The message he had sent to Jem Wagner had instructed him to be armed and in hiding close to the cottage. He didn’t trust the marchioness.
It was a clear night. By the light of a waning moon, Beck quietly left the cart path, moving into the woods’ shadows. He’d left the hired horse in St. Albion’s cemetery, hobbling it to graze among the stones.
Beck had arrived early for the meeting. He wove his way through the trees, following the line of the river, until he reached the cottage. He didn’t worry about where Wagner was. Jem was an excellent marksman and would put himself where he needed to be.
The windows of the building were dark. The thought teased him that Lady Middlebury might ignore his summons. He didn’t believe she would. After all, she had believed he was on his way to Australia.
He crouched by the riverbank and watched the cabin. Darkness had fallen. The hour was around nine. He waited.
The time passed slowly. However, waiting was part of battle. His thoughts drifted to Gwendolyn. She should be at her sister’s house by now.She had not been happy with his decision, but he could live with that as long as she was safe.
He’d never loved anyone the way he did her—
Light moved through the trees from the bridle path and caught his attention. They were on foot. Beck lay flat against the earth. The marchioness held a lantern. She was early, and she had not come alone. Several other people were with her.
Interesting.
One was a man—the marquess, he decided. Another man must be a guard. No, it was the butler. He carried a lantern and a musket. Beck smiled. That was an odd weapon of choice.
The marchioness wore a hooded cloak. Her arm was around another woman in the same sort of hooded garment. The second woman was taller—Gwendolyn.
Beck knew without seeing her face. They had Gwendolyn. Had she defied him and turned back to be captured?
It didn’t matter. She was in danger now.
He watched as the group entered the cottage.
The lamp lit the main room. The marquess shoved Gwendolyn into one of the chairs. She sat awkwardly as if her hands were bound. Lady Middlebury took the chair next to her. The marquess prowled around the room. They all appeared to watch the front door. The hood over Gwendolyn’s head fell back. A scarf was tied around her mouth as a gag. She appeared pale, but determined. He had to grin. He knew what she was thinking—that he should have kept her with him. Lady Middlebury tied her to the chair.
The butler stood on the front step. He did not appear comfortable holding the gun.
Beck wondered if they had servants hidden in the woods around the cottage as well, so he waited.
Five minutes after the Middlebury party had arrived, he heard the soft “oompf” and knew Wagner had taken his man.
He wasn’t the only one who heard the sound. The butler came off the step and started walking the perimeter of the cottage. He’d left the lantern behind, the better to hold the musket. He didn’t call out to anyone, because he expected someone to be there.
As the minutes passed, the butler became more confident. After all, he had a musket. He widened the circle he followed, moving a bit past the light. He moved ever closer to where Beck had secreted himself.
When he was close enough and looking in another direction, Beck rose behind him. He tapped the servant on the shoulder. The butler turned, and one hard strike against the side of the man’s head cause him to drop like a stone. Beck half carried the unconscious servant down the bank, made a quick gag with a piece of the man’s own neckcloth, and bound his hands with the rest. Beck left the musket on the ground in the trees where the butler had dropped it.
Two were down. If there were others, Beck would leave them to Wagner. He was lucky the Middleburys had not spotted his movements out the cottage windows.
Since they were all waiting for him, he decided not to disappoint them.
Beck edged along the bank so that he could emerge from the forest in a different place. He paused a moment before coming into view. Gwendolyn’s life might depend on his getting this right.
He marched out of the woods, whistling as if he didn’t have a care in the world. He wanted them to know he was coming. He wanted them to believe they had the best of him.
As long as they held Gwendolyn, they did.
He was certain the marquess was armed. However, nothing was going to stop him from saving Gwendolyn. They should never have involved her in this.
Beck went up the step. He did not wait for an invitation to enter. He opened the door and stepped inside.
Lady Middlebury came to her feet. Gwendolyn, tied to her chair, was between them. She looked up at him as if pleased he was here.
“We shall be out of this shortly,” he assured her.
