Only an Earl Will Do (21 page)

Chapter Nineteen

Henry cantered down Dunsleigh’s drive, going over every word he would say to Elizabeth when he saw her in only a matter of minutes. He beat back the doubt that continued to gnaw at his gut that Elizabeth had walked away from their love, had believed their final night in London together was the last they’d ever have.

It would not be. Could not be.

“Stupid fool,” he cursed aloud, pulling his mount up to a walk the last mile. How he could’ve said such things to her, been so cruel, so callous, without a moment’s thought to what she was actually saying, what she was trying to explain. All of which within a matter of weeks he’d come to see the sense of, even if it was a knife to the gut that his son would not inherit his estate. But that was hardly Elizabeth’s fault. Riddledale had been the one he wanted strung up and dealt with, but the bastard had fled town, and something told him he’d followed Elizabeth back to her ancestral home.

Soon the grand sandstone building came into view, and he kicked on with his plan, a plan he was determined would not fail. Elizabeth would be his. He loved her, loved Samuel more than anything else in the world, and deep down he knew she loved him. Enough time had been wasted. It was their due to have a home and family, to be together as husband and wife and father and mother to their boy.

Henry pulled his mount to a stop, noting with some amusement a young stable lad, flustered and red-faced racing about from the side of the building to take his mount. Dismounting, he pulled off his gloves just as the ducal carriage barreled around the corner and stopped in a cloud of dust before him.

The sense that something was wrong flared alarm within him. Footmen raced from the house with luggage, the servants seemingly in some sort of uproar. Henry quickly went inside, the front door wide open, and strode toward the library where he could hear the duke barking out orders to his staff.

“What’s going on?”

His grace sank into his chair, his gaze weary. “Lord Riddledale has taken Elizabeth.”

“What!” Henry felt the blood drain from his face. He stood, stunned for a moment before his mind caught up with his rapid heartbeat. “What happened?” He tried to calm his growing apprehension, but the thought of Elizabeth in that fiend’s clutches made his blood run cold.

Oh dear God, what had he done. He’d left her. Alone. Again.

“Victoria was out riding this morning. She saw Elizabeth on Argo from a distance. She also saw a great oaf of a man put something over Elizabeth’s face and then carry her away. From the description she gave, it’s the same man Elizabeth mentioned seeing in London, the one the runner assumed to be working for Riddledale. I’ve no doubt she is with him now.”

Henry slumped into a nearby chair, his mind frantic over where he may have taken her. He knew Lord Riddledale had an estate not far from here, but unless the man was as thick as he was foolish he doubted he’d take her there. So where?

Henry met the duke’s gaze. “What’s ye plan?”

“Victoria, the smart girl that she is, followed them for some distance and watched Elizabeth be placed into a carriage just out of Penworth. They then headed north on the road to London.”

Henry nodded, making a mental note to thank Victoria for her forthright thinking. “London then Gretna?” he suggested.

The duke cursed. “Yes, it seems most likely. He could certainly force her to marry him there if enough money changed hands, but I really do not know. It’s a guess only.” He stood pacing. “I’m going to ride up to Gretna. It’ll be a lot faster than a carriage. But I will be sending Alice up in the family vehicle. No doubt Lord Riddledale has set lookouts along the road, and if he thinks I’m chasing them by carriage, he’ll not quicken his pace to Scotland or panic and do something foolish he’ll live to regret.”

“And we therefore make Scotland around the same time on horseback.” Henry clenched his fist. He welcomed the meeting with his lordship and bestowing some well-deserved Scottish punishment on the English prig.

His grace nodded. “I assume by your arrival you were looking to reconcile with Elizabeth.”

Henry nodded. “That’s right.”

“You love her.” It wasn’t a question.

The thought of Elizabeth warmed his soul, and he smiled at the duke, finally seeing resignation and acceptance in his soon-to-be brother-in-law’s gaze. “I always have.”

His grace chuckled wryly and went to the decanter, lifted the crystal, and poured two glasses of brandy. He handed one to Henry. “I suppose since you’re here, you’ve come to see that our family had little choice in keeping Elizabeth’s reputation intact and giving Samuel a father. It was not done out of spite to you, Lord Muir, and although I’ve yet to forgive your actions beside the lake that day, my sister does love you, and therefore I must concede defeat.”

“Does this mean I have ye blessing to marry her, your grace?”

The duke finished his drink. “Well, that you’re here proves to me that my assumptions of you are correct. You love her as we do, so yes, you have our blessing. Father always suspected you were innocent of the crimes we laid at your door, had stated something didn’t add up quite right.”

Henry smiled, relief pouring through him like the amber liquid in his hand. “The late duke will forever be remembered fondly. He was a good man.” Henry smiled at the memory of Elizabeth’s father, who’d always given affection and advice to his children and never faltered being there when they needed him.

The duke sighed, running a hand over his jaw. “Riddledale has been playing with this family for a long time, and it’s past time he received his comeuppance for all the heartache he’s caused.” The duke paused. “I had to dismiss two maids who work under Elizabeth’s lady’s maid. I found they were the ones who betrayed our family and were working for the blackguard along with the one who ran away in London.”

Henry felt ill at the knowledge. “His actions have been truly disgraceful and I’m sorry for it. And I must thank ye for the blessing. I’m glad to have it, but ye know,” he continued, catching the duke’s eye, “I would’ve married Elizabeth without it, just so ye know.”

“I know you would have. Don’t the Scots always take what they want, English or no?”

“Aye, they do.” Henry chuckled. “I think it’s time we left. We’ve given Lord Riddledale enough of a lead. It’s time we chased him down.”

The duke’s eyes lit with retribution that was soon to be theirs. “I couldn’t agree more. Let’s be off.”

Minutes later, Henry stood next to his mount and checked the girth. He rolled his shoulders, ready for the forthcoming ride. At the sound of female voices, Henry turned and watched as Alice ran from the house, followed by a maid carrying two small bags, Victoria following close behind.

“Victoria, go and change. You’re not traveling with Alice looking like that,” the duke said, his voice hard.

Henry tried to hide his smile over Victoria’s attire, consisting of men’s breeches, shirt, and jacket. He would let his future brother-in-law deal with his hellion sister.

“That’s because I’m not traveling with Alice, brother.” Victoria turned to the stableman. “Is my horse ready, Tony?”

“I demand you go and change this instant. You look—”

“Oh, do be quiet, Josh. You know I’m not going to listen to you in any case. With my cap, no one will recognize me as a woman. Now stop this and let us be on our way. I believe there’s a wedding we have to object to.”

Henry watched in amusement as the duke realized he wouldn’t win the battle. The man cursed then mounted his horse and turned toward the gate. “Let’s go.”

They took off at a punishing speed, making London in less than half a day. They called into Smithfield and queried the publican at the coaching inn with no luck. Lord Riddledale had possibly traveled straight through the capital without pause.

At Stamford, they missed them by only a few hours. Pushing on to Retford, they changed horses for the third time and partook in refreshments.

With the persuasion of gold, the patrons at the coaching inn’s tavern described in detail a man with a woman passenger heading north. One lodger mentioned it seemed strange: the whole time the young miss fought with the gentleman and looked rightfully annoyed. How very insightful, Henry mused as burning revenge and punishment cooked away inside him. Lord Riddledale would not enjoy their arrival in Gretna.

After watering the horses they continued north at a blistering speed. Their time was precious, and every second counted. Elizabeth’s well-being was at risk, for what type of man kidnapped a woman, no doubt threatening her with God knows what to make her do as he bid.

It was imperative they reached Gretna at the same time as Riddledale, if not before. After everything Elizabeth had been through, she didn’t deserve to be forced to marry. Henry would kill the bastard, a long and painful death, if he harmed one hair on her body.

They pushed their mounts hard, changing horses regularly. He could almost taste his revenge, taste Lord Riddledale’s comeuppance.

They stopped a mail coach whose driver told them of a carriage up ahead that had nearly run them off the road with its reckless speed.

“Should we pull them over and demand her release, or would ye prefer to sit back and follow them into Gretna?” Henry asked the duke. “Make Lord Riddledale believe he’s made it safely and without incident?”

His grace thanked the mail coach driver and looked at Victoria. Henry noted the satisfied glow in the duke’s eyes, knowing his quarry was not far away.

“We’ll wait and follow them into the town to ensure others are about. Not that I wish to gain witnesses, but it should calm Riddledale to not try anything stupid. And if I know the man at all, he will not waste time securing a room at an inn, but try to marry Elizabeth without haste.”

Victoria shifted in the saddle. “Shall we go then, gentlemen?”

They kept their distance, but soon they were close enough to see the moving carriage through the trees some distance ahead. Revenge tempted his palate, and it was sweeter than elderberry wine on his tongue.

…

Elizabeth looked out the window, refusing to talk no matter how aggravating Lord Riddledale’s questions were. She would rather die than speak to the man again. By the excited gleam in his lordship’s eyes, Elizabeth knew Gretna could not be far away. After a full day and night in a carriage, with few stops, she would be thankful for that, at least. The fresh air would be a welcome respite.

The fields soon gave way to outlying farming cottages, and those cottages eventually gave way to the busy streets of the bustling town.

“Come, my dear, do not let us go on in such a manner. We are about to be married. Don’t make me use force when the time comes to speak your marriage vows.”

Elizabeth gritted her teeth. She wanted to scream that she would never marry him, duress or not. He would
have
to use force if he wished to hear her voice again. And even then it would be only to say “I don’t” and not “I do.”

Her hands, still tied behind her back, made it a struggle to keep her seat when the carriage turned a corner. Blacksmiths and inns passed by the window. Couples, many of whom looked quite pleased with themselves, walked the main thoroughfares.

Elizabeth wondered if the couples were newly married. If they had thrown aside all strictures society placed on their lives and married the one person they loved anyway. The word “love” reverberated about in her mind, and regret threatened her sanity. Henry. How she adored him and had hurt him beyond redemption. She wondered where he was and what he was doing right at this moment. Wondered if he still resided in London or had traveled north. The distance that separated them tore at her soul, and tears pooled in her eyes. None of it mattered now, for it was too late.

“If you are wondering if you will be rescued, my dear, I’m sorry to disappoint. My men have informed me your brother is a day away, traveling by coach. He will not make it in time to save your precious…well…” His lascivious grin made her skin crawl. “There is nothing to save, is there, my dear, for you’ve already given away your prize, but I shall enjoy taking my fill of you.”

Her eyes narrowed, and she fought against her restraints. “I’ll never be yours, and I’ll die before I’d allow you to touch my person, you bastard.” She cursed herself for breaking her own promise not to speak to the bastard again, but the look of fury on his face made her lapse in concentration worth it.

The rope cut into her skin as she tried to work the knot free. Why would Josh take a carriage? Surely if he knew where she was, he would come on horseback. She refused to speak and again looked out to the cobbled streets beyond. Were they coming? Anyone?

Please don’t let this be my fate.

The carriage rocked to a halt.

“Here we are, my dear. Let me untie those ropes. No need for further restraints. I’m sure you will not try to escape with John not far away.”

Elizabeth looked out the now-open carriage door and recognized the brute who had taken her from her home. She sighed in relief when the rope unwrapped and fell away. Elizabeth brought her hands around in front of her and rubbed the red, swollen welts about her wrists. Then, with all her might, all the anger and frustration she could muster, she punched Lord Riddledale in the nose.

His lordship, not suspecting the attack, reeled back onto the squabs, holding his face and screaming over the blood that spurted onto his fingers.

John, Riddledale’s henchman, stilled beside the carriage, his eyes wide with shock, and Elizabeth made use of his surprise and leaped for the opposite door. She jumped from the carriage and gasped as Lord Riddledale seized her skirt, the material pulling tight against her legs, making her lose balance. Elizabeth fell hard against the carriage step, her chin hitting the graveled road.

Sitting up, she touched the stinging cut on her jaw as people gathered and watched the goings-on in the carriage. She turned and looked into the vehicle just as Lord Riddledale yelled for John to catch her. The demand acted like a bucket of cold water. She scrambled to her feet and took off as fast as she could go. Heavy footfalls sounded behind her, and Elizabeth glanced over her shoulder, noted the pursuing John only steps behind.