Chapter 52
Chapter Fifty-Two
“There’s a good lad. That’s it,” a gravelly voice cajoled. “Come on now, my lord. We need to get out of here.”
Perry’s eyes refused to open, pain lancing through his head as it rolled from side to side. His thoughts were a muddle of memories and horrific scenes that couldn’t possibly be real.
A rough, callused palm gently slapped against his cheek, steering Perry from his daze. A sharp, pungent smell drifted beneath his nose. His eyes shot open, and he blinked rapidly, willing his body to come out of the fog in which he seemed trapped.
What happened?
He remembered sitting with the viscount, hearing the man’s mad confession and…nothing. His head ached like a team of horses had run over it. How much time had passed?
And who was this man?
A grizzled ruffian with a bald pate and a few lingering gray hairs sprouting around his ears. The man had an abhorrence for baths, of that Perry was certain. He was a large man, and for a moment, Perry worried he was done for. Was this another one of Newbridge’s bullies?
Lifting his head, he squinted, allowing his eyes to adjust to the meager light in the room. Perry squirmed against the ropes that still held him.
“Who are you?” he rasped, his throat parched.
“I’m Peter, Peter Smith, my lord,” the man explained, tugging on the ropes around Perry and sawing them one by one with a dagger.
“The Viscount Witney had me watching the house, and when I saw that smug bastard Newbridge leaving and you were nowhere in sight, I had a feeling you might be needin’ assistance. ”
All at once, the memories of his interaction with Newbridge came tumbling back with urgent ferocity. Panic seized his heart.
“Charlotte. She is in grave danger,” he blurted out, shuffling to the door as best he could while still feeling the effects of his head injury. “We must hurry.”
The older man nodded. “Of course, my lord. Be careful, I was able to silence the bounder that was guarding you, but he may be stirring now.”
Eyeing his gun on the desk, Perry slid the weapon back in its place, tucked against his chest under his coat.
Perry moved stealthily through the hallway, slower than he would have liked, to the entrance of the house.
Not a servant was to be found. Newbridge’s ruffian was curled up on the ground, a rough snore coming from his lips.
Breathing a sigh of relief, Perry stepped around the man, racing to the exit.
Afternoon light blinded him as he opened the door, the darkness of Newbridge’s home a stark contrast to the bright sunshine of that summer day. His eyes darted quickly around, searching for his guard.
Peter nodded toward the side of the home. “Your man is over there. I found where they dumped him. He’s gonna be alright when he wakes up.”
“How are we going to get to Wildwood? Can you drive?” Perry eyed the vehicle, ready to take matters into his own hands if need be.
Peter shrugged.
Unsure he could trust the ambivalence of the answer, Perry made his way toward the vehicle.
The sound of hoofs barreling down on them claimed his attention, and he looked over his shoulder.
A black carriage, haunting in its luxurious beauty, stopped in front of them.
With a soft sound, the door popped open before the wheels had stopped moving, and Michael waved them in.
Pausing for a moment to consider the welfare of his guard, Perry was torn, though his heart forced him to choose.
The safety of his family was his priority.
As Peter had said, the guard would be able to make his way back safely. He was out of danger by the side of a neighbor’s house, hidden from sight. They would send someone to come get him as soon as they arrived at Wildwood. Perry had to protect Newbridge’s target first and foremost.
“We must save Charlotte!” Perry demanded sharply. “Newbridge is after her.”
Michael and Beau seemed to sense his urgency as he climbed into the vehicle.
Peter joined the driver in the seat outside.
As soon as the door closed, they were off.
Perry wobbled as he found his seat, and the carriage picked up speed.
Scrubbing a hand through his hair, his heel thrummed a frantic rhythm against the carriage floor.
“Newbridge knocked me out and left me under guard. He is going after Charlotte and Aurelia next. Now that he has been found out, the man has little to lose. He is a madman with a need for vengeance,” Perry explained, the words flying from his mouth at a rapid pace.
“He is determined to see me dead and buried, but only after exacting some kind of revenge for what he perceives as the wrongs I did to Eliza and his family.”
Michael pressed his lips together, his eyes narrowing.
“The information I received from my sources tells of a man hurtling toward bankruptcy. With a little digging, it is evident that his family has been struggling for a long time. The Whispers were able to discover that he is desperate. Newbridge’s estate was debt-ridden during his father’s life, and Eliza would have been the solution to all his problems. Until your father came along… that is.”
“Who or what are The Whispers?” Perry asked, his voice tinged with pain.
“They are my network of informants. I have a few connections, and I use them to seek out intelligence for my various…pursuits. You must attend to your wound once we find Charlotte,” Michael said, his brows knitting in concern.
Leaning his head back on the plush seat of the carriage, he closed his eyes. He had forgotten the head injury for a moment. Perry touched a hand to the open wound. The area was tender, but the blood had dried during his time spent unconscious.
“Thank you for sending Peter. I only hope we are not too late,” Perry said, his eyes filling with sorrow.
The way time stretched out painfully on the drive to his destination was killing him.
What if they were too late? He mouthed a silent prayer as his gaze traveled outside the window.
The extra men he had hired would surely keep Newbridge from attempting any harm. As long as they knew he meant harm.
Thomas had a way of appearing weak and innocuous. He was known to the family. The man kept a tight leash on his insanity, never letting anyone see the evil that resided within him.
Perry cursed himself for not gathering the servants and warning them of his newfound enemy’s suspicious behavior. Of course, he had no way of knowing before his meeting with the viscount that there was any danger. His mistake may have cost him everything.
“We will get there in time. He can’t have done much, what with the close surveillance around your family. You protected them well,” Beau reassured, squeezing Perry by the shoulder. “I am glad to see you weren’t harmed too grievously. We worried we had arrived too late. Peter was a godsend.”
Michael nodded. “He is one of my best men. I trust him with my life. When he is not captaining my ships, he works closely with me and my network.”
His gaze flicked back to Michael. He studied his friend in his charcoal tailcoat and black silk cravat.
When this was all over, Perry was determined to learn more about this so-called network Michael worked with.
It sounded terribly mysterious, and frankly, had come to his rescue in this dire situation.
His heart nearly leaped from his chest as they approached the Wildwood.
It took everything in him not to injure himself by jumping from the carriage.
Newbridge was unhinged, and it would not help to approach the situation in a threatening manner.
Perry needed stay calm to protect his family.
As the wheels finally came to a halt, the horses chuffed, their breaths heavy as Perry exited the coach.
They had come at quite a clip, and Perry was thankful for Michael’s skilled driver.
Bentley opened the door as Perry climbed the stairs, as though he had been eagerly awaiting the earl.
“My lord, you have a visitor.”
“Where is he?” Perry asked, his words laced with a deadly threat. There was still a chance that no harm had come to anyone yet. “Get the guards. We must apprehend him.”
“I left him in the drawing room, my lord,” the man explained. “He wanted to speak with you on an urgent manner. Jones is guarding him.”
Relief flooded his chest as Perry rushed past the butler with the other men on his heels.
Perry pushed aside the guard standing outside the room and opened the door where Newbridge was said to be waiting.
Searching the space frantically, Perry unbuttoned his jacket, his hand reaching for the smooth barrel of his shotgun.
A sick feeling of dread washed over him as his eyes landed on the slightly parted brocade curtains.
The fabric fluttered lightly in the summer breeze.
Hastening toward the other side of the room, Perry swept aside the curtain, dread climbing in his throat. The French door was ajar.
Newbridge had escaped.
Shaking his head to clear the sheer panic that gripped him, Perry turned to his butler, who stared wide-eyed with concern upon recognizing the emptiness of the room. The man had no idea how close he was to being fired, though Perry had more pressing issues that required his immediate attention.
“Where is the countess?” the earl roared, shaking the house to the rafters.