Chapter 29
By the time Theodore found Abigail, the search had spread well beyond the house.
Men were checking the western road and every path leading toward the cliffs, while Eric had forced himself to remain at Wolverton for the few minutes necessary to discover what Atlas had told the housekeeper.
Those minutes felt obscene when Adelaide had already been gone for hours.
“Where did he take her?”
Abigail stood before Eric’s desk, crying so hard that she had to press both hands against her mouth before she could answer.
“I don’t know, Your Grace.”
“You spoke to Atlas this morning.”
“Yes.”
“You carried his message.”
“I thought Mrs. Sullyard wished to show Her Grace something about you. About Mr. Holbrook.” Her words tumbled over one another. “Atlas said there was proof. He said the duchess had been deceiving you and that you deserved to know before she made a fool of you.”
Theodore shifted beside the door.
Eric kept his eyes on Abigail.
“And the letter?”
“He told me to put it here after Her Grace went outside.”
“So you knew she would leave.”
“I knew she was meeting Mrs. Sullyard.” Abigail’s face crumpled. “I didn’t know they would take her.”
“But you knew something was being arranged behind her back.”
“Yes.” The admission came as a whisper.
Eric’s anger sharpened. “You disliked my wife enough to help him?”
Abigail looked down. “I thought Her Grace was changing everything. The household, the way things were done. She treated servants as though…” She faltered. “I thought she was improper. Too radical. And Atlas said she was dangerous to you.”
“So you decided he knew my wife better than I did.”
“Yes.”
Eric looked away before his temper overcame him.
Abigail began crying harder. “But I would never help anyone hurt her. Never. If I had known—”
“Then help her now.”
She stared at him.
“Think. Anything Atlas said. Any place. Any instruction.”
Abigail shook her head, then stopped.
“There was a house.”
Eric straightened. “What house?”
“I heard him speaking to Mrs. Sullyard yesterday. She asked why anyone still kept it.”
“Where?”
“Near the sea cliffs. An old keeper’s place, I think. She said it ought to have been sold years ago, but he told her it was useful because no one went there.”
Something struck Eric’s memory for Harrington’s ledger. One of the properties buried among the irregular accounts.
Eric crossed to the papers he had brought from his coat and unfolded Harrington’s notes. “Was it called Greymere Cottage?”
Abigail’s eyes widened. “Yes.”
Theodore pushed away from the door. “How far?”
“Perhaps twelve miles. Near the old coastal path.”
Eric stared at the name. Greymere had appeared twice in Atlas’s dealings. Maintenance charged against Wolverton funds despite the property producing no income. Payments routed through one of Atlas’s intermediaries.
He had thought it another piece of financial theft, but it was not. Atlas had been maintaining somewhere private. Somewhere forgotten.
Eric folded the paper. “Get every man who can ride.”
Theodore was already moving.
Abigail caught Eric’s sleeve before seeming horrified by her own boldness. “Your Grace.”
He looked at her.
“If you find her…” Her voice broke. “Please tell Her Grace I am sorry.”
Eric pulled free. “You can tell her yourself when I bring her home.”
Then he ran.
The ride to Greymere devoured the remainder of the afternoon.
The old coastal track split from the main estate road several miles beyond Wolverton, then wound through scrub, low woodland, and stretches of open ground where the sea appeared suddenly between the trees.
Eric had ridden those lands as a boy, but not this far in years.
There were miles of cliffs belonging to Wolverton, broken by old shepherd paths, abandoned cottages, disused watch posts, and forgotten buildings once useful to men who had worked the coast. He had spent the last five years avoiding most of the estate and had never cared enough to learn which of those ruins still stood.
Now one of them held his wife.
“Keep to the lower path.”
Olivia rode close enough that Eric could hear her over the horses.
“The upper track opens onto the cliff. If Atlas has anyone watching, they’ll see us before we see them.”
Theodore glanced across. “You’ve been here before?”
“Not Greymere.” Olivia tightened her reins as her mare picked her way over loose stone. “But Atlas always preferred places with only one obvious approach. He likes believing he controls how people enter and leave.”
Eric looked at her. There were things in that sentence he would have to ask later… If later came.
He forced his attention forward. “You’re certain you should be here?”
Olivia gave him a look that belonged entirely to the sister he remembered. “You’ve asked me four times.”
“And you have failed to become sensible four times.”
“Adelaide protected me. She stood between me and Atlas when she had no idea who I was. And now he has her because—”
“Do not finish that sentence.”
Olivia’s mouth closed.
Eric lowered his voice. “None of this is because of you.”
“He wanted me first.”
“Years ago.”
“He learned what grief did to you because of what I did.”
“That still does not make Adelaide’s abduction your fault.”
Olivia stared ahead. “You sound remarkably reasonable for a man riding toward a murderer.”
“I am trying something new.”
Theodore made a grim sound that might have been a laugh.
Eric looked toward him.
Theodore had scarcely spoken since they left Wolverton. All the usual ease had vanished from him. His face was set, his attention fixed ahead.
“You don’t have to come farther.”
Theodore turned in the saddle. “If you say that to me again, I may push you off your horse.”
Eric almost smiled. “Very loyal.”
“To Adelaide, yes.”
“I gathered.”
“She would come for me.”
There was no hesitation in his tone, which silenced Eric.
Of course she would. Adelaide would have complained the entire way. She would have informed everyone involved that the plan was idiotic, taken command of it anyway, and reached Theodore before any sensible man could stop her.
Eric looked toward the road. Everything he had once believed he could never have rode with him now. His sister, alive beside him. And ahead, somewhere within the gray stone ruin near the sea, his wife.
His wife.
I love you.
He recalled the memory, and Adelaide had opened her mouth to answer, but Atlas had interrupted.
Eric’s hands tightened around the reins because he did not know whether she loved him. Now he would have given anything merely to hear her call him an idiot again.
The coastal wind strengthened as they climbed and Olivia pulled her mare closer. “Eric… I can’t do this twice.”
Eric reached across the narrow space between the horses and caught her wrist. “You aren’t.”
“You don’t know that.”
“No.” He held her gaze. “But I know Adelaide.”
Olivia looked at him. “So do I.”
“Then you know she is making his life intolerable at this exact moment.”
That brought the smallest smile. “Yes.”
“She is probably correcting his grammar.”
“Almost certainly.”
“And whatever Atlas intended to do quietly has already become considerably more difficult simply because he chose the wrong woman.”
Theodore glanced back. “That may be the most comforting thing you’ve said all day.”
Eric released Olivia’s wrist. “She will be there.”
The certainty was partly for his sister and partly for himself. “She will.”
They rode another half mile before Theodore raised one hand. “There.”
Greymere appeared between wind-bent trees. The building sat lower than Eric expected, half concealed by the slope descending toward the sea. Stone walls, patched roof, one narrow chimney no longer in use.
Beyond it, the land fell away toward another shelf of cliffs. Not the cliffs where Olivia’s belongings had been found years ago. Those were miles farther north, nearer the old family paths. Wolverton’s coast extended too far for one tragedy to own all of it.
That did not stop Eric’s stomach from twisting at the sound of water below. They dismounted beneath the cover of the trees. Theodore took the horses farther back.
Olivia caught Eric’s sleeve. “Atlas may have two men.”
“You know that?”
“No. Elise said there were two when Adelaide was taken.”
Eric nodded. “We assume both are here.”
“And Loretta.”
His mouth hardened. “Perhaps.”
Olivia’s expression changed. “She may not understand what he intends.”
“She helped take Adelaide.”
“Yes.”
“That limits my sympathy.”
“I didn’t ask you to forgive her.”
“Good.”
Theodore returned. “There’s a carriage behind the structure. No crest.”
“Elise was right.”
Eric looked toward Greymere. One door faced inland. Another, narrower entrance appeared near the side wall. A boarded window sat high enough that someone inside would struggle to see anyone approaching close to the stone.
Eric turned. “Theodore, you take the side door.”
Theodore nodded.
“Olivia remains between us.”
Suddenly, a voice carried faintly from inside, and he stopped breathing. It was too muffled to distinguish words.
Adelaide.
Every other thought disappeared, and Eric moved.
Theodore caught his arm. “Quietly.”
Eric looked down at the hand. Theodore released him. “Right. Foolish suggestion.”
They crossed the final stretch low against the stone, and Eric heard voices now.
Atlas.
Another man.
Adelaide.
He could not understand the sentence, but the cadence was hers. He pressed himself against the wall beside the door and looked toward Theodore.
Theodore pointed toward the rear. One man.
He had seen someone outside.
Eric nodded, and Olivia whispered, “Atlas favors his right hand.”
Eric glanced at her. “What?”
“If he has a weapon, watch his right.”
Something about the way she said it told him that knowledge had been earned. His anger deepened.
Theodore slipped away toward the side, and Eric remained by the main entrance. Inside, Loretta’s voice rose. “No!”
Then Adelaide. “He intends to kill me.”
Eric’s entire body went still and Olivia’s face drained white. A man’s voice snapped something Eric could not make out.
Theodore appeared briefly beyond the corner and held up two fingers. Two men total besides Atlas.
Then one finger toward the rear. He had one.
Eric nodded.
The next few seconds happened almost without thought. A shout behind the building, and Eric drove his shoulder into the door. Wood cracked near the lock. Inside, someone shouted. Olivia yelled his name behind him. Eric stepped back and kicked beside the latch. The door burst inward.
And he crossed the threshold.
Adelaide stood near the far wall. Atlas stood behind her with one arm dragged across her middle and a knife held near her throat. Loretta, white-faced, had backed against the opposite wall.
For one frozen instant, no one moved.
Atlas stared at Eric, and the shock on his face was almost grotesque.
He had obviously been so certain that Eric was safely in London.
Eric barely noticed him. He could only see Adelaide. When her eyes found his, everything in her face changed.
Adelaide never looked away from him as she answered a question he had not heard asked.
“My husband.”
Her mouth curved, and he saw that pride and certainty lived in the smile. As though she had known all along that if there were roads between them, he would ride them. If there were walls, he would break them.