Page 55 of The Odd Riddle of the Lost Duchess
“Why are you in such a rush, Son?” his mother asked with a concerned frown.
“It’s Lady Emmeline, Mother,” Noah said grimly, “Her carriage was found upturned near Brennan Hill. She is missing, and I am going to get my men to help me find her.”
“Why bother!” the Dowager Duchess’ gleeful screech came from the staircase, “She is not worth your attention Noah. She’s from a clan of murderers. It is poetic justice to let her die!”
Noah saw red, spun on his heel, and snarled at his grandmother, “Silence! Sheathe your claws, harpy! I will not let the lady I love die if I can do something about it!”
Spinning on his heel, he marched to his room and grabbed his sword, and a flintlock pistol. He paused momentarily to stare himself in his eyes in the mirror and saw plain fear in his silver-gray gaze. He was terrified that Emmeline was already dead and that there was nothing he could do about it.
Squaring his jaw, Noah forced his mind to be positive and left the room. His men were already assembling at the gate of the Manor and their faces were grim.
“Is it true, Your Grace?” His commander of the party, Mr. Brown asked, “It is a Grant we are searching for?”
Noah’s face was grave, “Yes, it is, and I know you all know about the rift between my family and hers, but this is not about family history or present rivals. This is about an innocent soul that might die if we don’t find her. This is a matter of humanity, not history.”
The man who asked the question nodded, “We are ready then, Your Grace.”
Swinging upon his horse, Noah spurred his mount on, riding hard to get back to Emmeline. He gray eyes were fixed on the road ahead, while he was praying in his heart for them to find his beloved alive. The miles flew by under his horse’s hooves. As the daylight waned his anxiety and desperation grew. By the time they got to Brennan Hill, it was getting unusually dark but that wasn’t going to deter Noah.
His party of twenty-five men came upon Leverton’s band and Noah alighted from his horse. The constables were there but their numbers were less than the amount mustered by the two duchies.
Constable Greer issued them instructions.
“Assemble groups of three, and the fourth will be one of ours,” Constable Greer demanded. “Each group will be sent to a corner of the forest. We have some horns but not many. If you find anything of suspicion, a shoe, a reticule, or even a bauble, mark the place and we’ll have bloodhounds follow it when they get here.
Noah selected two of his men and a blue-clad constable and took the eastern corner of the forest, while Leverton took the western corner. The constable had a horn and when the director, Greer, sounded his, the party took off into the woods.
As the four made their way through the brush and underbrush, Noah kept a keen eye around, above and below. Emmeline was too precious to him for his attention to be lacking. Every sense was so heightened that Noah felt godlike. He scrutinized every blade of grass and every bush with hawk-like eyes, while he kept his ears attuned to the other search parties.
His heart was beating fast, pumping an urge to run and scour the whole woods by himself if needed, but he kept his pace steady. He didn’t feel the miles passing under his feet as he walked and searched because distance and fatigue didn’t mean anything to him in comparison with Emmeline’s life. He felt a confusing mix of hope and despair in his chest as he kept searching–hope that Emmeline was alive and despair that she was dead.
They came to a small meadow in the woods and Noah was in the process of scouring the stretch when a horn’s call sounded through the air. The young duke felt fright run through him like a rushing wind. Had they found Emmeline?
The call wasn’t far from him and without a word Noah spun on his heel and ran towards the sound. It came again and Noah blasted through the brush to the clearing. He saw a party of Leverton’s men surrounding something.
Noah barely saw Leverton rush out from the woods, too, as he single-mindedly pushed away one of the men in a circle and saw a constable holding a blood-stained cloak.
Was that Emmeline’s? God forbid!
“Move!” Leverton ordered and the men shifted.
“Your Grace, does this look–? ”
Leverton went pale and grabbed the cloak from the man’s hand with trembling fists. Even before Leverton said a word, Noah knew exactly what was coming, and fell to his knees as the world shattered around him—Emmeline was gone.
Chapter 19
Denial at its Finest
The light summer cloak in George’s hands felt heavy as a load of bricks. His eyes saw the material and he knew it was Emmeline’s but his heart was stalwart in denying it. His sister was not dead, there was no way Emmeline was dead—she couldn’t be!
Swallowing hard, George looked up at the constable and nodded, “This is the property of Lady Emmeline.”
A choking sound came from Newberry—one that, if he analyzed it completely, was found to be laden with true horror and grief—but George couldn’t think of him now. His hand tightened around the blood-stained cloak but he knew, even with the smell of the metallic fluid, he couldn’t allow himself to think Emmeline was dead.
“When will the bloodhounds get here?” George asked the head constable, Greer, tightly.
“We sent for them three hours ago,” the man replied grimly, his square face set in a deep frown, “They should be here soon.”
