound of three gunshots made Briar lurch up.

Her eyelids cracked open to blurry faces as light speared into them.

She groaned, shutting them and squinting.

Her head felt like it was splitting open, and her stomach churned with nausea.

Dimly, she took in that she was on a sofa.

She was also wearing a light pink gown and dainty white gloves.

Briar didn’t remember getting dressed for a party, though this wasn’t one of the dresses she owned.

She never wore taffeta. Or such a dreadful jejune color.

She wrinkled her nose and winced at the ache in her skull. The gunshots came again, and she realized dully that someone was clapping in front of her nose.

“WhereamI?” The words emerged in a jumbled mess as if her tongue was dry and too thick for her mouth.

“Welcome back, dove,” a male voice said.

“Preston?” she mumbled when he came into view, and then she reared back. “You took Minthe.” And then she grimaced as the events of the last few hours flew back to her disoriented brain. “You drugged me! Where is the Earl of Lushing? You’ll go to prison if you’ve done anything to him, I swear it.”

“Don’t worry about him. Worry about me.”

Briar wheezed and tried to sit up, but a sudden wave of dizziness made her waver. “Where the hell is Minthe? If you’ve hurt her, you gutless prick, I’ll kill you myself.”

The viscount tutted, his lips flattening with displeasure. “The first thing we will need to do is deal with that vulgar tongue of yours.” He sniffed. “But for now, we have guests, and you must be seen. Be sure to be convincing of our reconciliation, or your friend will pay the price.”

“Where. Is. She?” Briar reached for her belt with her weapons, but all she got for her troubles were handfuls of ugly taffeta. Her belly roiled with something bitter. Had Sackley dressed her? She tugged at the ruffles. “Did you—? How am I in this?”

The viscount pinched his lips. “Your virtue was quite protected, little dove. Don’t worry.

” He pointed at a terrified-looking mouse of a lady’s maid whom Briar hadn’t noticed cowering in the corner.

“Nora did an excellent job preparing you for our very special occasion.” He lifted her pocket pistol.

“And if you’re looking for this, well, such a weapon is not fit for a lady, is it? ”

She clenched her jaw. “I’m not doing a single thing until I see that Minthe is unharmed.”

Anger sparked in his pale irises as he signaled to Nora, who scurried from the room. A few minutes later, she returned, followed by the man who had hit Jasper with a truncheon. He looked like a hired thug, but Briar was more focused on the woman he held roughly.

Minthe’s hair was tangled, her cheek bruised, and her clothing ripped as if she’d been in a fight for her life, but her eyes were simmering with rage. Good . Anger was strengthening; despair and defeat were not.

“Minthe, did they hurt you?” Briar asked .

“I hurt them worse,” her friend said.

The thug scowled, and Briar noticed the oozing scratches down each side of his face and what looked like bite marks on his forearm.

“Go and see if the earl is alive, and if he is, take care of it,” the viscount barked, making Briar jolt.

She’d fallen unconscious before she saw what had happened to Jasper, but a blow to the head could be fatal.

Horror and panic twined in her belly, but neither emotion would help her now. Jasper was strong; he’d make it.

Right now, she had to save Minthe and herself.

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