Page 55 of An Unbending Lady for the Desperate Earl
“It’s a bracelet,” Benedict said, stating the obvious. “Not one of Victoria’s, though. I’ve never seen her own anything so fancy.”
“It belongs to Miss Longacre,” Christian explained. “She lent it to Victoria, in honor of the Earl of Russell’s soiree.”
“She really is leaving us a trail.” Benedict lifted his head and stared into the gloom. “Although, I doubt she’s got an endless supply of fine jewelry. Going forward, we’ll need to keep an eye out for stranger clues.”
“Like what?” Christian pocketed the bracelet and climbed back into the saddle.
Benedict rolled his eyes. “If I knew that, I would tell you.”
Certain, now, that they were on the right path, the two riders continued on through the windswept landscape. They had barely gone thirty paces when the first droplet of rain splashed against Christian’s cheek, like a cold kiss from a spurned lover.
After thirty more paces, that first tentative drop turned into a barrage of icy rain that doused him within seconds. Those furious dark clouds unleashed the full weight of their ire, sparing no one and nothing from its bitter lashing. Christian’s heart lurched as he pressed on, wiping the water from his eyes in a desperate attempt to see any articles upon the road. They were going to have to move swiftly, if they wanted to stand any chance of finding the rest of the trail that Victoria had left for them.
Chapter 24
Meanwhile, Victoria had kept herself busy, depositing the pin-stabbed scraps of fabric out of the window. The Heron hadn’t stirred throughout their journey, though she was careful to keep a watchful eye upon him, nonetheless.
She was about to stab another piece of fabric, when the carriage trundled to a standstill. Wasting no time, and taking no risks, Victoria immediately pulled the blindfold back up, across her eyes, and slipped her wrists into the loose loops that she had made with the cut rope.
And not a moment too soon…
“Castell?” A voice called. The same, gruff voice she had heard earlier, from the Heron’s accomplice. Although, she now knew that the Heron possessed a name—Castell. It didn’t ring any bells for her, though she had a wealth of knowledge with regards to the names of possible criminals in London.
“Huh?” She heard the Heron stir, at last, oblivious to her tireless undertakings.
“Castell?” the voice repeated, sharper this time. A heavy thud of boots followed, as if the speaker had jumped down from the driver’s box. Next, she heard the creak of the carriage door opening. “Castell, tell me you didn’t fall asleep again?”
“I was merely resting my eyes, Benson,” Castell replied. “No use exhausting myself, now that we have Miss Longacre. And it wasn’t as though she was going anywhere.”
The man who went by the name of Benson gave a low grunt of disapproval. “As far as you know. She might’ve tossed herself from the carriage, and you’d not have known about it until we arrived here.”
“You would do well to calm down. All is as it should be. No harm done. And, I must say, I feel better for having slept for a while,” Castell protested. “Now, what do we do with her?”
“Same thing we do with the rest of them.” Benson seized her roughly by the arm and dragged her out of the carriage. She made a show of writhing and shrieking, when all she wanted to do was break loose and pummel the pair to smithereens.
“A lively one.” Castell snickered.
“Ah, they all quiet down in the end.” Benson shoved her sharply in the back to get her to walk. It burned her up inside, adding to her fury, but she wouldn’t let that show. Not yet.
Instead, she listened to her surroundings, trying to gauge her bearings. She had watched intently from the carriage window, but it had done her little good. Having rarely left London for much of her life, she didn’t recognize a single thing out here in the country. Why, it could easily have been a different world entirely, and she wouldn’t have known. All she did know was that they had passed through dense woodland for at least ten minutes, which meant they were somewhere deep in a forest. The damp, earthy scent that surrounded her only served to solidify that idea, accompanied by the rustle of leaves, shaken by the rain that had begun to fall.
Please don’t wash away my trail. Not before Christian and Benedict have managed to follow it.She sent her prayer upward, though not without a hint of anger. Why had the rain chosen now to start its descent? She had endured quite enough challenges for one season; she didn’t need the heavens themselves adding to it, no matter how blasphemous that might have sounded.
“Get in there and stay quiet until you’re called for.” Benson hoofed her unceremoniously into what could only be a building of some kind. She could hear the rain falling outside, but it no longer splattered upon her face.
She waited for a few moments, until she heard the sound of retreating footsteps. Only then did she dare to slip her hands out of the ropes and remove the blindfold. Her mouth opened in surprise as she found herself in a shed of some kind, barely big enough to accommodate her. Mold streaked the wooden slats, and the grimy hay that had been laid underfoot smelled potently of mildew.
A few cracks in the structure revealed the outside world. Victoria ran toward one, and pressed her eye to the gap, so she might see better. By the looks of it, they had brought her to some kind of farm. Though the farm had evidently been abandoned for some time.
Across a wide courtyard, she saw a towering barn. The door sat open, with glowing lights flickering within. Away to the right of the barn stood an ancient farmhouse which had certainly seen better days. The roof had caved in entirely, and the masonry had begun to crumble, with some of the brickwork stained black. From those erratic marks, she reasoned a fire must have gutted the place, which was why these wretched kidnappers had selected the barn as their main place of residence.
And now, all I can do is wait.She couldn’t recall the last time she had slept, but she didn’t plan to close her eyes that night. She couldn’t risk falling asleep and leaving herself vulnerable, before these criminals. No, she wouldn’t rest until this was over, even if it brought her to the brink of exhaustion. Which, judging by the ache in her limbs and the weight of her eyelids, wasn’t too far off.
* * *
Several hours later, with dawn starting to poke through a clouded sky, sending bolts of vivid pinks and oranges across those fluffy plumes, Victoria saw two figures emerge from the barn. They were heading directly for her shed, prompting her to pull her blindfold back on and slip her hands back into their bound position.
It had been a lengthy wait, filled with unfamiliar sights and sounds and smells. With every masculine voice that had drifted across the courtyard, her spirits had lifted, believing that Christian and Benedict had come to her aid. Disappointment had followed each time, for though a good amount of time had passed, there had been no sign of Christian or Benedict anywhere.
