Page 47

“ S omeone has to have seen them.” Stephen’s words were a snarl.

“We’ve passed two villages, and no one has. It’s like they’ve disappeared,” Patrick said.

They’d left the fair an hour after Sophie and Amelia, and during that hour, someone had kidnapped them. The woman he loved had vanished, and he had to find her.

When Patrick had seen the staff member he’d tasked with protecting the carriage Sophie and Amelia were traveling in riding toward him, he’d known fear, especially when he’d noted the blood on his sleeve.

Patrick and Stephen had ridden hard when he’d told them riders had shot at the carriage, and they’d found the Coulter carriage, one unconscious driver, and Robbie, Sophie’s driver, shot in the leg.

Robbie had told them to leave and hurry about it. He could get himself and the unconscious man home, as it was not far to Garland Hall. So they had galloped after the men who had taken Sophie from him.

“It has to be Jack Spode,” Patrick said. “And when I get her back, I’m tracking him down and ending his life.”

“Agreed,” Stephen said.

He’d found love, and now that his happiness was reliant on another, she’d been taken from him. Patrick wanted to roar his rage but knew that he couldn’t help Sophie unless he remained in control.

“Someone has to have seen two women seated before men on horseback,” Stephen said, and Patrick could hear his frustration.

They’d been searching for hours and were no closer to finding them. Every turn they took was a dead end, and every person they questioned had seen nothing. He alternated between burning rage and desperation.

“Stop,” Stephen said suddenly, pulling his horse to a halt.

“What?” Patrick called softly.

“A horse is coming,” Stephen whispered, waving ahead of him into the darkness.

Patrick walked his mount off the path and into the trees to one side, and Stephen did the same. Both sat still and listened.

“Is that singing?”

“Sounds like it.” Patrick turned his head to listen.

“Is that?—”

“Sophie’s voice,” Patrick said. Seconds later, he was galloping out of his hiding place.

The horse was trotting down the road with the two women on it, and both were singing loudly.

“Sophie!” Patrick roared her name.

Amelia had pulled the horse to a halt in the middle of the road and was watching them approach. “Oh, thank God.” Her shoulders slumped as he drew alongside.

Patrick had eyes only for Sophie as he dismounted and reached for her. She fell into his arms on a sob, clinging to him.

“I have you,” he whispered into her hair as her body trembled.

“I told Amelia you would find us,” Sophie whispered into his neck.

“Christ, sweetheart,” Patrick groaned, pressing his cheek to hers.

She wrapped her arm around his neck and held him in a fierce grip.

“We need to get them off this road and somewhere warm,” Stephen said behind him.

“The inn we passed,” Patrick added as the torrent of emotion eased inside him. “We’ll head there.”

He lifted her onto his horse.

“I am quite capable of riding to an inn,” Amelia said when Stephen offered to put her up before him. “I’m quite done with riding before a man.”

Sophie lay back against Patrick, and for now, holding her was enough. She was here and safe. But soon he’d want answers to his questions. Soon he would go after who had taken her from him.

There was no welcoming light as they arrived at the inn. A sign swung over the door with The Robin written on it. Patrick dismounted with Sophie in his arms as Stephen hammered his fist on the front door. It took a few minutes, but finally someone was on the other side.

“Who goes there?”

“The Earl of Coulter and Viscount Sumner.”

The door was opened, and a candle raised.

“My lords,” the innkeeper said. He wore a nightshirt tucked into his trousers. “What has happened?”

“There has been an accident, and my wife and her friend Miss Logan were injured,” Patrick said, walking over the threshold. “Do you have two rooms available, sir?”

“We do. I’ll see to them at once,” the man said, stepping aside to let them enter.

“Water and food, too, if you have it, please,” Patrick said. Pulling a pouch of money out of his pocket, he handed it to the man.

“I’ll wake my family,” he said, testing the weight in his palm. “If you’ll come this way, I’ll have you wait in the parlor.”

Showing them into a room, which still had embers glowing in the hearth, he excused himself to wake his family.

Patrick led Sophie to a chair before the fire and set her in it. Amelia dropped into the one beside her. Both women were exhausted; it was in every line of their faces.

“Here.” The innkeeper bustled in with a tray of glasses.

Patrick took two and held them out to Sophie and Amelia. “Sip this.”

“And then tell us your story,” Stephen said, now holding a glass of his own as he leaned on the fireplace, beneath which he’d stoked flames to life.

“It was Jack Spode. He’s the one who took us,” Amelia said. “Well, his men, and they took us to him.”

“We tried to hold them off. Amelia climbed out of the carriage and took the reins after….” Sophie pressed a hand to her mouth. “Robbie and the others?—”

“Are well and back at Garland Hall.” Patrick hoped.

Relief had her shoulders sagging. “I was so worried about them.”

“And then?” Stephen prompted.

“And then Sophie climbed out the opening in the roof also and fired shots from the rifles we found under the seats of your carriage,” Amelia said, looking at him.

“I feel ill,” Patrick muttered, glaring at his wife. “They could have shot you.”

“We didn’t want them to do whatever it was they were about to do, so we tried to stop them,” Amelia snapped.

“Exactly. We had to get away from them and to safety,” Sophie added.

At least some of her color had returned with the warmth from the fire and whisky.

“And then?” Stephen added, shooting Patrick a warning look.

“They stopped us,” Sophie said. “But we didn’t show them fear. We were rude to them.”

“Excellent. So you not only angered them by firing at them?—”

“And Sophie threw your rifle at one of the men,” Amelia added.

“Yes, thank you, Amelia,” Sophie said, shooting Patrick a look. “The point is, we were not letting them take us without a fight, and I thought you’d be pleased that we at least tried to thwart them.”

“Is your arm all right?” he asked instead of yelling at her for no other reason than he felt the need to yell at someone.

“They took us to a house and then up to a room. We slept for a while, and then someone woke us,” Sophie said.

“We were taken to Jack Spode.” Amelia spat out the name. “That lying, cowardly weasel was also there.”

“Jack Spode?” Stephen asked.

“No, Myles Dutton,” Sophie said. “He was behind it all, not Jack. It was just by chance he was the one Myles contacted to kill me so he could get at Timmy.”

“I am going to destroy him,” Patrick snarled.

“How did you escape?” Stephen asked.

“They took us to his room—Jack Spode’s—and then he arrived and tied Amelia to his bed. He was going to….” Sophie waved her hand about.

Patrick growled, sounding like Doddy.

“But Sophie had taken a knife from your carriage and hidden it in her sling,” Amelia said quickly. “When he ran at her, she stabbed him.”

“In the side, but he wasn’t dead,” Sophie added.

“Then we escaped,” Amelia said.

The innkeeper interrupted them then to say the rooms were ready, so they climbed the stairs. Patrick led Sophie by the hand, and behind them, Stephen nudged Amelia up.

“I’ve had baths drawn in each room,” the innkeeper then said. “And there is food and tea in there as well.”

The rooms were small but clean he saw at a glance. Patrick nudged Sophie down on the bed.

“Thank you,” Patrick said to the man. “We are extremely grateful.”

“If that will be all.” The man bowed.

“Do you have someone who can guard this room?”

“Patrick—”

“I do,” the man said, cutting Sophie off.

“Excellent, see he is armed, and I will pay him upon my return.”

“I’ll see to it at once, my lord.”

“Where was this place you were taken to?” Patrick said after the man had left.

“You can’t?—”

“Sophie, we are finishing this tonight. Tell me the directions.”

“We never deviated from the road you found us on,” Amelia said.

“Barton,” Sophie said reluctantly. “The name on the sign at the end of the driveway said Barton.”

“If you will bathe next door, Amelia, and then sleep in here with Sophie,” Patrick said.

“Of course.” She shot Sophie a look and then left. Stephen followed, muttering something about checking on the horses.

“I don’t want you to go after Jack Spode,” Sophie said when they were alone.

Patrick dropped down before her, his hand cupping her face while he studied every inch.

“We will not live with those men out there somewhere, wondering if and when they will strike again. I want you safe, my love. Surely you understand I must do this to achieve that.”

She nodded, and he watched the first tear fall. His brave girl had been to hell and back tonight, and finally she was done. Her barriers were down, and she had no strength left.

“If Jack Spode is as badly wounded as you say he was, then that is one man less we will have to deal with. But I must get to Dutton before he flees, as surely he will if he knows you and Amelia have escaped.”

“Promise you will come back to me,” she whispered, pressing her lips to his. “I don’t want to live without you.”

“You won’t have to.”

Their lips clung together in a long kiss, and then he rose and left the room.