Page 97 of When a Lady Dares
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.” Henry dragged in air, his face white with pain. “Pulled the trigger. Tried to kill me. Sophie…warned me.”
“Where are they now?”
“Don’t…know.”
God above, they’d had a Judas in their midst. How much intelligence had the woman passed on to the bastards who’d come after Sophie?
And where was Sophie? What had they done to her?
“A coach,” Henry whispered. “Black. With a crest.”
Hellfire and damnation, likely the same carriage he’d spotted the night the blighters had come after Sophie. Talons clawed at his insides. He had to find her.
Fitzhugh came forward, weapon at the ready. “There’s no sign of anyone lurking about. But I spotted something…over there…by that tree,” Fitzhugh said, his voice grim. “I’ll cover ye, Bertram.”
With stealthy steps, Bertram approached the massive oak. He waved his brother closer.
“Thank God it’s not our Sophie,” Bertram announced, his relief palpable. His expression solemn, he turned to Gavin. “It’s Miss Beddingham. Someone’s broken her neck.”
“The bastards,” Gavin bit off between his teeth.
Bertram came to his side. “If I might make a suggestion—if we can move Henry into the house, Fitzhugh can see to his care while we start a search for Sophie.”
“Excellent idea,” Gavin agreed.
The three men carried Henry into the house and up the stairs to his chamber. Seeing his friend’s weakened state, Gavin fought against the waves of anger and misery bombarding him. This was his fault. His responsibility. He’d been so confident he could protect Sophie, convinced this place would afford a safe haven. Instead, they’d been betrayed, and now, Henry and Sophie were paying the price.
“Bluidy hell, Stanwyck, there’s no call to play a dirge yet. I’m not pounding…on death’s door.” Propped against the headboard, Henry had regained a bit of his strength.
“The bullet’s through and through,” Fitzhugh said with an air of authority, the product of years in the medical corps of the Queen’s Army. “If ye trust me, I can patch it up. It’ll hold ye until we can get ye to a proper physician.”
“I’d be in yer debt.” Henry sank back against the pillow. He cocked his head toward Gavin. “Go after her. Now.”
Gavin ground his teeth in frustration. “They could’ve taken her back to London. God only knows where they’ve gone.”
Bertram charged into the chamber, his lanky body quaking with agitation. “She’s not in London. We have to go after her.”
“How do you know this?” Gavin said. He needed to keep a cool head. But it was damned near impossible when every instinct demanded he leave these four walls and find her.
“The bastards are here. On the grounds.” He handed Gavin a folded leaf of paper. “Whoever killed Miss Beddingham placed this in her hand.”
We propose an exchange. Your life for the woman. Come alone to the bell tower. The choice is yours.
God above, the killers had taken her to the tower in the old chapel, a centuries’ old place of worship. What would possess the evil curs to conduct their dirty business on holy ground?
Think, Gavin!He needed weapons. What would be most effective for one against many?
Bertram stepped forward. “I’ll come with ye. Fitzhugh will stay with Henry.”
“I cannot take that chance, neither with your safety nor Sophie’s life,” Gavin said.
Bertram shook his head. “Ye cannot do this alone. I’ll let ye go in on your own, but bloody hell, you’ll need backup.”
“Very well,” Gavin agreed. “You can serve as a lookout. At the least, keep the jackals from adding reinforcements.”
Fitzhugh pressed a sheathed dagger into Gavin’s hand. “Take this. Thesgian dubhis a fine weapon. Strap it to yer leg, beneath your trousers. I would not be caught without mine. It’s a stealthy defense, one the curs aren’t likely to suspect.”
