The vicar cleared his throat again.
Maddie’s fear was nearly gone now, but not entirely. Paisley could still bolt with her. Still try something reckless. Still force her hand somehow.
But she was ready.
One more second, she thought.
Sebastian, where are you?
He didn’t come.
*
Ten.
They’d searched ten chapels. Nothing. Sebastian clenched his jaw, his fingers tight around the reins as his horse picked its way through the snow-covered road. Dusk was closing in, stretching long, eerie shadows across the countryside. The air had turned bitter, clouds pressing low overhead like a threat.
Beside him, Thomas muttered a curse. “They couldn’t have vanished. There aren’t that many bloody chapels in the area.”
But there were just enough.
“They wouldn’t have gone south,” Rotheworth added grimly, his eyes scanning the horizon. “Too open. Too exposed.”
Sebastian didn’t speak. Couldn’t. If he opened his mouth now, the fury simmering beneath his ribs would boil over.
Maddie was out there. Somewhere. And that bastard Paisley had her.
He gritted his teeth harder, jaw aching.
Every chapel they’d entered had been emptier than the last. No witnesses. No sounds. Not even a muddy boot print. But still, he felt it.
They were close.
Behind them, carriage wheels creaked on the icy road. The women followed in silence—each ofthem holding their breath.
“We’re wasting time,” Thomas growled. “We should split—”
“No,” Sebastian snapped. “Not yet. That’s what he would want. If we split, someone misses something.”
His voice was low, taut with command.
“He’s clever. Clever enough to pick a chapel just remote enough to delay us, but not so far that no vicar would agree to a quiet ceremony.” He exhaled sharply. “We stay together.”
Rotheworth gave a tight nod.
A gust of wind cut through their coats. Sebastian narrowed his eyes at the bend ahead. Then—he saw it.
A steeple, modest and weatherworn, rising behind a clutch of bare-limbed trees. Half-swallowed by ivy. A chapel no one would visit unless they were desperate.
His gut twisted.
“There.”
The horses broke into a faster trot. The chapel came into view—small, crooked, leaning into the hillside as if to hide. And off to the side—
Two carriages. One of them unmistakable.
“That’s my coat of arms,” Thomas growled. “The blackguard tookmycarriage.”
