Page 89 of His Enemy Duchess

“I… I just realized. We… we haven’t seen my uncle in a while.”

“When was the last time anyone saw him? I need everyone to think carefully.” Thomas’s face had returned to that stone mask, refusing to crack for anyone but Sophia.

Charles raised a shaky hand. “I… I remember him leaving the house earlier today. Not long after Sophia left. He… he said he was going hunting.”

“Hunting? He hasn’t gone hunting in years,” proclaimed Lydia, and suddenly, everyone’s eyes lit up with understanding.

“Are you sure about this, Lord Alderley?” asked Thomas, and he could see the older man’s face drop. “Lord Alderley?”

“He… he didn’t seem very open to the idea of making peace between our families… of Sophia revealing the contents of the diary,” Charles said hesitantly, scratching his chin.

Thomas looked at him, confused. “Diary? What diary?”

“Sophia didn’t tell you?”

Thomas shook his head. “Is it important?”

“Perhaps.” Charles swallowed loudly. “The diary, according to Sophia, is… proof that we have all been mistaken, all these years. Frederick said that he would be silent on the matter, but… now that I think about it, it was uncharacteristic of him. He lives and breathes the feud. He… wouldn’t hold his tongue so easily.”

Panic caught Thomas under the ribs. “Where would he be if he went ‘hunting’?”

“His lodge,” Charles answered shakily. “It’s about twelve miles northeast of here.”

Thomas stormed off towards the stables, hoping the stablemaster had not yet unsaddled Lucille, and it appeared he had something of an entourage. His mother hurried after him, pleading with him to come inside and rethink, considering the hour. Gregory was trying to pull Harriet back to the house, while it was the other way around with Charles and Lydia. Samuel and William were the only ones left behind, but, for once, Thomas wasn’t worried about them killing each other. Not after the revelation that had just been made.

James, however, walked with him.

“Before you say anything,” he began. “You don’t know the way there like I do, Your Grace. Respectfully, you also don’t know my uncle like I do. I am joining you, whether you want me to or not.”

Thomas realized the situation was way too dire to not accept help simply out of pride, so he relented.

After a hasty resaddling at the stables, the two men charged off into the night, the rain pelting their coats and faces.

Thomas would normally feel cold—the rain would feel like small daggers, pricking little needles on his face—but there was a fire inside him, a raging blaze that kept him wide awake and fully enraged.

If it’s his fault, if he is the one who abducted her…

Several thoughts ran through his head—accompanied by the war-drum-like percussion of the horses’ hooves—and all of them were violent.

CHAPTER 32

Drowned out by the discordant orchestra of wind, rain, and galloping, James vigorously pointed straight ahead, as if to say,There it is!

They must have been riding for at least an hour through the bitter downpour, but finally, the two men had arrived at a small clearing occupied only by a small structure of weather-worn wood at its center.

Thomas slowed his horse down to a stop, at the end of a vague trail that led up to the lodge in question. He turned and nodded to James. And James nodded back.

They had agreed beforehand that they’d have to keep silent. The sound of the rain would help with masking their approach, but they had to remain quiet if they wanted to retain the element of surprise.

They both dismounted, their heavy boots squelching softly against the muddy ground. A bolt of lightning split the sky and turned night into day for a split second, accompanied a moment later by the loud crash of thunder. James took a few steps and pointed towards the side of the lodge where he knew his uncle had set up a small stable.

The moment they saw the two horses, Thomas knew. He clenched his hands into fists.

“Is that her?” James whispered, pointing at Violetta.

Thomas noticed the unmistakable dappling, not to mention the Pratt emblem stamped into the metal joint of the bridle.

“Yes, that’s her,” he said through gritted teeth.

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