Chapter 42
Henry came to with splintered wood pricking his face. He shifted, but the rough surface dug into his skin, so he stopped, surveying what he could see with just his eyes.
He was on his stomach, his cheek against the floor of what appeared to be a run-down cottage of sorts. He could see a door in front of him and the edge of a bed in his periphery. And when he tried to move again, it was quickly evident that his hands and legs were bound.
He could also see the bottom of a window, with the night sky outside. That did not tell him much. Perhaps only twenty minutes had passed, but it could have been hours into the night. His head did not feel groggy enough for it to have been more than that.
The door opened, showing a room beyond before it was covered by the bulk of the stranger who’d abducted him.
The man paced deliberately toward Henry, squatting in front of him. Henry risked the splinters to turn his head and see him more clearly. It was a useless endeavor, unless one enjoyed staring at scarred, hardened faces. Henry was partial to . . . well, anything but.
“What do you plan to do with me?” Henry asked.
The man smiled. “My job. I’m to return you to Hastings and gain my reward.”
“Any chance of you delaying that by a day? A few hours?” Henry asked.
“Not on your life.”
“Would you be convinced to free my hands?”
The man shook his head.
“Help me sit?”
“Not a chance.” He stood, pacing back to the door. “We leave with the morning tide,” he said by way of parting as he slipped outside.
Henry wasted no time. Earning himself a few cuts on his face, he used his cheek as leverage to pull himself into a ball and loop his hands around his feet so they were in front of him instead of behind.
The movement was strenuous, but once he had his bound hands in view, it was worth the stretching and throbbing in his recently healed shoulder.
Eventually, he had to face the mess he’d left in London. But no amount of honor was going to keep him from ensuring Alice was safe first.
Just as soon as he freed himself from his bands.
His feet were not too much of a problem, with his fingers free enough to work the knot.
His captor checked back in on him once, and Henry had to abandon his efforts and throw himself into a ball on the floor—earning another few scrapes in the process—to appear just as prone and useless as when the man had left.
The second he disappeared, Henry was back to work.
He would be in a real mess if the man discovered that his feet were free yet his hands still bound, but the pressure of moving quickly made his fingers less nimble and more prone to error.
He cursed silently more than once, but painstakingly, inch by inch, he loosened the bands around his wrists.
A loud slam froze Henry’s movements for half a second, then he renewed his efforts with vigor, eyes on the door all the while, expecting it to open any moment.
He heard a man shout. Then another thump.
And then it was quiet. Until the door pulled wide with a prolonged creak.
Henry let his hands fall in shock and, frankly, disbelief. “What are you doing here?”
James Fenwick, Earl of Bowcott, grinned as he strode in.
“I’m rescuing you.” He glanced over his shoulder.
“Lucas pummeled that man back there, but I got to you first, so I think that means I won.” He gestured for Henry to put his hands out, and in an excruciatingly short amount of time, he had the bands released.
Henry stared at them in disbelief. “I loosened that for you.”
Lucas appeared in the doorway, and for a moment, a wave of shame overtook Henry. They’d come. He had no idea how or why, but they’d come, even after he’d treated them abominably.
He rubbed his wrist. “I . . . thank you.”
Lucas nodded. James grinned.
“We’re friends, Henry,” Lucas said, as if there were no more to it than that.
Henry swallowed. But as much as he wished his friends to know the extent of his gratitude, he didn’t have the time.
“Do you have a horse? Alice is in danger.”
James arched a brow. “Mrs. Seymour?”
“You know her?” Henry was already striding to the door.
“She told us the direction to find you in. Julia says you’re in love with her.”
“She is right.” Henry strode through the house, speaking over his shoulder as his friends followed. “Do you have a horse?”
“Two, actually.”
He pushed outside into the night. “I need one. I am sorry—I will explain all later, but there is smuggling afoot tonight, and Windvale is involved. I need to get to Alice.”
Lucas swore. Henry quite agreed.
James untied his horse’s reins, thrusting them to Henry. “Go on ahead, and I will catch up with one of the carriage horses from your captor—Lucas will be more help to you than I, if it comes down to it.”
Henry certainly hoped it was not so bad that he would need his pugilist friend to get them out, but he just nodded, adjusting the stirrups of the nearest horse and swinging into the saddle.
With a jerk of the reins and direction with his legs, he turned the horse around.
Lucas was seconds behind him as he took off up the road.