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Oliver’s hand slid up, his fingers closing around the man’s throat and his entire body vibrating with wrath. “My sister, you little fool. Tell me where she is before I snap your neck and leave you here for the insects to eat.”

Christopher’s palms itched with the desire to insert himself into the interrogation, but a glance at the man’s wilting courage checked his movement.

The man wheezed, then sputtered. “All right, let go! I can’t breathe! I’ll tell you.”

Oliver opened his hand and the man flopped to the ground, rubbing at the bright red welts where Oliver’s fingertips had dug into his throat.

Gabriel reached up and idly stroked his horse’s neck. “I would start talking if I were you. It’s rather unlikely that Mr Lioni is the worst thing that will happen to you today, and the longer I’m forced to stand here waiting on you, the more unfortunate your evening will become.”

The man glanced between Oliver’s red-faced rage and Gabriel’s calculating stare. He crumbled. “They have her in an abandoned hunting lodge. A few hundred feet from where the creek dams up.”

“Do you know the place?” Christopher looked to Gabriel, who nodded.

“Yes, I know it.” Gabriel turned his attention back to the man, who was attempting to slink to his feet, and stalked towards him. Slow, deliberate steps. “In the very best possible outcome, you should expect a visit from the Justice of the Peace. If our venture to rescue Sofia Lioni is unsuccessful, or if we find her where you say she is, but she has been harmed, it will be me—or one of these two gentlemen—who show up at your door requesting a moment of your time.” Christopher hadn’t thought it possible, but the man looked even more terrified in the face of the cool calculated threat. “Go,” Gabriel commanded.

“My, he does do that well,” Oliver murmured.

“He is the duke,” Christopher responded curtly.

The trio proceeded silently through the woods, first on horseback and then on foot. Too long. It was taking too long. Anything could have happened to her. Christopher’s throat was dry from panting and his muscles burned from tension and exertion.

The moment the corner of the weather-beaten structure peaked into view, Christopher surged forward, but both Oliver and Gabriel grasped him by the shirt, holding him fast.

“Someone is coming out. Get down,” Oliver whispered.

The door flung open and a middle-aged man half carried, half dragged Sofia outside. His long, stringy hair hung forward, obscuring his face.

“Oh yes, I’s got good strong arms to hold you, little bird. I’m big all over, and I knows how to use it. You may fight at first, but you’re going to love it. They always do. You can do yer business in a minute, but first I’m going to give you a little taste.”

Christopher couldn’t listen to another word.

Something hot and hungry flared in Tom’s expression and Sofia’s legs began to tremble. She searched frantically for something with which to defend herself, her gaze halting at the sight of movement at the tree line.

Christopher erupted from the thicket, his boots pounding into the ground. Sofia wriggled away, using the man’s surprise at Christopher’s approach to her advantage.

Christopher dived onto Tom and the pair rolled with the momentum until Christopher was pinned to the ground. Taking a solid blow to his jaw, Christopher’s head jerked with a snap to the side. With a grunt of effort, he shoved his free arm up between them, pressing one knuckle into the bastard’s eye socket until he cried out. Christopher followed with a fist to Tom’s nose. Blood poured from his nostrils and Christopher used that distraction to push him to the ground. Tom’s hands flailed in a futile attempt to protect his face from Christopher’s continued assault. Only when what little resistance his opponent offered was completely gone did Christopher stop.

Oliver and Gabriel had emerged from the tree line a second behind Christopher, passing by Sofia to ambush the remaining men. Behind her in the cabin, similar shrieks of surprise preceded the crash of splintered wood and sounds of decisive victory.

He came for me. He’s here. Sofia let out a sob, and tears chased one another down her cheeks. Christopher pushed up to his feet and staggered one step towards her. Then he stopped and stood in place, chest heaving, eyes bright with anguish. Stood staring at her as if half a world separated them rather than mere steps. And that same open, beautiful face that had so fearlessly revealed his heart to her now exposed every ounce of his grief. She had lost him. Of course she had. How could he love me, when all I’ve done is lie?

No wound those men could have inflicted hurt half as much as knowing Christopher was just ten steps away. Ten steps he would not take. The moment Oliver appeared by her side, Christopher turned and walked away, back in the direction from which he had come, with Sofia’s sobs echoing through the woods behind him.

Only Oliver’s sturdy arms prevented her collision with the ground. He held her as she wept tears that stung with bitter loss and regret.

“Easy now, I’ve got you. You’re safe.” But she wasn’t safe. She hadn’t been safe since the moment Christopher pushed that ridiculous pear tree into the hallway outside her door. She had known it and loved him anyway. And now they would both suffer for her selfishness. She wanted to tell Oliver to take her home, but she didn’t even know where that was anymore.

Her cheek fell to Oliver’s shoulder. Beside him, Gabriel stood like a sentinel, his expression solemn but not unkind. He slipped off his topcoat and draped it across her body, tucking the edges beneath her chin. “Oliver, take your sister home please, and have Bennet fetch the doctor. I’ll remain behind and handle this.” He nodded his encouragement when Oliver seemed as disinclined to return to the manor as she was. “Go, Oliver. Back to Northam Hall. She needs help.”

The ride back was excruciating.

“I’m so sorry, Sofi. So sorry for all of it.”

Sofia had survived her mother’s carelessness with her feelings and her father’s indifference for her love. She had remained doggedly determined through aching hunger, the slow stripping of her belongings, and the loss of her childhood home. Life had lashed out at her, and still she had not flinched. Now, she couldn’t even muster the energy to respond. Didn’t know what there was left to say. She had reached the end of her fraying rope, and it felt almost like relief to open her hand and allow herself to fall.

She curled into her brother’s chest and wept a lifetime’s worth of tears, willing time to move slower despite the unbearable pain in her shoulder. Prolonging her pain was preferable to facing the mayhem and disappointment awaiting her at Northam Hall. But there was no avoiding her dreary future. Dark grey clouds stretched out before her as far as she could see.

Upon their arrival, it seemed as if the entire staff at Northam Hall was milling between the stables and the front door. Everyone except Christopher, whose absence struck her more keenly than the concern of forty other people could make up for. People who had become her friends and family and would very soon regret knowing her at all. How long before everyone here became aware of her deceit? Before they too would turn their backs at ten paces?