Honora switched her attention from Warwick to the men, pleading to them with her eyes. Surely they could see that this was wrong.
Help me.Help me.
The second man stepped forward into the light of the carriage lamp, and Honora was momentarily grateful for the gag, as it masked her gasp of surprise.
It was Starling, her brother’s acquaintance.
He tilted his head in her direction, dropping her a slight wink of acknowledgement.
Hope surged hot and wild in her veins, her pulse stuttering to life as she realised he would not be alone.
Benedict must be somewhere nearby, and possibly Silas as well.
Honora had to close her eyes against the tears of relief that threatened to slip free, hoping Warwick would think her overcome with despair.
“What shall we do with her?” drawled Starling, jerking his chin towards Honora.
Warwick swivelled his gaze, inspecting Starling as if he were an insect.
“Nothing, until I send word my aim is achieved. After that, I don’t care to know.”
The implication made Honora’s head swim.
He would have her killed without losing a moment’s peace.
Warwick was of her father’s age, a respected head of the county. But, under the facade, he was clearly rotten to the core. What did he want from Benedict so badly?
Did Warwick truly expect her brother to comply when his sister was not returned to him?
Suddenly, the carriage door behind her was yanked open, shouts ringing through the dark night as a ruckus broke out beyond the weak circle of light.
Honora craned her head back, trying to see, squirming on the filthy floor.
Perhaps she could find an opportunity to escape.
But, it was Benedict’s familiar form outlined in the open door, and Honora wanted to cry with relief, even as she fought her bindings, desperate to warn him of the danger.
Warwick leant back in his seat, gripping the ivory head of his walking stick with arrogant assurance. “Seton. What an unpleasant surprise.”
Benedict balled his fists, anger etched on his face. “Warwick. You disgust me. I will be taking Honora now, and if I hear another mention of your petition in the halls of Westminster I will ruin you without hesitation. Don’t think I don’t know about your plans to mine lead on the land you intend to appropriate.”
“Fighting words,” replied Warwick sardonically.
He snapped his fingers at the men outside. “Get him. He can meet the same fate as his sister.”
At that moment, a thud rang out from the driver’s seat above, the sound of something heavy hitting the cobbles with a dreadful finality, and then Silas appeared at Benedict’s shoulder.
Starling used the distraction to grab the ruffian beside him, wrapping an arm around his throat with ruthless precision and taking him to the ground until he lay unresponsive.
“You are outclassed, Warwick,” said Silas with a low, gravelly tone that raised the hair on Honora’s arms.
“If you have any sense of preservation, you will remain seated while we leave with the woman. If not, I cannot be held responsible for my actions tonight.”
Warwick sneered, but flicked his hand, a hard look flashing across his face.
And then, finally, Benedict was reaching for her, pulling the gag from her mouth and helping her out of the carriage.
Starling could be heard chuckling in the background.
