Chapter Fourteen
Drake’s hopes fell as he spotted the duke returning to the fork in the road just as he arrived at the juncture. “I found no sign of them,” he told the stormy-faced man. “And the farmer I spoke with had not seen anyone all day.”
Broadmere shook his head. “If they came this way, it is as though the earth opened up and swallowed them. I went as far as the end of the lane. In her terror, I fear Merry was confused about the direction they took. We have lost precious time.”
Drake headed his horse off the road, cutting across the meadow toward the village. “To the inn, then, to confront the devils responsible.”
“Lead on.” Broadmere rode alongside him.
By the time they reached the inn, its patrons were coming down from their rooms to enjoy tea in the dining room. The door to the private parlor was closed.
Drake charged up to the counter. “Rum and Catherty. Still in there?” he asked the wide-eyed Mr. Thomassan.
The innkeeper nodded as if afraid to speak and be overheard.
Drake kicked in the door and stormed in with the duke on his heels.
Rum and Catherty floundered up from their seats, and their pair of meaty guards stepped in front of them.
Drake drew both of his pistols. “Two of you will die in short order if you do not tell me where she is.”
“The remaining two will die by my hand,” Broadmere said. “Who would like to meet the Almighty first?”
“If you kill us, you will never find her,” Catherty sputtered, edging behind the tallest guard.
“And upon our deaths, our other men know to dispose of her,” Rum said, baring his teeth like a cornered dog.
Drake shrugged. “That simplifies things. We kill the guards and simply shoot the pair of you in the knees. With a proper tourniquet, you will not die until we will it.”
“And we most assuredly will it,” Broadmere added.
“Ten thousand pounds,” Catherty said with a belligerent growl. “Pay us what your uncle owes, and we will lead you to her.”
Snorting a humorless laugh, Drake shook his head. “My being a trusting fool got my beloved Felicity into this horrid mess. You will take us to her. Now.”
Rum just jutted his chin higher. “We will bring her to you. Here. Tomorrow. Have the money ready.”
“No.” Drake aimed one of his pistols at the nearest guard’s forehead. “You will take us to her. Now. She has suffered enough.”
“It appears we are at a standoff,” Catherty said with a roll of his fleshy shoulders. “Kill the guards. They are nothing to us.”
“Your Grace,” said a voice from behind them. “Lord Wakefield. Can my men and I offer some assistance?”
Drake didn’t dare turn and face the man, even though the voice sounded familiar. “And you are?”
“The magistrate,” Broadmere told him before the man could identify himself. “The esteemed Mr. Osbourne.”
“How may I be of service?” Mr. Osbourne asked.
“These gentlemen, and I use that term loosely,” Drake said while keeping his pistols trained on the men, “abducted Lady Felicity this very day. They did her bodily harm and carried her off. If they do not lead me to her, I intend to kill the two guards and cripple Mr. Rum and Mr. Catherty to convince them to be more cooperative.”
“That man is an impostor.” Rum pointed a shaking finger at Drake. “The sixth Earl of Wakefield is still alive and owes us ten thousand pounds. That man there, his nephew, faked his uncle’s death and assumed the title to keep us from collecting what we are owed.”
“My misguided transgressions do not excuse your abduction of Lady Felicity.” Drake noted that Rum and Catherty’s guards had sweat streaming down their faces. “She is not an impostor, but an innocent young woman caught up in your dastardly plan.”
“I agree, Lord Wakefield.” Mr. Osbourne stepped up beside Drake, drew his pistol, and leveled it at Catherty.
“I am quite familiar with these two and their practices. My cousin is a Bow Street Runner and has noted on many occasions the slipperiness of this pair and their London ways. Well, Binnocksbourne is my jurisdiction, and the abduction of His Grace’s sister is my primary concern.
I strongly recommend you take us to her. ”
When the men remained silent, the magistrate tossed a glance back over his shoulder. “Come fetch them, lads. Take all four to the roundhouse. They can stay there until they feel more helpful.”
“I would rather kill and cripple them,” Drake said, struggling to keep his frustration and rage in check. He kept his pistols raised.
“As would I,” Broadmere added, stepping closer and leveling the aim of both his pistols.
“I am sure you would, Your Grace and my lord.” Mr. Osbourne lowered his pistol as his men took custody of Rum and Catherty and their guards. “And we may yet allow it if they do not tell us of Lady Felicity’s whereabouts.”
“He is not a lord!” Catherty spat, his face turning a dangerous red. “He is an impostor. His name is Pemberton.”
“And his father was an honorable man beloved by this village,” Mr. Osbourne said. “Take them to the roundhouse and place extra guards. If they refuse to talk, we will gather volunteers and find Lady Felicity for ourselves.”
“You will never find her without us.” Rum sneered at Drake as the magistrate’s men dragged him out. “Never.”
Unable to hold himself back any longer, Drake shot the man in the foot. “Good heavens, my pistol accidentally went off. How dreadful.”
Amidst Rum’s howls, Mr. Osbourne cleared his throat. “Yes. Dreadful when that happens. Perhaps you should have its mechanism checked.”
Drake tipped a nod while noting with no small amount of satisfaction that Catherty had started frothing at the mouth like a rabid animal.
“Yes, Mr. Osbourne. I shall have it checked at my first opportunity.” He stepped forward and shoved the barrel of his unspent gun against the side of Catherty’s head.
“I need only one of you alive to find her.”
Catherty paled considerably. “West of here. Between Grange in Borrowdale and Derwentwater.”
“You lie.” Broadmere shoved his pistol to the other side of Catherty’s head. “How could they possibly get that far in such a short amount of time?”
“That is where they were to go,” Catherty said through clenched teeth while holding his head extremely still. “Ask for the Beans. The locals can guide you there.”
“If she is not there,” Drake said, “I shall return and kill you…slowly.”
“Your Grace.” Mr. Osbourne cleared his throat again. “Lord Wakefield. We shall keep these four in the roundhouse until we return from Grange.”
Reluctantly, Drake stepped back and slowly lowered his weapon. Broadmere did the same.
Reloading his pistol, Drake noticed the magistrate stayed behind as his men dragged the injured Rum from the room along with Catherty and the two guards. “Once Lady Felicity is safely returned, I shall answer whatever questions you might have regarding my assumption of the title to Wakefield.”
“I shall have no questions, my lord,” Mr. Osbourne said, his expression grim. “I was in search of you when I was directed here to the inn.”
“In search of me?” Drake finished loading his pistol and tucked it back into his belt. “You had already become aware of my fraud?”
“You are not a fraud, my lord. The sixth Earl of Wakefield was found dead in your garden earlier today. Your butler, Yateston, heard gunfire. When he investigated, he discovered the earl with a self-inflicted wound that proved most fatal. I was fetched to the scene immediately and can confirm without a doubt your uncle ended himself, since witnesses here at the inn and also Broadmere Hall provided us with a most reliable alibi for your whereabouts.” He dug in his pocket for a moment, then pulled out a note.
“And then there is this. It was pried out of his hand when we examined him.”
Try as he might to feel something about his uncle’s death, Drake felt nothing at all.
Not anger. Nor relief. His uncle’s suicide was but one more facet of a man Drake realized that he had never known at all.
He opened the parchment to find four words written in the center of the page: Now you are real.
He crumpled it and threw it into the hearth, where enough smoldering coals remained to catch it afire.
As far as he was concerned, it was too little, too late.
He would never be real, and nothing as insignificant as the title would ever excuse how he had hidden the truth from Felicity and put her in harm’s way.
“Thank you, Mr. Osbourne.” He offered the man a polite bow, then turned to Felicity’s brother. “Shall we leave now?”
His expression unreadable, Broadmere nodded. “Definitely.”
“I shall come with you,” the magistrate said with finality. “They have surely left people there to guard her, and who is to say how many scoundrels you shall face?” As he escorted them from the parlor, he nodded as though speaking his thoughts aloud. “We shall bring a few of my men as well.”
“We are leaving immediately,” Drake said. There was no time for niceties. “And you must not deplete the forces guarding Rum and Catherty.” Even after Felicity was safe, he still had grim business to finish with those men.
“Our forces will not be depleted,” the magistrate reassured him. “Binnocksbourne will not go lightly on those who would harm a daughter of the Broadmere family.”
Drake wasn’t surprised at the sentiment, especially when it came to Felicity. A kinder, more caring woman could never be found. He swallowed hard and lengthened his stride. He had to save her. Not only so he could apologize but also assure her he would never trouble her again.
“We will not reach her by nightfall,” Broadmere said as they took to their saddles.
Drake spurred his mount onward. “Then darkness shall be our cloak.”
*
Curled on a pallet in the corner, Felicity stared out into the darkened room lit only by the remaining coals still glowing red in the hearth.
Both Edmund and Mrs. Bean’s snores drowned out the gentle chirp of the crickets outside the door and window.
Both had been left open to coax inside some of the cool night air and dispel the oppressive warmth still coming off the stone fireplace that not only heated the cottage but also served to cook all the meals.
She tried not to move too much and cause her chains to rattle.
It was silly, she supposed, to worry about disturbing her captors’ sleep.
But the Beans were not bad people. They were merely trying to survive and had been as kind to her as the current situation allowed.
Their fear of the vile Mort and his brothers was palpable, and Felicity completely understood.
She harbored no doubts whatsoever that those men were capable of any cruelty.
A heavy sigh left her, and for what seemed like the hundredth time, she tried to wad the thin pillow to a more comfortable angle under her aching head.
Mrs. Bean had cleared away the blood and promised that the split and the large knot left behind by the terrible blow would soon heal.
Felicity’s fear now was what had happened to Merry.
She knew her sister and could just imagine an enraged Merry giving no thought to her own safety as she jumped into the fray to save her.
Please let Merry be safe.
She tried to close her eyes and think of happier thoughts, but at the moment, she hadn’t the strength or the mood to bring any to mind.
She was a prisoner, her sister could be wounded or worse in a ditch, and this was all because of the man she had trusted with her heart.
A choking lump of emotions knotted in her throat, making her squeeze her eyes shut tighter.
She had always sensed there was something more he wasn’t telling her, other than he was penniless and in dire need of a wife with a dowry, but never had she imagined such a grandiose lie as impersonating a peer. It was inconceivable.
But he said he loved me. It had seemed so real when he had said it, and their first kiss.
She pinched the bridge of her nose and pressed the corners of her closed eyes, determined not to cry.
She had to be the greatest fool that ever walked the face of the earth.
Had he been lying about his love for her, too?
He rejected the dowry. But had that been merely a gesture?
Grand talk to impress her and her family?
Would he have eventually accepted it after allowing his resolve to be worn down?
In truth, the only lie of omission of which she had previously been aware was that of his financial state.
Would he have told her if she and Merry had not peeked into his garden that day?
His supposedly proposing to countless women according to their dowries had been a cruel lie cooked up by the mean-spirited Nedia and her gaggle of friends.
Felicity couldn’t very well blame Drake for that misunderstanding.
But this horrid situation was undeniably his fault.
If she ever—no, not if but when—returned to where she belonged…
What? What would she do? Did she have the courage to send him away?
Most definitely. Besides, what else had he not told her?
Perhaps he already had a wife somewhere.
Or a mistress. Perhaps he was behind this kidnapping to get even more money beyond her dowry.
She continued rubbing the corners of her eyes, refusing to allow herself to cry.
You are being ridiculous. Stop letting your mind reel.
Deep in her heart, she knew he had no wife or mistress.
That would have most certainly been shoved into her face by the gossips, and while he might be many things, Drake was not cruel.
How many times had she seen a longing to be loved and accepted shining in the depths of his hazel eyes?
She shifted again, flinching as she hurt her poor, wounded head.
Be still, fool. But she couldn’t. Not with her mind churning like a maelstrom.
At least she knew for certain that Chance would come for her.
While her brother could be as irritating as an itch you couldn’t reach to scratch, he possessed a raging temper and an endearing protectiveness of his sisters.
Chance would come. He wouldn’t simply hand over any amount of money and wait for her to be delivered.
No, he would come with his pistols, Papa’s sword, and the daggers Mama had gifted him one year for his birthday. Chance would come.
But will Drake? She released another heavy sigh. Drake might come, but only if Chance hadn’t killed him. What then? What would she do?
“I do not know,” she whispered into the darkness. Her heart ached even worse than her head.