Made of sterner stuff than Gilbert, Nibbly merely nodded, then started moving.
“Speak, Mr. Spriggot.”
He eased out of his jacket, and looked down at his red sleeve. Blood was dripping off his fingers and onto the carpets, so he threw down his jacket and dripped on that instead.
“I have thoroughly investigated the affairs of the late Marquess of Lawrence, Lord Ellsworth. I found only one name of concern, and that was a Mr. George. It seemed he had several business dealings with Lord Lawrence, and then a large sum of money was passed from him to Lord Lawrence.”
“Mr. George,” Joseph said. “Why is it I know that name?”
“What has happened?” His brothers burst into the room, with Charles in the lead. Rory was alert and dressed. Charles wore a robe and appeared sleepy-eyed.
“Milly has been taken. We were at the cemetery.”
“Christ, Joseph, is that blood?” Rory moved closer.
“It is, and I need you to help me remove my waistcoat and shirt, as here comes Mrs. Trotts to look at it.”
“My lord.”
The woman was stout and capable and had been his cook for more years than he could count, and his father’s before that. She carried a small box, and behind her followed a maid with a pot of boiling water and rags.
“If you’ll please sit.”
He did so.
“Go and dress,” he directed Charles. “Then retrieve my pistols, and the money from the drawer in my study. It is locked and here is the key.”
After he had left he addressed Mr. Spriggot. “I have little time to waste, as I need to find Milly. So speak, sir.”
Surprisingly, he felt calm. She would be safe until he got to her, he had to believe that, and he also knew he had to be prepared to save her. Riding in alone and injured would help no one, so prepare he would, no matter how much he hated the delay.
“I located this Mr. George. He has a large gambling establishment known simply as George’s. It is frequented by many, some of whom are nobility. He is a man with a great deal of wealth, none of which he attained through fair dealings.”
“I have heard of him,” Rory said. “He has a fierce reputation.”
Mr. Spriggot nodded. “Indeed he does. There have been many reports of people simply disappearing, and all the information I could glean pointed to Mr. George.”
“And this man has Milly,” Joseph growled.
“I need every man in this household who is strong and can fire a gun, Nibbly. See they are armed and ready to leave soon. Have Gilbert call my carriage, they will travel in that.”
Mrs. Trotts dug out the bullet and stitched his arm, and then doused it in alcohol, which made him curse. She then pasted something over that and bandaged the lot.
“Now then, my lord. You’ll drink this to stave off infection and ease the pain.”
“But it will not make me tired?”
She shook her head, and held out the cup. He drank it, then dressed. Minutes later, he was in his front entrance as Louis arrived.
Rory filled him in as they all mounted. His footmen climbed into his carriage, and soon they were off.
“We will get her back safe, Joseph,” Louis said.
He did not reply; instead he focused on the woman he loved. Without her, his future would be bleak. When she’d left him last time he had hurt, but this time he would be broken.
Milly lay on a soft bed, beneath a blanket. She had woken a few minutes ago, but as yet had not moved for fear she would empty the contents of her stomach. She felt nauseous and unsteady.
“Joseph.” The whisper was agonized. Was he dead? No, she would not allow herself to believe it, no matter how still he had looked. She had tried to evade the men who held her, to go to his side, but could not. When the order had come to finish Joseph off, she had screamed and kicked, using anything she could to escape. She had made so much noise that they had left the cemetery before someone heard her. At least in that she had succeeded. They had not shot Joseph again.
