Gray pressed money into her hand, then shut the office door and locked it before handing her back the key.
Then he leaned in close to speak to the woman once more. “Give both keys to Detective Holden along with the note. If you lie or run, never doubt I will find you.”
Her eyes widened, and she fled, running into the street.
Hoofbeats thundered. Bram, Leo, and Alex appeared.
“Miss Downing never visited her friend,” Bram said grimly.
“She, Fenella, and Polly Watts are at an estate called Three Waters,” Calder said.
“That’s Baron Ellington’s estate,” Bram said sharply.
“Then let’s go,” Mungo said. “And I’m killing that bastard this time.”
No one argued.
Ram and Charles arrived as they moved toward the horses. Together, they mounted and thundered out of London as if the hounds of hell snapped at their heels.
CHAPTER THIRTY
By the time the cart stopped, Eliza’s body ached and her throat was raw from the gag. It felt like she’d been in there for hours, and in truth, she had no idea how long it was.
Someone threw back the cover, and hands closed around her waist to haul her out. Even the weak light made her eyes water as they set her on her feet, and her knees threatened to buckle, but she locked them. Her hands were then untied, and Eliza nearly wept with relief as the ache in her shoulders eased.
Show no weakness, Eliza.
The foul-tasting rag was pulled from her mouth. She sucked in a great, shuddering breath of cold air. It burned her raw throat but felt good all the same after breathing around the gag for so long.
“Move,” a voice growled.
Fingers clamped around her upper arm and jerked her forward. Eliza stumbled, then found her footing and forced her spine straight.
It wasn’t fully dark yet, and Eliza guessed it was late afternoon,though she really had no idea after that suffocating journey.
Eliza saw open pasture, a rutted drive, and a line of wind-bent trees in the distance. No house, no sign of a village. Just the squat, dark bulk of a barn ahead of them.
“Where are you taking me?” Her voice came out hoarse.
“Shut up and don’t ask questions,” the man at her side snapped.
His grip tightened when she tried to twist free, and she looked up into the face of the man who had killed her father. A face she’d never forget.
The other man walked behind them, his boots crunching on the ground.
“Why am I here?” she demanded as they drew closer to the barn.
“I’ll stuff that gag back in your bleeding mouth if you don’t shut it,” the man snarled in her ear.
Eliza bit back any reply. Not because she feared him, but because she needed to think. To see. To remember every detail of this place if she was to get out of it.
They veered around the side of the barn to a smaller door. The man shouldered it open, and Eliza was dragged inside.
It was larger than it appeared from the outside, its roof a lattice of dark beams overhead with a hayloft running along one side. Stalls lined both sides of the aisle, a few horses watching them over stable doors.
Her captor’s fingers dug harder into her arm. “In there.”
Eliza saw another door, this one smaller, and to her eyes, sturdier. It had a lock hanging from a latch outside.
