Grace (35 page)

Faith gave him a look of patient tolerance. “Grace has no enemies, my lord. Perhaps she never actually left London.”

A sense of blessed relief began washing through him. Grace was likely still in the city this very moment. He shook his head and swore under his breath before he remembered the people around him. Christ, he had behaved like a lunatic. The time for speculation had passed. He had to get back to London right away, to find her as quickly as possible. To learn the truth.

Trevor turned on his heel and strode from the room. Unaware of his rudeness, or of the alarm his behavior was once more causing the assembled Ackerlys, he made his way from the house without another word.

The twins broke into excited chatter. Patience and her father exchanged worried, frightened looks. Only Faith remained unperturbed. “Grace is fine,” she assured her family calmly. “Lord Caldwell is still unused to her unpredictable nature. That’s all.”

It was the first time in years the family could remember Faith’s unquestionable logic failing her.

At first Sebastian did not see Mercy when he walked outside. He stood on the steps, patiently allowing his eyes to adjust to the darkness. Once he could discern details in the dim moonlight, he swept his glittering golden gaze across the woods bordering the property. After a moment he turned decisively and headed toward the stables. He
was rewarded when he spied Mercy outside the far end of the low building. She was riding bareback, astride the same showy gelding she had ridden the dark night all those weeks ago when his coach had nearly killed her. Without a backward glance she urged her mount into a gallop, heading for a small bridle path that led through the woods.

Quickly Sebastian ran into the stable and began to prepare a mount for himself, knowing that only with the advantage of a saddle could he possibly outride the little hellion. She rode as if she were born to it, and he hoped he did not lose too much ground in the time it took to saddle the stallion. He had nearly finished when Trevor strode in.

“I’m taking a horse and going back to London, Thorne,” he announced, a muscle working grimly in his jaw. “Will you bring back my coach and my fiancée on the off chance I’m wrong, and that she hasn’t actually been in town the whole time?”

Sebastian nodded as he led his mount out into the corral and swung effortlessly up into the saddle. He gave Trevor a last hard look, then dug his heels sharply into the stallion’s flanks. He galloped toward the bridle path down which Mercy had disappeared.

Trevor watched him go, then finished saddling his own horse and mounted. He directed the gelding down the drive to the London road, which ran along the Ackerlys’ extensive property line for nearly a mile before forking at the inn. The left fork ran farther along the northern boundary of the Ackerly holdings, while the right fork headed east and then north, away from Pelthamshire and ultimately to London, where he hoped to find Grace.

Trevor reached the split in the road and pulled up. He looked toward the inn, trying to decide whether stopping and asking the locals within if they had seen Grace would have any value. After only a moment’s thought, he rejected
the idea. He turned his mount eastward, then pulled up in surprise. Behind him, from within the tall hedges that bordered the road and separated it from the Ackerly property, Trevor heard a distant, frightened scream. And then, ominously, the sound was cut off.

Sebastian galloped smoothly along the path. As the dark foliage whipped by him in the darkness, his eyes surveyed it for any sign of another path that branched away from the one he followed. He did not see one, however, before he reached the tall hedge that marked the boundary of the Ackerly property, where the path suddenly ended. A break in the hedge led him out onto a road. Looking to his right, Sebastian realized he had emerged on the left fork of the road that ran past the Ackerly drive. He could see the lights of the inn quite clearly in the distance, and he could also see the silhouette of Hunt mounted upon a black horse.

Sebastian realized Mercy could not have gone that way, for Trevor would undoubtedly have seen her and would have stopped her. That left only the road continuing west, which led eventually to Blackthorne Manor. He pulled gently on the left rein to turn his mount in that direction, preparing to urge the stallion into a gallop. The next instant, a terrified scream shattered the night.

Grace’s head jerked upward when she heard the scream. It sounded so close.

Suddenly she heard scuffling noises outside the cottage. Henry thrust open the door and struggled into the room grasping Mercy. The child kicked and squirmed with all her strength, both hands furiously tugging and scratching at the hand he had clamped across her mouth to keep her from screaming again.

He managed to drag her inside and close the door, but not before one of Mercy’s booted feet connected painfully
with his shin. With a savage curse, Henry dumped her in a heap on the bare floor.

Mercy glared up at her captor, her small chin set at a mutinous angle, before she looked away and spotted her sister. She scrambled across the floor, closer. Her eyes widened in shock when she observed the thick knots that held Grace captive.

“My God, Grace, are you all right?” she asked breathlessly, scanning her sister’s face with worried eyes. Grace nodded mutely from behind her gag. Her blue eyes stared at Mercy, hard and determined, glittering in the light of the single candle. Mercy reached up to pull the gag from her sister’s mouth.

“Stop!” Henry commanded. His loud voice boomed in the stillness. Mercy flinched and snatched back her hands. He shook his head and sighed. “You’re a rather unwelcome complication, brat.”

“What are you doing here, Sir Harry?” Mercy asked, looking up at him in confusion. “Why did you tie Grace up?” Her hands hesitantly moved to the knots around her sister’s ankles.

“Don’t touch those!” Henry yelled, then visibly composed himself and raised his eyebrows. “Inquisitive little twit, aren’t you?” He straightened from where he leaned against the wall and came toward them with slow, measured steps. Mercy began to shrink back, then bravely straightened her spine, mustering all the dignity she could while still seated on the filthy floor.

Henry chuckled. “You Ackerly sisters have so much spirit, don’t you?” He stopped walking and stood before them, tapping a long finger thoughtfully on his chin. “The real question is what I should do with you now.” He shook his head regretfully. “I’ll have to give it some thought, as I have only two loaded pistols. I’d not planned on reloading. In the meantime, of course, I’m afraid I’ll have to detain you.
I’m sure you understand.” He picked up a spare length of rope and bent over.

Mercy’s mind swung instantly from confusion to alarm when she heard him mention pistols. She scrambled frantically backward in an effort to get away, but he caught her easily. He grabbed her arm in a punishing grip and shoved her back down beside her sister’s chair. “Don’t try my patience, Mercy,” he growled, his demented face inches from hers.

Mercy’s fear and confusion abruptly vanished. She spit in his face.

Rage instantly mottled Henry’s features; he turned a furious purplish hue in the semidarkness. Without another word he backhanded her with so much force her head snapped to the side. She cried out and tasted blood where her inner cheek split against her teeth. Never in her young life could Mercy remember anyone hitting her. With a pitiful little whimper, she subsided and allowed him to secure her to the legs of the chair with no further struggle.

Henry stood and wiped his face. “Somebody should have taken a strap to that brat long ago,” he told Grace. He stopped suddenly and stood quite still, looking toward the window.

Grace heard it then, too: the staccato sound of hoofbeats approaching the cabin, more than one horse, moving fast. Instantly hope soared in her heart, and she looked swiftly down at Mercy. Her dazed sister still sat with eyes downcast. Grace watched Henry bend and quickly gag Mercy with his cravat. He blew out the candle and picked up the box holding the dueling pistols. He extracted one and stashed it inside his coat, then held the other loosely in one hand as he opened the door. He gave Grace a last warning glance, then went outside.

Henry’s eyes focused intently on the path that led from the woods. He ran to Mercy’s unsaddled horse and sent it
trotting off into the trees with a sharp smack on the hindquarters. The dappled gray gelding had just disappeared from view when two riders appeared from around the bend. Hurriedly Henry hid behind his leg the hand that held the pistol. He immediately recognized Trevor Caldwell on one of the Ackerly mounts. The other man, though unfamiliar to Henry, also rode one of Bingham Ackerly’s horses. Cursing inwardly, Henry gave the men a disarming smile as they pulled up before him.

Inside the darkened lodge, Grace pulled her hands free of the ropes she had managed to loosen when Henry left her alone earlier. She scraped the gag from her mouth, then bent down and went to work on the ropes at her ankles. She winced at the burning sensation from the chafed skin on her wrists, and vaguely wondered whether she would scar. “Mercy,” she hissed urgently.

Her sister looked up, a purpling bruise already showing on her left cheek. Her eyes widened as she saw Grace kick away the ropes that had bound her ankles then kneel to remove the gag from Mercy’s mouth.

“My knife,” Mercy whispered as soon as she was able.

Quickly Grace pulled out the knife Mercy habitually carried in her boot. As she heard the hoofbeats outside draw closer and stop, Grace hastily sliced through the rest of Mercy’s bonds. “Hurry,” she urged, helping the child to her feet. “Before they leave.” Together the sisters raced for the door, opened it, and stumbled outside.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” Henry said with a wide smile. “Rather a dark night to be out for a ride. Is there anything I can do for you?”

Trevor studied the man. Something about his stance instinctively bothered Trevor. He looked somewhat familiar, and Trevor searched his memory, trying to place him. Finally
he did. This was Sir Harry Thomas, he recalled, the soldier Grace had artfully avoided by colliding with him on the evening they met. The man he’d punched.

“Good evening, Thomas,” he said, his eyes now scanning the surrounding tree line.“We’re looking for Mercy Ackerly. We thought we heard a scream coming from this direction.”

“I heard it, too.” Henry nodded. “I was just coming out to investigate. I haven’t seen little Mercy, though. I was under the impression that the entire Ackerly family was in London.”

Sebastian looked around the clearing. “Isn’t this Ackerly land?” His eyes narrowed on the unkempt lodge.

“Why, yes, it is,” said Henry. “Bingham allows me to use this old lodge whenever I feel like hunting. Truth is, if I didn’t use it, nobody would, what with Bingham having a whole passel of daughters. Wonderful neighbors, the Ackerlys.”

The two men on horseback nodded, then exchanged a glance and prepared to leave.“If you would, Thomas, please keep an eye out for Mercy,” said Trevor. Henry nodded again, still smiling, and stepped back toward the building.

At that moment, the door to the cabin crashed open.

T
revor’s eyes widened in shock. Sebastian froze in stunned disbelief. Both men dismounted as Grace and Mercy stumbled out of the cottage and into the moonlight. “Trevor!” Grace choked, relief evident on her face.

Unfortunately, Henry stood between the girls and the men. At the sound of the cabin door crashing open, he spun around. In their flight from the cabin, neither Grace nor Mercy had taken notice of him standing just outside the door. They’d focused on reaching Trevor, Sebastian, and the promise of safety.

With an angry snarl, Henry lunged for the girls. He missed Grace entirely, but caught Mercy’s wrist. Forcibly he pulled her from her sister’s grasp. Mercy gave a small, involuntary yelp as she was hauled suddenly in front of him. She stiffened, and everyone went silent. The color drained from Mercy’s face as she felt the cold, hard metal of Henry’s pistol press against her forehead.

Grace fell, sobbing, into the refuge of Trevor’s arms, then realized she no longer grasped Mercy’s hand. She turned to look for the younger girl and gasped in horror. Henry held her little sister in front of his body like a shield. Mercy stared back at her with huge, frightened eyes.

Sebastian took a slow step toward Henry and Mercy.

Henry leveled his demented gaze upon the duke. “Don’t even try it,” he warned. He waved the pistol in Trevor and Grace’s direction. “Move away from that horse.”

Grace, frozen in fear for her sister, felt Trevor tug her away from his mount. Sebastian stood his ground. Henry quickly brought the muzzle back to Mercy’s forehead. “Now!” he thundered.

With a deep scowl Sebastian moved aside, his hawklike, reassuring eyes never leaving the young girl’s. Mercy swallowed hard and nodded imperceptibly at him. As though she had absorbed a measure of his strength, some of the fear faded from her eyes, replaced by a look of grim determination. As Grace saw her sister’s expression change, she bit her lip and clutched at Trevor’s arm.