Page 75 of Finding Hope
She cackled. “If you can find her. She will be dead by morning, otherwise.”
“Your Grace, I beg of you,” Westwood said calmly. “Do you truly wish to murder a girl guilty of no other crime than attracting your son? Even being a Duchess will not save you from the noose.”
“What does that matter when everything I stand for will be in ruins?” she asked self-righteously. “I am doing this for your own good, Rotham! One day you will thank me!”
Max and Westwood exchanged glances of desperation.
“I warned the scheming strumpet to stay away. She made her choice and is reaping her just deserts!”
“Where is she?” Max growled into her face.
“Somewhere cold, dark and wet, where she belongs.” Her eyes narrowed as she clearly relished her words.
Max could see they would get no more help from her. “Pack as much as you can in the next two hours. You will leave before nightfall. If ever I see you again, I will not answer for my actions. And if Hope dies, you had better pray I never find you, because I will hunt you to the gates of hell.”
“I consider it my duty to preserve the purity of the Davenmere line. If I must be a martyr, then so be it.”
“Come,” Westwood said, pulling his arm. “We will gain no more from this quarter.”
“You will never find her in time!” she called after them with savage pleasure.
Max barked his instructions for the Duchess’ banishment to the footman on duty at the door before running as fast as he might towards the river.
CHAPTER 19
The desperation was excruciating. If he had been in a panic before he spoke to the Duchess, then now he was in utter despair. His imagination was running riot into the hellish possibilities of where Hope could be on the vast estate and beyond. The clock was ticking, according to her Grace.
“Do you think she has had Hope thrown in the river?” he asked Westwood. Could Hope even swim? He should know this about her.
“It sounded more as though she was in a dungeon,” Westwood said.
“We do not have a dungeon, but perhaps we should also search the cellars for any hidden places. It does not make sense to put her there, but if that is where she is imprisoned, then we should be able to find her.”
“Perhaps she was deliberately trying to divert us on the wrong path?” Westwood asked.
“It is a possibility, but something tells me it is unlikely. She seemed confident in her capabilities to thwart us.”
When they reached the river’s edge, footmen, grooms on horseback, and whippers-in with hounds were searching everyinch as far as Max could see. Those on horseback were combing the edges of the banks on both sides as the river flowed swiftly along. Max did not see his brother, but Freddy and Captain Fielding were leading the search outside.
“Have you found anything at all?” he asked. “The Duchess was very little help.”
“They have not caught her scent up here. Gus took two of the dogs down to the cellars to try to pick it up there. Hopefully he is having better luck! We will continue to follow downstream.”
Max blew out a breath of frustration, but tried to remain calm. “I will return to the house and find him, then.”
As he approached the house, he saw Gilford waiting for him. “All the servants and guests have been questioned, my lord. No one has seen anything. We are still searching the attics and more obscure places within the house. His lordship and some of the other gentlemen are searching the cellars.”
Max and Westwood hurried through the house, down through the kitchens and then down another narrow set of stairs to the cellars. Max was acutely aware of things he’d never before considered, like the drop in temperature and the dark dampness as they descended, but was it enough alone to kill Hope if she wasn’t found quickly? He did not think so, but perhaps there was something he was missing. It did not quite fit the picture the Duchess had painted. They encountered servants moving sacks of flour and vegetables, kegs of beer and ale, and shelves of wine, looking behind these items into storage cupboards that were scarcely used.
“Where is Lord Augustus?” he asked the under butler, who was directing the search.
“The dogs picked up a scent through the tunnel and they went that way,” the servant said as he pointed. A large oak door separated the house from the tunnel, and it was partially jammed open.
“The tunnels have been blocked off for years, but someone has recently moved the shelves which obstructed the doors,” the man explained.
If that were the case, then the Duchess had been plotting this in some detail, which lent a more sinister turn to her actions than he had thought her capable of.
“I suggest you take a lantern, my lord.” The man took one off the wall and handed it to Max.
