“By Jove, this is preposterous,” Lord Tynefield finally snapped. “Charity, you will return with your father and I immediately, and we shall proceed with our nuptials by week’s end.” He advanced on her.
Rufus and Shelby erupted into frantic barking.
“Stand aside, buffoons.” There came the sound of a soft thud, followed by the whimpering of Rufus, and then the baron’s hand closed around Charity's wrist.
“My Lord, please be courteous—” Bates began.
“Unhand me!” Charity cried out.
“Bloody knave. Unreliable,” Seth muttered under his breath as he rode down the lane to Axfordshire manor. He could not believe he’d spent hours, squandered them all, waiting for a man who had no intention of fulfilling his end of the bargain. He’d stood in Soho in their agreed meeting place, but the man who had once frequented the Bloomsbury Club had not come.
Why back out at the last moment? Perhaps Luke was right. Perhaps it was a set-up all along.
As Seth pondered deeply, his estate loomed into view, and his mind shifted to something else entirely. A tumult had erupted upon the driveway of Axfordshire manor, a commotion of some kind. From afar, the scene resembled something akin to a flurry of ants scurrying about on the ground.
What in the devil…?
Seth flicked the reins and urgedTomasinto a gallop. Hastening down the drive, he strained to make sense of what was happening. As he drew nearer, the figures came into focus.
“Release me!” Charity was screaming at someone. Behind her, Isobel was on her knees in the doorway of the manor, tears streaming down her cheeks. Bates dashed forward, chasing after Charity, trying to help, but someone was preventing him.
And then the scene came together.
Lord Holmwood had positioned himself between Bates and Charity, blocking the butler's path, while Baron Tynefield seized Charity and forcibly guided her toward the waiting carriage.
Seth spurred his horse faster, a pang of anguish gripping his chest as he struggled to draw breath in his rush to reach them.
“Let me go!” Charity wailed once more. “I will not accompany you anywhere!” She dug her heels down into the gravel drive, nearly pushing Baron Tynefield off balance. He wheeled around and looked poised to strike her, just as Seth reached them.
“Unhand the lady at once!” Seth demanded. The bellow was loud enough to make Lord Holmwood and Baron Tynefield freeze, his flattened palm that was raised hesitating in the air. The steed beneath Seth whinnied loudly, rearing up on its hind legs before slamming back into the ground by Baron Tynefield’s feet.
Yet, despite the command, he did not release her. Meanwhile, Rufus and Shelby ran amok, Rufus barking furiously and nipping at Lord Holmwood's heels as the earl attempted to fend off the hound.
Seth leaped down from Tomas’ saddle and rounded the animal across him, cutting off the baron’s access to the waiting carriage. The baron sized up to Seth, dragging Charity behind him, a ludicrous sight given his shorter stature compared to Seth's.
“Did my words not reach your ears, old man?” Seth snapped at Baron Tynefield’s face, his fury simmering beneath his cracking but largely composed exterior. He had not known this sort of rage in years.
It was strange. To have Lord Holmwood on his drive, at his estate, he thought he would have been ranting and raving at the blackguard, demanding justice for the fire years ago. Yet, his sole focus was on separating Charity from Baron Tynefield's grasp. He had to get her as far away from the baron as possible.
“She is my betrothed, and I can—argh!” the baron cried out as Seth’s fist connected squarely with his jaw before he could finish his final words. Seth felt a surge of satisfaction as the blow landed, and the baron released Charity without hesitation.
“I find myself increasingly enjoying reshaping the contours of your visage every passing fortnight, you bloody scoundrel,” Seth uttered through clenched teeth.
“Seth? Seth…?” Charity called out to him, turning her head back and forth, uncertain where precisely he was with all the commotion and panic impeding her senses. Seth’s eyes snapped up to her delicate figure. She appeared helpless and lost in that second, and it broke something inside of him.
He swiftly hurried to her side, taking her hand in his own. “I’m here, Cherry,” he reassured her in as calm a tone as he could manage. Suddenly, she clung to him, her other hand coming up to take his arm. “Rufus! Shelby!” Seth called to his hounds. “Stop that.”
The dogs, sensing their master’s command, retreated from nipping at Lord Holmwood’s ankles, and scurried back to Seth and Charity’s side. Bates similarly seemed to exhale in relief and retreated to Isobel’s side, helping her up and providing her with a handkerchief to wipe her tear-stained cheeks.
“What is the meaning of all this?” Lord Holmwood demanded, pivoting on his heels to regard them all. “No. No! Return my daughter at once, Your Grace!”
“You misunderstand,” Seth called back to him as he guided Charity to the doorway of the manor, “Lady Charity came here of her own volition. And you would do well to respect her desires,my Lord.”
As he reached the final front steps, he turned to regard the earl. Every fiber of his being bristled with contempt for the man before him. With a barely restrained hunger, he imagined striking the man, delivering blow after blow in revenge for his father’s and his friend’s death. But how could he let himself loose and turn into the bloodthirsty creature he always imagined he would become, when the most important thing in this world was standing, terrified, right beside him?
What might have seemed muddled before was now plain as day.
Charity is what matters.
