Page 71
Twenty-two
Hefferwickshire House’s lands
A COUPLE OF TERRIFYING HEARTBEATS LATER
Cassius didn’t need to look twice to know the men were up to no good. Their unmitigated gall in trespassing on ducal lands suggested the Earl of Highbury had offered a substantial reward for Beatrice’s return.
Digging his heels into the horse’s sides, he whistled—a high-pitched series of notes. He repeated the whistle several times as they barreled toward the house.
And he prayed someone would hear the signal and sound the alarm.
All the Westbrooks had learned the whistle when they were children. Father had insisted upon it, and the staff knew it meant danger. Or a potential abduction. That someone was hurt or needed help. A fire… Any manner of peril.
Beatrice clung to him, her breath coming in frantic little pants.
“Nala,” she cried. “Come.”
Nala sprinted beside the horse.
Cassius held no false hope that this weary beast could outrun the miscreants’ horses.
He whistled the alarm again.
And again.
A shout went up from the stables.
Then another. And another.
An answering whistle carried from the estate.
Thank God.
“Help is coming, Beatrice.”
He shot a frantic glance over his shoulder.
The thugs closed in on them.
One raised a pistol.
Holy Hell.
Mayhap the earl didn’t want her back alive, after all.
The villain lowered the barrel, aiming at the lagging horse.
“The blackguard means to take the horse down, Beatrice. Hang on.”
Cassius would die before he let those men get their hands on her.
He veered the horse to the right, and then to the left.
A gunshot rang out.
A small shriek escaped Beatrice as she dug her nails into his stomach. She squeezed him so tightly that he doubted an ant could crawl between them.
Teddy yipped in terror.
