While they waited in the hall, the lady hurried in.
When he explained about Maddie’s abduction, the housekeeper, Mrs. Wilmot, put her hand to her chest, alarmed. “Dear heaven. I hope she is all right.”
“I don’t know. But I intend to go after them. Would you take in Lady Madeline’s maid until she returns?”
“Certainly, my lord. I hope nothing bad has befallen Lady Madeline. I wondered why she had arrived here unaccompanied and without notice. Most odd, I thought. And she did not know her aunt had gone to London, despite Lady Dalby writing to tell her of their changed plans.” She sighed. “These family affairs are never easy. Especially with young ladies. So unpredictable. Would her uncle have come to take her home? If not he, perhaps I should advise him?”
“There’s no need. I’m sure it was Mr. Wakeham,” Hart said shortly.
Before he left, he asked to see Jane again. “You mustn’t worry, Jane. I’ll find your mistress. Why did she leave home? Did she tell you?”
There was not much Jane could tell him. Struggling to understand her, Hart calmly questioned her. Some men who visited her uncle had frightened Maddie. In what manner, Jane wasn’t sure, but it became clear they came after her on Wakeham’s orders and grabbed her off the street. Hart’s anger and disgust toward Wakeham grew.
“Describe the carriage to me.”
“It was old, gray…or a light green.”
“Anything else?”
She shook her head.
Untying the reins, he climbed into his curricle. Hart ordered his thoughts. Was it even possible to follow them? Jane had failed to offer a helpful description of the vehicle. Might it be better to return home and force Wakeham to tell him what this was about? He was obviously in deep with some rough types. Did they take their orders from him? He dismissed any notion of approaching Wakeham. He didn’t trust the man. It would waste precious time, and every minute Maddie spent in their company was dangerous. His heart turned over at the disturbing possibilities which came unwelcome into his mind. What might she be going through? What would they do to her? Surely Wakeham would have instructed them not to hurt her. Or would he? There was no understanding the man’s motives. And no time to call in the Bow Street Runners who must come from London, although Hart wouldn’t hesitate if he failed to find her.
Hart turned his curricle into the road at the bottom of the hill. Anger caused him to urge his horses into a fast trot. Passing a slow carriage, there was only light traffic ahead. The few carriages were neither gray nor green. Disheartened, he passed them, and getting a clear run, urged his horses on. He would not turn back. He had to find her.
The road ahead was now clear, and the horses settled at a steady pace, enabling Hart to consider those things he’d left undone during this mad dash. He groaned aloud. Oh lord, and he must send a message to Vivian Spencer to say he would not be in London by Saturday. Would it reach her in time? A shocking lapse in manners. She would never forgive him. What troubled him more, he realized, was that he’d hurt her and behaved in an ungentlemanly fashion, not that he might lose her favor. But then there’d been no time to get to know her, and for a relationship to develop into something deeper would take time. Time he didn’t have with his uncle’s trustees on his back. His own predicament rose to worry him, and while he wrestled with it, he almost failed to notice the muddy old carriage up ahead. It was cream, not gray, or green, but so dirty the color was almost indecipherable. It lurched at an angle in a deep ditch. Hart reached down and drew out the pistol he kept in a box under the seat. He cocked it and tucked it into the back of his breeches beneath his coat.
*
The carriage wasgrimy, the seats smelling of ale and smoke, and something undefinable but nasty, which she didn’t try to put a name to. Maddie tried to breathe slowly, but her heart galloped, and her knee ached, so badly bruised she wasn’t sure she could run if she tried to escape. One scoundrel went away with the wheel to find a wheelwright. A dark-haired man sat opposite her in the carriage, leering at her as she crammed herself into a corner. The third stood at the horses’ heads.
“You’ll be in trouble when the authorities get hold of you,” she said to him. “They’ll toss you in jail for life, or hang you.”
He rubbed a scar on his pale cheek. His eyes looked jaundiced.
“If you live that long,” she added.
His thick red lips parted to show stained teeth. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“You look liverish.”
“None of your lip,” he growled. “Or I’ll teach you a lesson. Arrogant bunch, you nobles, think you own the world.” He laughed. A raw, grating sound. “There are ways of bringing you down.”
“What nonsense.” These were her uncle’s men. She recognized his voice. She wanted to keep him talking, afraid he might think of something else to fill the time.
“We can take whatever we want and live as high and mighty as you.”
She tapped her cheek with a finger. “Let me see. Who was the last highwayman to be hanged? James Snooks, wasn’t it? The streets are safer now. Bow Street will catch up with you. Few robbers get to grow old.”
“I said none of your lip!” He bent forward and leveled a stinging backhand across her cheek.
Tears flooded her eyes, but she refused to rub it. “You’ll be in trouble when my uncle learns how you’ve treated me.”
He shrugged his thin shoulders and grinned, showing off his yellow, broken teeth. “Your uncle? Who might he be?”
Maddie shivered and her blood ran cold. Her uncle never cared for her. His behavior toward her was cruel. She couldn’t make sense of it.
Turning away from the man’s ugly face, she gazed out of the window, not allowing him to see her distress. Craning her neck, she saw a curricle draw into the side of the road a few yards behind them. A tall figure jumped down and tied off the reins. He strode toward them. Hart! Her heart pumped hard as excitement and fear for him made her tremble. She sat back against the squab and clasped her gloved hands together.
