When Bertram glanced toward the window, Thea darted back and returned to the sofa to recount what she’d heard.
“You’ve rattled them,” Julia said.
Thea withdrew her handkerchief embroidered with her name from a pocket of her riding coat. She tucked it half under a sofa cushion. “But it’s not enough.” She worked at loosening the twine around her wrists. It was tied so tightly the skin was already red raw. She gave up. “I’ll try to undo yours, Julia.”
With an eye on the door, Thea worked at loosening Julia’s bonds. He’d tied them just as tight, and it was difficult for Thea with her hands tied together. “I’m sorry if I’m hurting you.”
Julia winced. “Never mind. This might be the only chance we have to escape.”
Suddenly, the knot gave way. Thea glanced up to see Bertram striding up the path. “He’s coming. Wrap the twine back around your wrists.”
Julia tucked the ends out of sight and held her hands in her lap.
“Move.” Bertram’s fingers cut into Thea’s arm. “Back to the coach.”
Thea feared he would check their bonds, but he seemed distracted. “Where are you taking us?” she asked as he shepherded them out the door.
“You might be right about Farnborough. Fred and I have discussed it.” He gave her a placatory smile. “Highworth will give us a better deal, so if you’re good, you’ll soon be back with him.”
Thea gasped. The chiseled grooves on both sides of his mouth made him look cruel. “You’ll return us to Meadows?”
He opened the coach door and put down the step. “After a deal is done.”
Thea didn’t believe him.
Thea followed Julia into the coach, and Bertram shut the door. Then he climbed up on the box with the coachman. They began talking together.
“We must wait for the best time to escape,” Thea whispered.
“Should we if they’re taking us back?”
“We can’t rely on their word.”
“No, I suppose not.” With a shaky intake of breath, Julia sank back against the squab.
As the coach turned out the gate, Thea held out her hands. “Try to undo mine. Bertram appears to underestimate women. Let’s surprise him.”
But at that moment, the panel in the roof slid back, making her drop her hands. Bertram peered down. “Don’t get any smart ideas.”
A handsome coachlike Farnborough’s cannot travel far without notice. It was this hope that drove Ash on. Mounted on one of his grandfather’s geldings, he called in and spoke to Mr. Wellings, the earl’s tenant farmer who had first sighted the vehicle. Reassured he was right, he continued east. It seemed doubtful they were headed back to London. He found the gap in the hedge where the coach pushed its way through. Ash pulled up to consider it. Where would Farnborough take them? He turned left and continued on riding through a village. A man sweeping outside his haberdashery confirmed the coach had passed that way.
Two miles on, Ash rode past a shabby inn. He was about to travel on when he spied something lying on the ground. Dismounting, he picked up a lady’s riding hat. It was of high quality. He turned it in his hands to survey the expensive ostrich feathers fluttering in the breeze. This looked very much like the one he saw Thea wearing the morning he left Meadows. He held it to his nose and breathed in her familiar perfume. He gasped as his heart thudded hard. Did she leave it on purpose as a sign? He gazed around. If it was hers, where did they go from here?
Ash entered the inn and approached the innkeeper, who was bent over his ledger at the desk.
“Lord Grainger, sir. Did a coach pull in here a few hours ago?”
The proprietor straightened his shoulders. “Good day to you, milord. Lord Farnborough’s coach, it was. On their way to his hunting lodge, I imagine. Not so far from here.”
“So, Lord Farnborough traveled in it?”
“No. Only the two young ladies, it were.”
Ash withdrew some coins from his pocket. “I’d be grateful if you could direct me to the lodge.”
An hour later, he dismounted before the building. Nothing stirred but a fox in the undergrowth. When no one answered his knock, Ash raised a window and climbed inside. Deeply disappointed, he searched the place top to bottom. No sign of them. As he strode back across the floor, he noticed something white on the sofa. He reached down and pulled the handkerchief from beneath the cushion.Theodosiawas embroidered on the scrap of delicate, lace-bordered fabric. She had left him another sign. She was still alive at this point. He couldn’t allow himself to consider the possibility that they might have met with foul play. It left him weak at the knees.
He left the lodge, swearing loud enough to make his horse duck his head. Why did they leave again so soon after arriving? He had no answer and no clue as to their direction.
