“Do not move, or I shoot,” the Viscount said. Francis did as he was told, the only movement he allowed himself was heavy breathing. Slowly, Lord Ridlington walked toward him, before prodding him in the back with the pistol. “Walk forward.”
Francis followed the instruction, walking out into the landing to see the candles were still lit, basking the small inn with orbs of orange light. He glanced between the doorways that led to other rooms, cursing the inn’s emptiness that night. As they were the only guests, there was no one to come to their aid.
“Further,” the Viscount ordered, pushing Francis in the back another time. He hesitated a little when he passed the doorway to Josiah’s and Diana’s chamber, seeing it open with the bedding half on the floor, suggesting they had clambered out of the bed as quickly as he himself had done.
“To the stairs.”
Francis turned in the corridor and made his way to the landing, breathing so heavily in his anger that his nostrils flared.
“Where is she?” he asked at last, knowing he didn’t need to say Phoebe’s name for the Viscount to know who they were talking of. “What have you done to her?”
“Nothing. Yet.” The words made Francis rear round, ready to strike the Viscount. “Ah! Stop there.” Lord Ridlington raised the pistol higher, pointing directly at Francis’ face in warning. “Down the stairs.”
Slowly, still breathing heavily, Francis took the first step on the staircase, turning to see that at the bottom of the stairs were Josiah and Diana, both equally under dressed. They were being kept in position by a man wearing a footman’s clothes, possibly the same man that Francis had seen driving the carriage that was following them when Diana and Josiah came to stay with him. This man had a blade outstretched, warning the two of them off from making any attempt to flee.
“The Duke that took my wife from me,” the Viscount muttered. His voice made Josiah and Diana turn to look up at Francis. “Did you make her your whore as well?”
Francis let out a string of insults hurled at the Viscount, not afraid to hold back with what he thought of Lord Ridlington, or to restrain at the swear words.
“At least I have never stolen another man’s wife,” the Viscount said and prodded Francis in the back with the pistol.
“I never stole her,” he said with feeling, “but I happily would have taken her from you.” The words were ill chosen, for there was a grunt of anger from behind him and a sharp kick to his lower back. Francis was unprepared for it and the sheer strength of that kick sent him flying down the stairs. He rolled across each step, the nosing pushing into his ribs and arms as he cascaded down, unable to stop his fall.
When Francis collided with the bottom of the stairs, face flat to the floorboards, he felt winded, the air taken from him completely.
“Francis!” Diana’s voice was nearby, panicked.
Yet a stronger set of hands took hold of Francis’ arms and helped move him to his knees. Francis looked up to see Josiah was helping him. Just like Francis, Josiah was dressed in nothing more than his trousers and his shirt, with his hair mussed. Behind him, Diana was standing in the middle of the entrance hall of the inn, both hands on her face, wearing her dressing gown with her hair falling past her shoulders.
“Get up.” Lord Ridlington’s voice ordered. Francis stumbled to his feet with Josiah aiding him, then turned to look up the stairs.
The inn was hardly the biggest of places, but from this position Francis could see just why it had hurt so much to fall so far down the steep steps. Lord Ridlington was walking down those steps with the pistol hanging loose in his hand, down by his side.
“Where is she?” Francis said, managing to ask through the pain. Halfway down the steps, Lord Ridlington lifted the pistol and pointed it directly at Francis.
“No!” Diana yelped.
Josiah took hold of Francis’ shoulder and dragged him backward, a little further away from the pistol.
“Where my wife is, is no concern of yours,” Lord Ridlington spat with the words.
“Then let’s try another,” Francis said, unwilling to back down. “Where are the innkeeper and his wife?”
“In there,” Lord Ridlington pointed to a sitting room nearby where the door was closed. “Tied up.” Diana took a step toward the door, but he sharply moved the pistol so that it was aimed at her. “Do not move toward them.”
She retreated instantly and Josiah pulled her behind him, shielding her from the gun fire.
“I…do not understand,” Francis said between panting breaths as he tried to move past the new bruises that were quickly developing across his body. “How did you find us?”
“You obviously do not pay your groom enough,” Lord Ridlington said with a smile. “A few coins and he was happy to tell me where you had gone.”
Francis cursed loudly.
“How about before?” Josiah called to the Viscount. “How did you know we had gone to Hayward’s house?”
“That was quite by chance.” He descended the last of the steps with a small smile in his face. “That sniveling little lawyer you persuaded my wife to hire has thieves that like to hang around his doorstep.”
Francis winced at the recollection – the thief that had accosted him and Phoebe in the street had looked straight at Phoebe and could well have seen that she was a woman dressed as a boy.
