He didn’t have long to wait on that front, for a letter arrived by rider as the shadows lengthened with the approaching sunset.
It is Warwick for certain.
Meet me in town soonest, and we will settle this once and for all.
Silas crumpled the letter in his fist, flinging open the door to the library and storming through the house towards his rooms, shouting orders at the waiting footmen.
Jobs fell in behind him, eager for something to do.
“News, my lord?”
“Pack a light bag, Jobs. We ride for London within the hour.”
Now that Silas had a name to put to the deed, he found he was eager to confront the bastard, no matter his elevated position.
If there was so much as a bruise on her flawless skin, Silas swore he would make them all pay. Dearly.
The promise of retribution was the only thing keeping him sane as he mounted Hephaestus under the light of the full moon, sending his thanks to the powers above for the boon as he and Jobs rode hard for town.
Nineteen
Silas droppedfrom the saddle of his horse and hurried up the stairs to the Seton townhouse at dusk the next day. He and Jobs had ridden hard through the night, stopping briefly in the early hours of the morning to change out the horses.
He was exhausted, his body complaining with every step, but he could not afford to rest.
Not until Honora had been found and Warwick had been held to account.
Not until he had redeemed himself somehow for his abject failure.
He threw open the door to Benedict’s study, gratified to find him there waiting.
There was a man standing in the shadows by the window, puffing on a cheroot, and Silas had to look twice to recognise it was Starling.
“Honora is missing. I think Warwick has her,” Silas growled, wasting no time on niceties.
Benedict rose to his feet as Starling cursed with a vulgarity only a man of the army could possess.
“How in the hell could you let this happen?” exclaimed Benedict, stalking over to Silas with a menacing scowl.
They stood toe to toe, Benedict’s fists clenching at his sides.
“Just hit me and get it over with,” sighed Silas, looking away first. Defeated. “I deserve it.”
“I should call you out,” growled Benedict. “Taking my sister, alone and unchaperoned, to your estate without consulting me. Adding to the nasty rumours already doing the rounds in town. Did you give even a moment’s thought to the consequences?”
“We need to find her,” said Silas miserably, glancing over at Starling. “Where is Warwick now?”
“He is-”
Benedict cut Starling off with a wave of his hand. “And when we find her, what then? I highly doubt you will do the honourable thing and post a notice of your upcoming nuptials.”
Silas cleared his throat nervously. “Well, about that-”
Benedict’s face flushed a deep, furious red, his gaze raking over the guilt-laden expression on his friend’s face. “You compromised her, didn’t you? You bastard!”
“I want to marry her, Benedict.”
Benedict blew out an angry breath, casting his eyes up at the ceiling.
