It was then that I saw the paper peeping out from under the saddle’s pommel. Speaking soothingly to Peter’s horse—which was a feat, as my voice cracked with panic—I withdrew the page.
On it was a simple sentence.
Bring me Denis, and you will see your son again. Creasey.
CHAPTER 21
The note balled in my fist, I rode to the top of the nearest hill, desperately scanning the horizon. I saw no one, not a party of horses or a carriage taking away my son.
There were no hiding places to my eyes either. The abductors had planned well, likely scouting the area long in advance. I’d made no secret that I would visit Grenville at this time, and I’d come to Gloucestershire in the innocent belief that here, we’d be safe.
I knew Creasey did not mean I should fetch Denis and bring him to some hideaway in the Cotswolds. He wanted me to return to London, truss up Denis, and carry him to Creasey’s warehouse by the wharves.
Tears wet my face as I turned my horse toward Grenville’s home, leading the second horse behind me. I now had to find Donata and tell her I’d lost her son.
Brewster panted up to me on foot as I moved down the trail. “Guv.”
“Did you see?” I demanded. “Where did they take him?”
“That way.” Brewster stretched out his broad arm to the south. “They circled the hills, but they’re on fast horses. They outran me.” He leaned his hands on his knees, dragging in breaths.
“It was Creasey,” I said grimly. I handed him the paper.
Brewster smoothed it out and read it, his breaths slowing as he took it in.
“What will you do, guv?” The question held worry.
“Exactly what Creasey wants. Give him Denis and rescue my son.”
“You walk into Creasey’s lair, he’ll murder you too, depend upon it. Let me round up some good men and we’ll give them chase. I’ll storm that warehouse and get his lordship out.”
I wanted more than anything to charge directly after the abductors, never stopping until I caught them, but I also knew they’d evade me. They’d planned this for weeks.
Peter was a viscount, a fact that might save him. Creasey wanted Denis, an even more important reason to keep Peter alive. Creasey would do nothing to the boy until I came to them with Denis in tow.
Then I would kill Creasey.
“Round up everyone you can,” I ordered. “Hunt them. If you can find them, for God’s sake do nothing that will make them hurt Peter. Meanwhile, I’m off to London to deliver Denis.”
Brewster’s eyes narrowed. “Have ye run completely mad? His Nibs will never let you, not even to save the lad.”
“He will.” The hard note in my voice made Brewster back a step.
He studied me a moment then gave me a nod. “I’ll do as you like. If ye need me to knock His Nibs to the ground and tie him up, I’ll do that too.”
“Good.” I tossed him the reins of Peter’s horse, then turned mine, and rode without further word back to Grenville’s.
Donata had risen and was in her bedchamber with Jacinthe, discussing what she’d wear for the day. When I burst in, my riding boots coated with mud, she started up in surprise.
“What do you think, Gabriel? The green?” She held out a gown that shimmered in the light. “I think it a bit much for morning, but …” She at last noted my expression, and her words died. “Gabriel, what is it? Peter—”
The fear in her eyes cut me. I saw that she thought him dead, thrown from his horse in a wild ride.
“Creasey has him,” I said in clipped tones.
“What?”Donata stared at me, the gown falling from her nerveless fingers to land at the feet of a white-faced Jacinthe. A terrible silence followed.
Then Donata screamed. She came at me, fists flailing, beating my chest as she cried out. I gathered her up, she striking me again and again, her face red, tears streaming.
