Chapter 23
When she awoke in the morning, Riordan had already departed for school, but he’d placed a note on the pillow: I owe you another kiss, my darling vixen, in a most intimate place. He had drawn a heart next to the words. Once Mary left after lunch, Sabrina carefully folded the small piece of paper and placed it between the pages of The Bold Seduction of Miss Featherstone.
She may not have said the words last night in response to his declaration of love, but she’d showed how she felt with her body—and the fact she’d allowed him to spill inside her. Before they fell asleep, he told her they had much to discuss tonight, hinting that, at last, he would reveal more about himself. She couldn’t wait.
With tea steeping on the stove, she tucked the book under her arm and settled on the chaise longue, curling her feet under her. Mittens meowed loudly, and Sabrina picked her up. The kitten settled in next to her, as she’d done the past few afternoons. Sabrina had no sooner read three pages when a pounding at the door interrupted her peace.
Sliding off the chaise carefully, so as not to disturb Mittens, she smoothed her skirt and headed toward the door. Opening it, she gasped in shock.
Her wretched father.
She tried to close the door, but the baron stuck his booted foot across the doorjamb. “I have need of you once more.” He pushed his way into the cottage and slammed the door behind him.
“We have nothing to say to each other,” Sabrina sniffed.
“I beg to differ. Remember that I said there would be consequences.” He pulled a small bottle out of his coat pocket. “Drink it.”
She raised her chin in the air. “I will not.”
Her father glanced around the room, and his cruel gaze settled on the sleeping kitten. “Yours?” He stepped toward the chaise.
“Do not touch her!” Sabrina cried, remembering the threat he had made toward the kitten she’d wanted years past.
“Drink what is in the bottle or I will wring the mangy creature’s throat,” her father snapped.
Panic began to set in. Why was he here? Oh, why hadn’t she told Riordan about her father’s threats? Why hadn’t she taken them seriously? All she wanted was to place all memory of her father in the past, and because of that she’d placed herself in danger. “What is it?”
“Enough laudanum to keep you quiet on the journey. Sutherhorne has made an offer I cannot and will not refuse. He wants you still, and for what he has offered, I will deliver you to him. This very day.”
Sabrina’s heart chilled. “No. Do not do this.”
He slammed his fist on the table, knocking the teacup to the floor. It smashed into pieces. “I. Have. No. Choice.”
“We all have choices.” Sabrina vaulted toward the bedroom. There she could lock the door, perhaps escape through the window. But her father moved too quickly. He grabbed her arm, wrenching it and causing her to cry out in pain. She bumped against the table and the saucer joined the cup on the floor, shattering on impact.
“The sooner you drink this, the sooner this will be over with. My carriage awaits.”
“But I’m married—”
“I don’t think Sutherhorne much cares. When the marquess has his mind set, he is determined to have his way. Now, drink the contents of the bottle or I will snap the cat’s neck.”
She gave her father a deadly look; she knew him well enough to know he would do it. “This could poison me.”
“I measured the correct amount. I would not damage the goods.”
Goods. Chattel. Property. That is all she ever was to her father. Snatching the bottle from the table, she pulled out the stopper and drank. The bitter taste made her shudder.
He pulled her toward the door. “Then let us depart.”
“You’re a hateful man.” Already her words were slurred.
“You don’t know the half of it.”
Next she knew she was bundled into the carriage. Her surroundings spun at a rapid pace as the horses lurched forward. All turned to darkness.
* * * *
Riordan was having an incredible day. To wake with Sabrina in his arms was heaven on earth. Because she slept contentedly, he did not disturb her when he rose from the bed. Leaving the naughty note would give her a smile, he was sure of it.
The children were working diligently on their geography assignments when a frantic knock interrupted the quiet. His students all raised their heads questioningly. “I will see to the door, continue on with your work.”
He opened it and Mary stood there, a worried look on her face. She clutched his arm and pulled him outside, away from the children’s hearing. “Mrs. Ingersoll came to fetch me. She arrived at the cottage at two o’clock to do the housekeeping, but Sabrina was not there. She thought at first she’d gone for a walk, but when she discovered the smashed teacup and saucer, she became worried.”
Mary took a deep breath and exhaled. “She also found the teapot. The contents had boiled away. The kitten was in an agitated state. Sabrina would not go out and leave the teapot boiling on the stove. Besides, her cloak is still on the hook. It is too chilly to go walking without it. Something has happened. There are carriage tracks and hoofprints by the door. More than one set of footprints in the mud. A man’s boot, to be sure.”
Damn. Alarm bells pealed inside him. Her father? The marquess? Who else could it be? “Can you stay here until dismissal? Or better yet, when they finish their assignment, have them pass it in and allow them to go home. Once the last student is gone, make haste to the cottage and wait for me.” Jesus, he’d have to run to Walsh’s farm for his horse. “I’m heading to Durning’s.”
Mary gasped, covering her mouth with her gloved hand. “You don’t think…”
“I know the baron’s finances are in precarious shape. God knows how desperate he is.” Damn it all for not realizing the man would pull such a stunt. Did he think to still marry her off? Collect the money? Never in his wildest imagination did he believe her father would snatch her away. Unless this is entirely innocent—his gut, however, said different. “Will you stay here?”
Mary nodded and followed him into the schoolroom. Riordan had already gathered his coat and gloves. To hell with the hat. “I have an emergency,” he announced to his students. “Miss Tuttle will stay with you. Behave.” He whispered in Mary’s ear, “I’ll meet you at the cottage.”
He was out the door and running across the field toward Walsh’s farm, admonishing himself the entire way. Serves him right for thinking men of the peerage had any remnants of honor. He should have told Sabrina what her father was capable of. Damn and hell, after last night, he should have told her everything, right then and there. That the settlement did not come from her father. That his real name was Wollstonecraft. He’d planned to tell her tonight. Too bloody late.
He reached the barn. Out of breath, he saddled his horse. Farmer Walsh stepped into the stall. “Is something amiss, Mr. Black?”
“I need Grayson, not sure how long I’ll be gone. Family emergency.” By God, Sabrina was his family. All he wanted in this life. If anyone harmed her, he would commit murder. With a fluid motion, he was seated. Kicking Grayson’s flanks, they were off, heading toward Durning House.
Once they arrived, Riordan tethered the reins to a post, then gave the gelding a pat. He vaulted up the stairs and banged on the door. The footman answered—what was his name? Bugger it. He grabbed the lad’s livery and twisted as he stepped across the threshold. “The baron, where’s he gone?”
“I don’t…don’t know,” the footman sputtered.
“Why is there no butler?”
“Left last month. Hadn’t been…paid.”
Ah. Riordan twisted tighter and the footman gasped for air. “Your name again?”
“George,” he croaked hoarsely.
“Right. George. I’m going to release you, and you’re going to tell me everything you know. Where is the baron, and where is my wife, Sabrina?”
Riordan let go and George coughed, trying to regulate his breathing. “All I know is the baron is in a bad way, moneywise. He’s been in a rage for the past three days, cursing his daughter.” George paused; anger radiated in his eyes. “He owes me wages as well. Why protect him? I’ll tell you what I know…give me a minute.” He coughed again, rubbing his throat.
“Hurry up, man.”
“He received a letter from the marquess, the old one who was here weeks ago. It made his eyes light up. I delivered the response myself.”
Riordan crossed his arms. “And you read it.”
“Yes, I bloody well did. The baron said he would deliver his daughter to the marquess for no less than thirty thousand pounds. I figured I’d get me pay at last. I figured you lot all came to an agreement or some such. None of my business what toffs get up to.” George’s accent was slipping. “Guess he took her against her will, if you’re here. Wouldn’t put it pass him. He’s a nasty bit of work, is the baron.”
“Where did you deliver the note? Is it where he’s taking Sabrina?”
George shrugged as he continued to rub his throat. “Maybe. It was in London. In Mayfair, at Ten Duke Street.”
Riordan grasped the neckcloth again and twisted. “This had better be the correct address, or I will hunt you down and—”
“’Tis, I swear!” George cried.
Riordan pushed the trembling footman away. Turning on his heel, he exited, then immediately mounted Grayson. First he would see Mary, pack a small kit, and stop at Wollstonecraft Hall on the way to London—he would need Garrett. Giving the gelding a swift kick, he galloped off toward the cottage.
Minutes later, he arrived. Slipping from the saddle, he patted Grayson’s neck once again. “Sorry, my lad. I’ll have to push you hard all the way to the hall.” The horse nickered, his hoof pawing the dirt in reply. “Good boy.”
He entered the cottage, and the emptiness of the place struck him hard. Her absence was keenly felt. Riordan spied the smashed cup and saucer. Over on the chaise, a book lay at a strange angle. As he picked it up, a piece of paper fluttered to the floor. He bent to pick it up. It was the note he had written her this morning.
Mittens came from the bedroom, and when she spotted Riordan she sprinted toward him at an awkward gait. The kitten rubbed against his legs, meowing loudly, sounding forlorn. Riordan gathered the distressed feline into his arms and petted her. “There now, it will be all right.”
But would it? God knows how much of a head start they had. Was Sutherhorne in London, or at his country estate? Perhaps he wasn’t at his residences at all. Then how in hell could he locate Sabrina? Once the kitten had calmed, he lowered her to the floor, then commenced gathering a few items to place in his pack.
Mary entered the cottage. “The children are on their way home. What did you find out?” Riordan relayed everything George the footman had told him. Mary frowned. “The lad was always an unlikable sort. But I believe he’s telling the truth. As he said, he hasn’t been paid; why lie for the baron? What will you do?”
“Head for London with all speed. My family home is on the way. I’ll be collecting my uncle to assist.”
“The flame-haired Viking? Good choice.”
Despite the circumstances, Riordan smiled. “I do like you, Mary. Garrett is half Scottish, always reminded me of a medieval Highlander. Please stay here. Look after Mittens, make use of the food, and make yourself comfortable. I’ll send word when I locate Sabrina.”
Mary clasped his arm. “You love her.”
“With all my heart. I think I have from the beginning.” He patted her hand. “I will find her.”
“I don’t doubt it, Mr. Black. I’ve every faith in you. Godspeed.”
Nodding, he reached for his bundle and dashed outside. After securing it on the saddle and giving Grayson another encouraging pat, he mounted his horse and started off with a trot. How tempting to push Grayson at full gallop the entire way, but he knew his horse well, what he was capable of.
Two hours later, he arrived at Wollstonecraft Hall. Martin opened the door and could not keep the look of surprise from his face, though he quickly settled his features into a passive expression. “They are all in the library, Master Riordan.”
They? Damn it, his father and grandfather were here. Well, that couldn’t be avoided. He marched into the library. Garrett, his father, and grandfather were looking at maps spread out on the desk. “I need assistance. Sabrina has been taken by her father to be sold to Sutherhorne. I pray I’m not too late.”
The men all started talking at once, peppering Riordan with questions. He held up his hand to quiet them, then quickly filled them in on the situation.
The earl shook his head. “Sutherhorne? He keeps his life private. Who is to know what a man is capable of?”
“He’s obsessed with Sabrina. Has lusted after her for years. Her father held an auction for her when she was but eighteen. Pepperdon outbid Sutherhorne.”
“A repulsive act, and one that can be prosecuted in court,” the earl spat. Then his eyes widened. “Julian, do you recall the invitation we received from Durning about ten or eleven years ago? He was vague on the grounds for the invite, claiming our complete secrecy was needed, and since we did not know him, we declined.”
Riordan’s stomach lurched. His father and grandfather had been invited to the auction?
Julian’s lip curled with disgust. “Yes, I do. Now he intends to try and sell his daughter for a third time.”
Riordan turned to his uncle. “Garrett, will you come with me to London?”
“I will. And before we leave, I’ll send a message to Edwin Seward.”
“The ex-Bow Street Runner looking for Aidan?” Riordan asked.
“The very one,” Garrett replied. “He’s in London. He can watch Sutherhorne’s residence in Mayfair, or have one of his lads do it until we arrive.”
Julian crossed his arms. “We will all go with you. Make a united front.”
His grandfather nodded. “We’d better prepare to depart. Best bring weapons.”
Jesus. Weapons? Absolutely. He was going into battle to rescue the woman he loved, but he did not think of himself as a hero—didn’t possess enough of an ego. For Sabrina, the woman he loved to distraction? He’d wear armor and ride in on a white horse in a heartbeat.