Chapter 30
The snow began to fall the moment the carriage had pulled away from Greystone Manor, and so did Bridget’s tears.
She had held herself together as long as she could.
Saying farewell to Reeves had been agony.
In the end, when he had taken her hand, she had believed that he might be intending to draw her back and ask her once more to stay with him.
And if he had, she knew she’d have had a very hard time turning him down. She wanted to stay.
She also knew that she couldn’t. She had made the right choice, even if it was a painful one. But now she let herself cry at last for everything she had sacrificed.
Maybe the driver had noticed her tears, for she heard him begin to hum a tune, his voice loud enough over the winter wind that it muffled the sound of her crying.
Bridget was thankful. She used the cover of his humming to center herself, and by the time they were a few miles from the house, she had managed to pull herself together once more.
They rode in silence after that, a silence that lasted for hours and covered the growing distance between Bridget and Greystone Manor like a blanket, muffling her pain.
She lost track of time, the rocking of the carriage lulling her into a bit of a stupor.
After a while, when the sun was high overhead, she realized she was hungry and pulled out the sandwich the cook had sent her away with.
She ate it thoughtlessly, unable to give her full attention to what she was doing.
If the sandwich was good, that fact did not register with Bridget.
She couldn’t have named any of the ingredients.
It took her by surprise when she realized night had begun to fall. They’d been on the road all day, but it hadn’t felt like a full day. She leaned forward in her seat. “Are we nearly there?” she called to the driver, fully expecting his answer to be yes.
But it wasn’t. “I’m wondering whether we ought to stop for the night, my lady,” he said. “There’s an inn not far from here.”
“An inn?” she repeated. “I expected to make it back to the orphanage tonight. Wasn’t that the plan?” They had stayed at an inn on the way to Greystone, but that was because they had departed the orphanage at night. The point of leaving in the morning this time had been to avoid this very thing.
“I’m sorry, my lady,” the driver said. “I know we hoped to be back by now, but the snow has slowed things down considerably. There’s no way we’ll make it there before it gets dark.”
Bridget frowned, weighing her options. “I suppose it would be very dangerous to be on the road after dark.”
“Yes,” the driver agreed. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“And you say there’s an inn nearby?”
“About a mile from here.”
“I don’t have any money for a room.”
“I was given money by His Grace,” the driver said.
“Just in case anything unexpected happened during our journey. I’ll be able to pay for two rooms, as well as lodging for the horses.
Then we can set out again in the morning, and this time I’m confident we’ll reach our destination. We’re only a few hours away now.”
“Well,” Bridget said slowly, “I suppose it’s probably for the best that we stop, then. Yes, you have my permission to take us to the inn. Thank you.”
She sat back in her seat, feeling rather shaky.
The emotions of leaving Greystone had been tempered by the knowledge that she would be back in the familiar surroundings of the orphanage tonight.
She had looked forward to seeing Vicar John and the children, and to sleeping in the bed that had been hers for so long.
It would help her feel like things were going back to normal.
But now she was going to have to put that off, to wait one more night for that return to normalcy.
And being at the inn would be difficult, too, for it would be impossible not to recall the last night she had spent at an inn.
The very beginning of her journey, when she had first gotten to know Reeves and Emma.
She found herself aching to return to that night, as awkward as it had been.
So much had been ahead of her then, so many strange and wonderful experiences that she could never have predicted.
The carriage pulled up in front of the inn. Bridget saw with a sinking feeling that it was, indeed, the same one she had stayed at on her way to Greystone. That night had been uncomfortable, but full of a strange excitement. This one would simply be sad.
The driver climbed down from his seat, and Bridget followed suit. “All right,” he said. “It looks as if there aren’t too many people here tonight, so we should be—”
His voice cut off.
At first, Bridget didn’t understand what had happened. She thought he had simply stopped speaking, though she couldn’t understand why. “We should be what?” she asked.
Then she realized something was wrong. His eyes had slowly rolled back in his head, and as she watched, he crumpled to the ground in a heap.
Bridget let out a cry and ran toward him, dropping to her knees, heedless of the snow. She laid her fingertips on the side of his neck and felt his pulse, strong and sure. He was alive, then, thank goodness—but what had happened?
She got to her feet, about to run into the inn and seek help, when a hand closed on her arm.
Bridget spun around, her heart in her throat.
The person behind her was a tall, burly-looking man, but his face was covered by a cloth, and she couldn’t tell who he was, or even if she would have known him by sight. She pulled against his grip, but he held on tightly.
“You’re not going anywhere, Bridget,” he growled.
She opened her mouth to scream for help, but he must have anticipated that, for he clapped his free hand over her lips, blocking her cry. “None of that,” he hissed. “You keep quiet, or you meet the same fate as him.” He jerked his head toward the driver, prone in the snow.
Panic, bitter and sharp, rushed through Bridget’s veins. She had no idea what to do. She couldn’t allow this man to take her. That would only end horribly. Who knew what he had in mind? It couldn’t be good—men who snatched women from carriages in the night were the very worst sorts of criminals.
If only I had stayed with Reeves, none of this would be happening. She couldn’t help the thought. She would be in the warm manor right now, perhaps conversing with him about the day’s events. Maybe they would be reading Emma a story together…
The man began to drag her away from the carriage.
She struggled against him, but it was no use. He was much stronger than she was. He kept his hand firmly pressed over her mouth, the other arm wrapping around her waist, and no matter how hard she fought, she was powerless to break free of his clutches.
He pulled her around to the back of the inn and through a rear door. Her fear was so potent now that she was having trouble breathing, and his palm over her mouth wasn’t helping. As he threw her into a darkened room, finally releasing her, she fell to her hands and knees and gasped for air.
“You stay here,” he bit out. “I’ll go deal with that driver of yours.”
Her panic spiked—was he going to kill the driver? “What are you going to do to him?”
“I’d be more worried about yourself if I were in your shoes,” the man said darkly, and then he was gone, slamming the door behind him.
The room was pitch-dark now that the door was closed. Bridget felt her way into a corner, her whole body shivering with pain, fear, and cold. She knew in that moment that she would do anything to get away from this horrible man and to get back to Reeves, but he had taken her captive…
She gasped, making the connection.
This is the kidnapper.
Of course it was. Who else would stop a carriage that belonged to the Duke of Greystone and take the occupant captive?
It was possible that this was simply a random attack, but Bridget doubted it.
The man seemed too unsurprised by who he had found.
It was as if he had been expecting her personally.
He had even used her name. He knew who she was.
Bridget didn’t have any enemies. The only people she even knew were the people she’d met through her work at the orphanage, and none of them had reason to hate her.
But Reeves certainly had an enemy, even though they had never been able to figure out exactly why. There was someone who meant him harm and who tried to cause that harm by kidnapping the people Reeves cared about.
First Emma. Then he had broken into the house and tried to take Emma again. And now he had come after her.
Well, that’s good. If this kidnapper is going to attack someone, I’m glad it’s me and not Emma, she thought firmly as she sat in the dark, her arms wrapped around her knees.
It’s good that this has happened. Whatever comes next, I’ll just have to remember that.
It’s a good thing. I’m glad I’m the one it’s happening to.
The thoughts were fierce. They gave her strength as she sat in the darkness, waiting. She was able to beat back her fear. Whatever this was, it would no doubt be bad, but she would bear through it, armed with the knowledge that by being here, she was sparing Emma.
Whatever happens now, I can trust that she’ll be all right. This man, whoever he is, will focus his attention on me.
She would do all she could to make sure that she absorbed as much of his attention as possible so that he wouldn’t turn back and try to attack Emma again. Even if it was the last thing she ever did.
The door opened once more, allowing a crack of light into the room. The man came back in. She saw his hand lift to his face and begin to remove his mask, but then he closed the door, and she was in darkness once more.
“What do you want with me?” she managed and was relieved to hear that her voice had grown much steadier in the face of her resolve.
“It isn’t you I want,” the man growled.
There was the snap of a match being lit. A flicker of flame in the darkness. Then the flame grew bigger and brighter—he’d lit a lantern.
She could make him out now. He was facing away from her.
The lantern was in his hand, casting enough light for the two of them to see by, but not enough to make this room seem any less forbidding.
Bridget looked around the place. There was a low, uncomfortable-looking bed by one wall and a three-legged stool next to that.
No windows. Only one door. She knew the rooms of this inn.
She’d stayed in one of them. This wasn’t a room intended for guests.
The man turned to face her, unmasked for the first time.
And in the flicker of candlelight, Bridget got her first look at his face.
It was a face she had seen before—and one she had never expected to see again.
“It’s you,” she gasped, her heart missing a beat. “It’s been you the whole time!”