Chapter Twenty
Drake
The Finch brothershad been left to truss the henchmen—three of them—and had done a good job of it. They put the five miscreants into their own carriage, trussed up like poultry for the oven.
Just to be sure, Wart found a hammer and nails in the barn, and nailed both doors shut. If anyone escaped their bounds, they were going no farther, though Drake rather wished Jasper would succeed. The man had gone down at the first blow. Deprived of the fight his rage needed, Drake would welcome an excuse to punch Jasper again.
Wart announced that he had driven a carriage before, and proceeded to demonstrate, and Albinus Finch went on ahead to give news of the rescue to their father and Mr. Wintergreen, who should have arrived at Lord and Lady Finch’s by now.
Garry apologized to the three ladies. “We don’t have sidesaddles for the horses, ladies.”
“I do not need a sidesaddle,” Beryl declared. “I can ride astride if someone helps me to mount, but Cilla and Livy do not ride. They will have to go up behind someone.”
Drake turned to Cilla and she nodded before he had asked. Good, for he was not letting her beyond the reach of his arm.
Bane was already unbuckling the girth of his horse’s saddle. With the help of the other men, the two of them rigged a pad out of a colorful blanket behind the saddle, anchoring it firmly under the saddle.
Drake mounted, and Bane lifted Cilla up behind him, to sit sideways behind the saddle with her knees together on one side and her arms around his waist. At the touch of her, his emotions began to settle. Garry, meanwhile, lifted Beryl up and then mounted his own horse.
Bane indicated a mounting block, half-hidden in weeds. He escorted Livy up onto the block while leading his horse, then mounted and rode his horse to where Livy could simply take the hand he offered her to help her balance, and sit down.
Typical Bane. No showy moves. Just planning, resolve, and efficient action.
“Are you comfortable, Cilla?” Drake asked.
“I am,” Cilla said.
His heart settled a little more.
“We shall walk,” declared Bane. “Both for the ladies’ sake, and for the horses, who have already traveled eight miles here, and must cover the same distance back.”
“Did that fiend hurt you in any way?” Drake asked quietly, once they were out in the road, part of a long line of horses following the carriage.
“Jasper? My cousin is too much of an idiot to be a fiend. I’m not saying he might not have gone along with Mr. Curston if Beryl hadn’t been there. But he felt compelled to be at least a little bit of a gentleman in front of his sister.”
“I’m grateful for it,” Drake said. Although it didn’t make him feel better about Jasper. The wretch had threatened Drake’s lady. He must never be able to do so again.
“I am, too,” Cilla said. “Beryl did her best, Drake. She is afraid of her mother and her brother, but she helped as much as she could.”
What was Beryl’s role in the kidnapping? Why were the three ladies out on the park where they could be captured? Drake had his suspicions. He changed the subject.
“I told Lord Finch and Lady Marple that we are betrothed,” he admitted. “She was trying to stop his lordship from sending out help—though we would have come anyway, so she was doomed to fail. But it was better to have the magistrate on our side.”
“Betrothed?” Cilla repeated.
“The thing is,” Drake continued, “most of the guests hadn’t left the party, and a lot of them were listening. Do you mind very much?”
“Mind what?” Cilla suddenly sounded very much like her sister. “Mind being kidnapped? Mind almost being assaulted? Mind being rescued? Mind being informed—informed, mind you, not asked—that I am suddenly betrothed?”
“Um—” Drake sensed the need for caution. “Three out of four? I do not suppose you mind being rescued.” It suddenly occurred to him what she was saying. “All were without your consent. That was wrong. I understand that. I spoke without asking you first. I am sorry for that, but it seemed essential at the time. To protect your good name, and perhaps—if the worst had happened—give you grounds for an annulment.”
“They are sound reasons, I suppose,” Cilla admitted.
“You forgive me, then? For saying that you and I are betrothed?”
“Yes? But you don’t have to… We can change our minds when the fuss dies down.”
“I will not change my mind, though you can, if that is what you truly wish. I have been courting you for months—or weeks,anyway. Lucilla Wintergreen, would you do me the very great honor of marrying me? I am not the richest of your admirers, or the most talented. I am certainly not the best looking. I have no title and my blood is not blue. But not another man in the world esteems you as I do. And not another man needs you as I do. As my wife, my partner, my friend, my lover. When I arrived at the Finches’ and found you gone, I glimpsed the void my life would be without you in it.” A deep dark hole with no light and no hope. “Rescue me, Cilla, my love. Marry me.”
