Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Six
Benedict and Charles left Sophie’s ancestral home before dawn to return to the abandoned hunting lodge in hopes of finding Sophie’s brother and Benedict’s murderous cousin who was conspiring with him. He had left Sophie sleeping peacefully in the bed they shared there. Benedict had traced the curve of her cheek with the backs of his fingers hoping today the threat to his life would be over, and he would no longer have to worry that Sophie would be in danger just by being with him. But he did wonder if he was successful in finding her brother, how would she react to the news, especially if he had to kill him as Benedict wished to do? Would she resent him? He had kissed her cheek before leaving and couldn’t avoid feeling that something just wasn’t quite right with her.
Now he and Charles crouched hidden among the brush and trees of the forest, looking down at the abandoned cabin, a small plume of smoke indicating that someone was indeed there rose from the stone chimney. It was just the two of them, the men Harrison had sent with them, were at the estate watching over Sophie. Bella had taken Avanley’s carriage to visit her old nurse, so Sophie would be at the house alone. There was no way, Benedict would contemplate leaving her without protection.
“While I am not concerned with taking Pettigrew, I do have reservations about going in blind not knowing if he is alone,” Charles said as he checked his pistol.
Benedict nodded. “I think you should go around the back. There was one small window on the side, take the opportunity to peek inside. I plan on walking in the front door.”
Charles’ brow furrowed. “The front door? Do you think that wise?”
“I will not hide, nor will I give Pettigrew the satisfaction of appearing as if he and his actions have caused me concern.”
“What of his accomplice?”
Benedict readied his pistol. “I will deal with him as well; it matters not to me that we are related. There obviously is no family loyalty between us, the man is trying to kill me in order to steal my inheritance, an inheritance I never even wanted to begin with.” His lips turned up on one corner in a dangerous smile. “It’s quite ironic, isn’t it?” He began moving toward the front of the lodge keeping low and as quiet as possible.
Charles walked around back, trying to stay out of sight of the window. When he reached the side of the lodge, the glass on the window was dirty and the lodge dark, but from what he could see, there was only one person inside, Pettigrew.
Benedict watched as Charles moved to the back of the lodge. He gave him time to get in place and then he made his way to the front door. He opened the door and strode leisurely inside, his pistol pointed at Pettigrew’s heart.
“You….”
Benedict couldn’t help but smile at the look of abject fear and surprise on the young man’s face. If it had been anyone else, he might have felt a twinge of sympathy for him, but this man had tormented and hurt Sophie throughout her childhood, and then upon becoming Viscount, he put her in a position where she was hungry, cold, afraid, and instead of being there for her as a brother should, he offered her up to his friends as sport. No, the man quaking before him deserved no mercy.
“Good morning, Pettigrew. I see you were not expecting us.”
Pettigrew’s fists clenched at his side. “Us?”
At that moment, Charles moved into the room, his pistol also pointed at the younger man’s chest. “I’m not certain we have been introduced.”
Benedict took a step closer. “Pettigrew, have you met my very close friend the Duke of Avanley? Charles, allow me to introduce the low-life piece of scum my wife has the displeasure of calling her brother. Oh, and let’s not forget the man who has made multiple attempts to kill me.”
Pettigrew raised his chin a notch higher ignoring the exaggerated introduction. “How did you find me?”
“That’s of no consequence. What is important is why you have been trying to kill me and who is helping you because we all know you don’t have the brains or the balls to do it yourself?”
Charles moved to take a seat on a chair behind him. “Sloppy job of it too, Pettigrew. Lucky for my friend here.”
Pettigrew’s face turned red. “It doesn’t matter, you will die eventually, and then I will have it all back.”
The speed at which Benedict moved surprised the young man and before he could react, he was lifted from the floor by his throat. “You are a fool, Pettigrew, and I should kill you with my bare hands for the way you have repeatedly abused your sister.”
Benedict loosened his hold on the man’s throat and sat him back on the floor.
Pettigrew narrowed his gaze even though his eyes showed obvious fear. “I will have everything you took from me back, and then Sophie will earn my forgiveness…...from her back.”
Benedict pressed his pistol to the man’s heart, but it was Charles’ voice that returned him to sanity. “Perhaps we should get some answers from him before you kill him.”
Benedict lowered the pistol and released Pettigrew.
Charles stood and stepped forward. “We both know you are not acting alone and if you cooperate, I might could be persuaded to keep Kingston from killing you. Transportation to the colonies would at least allow you to keep your life.”
“And avoid any scandal that might upset my wife,” Benedict added.
Pettigrew’s breathing increased as his temper flared. “You know nothing.”
Charles growled. “Hmm, I actually thought you might have enough common sense to save your life, I suppose I was wrong.” He looked at Benedict. “How do you want to do this? Shall we make it a quick death, or would you like to have some sport?”
Benedict’s chuckle held no mirth. “Most definitely sport.” He pulled a knife from inside his coat pocket. “This is where I always have trouble. I’m so indecisive.” He removed his coat and began rolling up his sleeves. “Do we take off digits or simply slice him like a ham? Luckily, I learned a few things from Davenport that will come in handy when making him suffer for a prolonged period of time without killing him immediately.”
Charles moved behind Pettigrew and gripped him so he couldn’t escape. “This is your play, not mine. Although, I do prefer digits.” He leaned a bit closer. “We could start with his manhood, that should make him talk.”
Benedict stalked forward, knife in hand. Pettigrew’s face turned stark white as his eyes watched the knife moving closer. “No!”
“Ah, come now, Pettigrew. You refuse to talk, so accept the fate with at least a touch of bravery.”
Benedict pressed the knife against young Pettigrew’s crotch. “Castration is a messy business, but in this case…”
Pettigrew was sweating profusely now. “Stop!”
Benedict arched his brows. “Changed your mind?”
“I’m not the only one that wants to see you fall, Kingston. I’m not the only one who thinks you aren’t worthy of being the Duke of Kenworth, not worthy to bed my sister. You are not worthy of any of the things you have been given.”
Benedict pressed the knife to his chest.
“Shortly after you married Sophie, I was approached by a man…your cousin, Sebastian Bradford. He saw our altercation on the day of the sham you call a wedding. About a week later he came to me. He knew about your uncle’s decision to make you his heir and saw it for the travesty that it is.”
“You obviously don’t understand how succession works, Pettigrew. It is not as if his uncle pulled his name out of a hat. He was next in line, his heir apparent,” Charles replied, growing bored with everything rather quickly.
“I understand that he is nothing but filth that doesn’t deserve to be Duke of Kenworth.”
Benedict rolled his eyes. “Yes, we already know your feelings on the matter. Where is Bradford? Tell me what you know. Surely, he must realize that he will not get away with my murder now that we know his intentions.”
Pettigrew’s grin made Benedict feel uneasy. “You haven’t figured everything out have you, Kingston?”
Benedict shoved the man into the chair Charles had vacated. “Tell me!”
“He approached me and offered me a deal. If I helped him kill you, he would return to me everything I had lost once he became duke, including Sophie.”
“Sophie will never again be in your clutches, Pettigrew, no matter what happens to me.”
Her brother tried to stand, but Charles was behind him and shoved him down into the seat again. “The cousin, where is he?”
“Bradford returned to England from the colonies when he heard of your uncle’s sickness. He had thought that if you met with some sort of accident that led to your early demise, he could easily step into the role and inherit.”
Charles walked around to face him. “Surely, he must know that he will never inherit. So, save us some time and tell us where he is.”
Pettigrew didn’t answer. “This isn’t finished. He has other plans.”
Charles pulled him to his feet. “Enough talking, let’s turn him over to the Bow Street Runner. Perhaps Mr. Gray has news of your cousin.”
Pettigrew took the opportunity and quickly elbowed Charles, breaking free long enough to pull a small pistol he had hidden from the inside of his jacket. He fired and Benedict felt the burn as the ball passed through the flesh of his upper arm, but his reaction time was quicker, and he had already fired his pistol in response and Pettigrew dropped to the ground.
Benedict rushed over. “You’re a fool, Pettigrew.” He examined the wound but immediately saw that it was mortal. “Is there anything you would like to say before you leave this world? Anything to ease your conscience. A word for your sister, perhaps.”
Pettigrew blinked a few times, blood oozing from his lips. “It’s too late for her.”
Benedict looked quickly to Charles and then back to Pettigrew. “What do you mean?”
Pettigrew’s eyes closed and Benedict patted his cheeks hoping to keep him alive long enough to discover what he meant by his words. “Pettigrew?”
“You are too late…. he knew you would come today. You left her alone and now he has her. You still lose, Kingston.”
He coughed and his breathing began to rattle. He didn’t have much time left.
“Pettigrew?!”
The young man opened his eyes again, his breathing shallow and raspy. “Ransom.” His eyes closed, and Benedict felt for a pulse, but Edward Pettigrew’s evil heart no longer beat.
Charles stood. “We need to get back to the house…. now!”
Benedict nodded as fear gripped his chest. If what Pettigrew said was true, Sophie could be in more danger than ever.
As Benedict and Charles raced back to the house, he couldn’t stop thinking of the fact that it would be his fault if some harm befell her. He should never have allowed her to stay with him when she arrived in London. He had allowed his lust and desire for his wife to be near him to cloud his judgment and now Sophie could pay for his carelessness. Charles had said very little since they left the hunting lodge where Pettigrew’s body still lay in the dust, but Benedict could see from the look on his face that he was deeply concerned over Pettigrew’s threat. He knew his friend was also thinking of Bella. While she had planned to be gone for the day, he knew there was a small twinge of fear that she might have returned early.
Their horses were being pushed beyond exhaustion and when the house came into view, Benedict felt his heart pounding fiercely in his chest. They moved closer and when they reached the front of the house, Benedict slid from his horse and raced toward the two bodies lying on the ground. It was Harrison’s men, the men he had left to guard and protect his wife, while Charles went in search of his carriage, making certain Isobel was still away visiting her nurse.
Charles had already pulled his pistol as he looked around. He gripped Benedict’s shoulder to gain his attention. “Someone’s here.”
Benedict drew his pistol and faced the front door.
The steps grew closer. Both men leveled their pistols toward the doorway ready to fire if necessary.
They both let out heavy sighs when a man they were very familiar with materialized from the shadows. “Davenport?! What the hell are you doing here?”
Benedict lowered his pistol. “Did you do this?”
Camden Davenport frowned at the words. “Since you are under a great strain, I will pretend I didn’t hear that.”
Charles stepped forward. “Why are you here?”
Davenport slowly walked down the steps of the house to stand before them. “I received an urgent message from Harrison while Abigail and I were at Stafford Hall. It said that Kingston here had incurred the wrath of someone determined to see him dead. Harrison thought that with my particular set of skills, I could be of some help. He told me where the two of you could be found, and after leaving Abigail at Stafford House in London, I came here. These two were dead when I got here.”
“Sophie?” Benedict said as he started up the steps. Davenport stepped in front of him.
Davenport looked to Charles before addressing Benedict. “I have already searched the house, there is no one else here. But let me warn you, whoever did this was in the house. It has either been thoroughly searched or a scuffle occurred. It is quite a mess.”
Benedict moved back to his horse. “He has taken her.”
Charles raced to him. “We need fresh horses; these will not survive.”
“I have to go now!” Benedict pushed Charles away from him. “He has my wife!”
Davenport stepped between them. “Charles is right. You need fresh horses. Go to the stable and take what is there. Whoever took her came in a carriage. It will be easier to track than horseback. I will go with you and help as much as I can.”
Charles went to the stables to get horses while Benedict stared at the two bodies at his feet.
“Tell me, what has happened, Kingston? Who has taken your wife?”
Benedict shook his head. “A cousin of mine that would inherit the dukedom should I perish. All I have is a name, Sebastian Bradford. I’ve never met him, never seen his face. Sophie’s brother conspired with him; he is now dead. And now because of me, my wife has been taken by a man whose intentions I don’t know. I don’t know what he is capable of, I don’t know if he has hurt her if he has….” He raked a hand through his hair and kicked the dirt at his feet. “The longer we stand here, the farther away from me she is getting.”
“And if you don’t take the time to do this right, she might be lost forever.” He stepped closer. “I met a Sebastian Bradford a few years ago. Tell me, has he recently been living in the colonies or the Caribbean?”
“Yes, he just returned to England, presumably to kill me so he could inherit. My uncle never mentioned him. Why? Could it be the same person?”
Davenport frowned. “Possibly, the man I am speaking of approached me while I was working for Harrison disguised as a smuggler carrying information across the lines during the war with Napoleon. He knew I had cargo and wanted to get in on the money. He did not know of my reasons, and the last thing I needed or wanted was a partner that I couldn’t trust. When I refused, he became enraged and unhinged. I had to resort to violence to get him to see my way of thinking. He must know he will never inherit now, so I can only think of two reasons he has taken Sophie. He either needs money or wants revenge.”
Benedict shook his head. “Money, the bastard wants money. Pettigrew said one word before he died…. ransom. I would give all that I have to have her back, and he knows it.”
“Then he isn’t going to kill her if he is expecting you to pay for her release.” He looked down at the bodies lying at their feet. “We should get something from the house to cover their bodies before we leave. These men have not been dead long, if I had to guess, I would say an hour maybe two. We can easily catch up with a carriage that is only an hour away.”
At that moment, Charles walked toward them leading two horses. “They aren’t exactly what I would have wished for, but they were the only ones in the stables.”
A few minutes later Benedict emerged from the house and covered the bodies of Harrison’s men before quickly mounting the horse Charles held for him. “I’m going after her.”
Davenport looked to Charles. “I know which direction the carriage is headed. It will be easy to track.”
Benedict spurred his horse and followed behind Davenport.
A Few Hours Later
“How in the bloody hell are we to find a man none of us have ever set eyes on before?” Charles asked as they continued to move in the direction Davenport had indicated.
Davenport sent his longtime friend an irritated glance. “I would expect that question from almost anyone but you, Avanley. If it is the same man I knew from years earlier, I will remember.”
Kingston’s fear and anger grew with every mile they had ridden. “We may not have seen him, but he has seen me, and we are looking for a carriage. A much bigger target in an area as remote as this.”
Charles heaved a gruff sigh. “Do you plan on stopping every carriage you see?”
Kingston didn’t hesitate. “If need be. I will do everything in my power to find my wife.”
They continued riding in silence until Davenport pulled his horse to a stop. “Look there. It’s a small carriage, with no seal on the side and no outriders. Let’s approach carefully. Looks to only be one lone coachman.”
Benedict and Charles nudged their horses into a gallop and headed toward the carriage. As they got closer, the driver turned and saw them. Benedict had a minute to lock eyes with the man and as soon as he did, he knew, and in the man’s eyes he saw recognition followed by fear. It was Bradford. The cousin he had never met, the man that had tried to kill him on multiple occasions, and the man that had killed two agents for the crown and kidnapped his wife. Then suddenly the man turned and fired his pistol at them. Benedict leaned over his horse urging him to run faster.
Almost immediately the carriage increased its speed to a dangerous pace. Davenport and Charles both joined in the chase.
“He is going to crash, Kingston, if he doesn’t slow down! There is a sharp turn in the road up ahead.” Charles yelled as they drew closer.
Benedict watched helplessly as Bradford neared a curve on the road and watched in horror as the horses broke loose and the carriage flipped multiple times before going over the side of a cliff and into the river below.
All three men pulled their horses to a halt, jumped down, and ran to the scene. Benedict looked below at the carriage lying there in a thousand pieces. He saw the body of his cousin lying halfway in and out of the water, broken on the sharp rocks.
“Sophie. I have to get to her. She is probably hurt!”
Both Avanley and Davenport gave each other grim looks.
Benedict moved to slide down the cliff. Charles grabbed his arm. “Kingston, no.”
He shrugged his hand from his shoulder. “Sophie is down there! I have to get to her!”
“We know, we know, but this way is treacherous. Come, we will find a way down that will not get you killed in the process.”
The three of them ran a few feet back to where the cliff face was not as steep and climbed down to the wreckage. When Benedict reached the remnants of the carriage, he froze in his tracks. The carriage was broken to pieces, many of which were being carried away by the fast current of the river.
Charles moved over to where the body of Sebastian Bradford lay broken and bloody upon the rocks. There was no need to check for a pulse. He looked at Davenport knowing full well that if Sophie had been inside the carriage there was no way she could have survived the fall.
Benedict was combing through the broken lumber looking for anything of Sophie’s, a piece of her clothing, a lock of hair, anything that could help him find her. When he didn’t find her among the wreckage, he looked to the river. He walked out into the water up to his knees.
“Kingston, the current is swift. If she went into the water, it would carry her further downstream,” Charles called out, growing concerned at the crazed way his friend was searching.
Benedict felt around in the water, the current nearly taking him off his feet. “I must find her. She needs me to find her. She is probably scared and hurt.”
Charles once again looked to Davenport whose expression showed the worry he was feeling.
Benedict made his way downstream, searching, looking. “Sophie!” He called to her and yelled her name over and over.
Charles feeling a sense of hopelessness could no longer watch his friend torture himself and stepped forward. “Kingston…. she’s gone.”
Benedict shook his head. “No, we just haven’t found her.”
Davenport stepped into the water and took his friend by his shoulders. “Kingston, I am sorry, but you have to accept reality. If your wife was in that carriage, she would not have survived. The current has more than likely carried her body away.” He didn’t want to give his friend false hope, but he also knew the feeling of despair he was feeling. It had only been a few months since he almost lost his wife Abigail when she was shot by a French assassin. “There is a chance, even if it is slim, that she was not in the carriage. Perhaps she hid from him or was smart enough to escape.” He saw a glimmer of hope in his friend’s eyes. “We will search, we will find her, but you must accept the reality that there is a chance she did not survive.”
Benedict pushed his longtime friend away. “No! No, I will not accept it!”
Charles shook his head sadly on the banks. “Benedict we must return to the house. There are things that must be dealt with tonight. We will gather men and search the banks of the river, but it will be dark soon. We cannot find her tonight.”
Benedict didn’t want to hear the words; he didn’t want to accept what they were telling him. She couldn’t be gone. His Sophie couldn’t be gone.