Anthony blinked away the rain as he jogged toward the front stables, hoping the presence of the horses would give him a clue as to who was where.
Anthony rarely surrendered to panic, but something about this was decidedly askew. This should not have happened. Enough watchmen were on duty that all should have been secure. Nausea gripped his stomach as another thought assailed him: one of the watchmen must be involved.
He pulled open the stable door, and the horses in the stalls turned their heads at the early intrusion, but Timmons’s, Ames’s, and Broadstreet’s horses were gone. He groaned in disbelief and turned to leave when a muffled sound mewled and stopped him.
He grabbed the pitchfork by the door and inched toward the muted noise resonating from one of the back stalls.
Anthony stood completely still and listened. “Who’s there?”
The sound, which now was clearly a stifled voice, echoed again.
The straw beneath his feet crunched as he stepped farther in and looked into the stall in question. There was Ames. A thick rope secured his feet and hands. A rag was tied around his mouth.
Anthony dropped the pitchfork and rushed to remove the rag from his face. “You hurt?”
Ames shook the rag away and drew a deep breath. “Just my pride.”
“What happened?” Anthony’s fingers felt thick and clumsy against the adeptly secured rope as he endeavored to release it.
“Not sure.” Ames glanced over his thick shoulder to watch Anthony untie it. “I was patrolling this courtyard and I heard footsteps. Before I knew it something hit me across the face and then again on the back of the head. Next thing I know, I’m here, tied up. My pistol’s gone, I think, and I don’t see my horse.”
Anthony loosened the rope, and Ames struggled to his feet. Sure enough, a deep-purple bruise circled his left eye and cheek.
“The baby’s been kidnapped,” Anthony said in a rush once Ames’s hands were free. “He’s gone, and a note has been left.”
“What? I thought Broadstreet was standing guard at the stairs.”
“Well, he’s not, and I can’t find him anywhere,” Anthony snipped as he handed his colleague the note.
Ames’s mouth set in a firm frown as he read the letter. “Did anyone see anything?”
Anthony shook his head. “No. I’ve asked Mrs.Prior to round up the servants. We’re to meet them in the kitchen.”
Ames brushed more hay from his sleeve. “Where’s Timmons?”
Anthony found it difficult to answer.
“Timmonsishere, is he not?” repeated Ames.
The words were gritty as they passed Anthony’s lips. “I’ve not seen him all morning.”
Ames spewed a slew of curses, echoing Anthony’s sentiments.
But not all his sentiments.
For not only was he shocked, but he was also hurt.
Timmons had been his closest friend except for Charlotte. Anthony had known Timmons was having a difficult time with recent events, but now the exact picture of Timmons’s frustration became clear, and it seemed like he had gone down a far darker path than Anthony would have ever expected.
“It’s the King’s Prize they’re after. Right?”
Anthony drew a sharp breath. He still did not know Ames well, but at the moment, he had to trust someone, and based on the fact that Ames had been bound and gagged, he clearly was not involved in the kidnapping. “I’d say so.”
“And have you found out for certain? Does Mrs.Prior have them?”
It was a reasonable question. Anthony was willing to work with him, but at the moment he was not willing to divulge Charlotte’s secret. Not yet.
Anthony shrugged. “Let’s go talk to them and see what we can discover.”
