Page 38 of The Duke's Tempting Widow
Lydia sighed and rolled her eyes. “I shall settle your tab for the night, gentlemen, never you mind about that.”
“Then I suppose that I will be able to remember a fair few more details.” Anson and his friend agreed with a laugh. The constable curled his lip at them, muttering a stern warning before heading off to find his coworker.
The sketch artist made rather quick work of the whole thing. In almost no time at all, there was a very crude sketch of a very familiar looking man. Lydia picked up the paper, knowing full well that this Sinclair that they were talking about was in fact Cassian. She never would have imagined that he was capable of being so dangerous. The accord that he allegedly had with Weston was far from being due—and to go to these lengths? He was an unstable man.
Lydia took care of the tab as she promised, and rushed out of the tavern before even the constable could catch up to her and ask her about the man that she so obviously recognized. She had to go to London to find the duke before it was too late.
She signaled for the fastest carriage that she could find, right about the time that Lord Baxter and Kitty caught up with her. Her mind was spinning, she felt like she was going to be sick.
What if she was too late?
Chapter 24
The trip to London was easily the longest and most stressful carriage ride of her entire life.
She had to hope and pray that since it had only been a few hours now since the attack that they would have some manner of luck. Worry was going to consume her entirely. There was no way to know which route Cassian might have taken his cousin on, or what his plan was going to be once he had finished with his abduction.
Could he truly be so foolish as to think that he could ransom the duke to get the inheritance that he was not owed? Did he think that Weston was the sort of man to be easily frightened? She could not imagine anyone being so foolish.
Every few moments, William poked his head out of the side of the carriage, scanning the darkness around them as if he would somehow be able to find a clue as to whether or not they had come this way. He kept straining to hear anything beyond the horses’ galloping hooves and the sounds of the carriage.
Kitty held Lydia’s hand tightly. It was her only present anchor to her sanity. She did not know what she was going to doif they arrived and found Weston was injured. She tried to settle herself and to keep her breathing even.
She did not mean to push her stress and anxiety onto those around her, but she had never felt like this before. This level of worry was overwhelming, and she felt so close to hysterics that in another circumstance, she would be ashamed of herself.
She hated to admit it, but Cassian seemed to have planned this encounter well. He would have taken enough time to cover his tracks, all things considered. If he were traveling with a kidnapped duke, it was not like Weston was going to make things easy on him.
If he planned to do something rash like…, she hated to think that he was capable of murdering his own cousin, but he must be a truly sick individual if he was capable of kidnapping anyone in the first place.
Greed made people do truly insane things.
Cassian might even be guilty of treason. Perhaps she ought to have brought the constable along after all. Though, there was no doubt in her mind whatsoever that he was likely very close behind them.
“Breathe, sister, he will be all right.” Kitty soothed, speaking in soft tones.
“What if we are too late?” Lydia asked, staring blankly ahead of herself.
“We must not think that way. While this situation is truly terrible, we must believe that things are going to work out. His Grace is a very capable man. Do not underestimate him. Have faith.” Kitty reassured her and tapped the back of her hand comfortingly.
Lydia nodded, even though the tightness in her chest was making it hard to breathe properly. Weston would be all right because there was simply no other alternative.
She had not even been given proper time to sort out her feelings toward him. It was so much more than the lust that she had allowed herself to dwell on for so many years. Getting to know him… expecting him to be around… had turned into something else. Something that she had wanted to pursue and at least give things a chance between them. Even if it would not work in the long run, she knew the depth of her feelings was enough to frighten her.
No matter what her feelings for him were, she wished to have the time to figure it all out—and she wished to do it with Weston at her side.
When they finally arrived in London, the trio were exhausted and dirty.
The very last place that she wished to be while feeling as worked up as she presently did, was her father’s home. But what choice did they truly have? They needed somewhere to shelter for the night and to plan their next move. As loathe as she was to admit it, her father did have a rather good sense for these things.
Despite his incredibly rigid ideas on gender roles and society, he was also the sort of man who paid great attention to the gossip of thetonand those who come in and out of London. Lydia had to hope against hope that if something had happened, he would have heard something about it at the very least.
As they caught him up to speed, her father had sat across the table as William filled him in on everything, with a blank, pensive stare. Of course, he had insisted on William being the one to tell him what was happening, he had remarked very plainly that he had no desire to have the facts polluted by thetheatricsof women and theirdramaticemotions.
The worry that had been consuming her was rapidly turning into fury.
Lydia sat, her knee bouncing in agitation and stress as she listened to William explain their circumstances as patiently as possible to her father. She waited, as respectfully as she could for her father to speak.
Though, her patience for his sexism was wearing painfully thin.
