Page 52 of The Trouble With Her Duke
The second man stood at the top of the stairs. Lydia could see his shadow. “I see what ye’ve done ’ere, missy. Ye’ve convinced me, yer smart. I would like to wash my ’ands of this ’ole nasty affair. But what to do with ye?”
He was trying to trick her—the same way Blake used to. If she spoke, he’d know her hiding place. She remained quiet, determined to wait him out. But what if the others regain consciousness?
Damon suspected Naomi would be ruthless and vindictive enough to harm Lydia if given the chance. He would see she paid for this if it was the last thing he did. As they neared the hunter’s lodge, he prayed he’d find Lydia there—unharmed. The men surrounded the structure and quietly tied the horses out of sight. “Rosie, no barking,” he commanded in a whisper, setting the puppy down. The dog sniffed the ground and went straight to an open cellar window on the side of the lodge.
“That must have been how they got in,” he said, signaling Jeffrey and pointing to the window. Getting on his knees, Damon peered into the shadowy cellar and couldn’t believe what he saw—a man and a woman lying in a heap at the bottom of the stairs. A lump threatened to close off his throat. Oh God! Please don’t let it be Lydia. He looked closer and recognized Naomi. But where was Lydia? He rose and made his way to where Jeffrey stood. “I see a man and a woman at the bottom of the basement stairs. They’re unconscious. I don’t think it’s Miss Hammond. I’m going to check the front and see if there are signs of Lydia or a second accomplice.”
As he neared the door, he could hear a man talking to someone and turned to signal Jeffrey.
Jeffrey nodded and signaled the other men to gather around Damon.
“We’re going in on the count of three. Two of you follow me in case they’re ready for us.”
“We will, Your Grace.”
“Rosie, stay,” he commanded, patting her head. “You got us here. You’re a brave girl but you need to stay here.” He looked at Jeffrey. “On three . . .” Damon counted down with his fingers and burst through the door, surprising the man standing at the basement door. “Where is she?” Damon demanded.
“Yer Grace. It was the widow,” the man sputtered, his eyes wide and hands in the air, as he tried to back up. “I was trying to save the woman . . . we didn’t harm . . .”
Flesh connected with flesh.
Damon had never felt so satisfied at landing a punch. The kidnapper was a nasty-looking brute, too. Damon was sure he’d broken his jaw and knocked him unconscious but wasn’t taking any chances. “Tie him up.”
Footsteps sounded on the stairs. “Damon . . . Damon is that you?” a familiar, sweet voice whispered from the bottom of the stairs.
Relief flooded him. “Yes, it’s me, love,” Damon called out.
“Th. . . thank you. B. . . but be careful on the steps. . .”
Deftly, he made his way down, missing the iron pipe and glass lids. “Where are you, Lydia?” His heart pounded in his chest.
Before Lydia could answer, Rosie bounded down the steps—sniffing the floor until she found her. The puppy covered her with licks and kisses.
“That’s how you did it!” He grinned, pulling her from beneath a table. “Good hiding place. Mandy and Michael would be proud.” He swung her around and pulled her into his arms. Cupping her face between his hands, he kissed her. “Good God, woman! My heart nearly imploded when I saw the stable on fire.”
“Lady Withers set the fire,” Lydia blurted. “I heard her say it. Are the horses all right?”
There was damage to the back of the stable, but no livestock were injured. The men put out the fire,” Damon said.
“Good! I was terrified for Hero and Sunshine. They talked about taking them,” Lydia murmured.
“Sunshine. Is that what you call her? That’s perfect. I bought her for you, so you’d have a horse to ride with the children. I could see they loved the outdoors with you,” Damon said, tipping her chin and kissing her soundly.
“Thank you,” she breathed. “I fell in love with her from the first moment I saw her.”
Jeffrey came downstairs, stepping over the glass lids Lydia had laid out. “How did you know to look?” Damon asked.
“My brothers and I were mischievous as children,” Jeffrey said with a shrug. “I learned to look before I stepped.”
“Secure these two and take them to the magistrate with the other. I will see you there shortly,” Damon said.
“Yes, Your Grace,” Jeffrey said, signaling for the other men to help him.
Damon watched them heft the two unconscious bodies and carry them up the stairs, while he held Lydia close.
“Lydia, Lydia,” he said, once they were alone. He gently lifted her face to meet his and gazed into her beautiful lavender eyes. “When we couldn’t find you. . . “His voice cracked, and he pulled her into his arms. “I’m so sorry. . . so very sorry this happened.” He should have known Naomi was capable of such a thing. He should have seen it coming.
“It w. . . wasn’t your f. . . fault,” she said in a raspy voice.
