Page 61 of An Unbending Lady for the Desperate Earl
“Wait… I see something!” Benedict hissed, gesturing wildly toward a corner of the courtyard. Christian followed his companion’s jabbing finger. His eyes widened as his gaze settled upon a black carriage, half-concealed by the brickwork of an outbuilding. His own insignia flashed back. It was the carriage Victoria had taken from Miss Longacre’s townhouse. The carriage with Simon Green at the helm.
“Does this mean Green is here?” Christian tried to find that familiar face among the ambling men.
“I don’t know, My Lord. We didn’t see the carriage upon the road, though I did notice some wheel ruts where we found that bracelet. Perhaps the kidnappers accosted the carriage, to capture Victoria, and brought the evidence here so no one would find it, out in the open.” Benedict tightened his grip on the reins. “Simon would certainly have come to find us, to let us know what had happened, if he’d been able to. So, either he’s here somewhere or…” He didn’t finish the sentence. The silence was telling enough.
“Let us not think of such things now.” Christian bowed his head subconsciously. “Let us pray that he is alive, and that Victoria is unharmed. And let us hope that the constables arrive soon, before I do something entirely foolish.”
He had been a brave soldier, in his time. Despite his privileged upbringing, he had charged into battle alongside men of all backgrounds and had not hesitated when the bugle called for action. On that field of war, status had not mattered, and neither had wealth. Death had come for his fellow men, all the same. It did not discriminate.
And, though he would admit to being scared when duty required him to sit in the saddle of his warhorse and thunder toward a line of artillery, he had never actually feared death. He felt that same resignation as he looked upon the farmhouse. For, if the constables didn’t come in the next few hours, he would charge in there by himself, if it meant saving Victoria from potential harm.
Until then, he had to hope that her sharp wits and quick mind could keep her safe.
* * *
Christian paced ceaselessly as dawn turned to morning, and morning stretched on toward afternoon. He couldn’t fathom what was keeping the constables. Indeed, he had begun to wonder if they had merely told him they would come to help, without ever intending to follow through on that promise.
“I cannot simply stand here and do nothing!” he barked, though he was careful to keep his tone hushed. He and Benedict had retreated to a small glade within the forest, where their horses could graze and sup the water from a nearby stream. But the farmhouse still lay within their proximity, and Christian did not know if there might be spies watching from between the moss-covered trunks of the trees.
“No one is asking you to,” Benedict replied. “We will wait an hour more, and if the constables don’t appear, then we’ll have to come up with a different plan of action. Be patient, My Lord, for Victoria’s sake. If you charge in there, as I’m sensing you want to do, you’ll put her life at risk.”
Christian dug his fingernails into his palms. “If they touch a hair on her head, they shall feel the full weight of my wrath.”
“Aye, if they don’t killyoufirst.” Benedict patted his horse’s neck and stared off toward the farmhouse. “You’re not the only one who’s worried, and you’re not the only one who wants to crush every last one of those ingrates. But Victoria needs us to be prudent. Let’s not disappoint her now.”
“You appear to have changed your tune, Admiral. When you discovered what Victoria had done, I feared you might be the one to strangle her.” Christian tilted his head. “You were furious with her.”
“That is the beauty of a relationship between a father and daughter, even if she is not my blood. It gives a person the ability to forgive just about anything.” Benedict gave a wry chuckle. “And I’ve come to see why she did what she did. If she hadn’t, we wouldn’t be here, waiting to strike down all those involved in this abhorrent operation. She took a risk, and it may yet pay off.”
“You really do care for her as if she were your own, don’t you?” Christian’s tone softened. In truth, it made him miss his own father. His mother, too. They had been so close as a family, and he still did not know how he was supposed to continue without them.
Will you forgive me if I do not marry Helena?He looked around the glade, seeking some kind of sign. His eyes settled on a pair of wood pigeons who nestled on the bough of a tree, their sleek heads pressed up against each other, their chests puffing as they cooed softly. He had heard that wood pigeons mated for life. And that seemed like a sure enough sign to him.
Will you forgive me if I ask Victoria to be my proverbial wood pigeon?One of the birds ruffled their feathers and cooed louder. He didn’t know how to interpret it, but he chose to view it as an optimistic blessing from the departed souls of his mother and father.
“I do.” Benedict smiled sadly. “I never had children of my own, but I was always around Solomon and Victoria, from the very moment she was born. She became a part of my life before I even realized. Perhaps, from the first time I held her in my arms and saw how vulnerable she was. And, when her father died, I knew I had to do what I could to fill that void.”
“For what it is worth, it seems to me as though you have done an exemplary job of acting in her father’s stead.” Christian offered him a grateful look. “Grief can do curious things to people. I have no doubt that you being at her side prevented her from letting that grief overcome her.”
“That is all I can ask for,” Benedict murmured. “When Solomon passed, it struck us all hard. He was my best friend. My only friend, in some ways. I suppose I managed my own grief by focusing all my attention on Victoria, making sure she never wanted for anything, and making sure that she remembered how to be happy again.”
Before their heart-to-heart could continue, Christian heard the sound of hooves approaching. Panicking, he darted out of the glade and onto the road. The constables had arrived at last, but with surprisingly little attempt at discretion.
Goodness me! They shall reveal us!
Christian waved his hands wildly, drawing the ten-strong band of constables into the glade, before they could be seen by anyone within the farmhouse stronghold.
“What is the matter?” the man leading the group asked.
Benedict answered before Christian had the chance. “Foster, for crying out loud, you can’t show up to an ambush, brazenly riding down the road on your horses!”
Foster frowned. “An ambush?”
“There’s a farmhouse over yonder,” Benedict went on. “Victoria’s trail led us here. She’s in there, somewhere, which means the other captured ladies are in there, too. This is where those cretins brought her. So, if you ride along obliviously, sounding like the blasted cavalry on the offensive, they’ll dart for freedom before we can even make a single arrest.”
“Who are ‘they’? I thought we were dealing with two men?” Foster shifted in his saddle; the glade now exceedingly crowded. Condensation plumed from the nostrils of their mounts, while the steady drop of water, tumbling from the leaves, provided percussion to the cramped exchange.
“That was something of a surprise,” Christian interjected. “There are at least twelve men down there, perhaps more. This operation is much larger than we thought.”
