A mere half an hour later, Nicholas and Malcolm were dismounting outside Pear Tree cottage after riding their horses through the gate and right up to the front door. Leaving their mounts loose to nibble at the sparce greenery, they knocked and shouted Hope’s name but received only silence. Taking a deep breath, the Duke pushed open the door and they both went inside.
It did not take long to ascertain the downstairs at least was deserted. Swearing, the valet quickly climbed the stairs, only to return seconds later with the news that the bedroom too was empty. ‘There are signs that the Viscount was dragged from his bed,’ Malcolm declared grimly. ‘Do we have any idea what happened to Hope?’
Nicholas shook his head, glancing around the room. ‘It’s clear she was here when whoever it was entered the cottage as her cloak is pooled on the floor.’ Malcolm nodded. ‘It looks as if the lass was wearing it when the bastards came in. Mayhap she dropped it in her panic.’
‘Or perhaps they removed it for her,’ bit out Nicholas unable to keep his anger at bay any longer. ‘Did she run? And if so, where to?’ He strode towards the staircase and on the bottom step he spied a hairpin. Bending down to pick it up, he held it to the candlelight. ‘It certainly belonged to a woman. Naturally we can’t prove it was Hope’s, but it’s possible that she intended to run up the stairs to Lord Northwood.’
‘She didn’a get there,’ commented Malcolm through gritted teeth. Bending down he retrieved a small clump of copper coloured hair. ‘I think she tried to reach Gabriel, but the wretches used her hair to drag her back down the stairs.’
‘We need to look outside,’ Nicholas growled and striding quickly back to the front door, he retrieved their lanterns and stepped outside. ‘I’ll head to the left, while you search to the right,’ he ordered handing one of the lamps to his valet.
Minutes later, to the relief of both men, they had found nothing. Certainly nothing to suggest Hope had been murdered or left for dead.
‘The time span between Augustus leaving and us arriving is at most two hours,’ declared the Duke. ‘I doubt the kidnappers would have had time to kill and bury a body, not if they believed themselves likely to get caught.’ He watched as Malcolm held up his lamp and walked towards the gate, studying the ground intently.
‘There are too many prints here on the path to give us any clue,’ the valet mused, as he opened the gate. Once outside the cottage garden he wandered backwards and forwards, finally bending down to examine the earth.
‘What do you see?’ he demanded as Nicholas came through the gate to join him. There was a pause as the Duke studied the ground. ‘Horses,’ he murmured, ‘and more than one.’
‘Aye. They were tethered to the fence here,’ guessed the Scotsman. ‘Those tracks further away belong to the Reverend’s horse and cart, but these do not. I estimate there were at least four mounts.’ He looked over at Nicholas. ‘My guess is they took both of them. They would not have left Hope here to perchance identify them, that way they’d be sure to swing if caught.’
Nicholas nodded in agreement and looked out into the darkness.
‘They cannot have been on the road for more than a couple of hours at the most,’ he reiterated. ‘They are travelling in the dark so will be forced to take extra care lest they cripple one or more of their mounts. We could catch them easily.’
‘But we dinna have any idea which way they are headed,’ groaned Malcolm. ‘We canna go wandering around in the pitch black ourselves for the same reasons. And any tracks they leave will be nigh on impossible to discern without daylight.’
Nicholas ran his hand through his hair in frustration. His valet was right. It would be the height of foolishness to chase after such dangerous ruffians in the middle of the night. He forced back his fury at the delay and the underlying fear that waiting might cost Hope and Gabriel their lives. Then he had a sudden thought.
‘As you say, we are not certain where they are headed, but we can guess. If they are taking Gabriel to his cousin, it will either be Northwood Court or his father’s manor which I think is close to Portsmouth. Once there, Atwood will be able to do as he wishes.’
‘So why haven’t the bastards killed him already then?’ demanded Malcolm.
‘Mayhap they are not sure they have the right man,’ speculated Nicholas, ‘or perhaps they do not wish to add murder to their crimes. After all, it’s likely they acted quickly once they found out Northwood was still alive. I don’t think they waited for instructions from their employer.’
‘You think they are acting on their own?’ queried Malcolm with a frown.
‘I think it likely they’ve been instructed to report back any smoky business, but mayhap they believe they will receive a much better pay day if they return with the Viscount himself.’
The valet nodded thoughtfully, following the Duke back through the gate into the garden. After blowing out the remaining candles inside the cottage and shutting the front door, Nicholas whistled to his mount. ‘We’ll get on the road at first light,’ he decided, swiftly mounting his horse then waiting impatiently for Malcolm to do the same.
‘We can no longer wait on any evidence Roan might uncover incriminating Admiral Atwood,’ he threw back over his shoulder, as he guided his mount back through the gate. ‘The enemy has now brought the game to us Malcolm, and we have no choice but to play it through to the end.'
Chapter Seventeen
Hope was woken a few hours later by furtive movement inside the hut. For a few brief seconds she lay there disorientated, until her memories flooded back and instinctively, she tried to move, only to be gripped forcefully by the arm around her shoulder. ‘Hold still,’ murmured the Viscount against her hair. His voice was the barest whisper, but she did as he asked, feigning sleep as their captors evidently readied themselves to sleep.
‘I wouldn’t mind givin’ the bitch a good prigging afore we ‘and ‘er over.’ Hope swallowed a moan at the obscene comment and Gabriel’s arm tightened.
‘Well, ye’d need to have a good bloody dunking aforeand, stinking o’ puke like ye do,’ his companion sniggered. ‘I think I’ll wait an’ buy me a nice meaty piece who knows just ‘ow to give a good quiffin. Scrawny chit like ‘er won’t last through one strum.’
There was more movement as the men obviously tried to get comfortable. ‘Ere, give me a bit more o’ that blanket,’ came a sleepy complaint after a few minutes but his only answer was a loud snore.
About half an hour later, Gabriel finally moved, carefully inching his arm from underneath Hope’s shoulder. A low hiss as he flexed his fingers told her how much pain he’d been in. ‘How are you feeling?’ she whispered lifting her head, trying to see his face.
The Viscount put his finger to his lips and glanced back at their sleeping abductors. Then he lifted his head and whispered directly in her ear. ‘Turn over onto your right side,’ he requested. ‘I will follow suit. It’s the simplest way for us to talk without being overheard.’
Heart slamming against her ribs, Hope did as he asked and immediately Gabriel turned over and pressed the front of his body against the back of hers. The intimacy of the action had her stifling a gasp, especially when his left arm curled around her middle. ‘Turn your head slightly towards me,’ he mouthed against her ear. Again, she did as he bade and was rewarded by the softest of kisses against her ear lobe. Indeed, she thought mayhap she’d imagined it until he placed another one, even softer above her ear. ‘Forgive me for dragging you into this mess,’ he breathed with a sigh.
