Grace sighed. ‘Truly father, it appears you have lost your edge. You most certainly used to be much quicker than this.’ She stood to ring the bell and for the first time, the Reverend noted she was dressed in travelling clothes. Turning back to her father she continued, ‘Lord Northwood and Hope have been kidnapped by at least two hell hounds. We believe they were privy to the conversation in the Red Lion and most likely followed you and Hope when you went to Pear Tree cottage.’
‘Thunder an’ turf,’ groaned the Reverend. ‘Then this whole deuced debacle is my fault.’
Grace shook her head in disagreement, but before she had chance to speak, the door the drawing room opened. ‘Please ready my carriage and ensure the Reverend’s horse and conveyance are taken care of Huntley. My father and I may possibly be travelling overnight and will require a cold repast and some warm blankets to take with us… Oh, and please also ensure that the two coachmen are armed and dressed warmly.’ If the butler thought his mistress’s request strange, he did not show it, but instead simply nodded his head and withdrew.
‘It is no one’s fault father. Your anxiety for your offspring was perfectly understandable, even commendable.’ She paused and much to her father’s indignation, added, ‘In truth it was also surprising.’ Then ignoring the Reverend sputtered outrage, she pulled on her gloves before continuing. ‘These men were watching and if you had not enlightened them, I am assured they would have discovered the whereabouts of Lord Northwood another way.
‘Anyway, I digress. Nicholas believes that Henry Atwood is behind their abduction and their kidnappers are even now conveying the hostages to Northwood Court. Most likely Hope was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time so was dragged along as extra surety.’ Her voice wobbled and she swallowed, taking a deep breath to force back the onset of tears.
‘I am inclined to agree with his assessment. Nevertheless, there is an outside chance that their destination is Rutledge Manor, the residence of Gabriel’s uncle.’ Back in control, she paused again, this time to ensure her father had not entirely lost the thread of the conversation. His expression of outrage reassured her.
‘You and I father will make our way to the Admiral’s home in an effort to cover the back door so to speak. If we leave within the hour, with the protection of the carriage, we can travel through the night and conceivably arrive early tomorrow morning.’
For a few seconds Reverend Shackleford was actually speechless. Truly Grace was his daughter, more than he’d ever thought possible. He almost felt like crying. Then a sudden thought occurred to him.
‘What about Percy?’ he demanded.
‘I have already sent a note to the vicarage informing Agnes that you’ll be away from home for the next day or so and requesting Percy’s attendance outside the Red Lion, along with a small selection of your unmentionables,' she answered, opening the door.
‘Won’t that inform everyone what we are doing?’ protested the Reverend following her out into the hallway with Freddy at his heels.
‘Naturally,’ Grace retorted, ‘but then, the likelihood of us departing from Blackmore stealthily are slim to none, so we may as well take advantage of the local scuttlebutt. Who knows what useful on-dits the villagers might provide to send us on our way?’
∞∞∞
Gabriel Atwood wasn’t dead. Henry Atwood had always known it and so had his father. But now they had proof. His man John had only today arrived with the news that his bastard cousin had been found holed up in some kind of hovel on Nicholas Sinclair’s estate. Henry felt no elation that he’d been correct in his disbelief of Gabriel’s demise, nor his assumption that the former Viscount would seek out the Duke of Blackmore. Indeed, the whole bloody business had just become infinitely more complicated.
If Gabriel was allowed to make his accusations, it would ultimately come down to his word against his cousin’s. Henry had covered his tracks well with his father’s help, and he doubted that Gabriel would be able to actuallyproveany allegations of parricide, even with the help of an influential member of theton.
But neither Henry nor his father would ever recover from the scandal. At the very best he would be relegated to the penniless cousin and shipped back off to sea. And the worst? His father would be stripped of his rank and his son thrown out of the Royal Navy. Both would be considered pariahs, almost assuredly blackballed from every drawing room and club in London.
Henry Atwood’s life would be over. As would Admiral Atwood’s, though in truth he was unsure whether his father actually gave a rat’s arse, intent as the idiot was in drinking himself into an early grave.
‘Devil take it,’he muttered to himself, feeling an imaginary noose tightening around his neck. The truth was, he’d been brought to Point Non-Plus. Gabriel Atwood had to die, and quickly. And when he finally put an end to his troublesome cousin, Henry had to ensure the bastard was buried in the deepest pit he could dig. Preferably before the Duke of Blackmore got wind of the fact that the former Viscount was no longer in hiding on his Estate.
Chapter Nineteen
Gabriel spent the whole night trying to come up with some kind of plan to effect Hope’s escape. Sleep had been almost impossible anyway given that his hands remained tied behind his back. He’d been unable to even turn over and his only consolation was the delightful feel of Hope huddled up in front of him. If he hadn’t been so deuced uncomfortable, the feel of her bottom pressed intimately against him would have had much more of an effect on certain areas of his anatomy.
He could of course have asked her to lie behind him and surreptitiously untie his hands once their captors finally fell asleep. Unfortunately, the bastards were much more cautious now they were nearing their destination and they took watches, with one of them remaining awake throughout the night. Clearly, they were not going to risk losing their prisoners at this late stage.
In the pre-dawn darkness, Gabriel finally accepted that Hope would be forced to accompany them to Northwood Court. He had no illusions that Henry would show any mercy to his annoyingly very much alive cousin - after all, there had been none in Cadiz and now the stakes were even higher - but the thought of what might become of Hope brought him out in a cold sweat. He had no idea whether Henry had been apprised of an additional captive, and in truth it was a moot point. Whether he already knew they’d dragged Hope along or had that surprise to come, there was no way Henry would allow her to live, and despite their kidnappers’ certainty of a large reward, Gabriel very much feared the thugs would end up buried alongside their hostages.
The Viscount gnawed on his cracked lips, deep in thought despite the agonising pain of his arms. Mayhap he would be able to convince their abductors they were likely to receive far more blunt by ransoming their prisoners to the Duke of Blackmore? He had no notion of Nicholas’s opinion concerning the payment of ransom money, but he was certain his grace would do everything in his power to ensure the safe return of his sister-in-law at least.
Did their captors even know that Hope Shackleford was a relative of the Duke’s? Gabriel felt the first sliver of optimism. There was no reason for them to be aware of such a fact. As far as he could ascertain, they were not locals and had merely been watching and listening for information about Gabriel Atwood. Most likely Henry had given them as little information as possible. He suddenly started. For that matter, was his cousin even aware of the connection?
What a dolt. Gabriel struggled into a sitting position, causing Hope to whimper in her sleep and burrow further into his warmth. Unfortunately, his movement also caught the attention of their captor on watch. Undoubtedly the man had just been about to doze off.
Neither spoke, and the Viscount was quick to break eye contact. The last thing he needed was an altercation right now. The kidnapper sneered as Gabriel turned away, likely believing he had his prisoner cowed.
Hope stirred beside him, raising her head to regard him drowsily. After a couple of seconds, she groaned and shuffled herself into a sitting position. ‘Is something wrong?’ she murmured, trying to bring some feeling back into her locked fingers. Gabriel shook his head in the gloom, all the while staring over at their captors. The one keeping watch was clearly dozing again but the Viscount had no doubt he would wake quickly enough if they tried to run.
Gabriel looked down at the indistinct features of his companion. Her usually vibrant hair was matted and dirty and she had smudges across her cheeks. Her eyes were wide with worry and concern. For him.
Gabriel wanted nothing more than to take her into his arms and kiss her until the fear melted away. Instead, he bent his head and rested his forehead against hers. She did not shrink back, but simply sighed and after a second, lifted her face, gently seeking his lips with hers. ‘Thank you,’ she murmured, ‘for giving me the courage to carry on.’
‘You would not be in this mess if it wasn’t for me,’ he responded, his voice low and filled with anguish.
