Chapter 31
“Ishouldn’t have said that to her,” Emma whispered. “I don’t hate Bridget, Papa.”
It seemed that Bridget’s departure had been the thing to finally break down the walls around Emma.
She spoke now as well as she ever had. But Reeves could see that she was still deeply troubled.
She hadn’t smiled since Bridget left, and finally—a full day later—he had pulled her aside and insisted she tell him what the matter was.
He could have guessed the answer for himself, of course. She regretted the way she had left things with Bridget, as he’d known she would.
“She knows you don’t hate her,” he said, rubbing his daughter’s back gently. The two of them sat before the fire in the sitting room, and Emma stared moodily into the flames. “She never thought you did. You said something you didn’t mean because you were upset. Bridget knew that.”
“What if she didn’t know?”
“She did,” Reeves said. “She told me she did.”
“Was she very angry with me?”
“She wasn’t angry at all. She was sad to be leaving you behind, too,” Reeves told his daughter. “You know how important that orphanage is to her. You got to meet some of those children, right?”
“I don’t really mind if she loves them more than me,” Emma said, but her voice was thick with sadness. “They don’t have anyone else who loves them, and I do, so… so that’s only fair, right?”
“It’s very generous of you to say so,” Reeves told his daughter.
“You’re allowed to be sad about it, though.
Bridget was very special to you. I know that.
And you were special to her, too, Emma—even if she does have other children she needs to care for.
They need her more than you do. That’s true.
But that doesn’t mean she loves you any less.
She just understands that you and I have one another. ”
“I know,” Emma said. “But I was hoping…” She trailed off.
“You were hoping what?” Reeves pressed her.
“It’s just… I thought how nice it might be if… if she were my mother,” Emma whispered.
Reeves’ heart cracked. “I’m sorry you don’t have a mother,” he said. “I wish you did too. I know a father isn’t the same thing.”
“It’s a good thing, though.” Emma leaned her head on his shoulder. “I wanted both, that’s all. I guess that’s greedy. Those orphans don’t have a mama or a papa.”
“It isn’t greedy at all,” Reeves murmured.
“You could have married Bridget,” Emma said. “That’s what I thought was going to happen after I saw you dance with her. I thought you’d marry her, and she would become my mother, and… and we would all be a family. Why didn’t you?”
“It’s a beautiful idea,” Reeves said. “But marriage is a little more complicated than that. I don’t think Bridget wants to marry. She certainly doesn’t want to marry me.”
“Why not?” Emma stared up at him. “You’re nice.”
Reeves had to laugh. Of all the possible words that could be used to describe him, nice was one of the very last he would have expected anyone to use. But he understood his daughter’s meaning. “We aren’t in love with one another,” he said.
“Sometimes people marry who aren’t in love,” she pointed out.
“That’s true,” Reeves said.
“So, you could marry Bridget anyway, so that she could stay here and be my mother.”
Reeves sighed. “I still don’t think that’s what she wanted,” he said. “And if she didn’t want it, it could never have happened. It’s a lovely idea, though. Maybe someday we’ll find someone.”
He didn’t really believe that. He liked the idea of a future with Bridget—he could see himself in a marriage with her, as strange as that seemed, given that he had been so sure he would never marry again. But surely he would never find anyone else.
That was impossible to conceive of. He didn’t even want to. He had allowed himself to open up to Bridget, and she had gone, and now he was lonely in a way he had never realized he could be. Without her, his life was measurably worse than it had been before she had come into it.
He’d have liked to say he would never let anyone get close to him like that again, but his defenses had been shattered by her, and he genuinely didn’t know whether he would be able to prevent it from happening.
He would fight to prevent it, though. He didn’t want to fall in love. If that was what he felt for Bridget—and he believed it was—it wasn’t worth letting it happen again. Nothing was worth this pain.
The doors were flung open, interrupting his thoughts, and Norman came hurrying in. His hair was wet, flakes of snow clinging to it, and his eyes were wild.
“Reeves,” he gasped. “You have to come quickly.”
Reeves shot to his feet, fear immediately spiking. The first thought in his mind was that something had happened to Bridget.
Beside him, Emma jumped up too. He turned to her. “You stay here,” he said firmly. Whatever this was, it wouldn’t do her any good to see it.
“Papa, no,” she insisted.
“Yes,” he said firmly. “You stay right here in this room. I’ll come back and get you as soon as I’m able.”
He turned and followed Norman from the room.
Norman led him down the hall and toward the servants’ quarters. “The carriage just got back,” he said in a low, hurried voice. “We don’t know what happened. It looks like he rode back as quickly as he could, but… well, you’ll see. Just come.”
He led Reeves down the servants’ hall. One of the doors stood open, and there was a crowd around it.
“Out of here,” Reeves said sternly to the maids and footmen who had gathered. “Back to your work.” He stopped one of the maids and added, “Emma is up in the sitting room. Go and sit with her, please. I don’t want her on her own.”
The maid nodded and hurried off.
Reeves made his way into the room and saw his carriage driver lying prone on the bed. A bandage had been wrapped around the man’s head, and there was a compress over his eyes.
“What happened, here?” he demanded, his heart pounding.
At the sound of his voice, the driver tried to sit up. “Your Grace.”
“No,” Reeves said firmly. “You’re injured. Don’t get up. Tell me from there. What happened to you?”
The man took a shuddering breath. “We were going to stay at the inn for the night,” he said.
“The snow slowed us down—we had no hope of making it to the orphanage before nightfall. We had just stopped when something struck me from behind, and that’s the last I recall.
The next memory I have is of waking up in the snow.
Lady Bridget was gone, and so was my assailant.
The only clue I had to what had happened was this note, which someone had tucked into the palm of my hand.
It’s addressed to you, so I rode back here as quickly as I could. ”
He spoke quickly, as if the speech were one he had been practicing, which it probably was.
Reeves was sure he’d been nervous to explain how he had managed to lose the woman under his care.
He was tempted to respond with rage—he certainly felt it.
But this wasn’t the driver’s fault. He’d been attacked.
He could have done nothing more to protect Bridget.
No, it’s the attacker I’m so angry at. I need to know who that person is so that I can make them pay. Preferably in blood.
“Give me the note,” he said, his voice tight.
The driver handed it to him.
It was crumpled and slightly damp, but Reeves had no problem reading the words, and they chilled his blood.
Your Grace—
You might have thought you’d escaped my plans unharmed when your daughter returned to you, though whether she was unharmed is perhaps a bit of a sore subject.
I know she hasn’t spoken to you since her return.
I wonder if that’s because she blames you for allowing her to be taken away.
Perhaps she can’t forgive you for what happened to her. An interesting thought.
You’ll be glad to know that round two of our little tete-a-tete won’t involve a kidnapping. This time, you’re going to hand her to me directly.
Your choice is very simple.
Come to the Featherstone Inn. I know you’re familiar with that place. Bring Emma with you. If you bring her to me, Lady Bridget will be released to you.
If you fail to comply, Lady Bridget will never again see the light of day. I wonder if she’ll beg for her life? It might be entertaining, but this is business, and I have no intention of showing mercy.
You have twenty-four hours. If I don’t see you, I will assume you’re not coming. Lady Bridget will pay the price for that mistake.
There was no signature. No indication of who the note had come from. Of course not. This vile criminal wouldn’t want to risk being tied to his crimes with any evidence.
A painful chill had taken root in Reeves’ chest, a sort of frigid rage unlike anything he had ever felt before in his life.
He couldn’t turn his daughter over. That wasn’t something he was even going to consider, and it was shocking that anyone would ask. There was nothing in the world that would compel him to sacrifice Emma.
But he couldn’t allow Bridget to be killed either. If she were murdered for the crime of knowing and trying to help him, Reeves knew that he would never be able to forgive himself.
“I believe he’ll do it,” the driver spoke up. “He’ll kill Lady Bridget if he doesn’t get what he wants. He would have killed me if he didn’t need me to deliver the ransom note. If you don’t give Emma to him, he’ll kill her.”
“Papa?”
Reeves spun around, his heart sinking.
Emma was standing in the doorway, her eyes wide with horror. “Is someone going to kill Bridget?” she asked, her voice trembling.
“Emma, I told you to stay in the sitting room…”
“But are they?”
“No,” he said. “No one will hurt Bridget.”
“You’re lying to me,” she whispered, her eyes searching his. “I can tell when you lie, Papa.” She swallowed hard. “Someone wants me. They want you to give me to them so they don’t kill Bridget. That’s what you were talking about.”
“Emma, no one is giving you to anybody. You don’t need to worry about that.”
“And what if I want you to do it?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Papa, you can’t let her die! You have to go and save her, and you have to take me with you!”
Reeves stalked past her, out of the room. The note crumpled in his fist.
Emma ran after him. “Papa!” she insisted. “If you let them kill Bridget, I will never forgive you!”
“I won’t let anyone do anything to Bridget,” Reeves growled, fury spiking through him. “I fully intend to go and meet this villain, Emma.”
“So, we’re going?”
“You’re going nowhere. You’re staying right here, where you’ll be safe,” he said. “I’m the one who’s going.”
“But, Papa…”
“Emma, we’re not having a conversation about this.
My mind is made up. You’ll stay here at Greystone, where I know nobody can harm you.
I’m not going to put you at risk. Not for anything in the world,” he said.
“You’re right that we can’t leave Bridget in danger.
I’m going to go and help her. I don’t want you to worry.
But I’m going on my own. I’ll take care of this, and when I return, we’ll all be safe. ”