‘Sounds a bit bloody smoky to me. Thought John was all fer cutting up a wheedle with the murderin’ bastard.'
‘He might not be agin a bit o’ toad eating, but he ain’t willing to risk the mornin’ drop fer nobody and I ain’t either.’
‘But we don’t even know if we’ve got the right bloody cove,’ Hope’s captor argued, dabbing half-heartedly at the dark patches of vomit liberally decorating his breeches.
The other man gave a snort. ‘No worries on that score. We’ve got the right one. They look like two bloody peas in a pod. John only ‘ad to take one look at ‘im afore he was hightailing it back to ‘is nibs to pass on the good news.’ He grimaced in distaste at his companion’s soiled clothes.
‘Alright for you ain’t it,’ Hope’s captor snarled, throwing the soiled rag back at his companion. ‘If old Tam hadn’t ‘ave fell off ‘is nag and broke his bloody neck on Christmas Day, you’d be ‘aving Atwood kissin’ the back o’ your bloody neck. As it is, you ain’t got to share.’
‘T’ain’t my fault you’re the skinny runt,’ was all his companion sniggered, before clicking his heels against his horse’s flank to set the beast moving again.
Hope fought against despair as the hours wore on. She had no idea of the identity of their abductors, but she was almost certain who was behind it. Did that mean they were being taken to Gabriel’s old home in Hampshire? If so, they clearly had a long way to go and despite the lack of moonlight, their kidnappers showed no sign of stopping which gave weight to her belief. They were travelling across unfamiliar countryside and since coming round, she hadn’t seen so much as a rundown cottage. To top it all, she couldn’t rid herself of the fear that Gabriel was already dead.
She could see no sign of life in his shadowy form and thinking back to his sweat-soaked face back at the cottage, she was very much afraid that he may have succumbed to his fever. What would become of her if the journey proved too much for the Viscount’s weakened body?
Her thoughts went round and round in between repeated dozes - as soon as her throbbing head lolled forward, she would wake with a start and the lurid thoughts began again. As the night wore on, despite being covered in a filthy blanket, the cold slowly began to creep into her bones until her teeth were chattering helplessly and her body racked by shivers.
Abruptly, just when she thought she couldn’t go on any longer, the shadowy figure in front spoke. ‘There’s a shed up a ways. Used it afore. I could do wi’ takin’ a piss an’ the ‘orses need to rest a spell. Good a place as any to stop.’
She felt rather than heard her captor’s agreement and five minutes later, she was lifted off the horse and dumped unceremoniously onto the ground. As the feeling began to come back into her legs, she first felt a tingling, then shooting pains which caused her to groan out loud.
As soon as she could get her legs to bear her weight, she staggered over to Gabriel who was lying unmoving on his back. Crouching down she put her face close to his. Was he still alive? It was almost impossible to tell in the near darkness. Fighting back a sob, she laid her hand against his forehead. Still warm, but no longer boiling hot. It seemed the cold might have done some good after all.
‘He needs some shelter,’ she blurted to the shadowy figures who to her revulsion were making no effort to conceal their ablutions.
‘Best get him in the ‘ut then,’ was the careless response. Squeezing her eyes shut for a moment and fighting the urge to scream, Hope got to her feet and went to pull open the door to the abandoned building. The interior was completely black and to her horror she could hear the faint squeaking of rats. She looked back at her captors who were even now refastening their breeches. Disgusted, she looked away as a sudden sick fear swept through her body. If they decided to violate her, she would be unable to stop them. Panting to keep the panic away, she went back to the Viscount. Clearly, he was in no state to stop the louts from doing whatever they wished, but nevertheless, she gained comfort from his presence.
Taking a deep breath, she slipped her hands underneath his shoulders and began dragging him towards the shelter. He must have regained consciousness at least in part, as he mumbled something and pushed his heels into the ground, instinctively aiding her.
Minutes later, they were out of sight inside the shack and Hope collapsed, wheezing. Looking down at Gabriel beside her, she was relieved to see his eyes were open.
‘What happened?’ he rasped. Hope gave a half laugh, half sob as she shoved her hair away from her face with dirty fingers. Where the devil to start? Then she shook her head. Now was not the time. He needed to rest. And so did she, if they were to stand any chance of escaping with their lives.
Shrugging off the blanket, she laid it over the both of them and huddled into Gabriel’s still warm body. She felt him move slightly and suddenly an arm slipped underneath her head to pull her closer. For a moment she resisted, then with a weary sigh, relaxed and allowed her head to rest against his chest. Her head still hurt but the pain had finally faded to a dull ache and despite her fear of the despicable curs who’d abducted them, she found herself quickly falling asleep.
∞∞∞
On listening to Seth’s garbled account of what had transpired at the Red Lion and after, Malcolm immediately went to inform Nicholas.
The Duke was playing with his son in the small drawing room watched over by his wife who was laughing at the little boy’s antics. The scene was idyllic, and the valet was beyond reluctant to destroy his master’s hard-won peace, wondering if he was overreacting.
His grace’s reaction to the brief retelling of the stable hand’s story, however, gave Malcolm the conviction that he was doing the right thing in bringing the tale to the Duke’s ear.
'Has Anthony recovered with no ill effects?' questioned Grace anxiously.
'Aye, it would appear so, yer grace,' responded Malcolm, 'though it looks as though Lord Northwood may have overextended himself in effecting a rescue of the lad.' The Scotsman shook his head and frowned. 'Would that that was our only concern,' he added.
‘Do you think there was a chance the conversation at the Lion was overheard by someone unsavoury?’ Nicholas asked, handing Peter over to his nanny.
‘Aye, the pub was crowded so if some blackguard was watching Blackmore, we canna discount the possibility.’
Nicholas sighed and told the Scotsman to instruct the head groomsman to ready two horses. Then he looked over at Grace. ‘My love, while I have a great deal of fondness for your family, it has to be said that their meddling does on occasion cause slight frustration.’
His wife snorted. ‘Slightfrustration? Darling, you are being remarkably restrained. In retrospect it would possibly have been better if we’d installed Lord Northwood somewhere in deuced Scotland.’
Climbing to his feet, Nicholas chuckled. ‘It may yet prove to be the best way forward.’
‘I will inform Mrs Tenner to hold back dinner until you return.’ Grace lifted her face up for his kiss then watched as he strode swiftly to the door. Underneath her light-hearted banter, her heart thudded uneasily. She could only hope the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach was the result of the fish she’d eaten at lunch.
