Hope on the other hand barely noticed when they passed through the gates into the manicured grounds of Gabriel’s ancestral home. She was instead concentrating what little remained of her energy into simply remaining in the saddle. In truth, she was a little ashamed of her lack of stamina. Gabriel had received far worse treatment than she but had born it with an impassive fortitude that even to her dulled senses had screamed of future vengeance. She could only assume her captors were thick skinned as well as greedy, but despite her dread, the Viscount’s strength instilled in her the utmost faith that he would somehow extricate them both from their current predicament.
She had no idea how and right this very second, her secondary focus, aside from remaining on the horse's back, was to get something - anything - to eat. Truly her stomach believed her throat had already been cut.
She became aware that the nag she was riding had finally come to a stop. Lifting her head wearily, she couldn’t contain her surprised gasp at the delightful façade of Northwood Court. While not as magnificent as Nicholas’s family pile or indeed as grand as Adam’s, Gabriel’s home spoke of just that. A home. The honey-coloured brick oozed warmth even in such inclement weather. However, before she had chance to gauge Gabriel’s reaction to his homecoming, she was unceremoniously pulled off her horse and dumped onto her feet, causing her legs to buckle helplessly beneath her.
A dirty hand gripped her arm as she stumbled, stopping her from ending up in a heap on the ground. She was about to pull away when she realised the hand belonged to Gabriel. The Viscount made no effort to hide his concern as he studied her features, and while she knew she must look dreadful, the worry in his gaze nevertheless warmed her and with a sudden shock she realised this man really cared about her. Before he could say anything, however, he was abruptly shoved towards the steps.
In a daze, she allowed herself to be dragged up the staircase to the front portico and just as they reached the top, the elegant front door was pulled open from inside. Standing there regarding them with contempt and something else Hope couldn’t quite define was Henry Atwood. She had no trouble recognising him. The likeness between the two cousins was remarkable. The only difference she reflected was in their eyes.
Gabriel’s eyes were warm and compassionate while his cousin’s regarded her much as he would an insect. She realised with a nauseous chill, that Henry Atwood’s eyes were quite simply dead.
Chapter Twenty
‘Right Percy, now we’ve left Grace safe and sound in the carriage, we can get on with the plan.’
The curate sighed, wondering whether he should wait to find out what the plan actually was before throwing a rub in the way of it, or flatly refuse to take part inwhateverscheme the Reverend had in mind before he even voiced it.
Of course, there was a third option which was to cry rope on the Duchess but somehow, doing so seemed a bit lily-livered, especially as he was actually very fond of Grace. On the other hand, throwing a rub in the way of her intention, though it would undoubtedly incite her ire, might be the responsible thing to do given that he privately considered it an entire bag of moonshine.
In truth, whatever he decided, he was in the suds.
‘Tare an’ hounds, are you even listening Percy?’ The Reverend’s irritated voice intruded upon his musings and the curate looked up. ‘Sorry Sir,’ he answered after a moment, ‘I admit I was thinking about her grace. Mayhap leaving her in the carriage was in retrospect a trifle bird-witted…’ Reverend Shackleford scowled, and Percy faltered to a stop.
‘Percy Noon, my affection for you endures through thick and thin,’ his superior announced with an expression that clearly said he wondered why. ‘That said, during our last undertaking I had thought you finally getting a little pluck to your backbone.’ He paused and sighed dramatically before continuing, ‘but recent events have shown you remain every bit as chuckleheaded. If I am truly asking too much of you, you may wait in the carriage with Grace.’
When he’d finished Reverend Shackleford regarded his curate with the heroic despondency of a man cut to the quick. When Percy simply stared back at him mutely, he clearly took the curate’s silence as shamefaced acknowledgement of his shortcomings, and patting the small man on the shoulder, nodded sympathetically. ‘The Almighty works through us all in his own inimitable way,’ Augustus Shackleford went on in his most soothing tone, ‘but every now and again it’s up to us as his earthly servants to give him a nudge in the right direction.’ He smiled at Percy encouragingly.
‘Right then,’ he declared with another supportive whack when Percy still didn’t answer, ‘let’s get on with it shall we? Come along Freddy, we’re going this way…’
∞∞∞
Grace gave a relieved sigh once her father and Percy were out of sight, then rapping on the roof of the carriage, she indicated her wish to continue up the drive towards the main house. Her heart was beating nineteen to the dozen and she had to constantly remind herself that she was the Duchess of Blackmore and as such, far above these varmints who sought to put an end to someone she called a friend.
When they finally came to a stop outside the main entrance, Grace took a deep breath as one of the coachmen leapt down to open the carriage door. Climbing down, she smiled gratefully at each of them, recognising they must both be fagged to death. Then mindful of the fact that they undoubtedly had families to consider, she gave them instructions to withdraw to a less prominent location to wait.
As the carriage rumbled away, she stared up at the silent façade, then squaring her shoulders, she lifted her skirts and made her apprehensive way to the front door. She was fully aware of the irregularity of her visit and had no intention of dissembling once in Mrs Atwood’s company. She was hopeful that the woman’s husband would not be present, at least at first. Although if Hope and Gabriel were imprisoned somewhere in the house, she had no doubt he would be in residence. Grace was also perfectly aware of the precariousness of her strategy, but she believed it a necessary gamble on the off chance that the Viscount and her sister had indeed been delivered to Rutledge Manor.
And lastly, despite the rapid thudding of her heart, she did not believe Admiral Atwood would dare harm a person of her standing. So, before she could turn tail and run, Grace took another deep breath and pulled on the brass bell hanging next to the door. The noise clanged deep inside the house, and she bit her lip, waiting anxiously.
∞∞∞
‘Truly cousin, you are becoming most tiresome. One would hope that this time when I put an end to you, you will at least do me the courtesy of remainingdead.’ The last was said with a venom that reenforced Gabriel’s belief that Henry would show no mercy and the way his cousin was even now eying Hope made him pull at his bonds in frustrated anger.
‘Henry,’ he responded through gritted teeth, hoping to drag his cousin’s attention away from his companion. ‘You on the other hand are becoming tediously monotonous. Only a man with no imagination would consider cold blooded murder to be the answer to all his problems.’
Henry’s eyes swung back to the Viscount and even from here, Gabriel could see them glistening with angry malice. Mayhap it was reckless to push the snake so, especially when both he and Hope were securely restrained, but he knew that now more than ever, he needed to somehow keep his cousin on the back foot.
‘You would be surprised at the extent of my imagination,’ was all Henry answered, clearly refusing to be drawn. His eyes turned back to Hope. ‘So, is this your trollop?’ he drawled stepping closer to Hope, eying her with interest. ‘I must admit I was not expectingtwocaptives.’ He raised his eyebrows and stared over at his henchmen.
‘She was there me lud. We couldn’t just leave the doxy behind,’ he answered with a shrug. ‘We coulda killed ‘er right there o’ course, but thought you might want to ask ‘er a few questions first.’
Ignoring the kidnapper’s less than respectful tone, Henry nodded thoughtfully. ‘So, who is she?’ he demanded instead.
‘Don’t rightly know. She turned up at the pub and went tear-arsing off with the local bloody vicar to the cottage where this bastard was in hiding. By the time we found their trail and managed to get there, there was just ‘er and Atwood. Summat had ‘appened though, cos his ‘ighness was in bed, out of it, sweating like a bloody pig.’
‘So John informed me,’ their employer murmured eying both men impassively.
‘We dint ‘ave time to do ‘er,anddump the damned body,’ added his companion, ‘so we brought ‘er wi’ us.’
