Or did he?
Justin suddenly stopped dead in his tracks. A crazy idea had come to him—he was mad to even consider it. But he could think of nothing else.
Time was ticking away, and so he decided to throw caution to the wind.
Mustering his courage,Justin rushed up the entrance steps of the imposing townhouse steps and hurriedly rapped on the door.
It opened a crack, revealing a stately butler whose expression tightened to an imperious frown. “His Lordship is not?—”
“Imustsee him!” Justin elbowed past him and darted into the entrance hall … only stopped, uncertain of where to go.
Recovering from initial surprise, the butler quickly followed and reached out?—
“A life may depend on it,” entreated Justin.
The fellow hesitated.
“Please. If His Lordship says no, you are welcome to throw me out on my arse.”
A sigh. “Follow me, sir. But assured I shall do just that if your intrusion is unwelcome.”
The butler led the way down a long corridor that led to the back of the residence, then left him in front of a closed door with a brusque wave indicating that Justin was now on his own .
His mouth suddenly went dry. It was one thing to have made a spur-of-the-moment decision on the street … and quite another to now be faced with seeing it through.
What the devil would he say?
But reminding himself that the only danger was being tossed out on the street —while Alex faced …
Swallowing the lump in his throat, Justin opened the door and entered the earl’s study.
Branford looked up from his papers.
“Chilton.” He appeared surprised. “Pray, come in.”
“Please excuse my intrusion, sir, especially since—that is, in light of of …” Justin gave up searching for polite words. “Alex hasbeen kidnapped,” he blurted out. “I don’t know what to do. I … I thought perhaps you might help me.”
Branford shot to his feet. “Bloody hell!” he said through gritted teeth. “When?”
“Sometime this morning.” He took the folded note out of his pocket and thrust it at the earl. “I received this at Jackson’s as I was leaving less than an hour ago.”
Branford read it, then crumpled it in his fist.
“I checked at home, just to be sure,” added Justin. “She left the house alone and has not returned.”
“Marlowe,” called the earl. “Bring me my greatcoat—and my pistols. Have Simms harness the greys and bring the carriage around immediately!”
Justin hung his head. “I’m afraid that I have no idea where to begin looking for her, sir—or who is behind all of this.”
“Oh, but I bloody do,” growled Branford as he took Justin by the shoulder and hurried him into the corridor.
Once in the carriage, Branford immediately set to checking the priming of his weapons. The grim set of his jaw discouraged Justin from saying a word until the earl rapped on the trap and called out a destination.
“White’s?” repeated Justin faintly.
Branford appeared not to hear him but kept his attention focused on ensuring the pistols were in perfect working order. Only when the horses came to a halt in the middle of St. James’s Street did he look up.
“Wait for me here,” he ordered curtly as the carriage door swung open.
