He tugged his arm free and shut the door. Except the blasted man shoved his foot in.
“You don’t understand . . .” the man started.
“The only thing I understand right now is that Warstein needs better judgment in hiring his servants. I could have you arrested for trespassing.”
Instead of subduing the footman, his words incited an intense struggle and the man managed to push his head through. Christian’s fingers curled into a fist. If the man wanted a fight, by God, he’d give him one.
He pulled his arm back.
“Miss Warstein has been kidnapped.”
Christian blinked and dropped his hand. “What?”
The door swung open as he released it and the man stumbled inside. “It’s Captain Thorne. He took her this morning.”
Captain Thorne.
A ringing sound buzzed in his ears and he reached for the wall for support.Kidnapped. If the blackguard had Warstein’s niece, one thing was certain: She wouldn’t last long.
“Fuck.”
The footman drew back at his curse and Christian shot him a look. “Stay here. I’ll be back in a few moments.”
He didn’t bother waiting for the man’s response and rushed back into his study. After penning a quick note to Isaac to make ready to sail, he swept up his compass and shrugged into his uniform jacket. As he turned to leave, he jerked his gaze to the portrait above the mantel.
His throat went tight.
“I’ll find her. And I’ll make that bloody pirate pay.”
His words echoed through the empty room and he pressed his eyes shut. He’d been so young the night his mother had been taken. All he could remember were her screams. By the time he’d made it to her room, she was gone. Five-year-old him blamed himself.If I’d only gotten there faster.
“They would have taken you too. Or worse, killed you,” his father had said.
Then, while the entire household went searching, Christian had been locked in his closet to keep him from following. Hours and hours had passed in wretched darkness. Silence. He’d nearly gone mad.
Christian shivered, pushing the memory away.
But he remembered the hatred. So much hatred. It burned through his gut in the dark hours of the night. Kept him going after his father left to seek his revenge. Turned to an aching grief when he never came back.
His housekeeper rapped on the doorframe and he startled. Damn it. He’d wasted precious minutes. He strode to the front door and she followed.
“Have someone bring my things to the ship. I’ve no idea how long I’ll be gone.”
When she hurried up the stairs, he tossed the note to the footman. “Bring this to theUSS Falconand make sure my first officer receives it.”
Striding outside into the early morning sun, he came to a stop when he saw two horses saddled in the drive. The footman hurried down the steps next to him a moment later. “Warstein sent a horse for you, sir. There’s no time to lose.”
Smart. And efficient. By sending a horse with the footman, Warstein shaved at least a quarter hour off his response time.
Christian swung into the saddle and kicked the grey into a gallop. He turned toward the Warstein manor while the footman spurred his mount in the direction of the river. A few minutes later, he pounded down his neighbor’s drive. Sliding to the ground, he tossed the reins to a waiting groom and hurried up the steps.
The butler opened the door. “I’m so glad you came, Lieutenant. Follow me.”
Inside, a weeping maid stood next to a matronly housekeeper who wrung her hands together. All of these servants cared deeply about their mistress, which spoke volumes about her character. Though shy, she was clearly someone these people respected.
Someone who didn’t deserve to be at the mercy of a bunch of hardened criminals.
The door to Warstein’s study hung open and the butler led Christian in. The merchant stood at the window, looking out over the river. When he turned to face Christian, a glint of something flashed through his eyes. Anger? But why? The man should be relieved to have help arrive.
