“You rode here alone?” Devons asked, disapprovingly.
She glanced his way, annoyed at his tone. “My husband is away. My coachman is waiting just outside.”
Sam stood. “We need to find her now.”
Fear clutched at his heart. He couldn’t lose her. Their life together was just beginning. There was so much left unsaid.
“I will see Lady Hensley to her carriage,” Devons said, frowning at him with concern.
Diana shook her head. “I am not leaving until you find my sister.”
Sam looked at her. He could tell she was barely keeping it together.
“Diana, I promise you I will bring her home. Henry needs you as well as your baby.”
She flushed but looked at him stubbornly. “I have complete trust in my staff.”
Sam knew she wanted to stay, but he also understood that people would be talking about her showing up at the Den. It wouldn’t be good. She seemed to sense his thoughts and said, “I do not care about what anyone thinks. I am not leaving.”
“Diana, I will find her,” Sam said.
Her eyes watered as she studied him. Finally, she nodded.
Devons said, “I will escort you home.”
She shook her head. “It isn’t required. I have my carriage.”
“Your coachman can take me back after I get you home. There is a madman out there. I insist on it,” Devons said firmly.
She sighed and turned to Sam. “Promise me that you will find her.”
“I promise,” Sam said.
Diana nodded and turned to Devons. “After you, Mr. Devons.”
Sam would find Clara. He had to. Diana and Devons headed to the door, but Devons stopped and turned back. “Leave word on where you will be, and I will meet you.”
Sam nodded. After they left, he strode back into the room Taylor was being kept in. He opened the door, and the man smirked at him as if he had the best secret. Sam didn’t ask any questions. He walked straight to him and punched him in the face twice. The man cried out in pain.
“Sam,” Jack warned.
Sam held up his hand to stop him. Miller entered the room. Sam looked down at Taylor and said,
“Where is he keeping Abigail?”
“I don’t know,” the man whined.
Sam hit him again and Jack grabbed his arm. “You must stop.”
Sam shook him off, furious. He grabbed the man by the shirt. “Tell me now.”
The man started to whimper. “I do not know. After our return, we went our separate ways.”
“You have done this before,” Sam hissed.
The man trembled at his fury. He nodded. “There is an old mill outside of London. The Masterson Mill. He meets them there sometimes or has us deliver them there.”
“I know where that is,” Miller said.
