“Sophie’s voice,” Patrick said. Seconds later, he was galloping out of his hiding place.
The horse was trotting down the road with the two women on it, and both were singing loudly.
“Sophie!” Patrick roared her name.
Amelia had pulled the horse to a halt in the middle of the road and was watching them approach. “Oh, thank God.” Her shoulders slumped as he drew alongside.
Patrick had eyes only for Sophie as he dismounted and reached for her. She fell into his arms on a sob, clinging to him.
“I have you,” he whispered into her hair as her body trembled.
“I told Amelia you would find us,” Sophie whispered into his neck.
“Christ, sweetheart,” Patrick groaned, pressing his cheek to hers.
She wrapped her arm around his neck and held him in a fierce grip.
“We need to get them off this road and somewhere warm,” Stephen said behind him.
“The inn we passed,” Patrick added as the torrent of emotion eased inside him. “We’ll head there.”
He lifted her onto his horse.
“I am quite capable of riding to an inn,” Amelia said when Stephen offered to put her up before him. “I’m quite done with riding before a man.”
Sophie lay back against Patrick, and for now, holding her was enough. She was here and safe. But soon he’d want answers to his questions. Soon he would go after who had taken her from him.
There was no welcoming light as they arrived at the inn. A sign swung over the door with The Robin written on it. Patrick dismounted with Sophie in his arms as Stephen hammered his fist on the front door. It took a few minutes, but finally someone was on the other side.
“Who goes there?”
“The Earl of Coulter and Viscount Sumner.”
The door was opened, and a candle raised.
“My lords,” the innkeeper said. He wore a nightshirt tucked into his trousers. “What has happened?”
“There has been an accident, and my wife and her friend Miss Logan were injured,” Patrick said, walking over the threshold. “Do you have two rooms available, sir?”
“We do. I’ll see to them at once,” the man said, stepping aside to let them enter.
“Water and food, too, if you have it, please,” Patrick said. Pulling a pouch of money out of his pocket, he handed it to the man.
“I’ll wake my family,” he said, testing the weight in his palm. “If you’ll come this way, I’ll have you wait in the parlor.”
Showing them into a room, which still had embers glowing in the hearth, he excused himself to wake his family.
Patrick led Sophie to a chair before the fire and set her in it. Amelia dropped into the one beside her. Both women were exhausted; it was in every line of their faces.
“Here.” The innkeeper bustled in with a tray of glasses.
Patrick took two and held them out to Sophie and Amelia. “Sip this.”
“And then tell us your story,” Stephen said, now holding a glass of his own as he leaned on the fireplace, beneath which he’d stoked flames to life.
“It was Jack Spode. He’s the one who took us,” Amelia said. “Well, his men, and they took us to him.”
“We tried to hold them off. Amelia climbed out of the carriage and took the reins after….” Sophie pressed a hand to her mouth. “Robbie and the others?—”
