His moments of self-congratulation were interrupted by a knock on the door. Norwood entered at Alex’s behest, carrying a small folded note on a silver platter. “A message has arrived for you, your grace. From your wife.”
Alex quickly crossed the room and snatched up the piece of paper.
Dearest Alex,
Lord Wilding has returned rather unexpectedly from the Caribbean, and so I have decided to spend the remainder of the week visiting my cousins. I miss you desperately.
All my love,
Emma
She missed him desperately? If she missed him so desperately, why didn’t she turn around and come back home where she belonged?
Yes, he would definitely head to London. And while he was there, he might just drop in and visit the Blydons. And drag his wife back home. Well, maybe not. Emma wasn’t exactly the type of woman one dragged anywhere. He could, however, bribe her back with the promise that she could begin managing most of his lands immediately. And if that failed, he could always seduce her.
Alex was out of the house and on his way to London within a half an hour.
Emma sat in the back of her carriage as it slowly wended its way out of London, nearly paralyzed with fear for her cousin’s safety. As the streets grew less and less busy, they had to fall farther and farther back from the carriage carrying Belle. She didn’t want anyone up ahead to grow suspicious, and even more importantly, her carriage bore the recognizable Ashbourne crest. Anyone who had taken the time and effort to kidnap Belle from her house would know of her connection to Alex and Emma.
It was Woodside. It had to be. Emma nearly shot out of her seat when the realization hit her. Woodside was mad for Belle. He’d been after her for a year, and he had told Emma that he planned to marry her. The fact that Belle did not return his affections did not seem to affect his plans whatsoever. “Good Lord,” Emma breathed. “He’s going to force her.” She had no doubt that Woodside would drag Belle to the altar bound and gagged if necessary. She’d never met a man so obsessed with titles and bloodlines, and Belle’s lineage was as good as it got. And even if she managed to avoid marrying him now, she’d still be ruined. If Woodside could sufficiently compromise Belle’s reputation, then she’d have to marry him. It was either that or remain a spinster forever, because no gentleman would wed her if it was thought that Woodside had had her first.
Emma’s stomach churned in fear and fury as they traveled further and further from London. Finally, Belle’s carriage pulled off the main road and after about twenty more minutes of bumpy travel rolled into a medium-sized village called Harewood. As they slowed down to accommodate the busier village roads, Emma put her face near the open window. She had to keep a clear eye on the carriage up ahead.
“Don’t get too close!” she hissed up at her coachman.
He nodded, drawing back slightly on the reins.
Up ahead, Belle’s carriage stopped in front of The Hare and Hounds, a rustic inn and tavern.
“Stop right here!” Emma ordered. Without waiting for assistance, she jumped down from the carriage and watched the scene at the inn. Two burly men were unloading a large burlap bag.
“Oh my Lord!” Emma whispered. “They’ve put her in a sack!”
“She don’t seem to be struggling much,” Ames said with a frown. “She may’ve been drugged.”
Emma took a deep breath, trying to gulp down her panic. There was no way she and her small band could overpower Belle’s captors. Who knew what kind of weapons they held? Where was Alex when she needed him?
“All right, men,” Emma said urgently. “We’re going to have to use our wits and devise a plan. Ames, can you ride?”
“Not very well, yer grace.”
Emma turned to Shipton, the other groom. “Can you?”
He shook his head.
Emma finally faced the coachman, an unnaturally skinny man with thinning brown hair. “Bottomley, please do not tell me that you cannot ride either.”
“I won’t.”
“You won’t what?”
“I won’t tell you that. Been ridin’ since I been walkin’.”
Emma gritted her teeth at Bottomley’s ill-timed attempt at humor. “Listen to me, Bottomley. First I want you to find someplace to hitch up the carriage. Somewhere as far out of sight of The Hare and Hounds as possible. Then I want you to take one of the horses—whichever you think is swifter—and ride to Westonbirt. Ride as if your life depended on it. Ride as if my life depended on it because it very well may. When you get there, find the duke immediately and tell him what has happened. We’re going to need his help. Do you understand?”
Bottomley nodded, looking quite a bit more serious than he had moments earlier.
“Shipton, go with Bottomley so that we know where he leaves the carriage and meet us back here in the main street. Ames, we’re going shopping.”
“Shopping, yer grace?” He looked distressed. “I’m not sure that now is—”
Emma shot him a withering glare but held on to her temper. “I’m not going shopping for fripperies, Ames. We’re going to need some supplies if we’re going to rescue Belle.”
“Supplies? What kind of supplies?”
“I’m not sure yet, but if you give me a minute, I’ll figure it out.” She looked up. Bottomley and Shipton hadn’t moved. “Will you two get going!” she bit out. “We haven’t a moment to lose!”
After the two men had scurried out of her sight, Ames turned to her and said, “Don’t worry, yer grace. Bottomley sometimes says the wrong thing, but he’s got his head on straight.”