Accidentally his, p.28
Accidentally His, page 28
A glance at the case clock showed it was after eleven p.m., so that was unlikely. Pen had retired only a few hours ago. Besides, she would have come into the drawing room first before going anywhere else.
Verity headed for the hallway and whispered into it, “Pen?”
“Oh, Verity, thank God you’re here!” came an entirely unexpected voice, making Verity jump.
It was her stepmother’s. But how could Sarah be in Wiltshire?
Verity grew instantly suspicious. “What are you doing here? Why are you creeping about Castle Wolfford at this hour?”
Sarah looked apologetic. “I didn’t want to wake anyone. When I told the gatekeepers I was your stepmother, one of them let me in through the gatehouse and then into the house.”
That alone didn’t sound right, given what Rafe had told her.
Sarah looked furtively around. “My coach is waiting just outside for us.”
“For us?” Verity squeaked, her mind racing through possibilities. Rafe had said the spy wasn’t her relative. But perhaps he wouldn’t have considered Sarah a relative, since she’d married Papa long after Verity left home. “Why, for pity’s sake?”
“I hate to tell you this, but your father has had an apoplexy.” Sarah dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. “The doctor says he’ll die very soon, so we must go now if you are to see him before he does. I’ve come to fetch you home.”
A chill ran down Verity’s spine. “I saw Papa in London the day before yesterday, and he looked the very picture of health.” Certainly, well enough to rant at her and Rafe.
“That may be so, but he came home to Exmoor Court late yesterday in a rage over your impending wedding, which I had written to him about. The doctor thinks that learning of it—and his posting all night from London to get home—is what caused his apoplexy.”
“So why did you come fetch me? Why leave him?”
“He keeps asking for you. I’m . . . I’m hoping that your presence will convince him to fight to live.”
All of that sounded plausible. Papa had been in a rage, but would he really ask for her if he were dying? And Rafe had said not to let anyone in. He’d even instructed the gatekeepers not to do so.
Verity tried to read Sarah’s expression to see if she was lying, but the anxiety in her voice and features was exactly what Verity would expect of a woman frantic about her husband’s ill health. Sarah had already been widowed once, after all. What if Papa really was near death from apoplexy?
“Is Mr. Wolfford here?” Sarah peered into the room behind Verity. “He might wish to come, too.”
That gave Verity pause. Sarah wouldn’t have asked for Rafe if she’d meant to cause them harm. Rafe could overpower her easily.
Still, Verity decided to be careful. “He went to fetch the doctor.”
“For his ill uncle, I suppose. I heard all about the man from your sisters.” Before Verity could react, she stepped into the drawing room. Her eyes widened, and she lowered her voice. “Oh, dear, is that General Wolfford? He sounds ill.”
“He has pneumonia.”
“The poor thing.” Sarah was being her usual self, yet something seemed off. “I hate to tear you away from him and your new husband, but your father needs you.”
“Rafe should be back soon,” Verity said hastily. “I can fetch you some tea while we wait—”
“We can’t wait. We must leave now. Every moment we delay might be your father’s last.”
“Very well, then let me go rouse our housekeeper so I can tell her—”
“No, no,” Sarah said, “don’t wake her. We don’t have a minute to lose. Just leave a note. That will suffice.”
Sarah’s insistence that Verity leave without actually talking to anyone sparked Verity’s alarm. Sarah was the one. She was almost certain.
If that were true, then Sarah might also have been the one to shoot General Wolfford. Which meant she might want to finish what she’d started. Verity couldn’t even tell if she was armed beneath the voluminous cloak she wore. What if Verity called out for Pen, and Sarah shot Verity? Or Pen when she came in? Or worse, the general?
Do what you must to keep him alive until my return, will you? I don’t want him dying without knowing he finished his mission.
“Fine,” she said swiftly. “A note is a good idea.” Whatever happened, she had to get Sarah out of here and away from the general and others. Better not to have her do something out of desperation.
Unfortunately, Sarah watched her write it, so she had to repeat Sarah’s lie. And after leaving the note on the salver, she had to pretend not to notice that Sarah came after her when they left and simply stole the note.
“We should hurry,” Sarah said, practically pushing her out the door. “Your father will be waiting for you.”
Until she could find out what was really going on, Verity had to pretend that being rousted out of her new home in the middle of the night was perfectly normal. She needed to figure out what Sarah actually intended, and how she meant to use Verity to get what she wanted. Then Verity would do whatever she could to put a stop to it, at least until Rafe could find her.
It turned out Verity didn’t have to pretend for long. When she reached the carriage, there was a burly fellow with cold eyes waiting to help her in. That was most alarming.
“I forgot something,” Verity said and turned for the house, but the man didn’t let her do more than pivot before he was on her, clapping a beefy hand over her mouth and dragging her to the carriage, where he tossed her unceremoniously inside. Then he jumped in to grab and subdue her while covering her mouth again as Sarah climbed in and they set off.
Verity struggled against him, but it was like kicking and elbowing a sack of iron. Lord Minton’s actions had been nothing compared to this fellow’s manhandling. And who was the wretch, anyway? Why had she never seen him among Papa’s servants?
As they rode through the gatehouse, she glanced over to see both gatekeepers gagged and bound on the ground. At least that explained how Sarah had managed to get past them. Verity prayed someone found them soon.
They went a mile with the big ox restraining Verity. Then Sarah told him to release her.
“If she yells, no one will hear. This road seems pretty desolate.” Fixing her gaze on Verity, Sarah removed her gloves. “When next we stop to change horses, my dear, we’ll have to bind and gag you, but otherwise, you might as well be comfortable. After that, we’ll only keep the bindings on and just gag you before we stop.”
The ox released her, and Verity vaulted across the coach to sit opposite them. She fought to calm herself, to breathe evenly, to not panic. Then she glanced out the window, but Sarah was right. No one would hear her cries here. “What is going on, Sarah? Is Papa well or not?” she asked, playing dumb.
“I regret to tell you, my dear, but as far as I know he’s fine and as heartless as usual.”
“So . . . so where are we going? And why?”
“I merely need something from your new husband, and once I get it, I’ll be out of your hair and his. So you see, there’s no point in struggling. Or asking questions.”
“If you’d wanted something from Rafe,” Verity said snidely, “you should have waited for him to return with the doctor.”
Sarah narrowed her gaze on her. “If your husband told you he was fetching the doctor, he lied. I’ve been watching the house since before you two arrived earlier, so I know he’s been gone for hours. Fortunately, when I saw him leave, suspiciously dressed in black, I had my other man follow him. I assume he’s halfway to Simonsbath or Exmouth by now. No matter where your husband ends up, my man will deliver my message to him anonymously as instructed, then join me at our appointed spot.”
Verity struggled not to show her alarm. If a scoundrel like the man across from her was following Rafe . . . “I don’t understand,” Verity said, determined to keep Sarah talking. “What message? Why would you watch our house or carry me off by force? Why have my husband followed?”
“Your husband is meddling in things he shouldn’t.”
Verity folded her arms over her stomach and continued to play dumb. “What sort of things?”
“Are you always this nosy?”
Remembering Rafe asking her the same question, she nearly smiled. But the thought of Rafe being followed by a villain prevented that. “Surely you know the answer to that. I am rather famously nosy.”
“So am I, actually, when I’m not around your family.” Sarah looked her over. “Tell me this. Is your husband as wealthy as I’ve heard?”
The conversation was starting to irritate her. “Why? Are you planning to rob him? Is that why your blackguard is following him?”
Sarah’s eyes narrowed. “Just answer the question.”
“I’m not telling you anything until you tell me why you’ve carried me off by force. Clearly, you’re up to no good, although I wouldn’t have expected it of you.”
“Yes, I know. Everyone assumes I’m under your father’s thumb. In a way, I am. Fortunately, I’ve found a path out from under it.”
By selling secrets to the French. “Do tell,” Verity said acidly.
Sarah sighed. “I might as well, since you’ll know it soon enough. Your husband is going to give me a fortune to get you back, so I can flee England with my boys.”
That wasn’t the answer Verity had expected. “You’re asking Rafe to pay a ransom for me, so you can run away from Papa?”
Sarah gave a bitter laugh. “And . . . others. If anybody deserves being forced to give me the money, it’s your husband.”
“Why? What did he do to you?”
“Nothing yet. But it’s only a matter of time before he ruins my life.”
“You’re talking in riddles,” Verity said, hoping Sarah might elaborate. Verity wanted to know how much her stepmother knew of Rafe’s investigation. If she’d figured out what Rafe knew about her.
Verity had several questions she dared not ask for fear Sarah would decide just to kill her and have her man kill Rafe. How had Sarah figured out that the general was the same man who’d been shot in Minehead? What had sent her to Castle Wolfford? Why was she spying for the French? She was English, for pity’s sake! Didn’t she care about her country? Wasn’t she worried about what would happen to her boys if she got caught?
When Sarah continued to sit in silence, Verity added, “You’ll hang for kidnapping me when they catch you.”
“If they catch me.” Sarah shrugged. “First, they’d have to know I was the one who did it. And they won’t. You’ll be kept so deep in Exmoor Park that by the time they follow my instructions to find you, I’ll be long gone with my boys and the money.”
Well, at least that told Verity two things. Sarah didn’t realize that Rafe would instantly guess who’d taken his wife. And Sarah intended to let her live, which was quite a relief. “Where will you go?”
“Far away from here,” Sarah said. “You should sleep while you have the chance. We’ve still got hours before we reach Simonsbath or wherever your husband is headed.”
“Good idea.” Verity should at least rest, so she’d be prepared for whatever might come—a chance to escape, a threat to her life, more explanations from Sarah. But she doubted she could actually nod off.
She laid her head against the bolster and closed her eyes. That’s when something awful occurred to her. Instructions to find you could also mean instructions to find your body.
Verity gulped. She’d just have to hope Rafe went looking for her before he gave Sarah the ransom.
* * *
Rafe was being followed. He was almost sure of it now.
Still hours from Simonsbath, he glimpsed again, in the gray light of pre-dawn, the same man he’d noticed in the shadows of three previous coaching inns where Rafe’s carriage had stopped to change horses. And when Rafe’s coach had driven off from the last inn, he’d noticed the man had mounted his own horse, too.
Of course, the roads had been so dry of late that there was no way to see anything behind them while the carriage was moving, kicking up dust. And anyway, with all the woods they were traveling through, the man was surely keeping to the trees.
But Rafe had a plan to be sure the fellow didn’t just happen to be traveling the same road as Rafe. After all, it was possible—this was the most direct route from London to Simonsbath. Fortunately, Rafe knew every inch of it, having traveled it more times than he could count. This route had a particular combination of elements at a spot coming up after the next posting inn that would be perfect for Rafe’s uses.
When they halted to change horses, Rafe spoke to his coachman and footmen to explain what he wanted. Then they set off again. Up ahead lay a sharp turn, followed by a smaller road that diverged from the main one to meander through the woods.
As soon as they passed the turn, his coachman slowed the carriage so Rafe could get out. Then the man turned onto the smaller road and traveled just far enough to be hidden from view of the main road. Now, all they had to do was wait. Rafe stood behind a tree, watching the turn until his quarry came around it and halted.
The man clearly couldn’t decide whether to head down the small road or continue on the main road. He dismounted to peer up the small road, then knelt to examine the ruts themselves as if hoping something would tell him whether the coach had passed that way.
So he was entirely caught by surprise when Rafe pounced, shoving him onto the ground and holding a blade to the fellow’s throat.
Rafe searched the man’s pockets and relieved him of a dagger, which he tossed onto the road ahead. “Now, then, sir, why don’t you tell me why you’ve been following me?”
The man’s eyes widened. “I-I don’t know what you mean, sir.”
By that time, Rafe’s servants had returned on foot to surround them. One of them picked up the dagger. Fortunately, Rafe and his uncle had always trained their servants like soldiers. They could all at least use a blade, if not a pistol.
“Check his saddlebags,” Rafe ordered. “See what you can find.”
His coachman dug through them. “He’s well-armed, to be sure. Two pistols. Another knife. A flask. Oh, and he’s got a letter of some kind in here, judging by the wax seal. No address or stamp, though, and the seal is blank.”
“Open it and see what it says,” Rafe ordered.
“You can’t do that!” the fellow protested, to no avail.
The coachman scanned the letter, then muttered, “Bloody hell. This looks like a note demanding a ransom of you, sir.”
“What?” Rafe said, dread settling in his chest. “For whom?”
“Lady Verity.”
Rafe saw red. He dug his blade into the man’s neck just enough to draw blood, then growled, “Tell me who wrote the note and what you were to do with it! You’d better say when and how they’re planning to take my wife, or I swear I’ll cut your tongue out!”
“I-I ain’t saying a word. You’ll have to kill me first.”
Right. The arse foolishly assumed a gentleman like Rafe wouldn’t do so. Little did he know. “I wouldn’t be tempting me if I were you,” he growled. “Templeford is but a few miles away and the constable is a friend of mine. So you are headed to jail, one way or the other.”
The man thrust his chin up belligerently. “You’ll hear not a word from me.”
Abruptly, Rafe pushed himself to a stand. “Tie him up and we’ll haul him to Templeford jail,” he told his men. “We have the note he’s carrying, so it follows he’s in league with the kidnappers, probably just waiting for a chance to leave it in my coach in stealth while they abduct my wife.” He looked at his coachman. “What’s the sentence for kidnapping, again?”
“I believe it’s hanging, sir,” the coachman said.
“I believe you’re right.” Rafe started to walk away as his men lifted the fellow bodily.
“Wait!” the man cried. “Wait! Don’t be accusing me of no kidnapping. I only did what I was told, which was just to follow you, and as soon as you settled somewhere, to leave the note without being seen and then go join the others.”
“Who gave the orders?” Rafe asked, although there was only one person it could be.
Sarah Harper, the Countess of Holtbury. According to Uncle’s coded message, she was who his uncle had been going to meet in Minehead. And she, Rafe was sure, was who’d shot Uncle Constantine.
The man looked frantic. “If I tell you, she’ll have me killed.”
“If you don’t tell me, you’ll hang.” He stepped up to press the point of his blade to the man’s throat. “That’s assuming I don’t slit your throat right here.”
Now the fellow believed him, for he trembled in the footmen’s grip. “It was Lord Holtbury’s wife.”
Rafe’s own men were shocked, because Rafe hadn’t told even them his suspicions, but Rafe was only surprised she had a lackey as low as this to command. “You’re a servant of hers?”
“I do a bit o’ work for her husband time to time.”
“You’re a smuggler.”
The man’s eyes went wide with alarm. “Didn’t say that, sir.”
“You didn’t have to.” Rafe considered what the man had just said, and something leapt out at him. “Why would she want you to ‘wait until I settled’ to give me the note? And why send you out with it before she does the kidnapping?”
Then it dawned on him, and his heart sank. “She’s already got Verity. Sarah’s behind us on this road, and she doesn’t want me to know.” As rage slammed into him, he glowered at Sarah’s lackey. “I’m right, aren’t I?” When the fellow blanched, Rafe repeated, “Aren’t I?”
“Yes, sir. I was to follow you while she and the other fellow lay in wait until it was safe to take your wife.”
Verity had fallen into the hands of a woman who’d shot Uncle in cold blood, and Rafe hadn’t been there to protect her. Oh, God! Worse yet, this was his fault. He could have kept her from harm if he’d just told her what he knew. Or had taken her with him.
Rafe tried to reassure himself that the men at the gatehouse would have stopped the villains, but if Sarah had come in the middle of the night and talked her way in, with a scoundrel at her disposal? She could easily have won the encounter, especially if she’d crept inside by stealth. Just the thought of Verity at the mercy of a woman that ruthless made him so sick he wanted to roar his rage to the skies! It took all his will not to slit the throat of Sarah’s lackey.
