“Will he live, Michael?” Penelope’s voice caught on a sob. “He cannot die, you know. What would we all do without him?”
Michael studied her face and noted the frightened expression in her eyes, the tremble in her fingers, clasped together as if in prayer. “He’s strong and determined, and so is Shirley. She’ll not let him die, she just told him so.”
Penelope’s gaze deflected to Shirley. She took a shuddering breath. “Then that is the way it shall be.” Disengaging from her father, she crossed to the window seat and sank onto the cushions.
Michael followed and sat beside her, taking her hand in his. “Come, now. I thought we just decided he’ll be fine.” When she didn’t turn, he squeezed her hand. “Adrian is my best friend. We’ve been through a lot in these years. He’s strong, and I believe he’ll recover.”
Penelope swiveled to face him. “Adrian has been dear to me all my life. I cannot picture what it would be like if he . . . if he were not . . .” She started to sob quietly.
Michael pulled her to her feet, then brought his arms around her. “Everything will be all right, you’ll see.” He stroked her hair. Penelope huddled into his embrace and laid her head against his chest. Over her head, Michael met Jeffrey’s worried gaze, and wondered at the nod of approval Penelope’s father bestowed on him.
When the knocker sounded on the front door, Jeffery reached the door ahead of Mr. Mansfield, and breathed a sigh of relief when Dr. Sterling rushed in, his face flushed from the winter cold.
“Where is he?” The doctor handed his cloak and hat to Mansfield.
“Over here, Doctor.” Shirley motioned to him.
Dr. Sterling quickly discarded his coat and rolled up his sleeves. After washing his hands, he knelt by Adrian’s side. Carefully removing the soaked bandages, he studied the wound. “Is the bullet still inside?”
“No, there’s an exit wound in his side. Should I turn him for you to see?”
Dr. Sterling seemed to consider it for a moment. “No, I don’t want to disturb the wound and start it bleeding again. Where is the exit wound?”
Shirley pointed to a spot on her side as an example. “The bullet grazed the inside of his arm, too.”
Dr. Sterling’s forehead furrowed. “That is unusual, but in this case, very fortunate.”
Jeffrey considered the import of Dr. Sterling’s words and shivered.
“Look at this.” Shirley handed Sterling the silver case that held the cigarillos Adrian preferred. “It’s creased and the corner’s bent.”
Sterling turned the case in his fingers. “It must have deflected the bullet meant for his heart.” Handing the holder back to Shirley, he examined the wound on Adrian’s head. “Has he been able to speak or open his eyes?”
“Yes, both,” Shirley affirmed. “He’s even had some broth.”
“Has he vomited, or complained of nausea?”
“No.”
“That’s good. The wound itself is not as troubling as the loss of blood and the head wound. They can be very difficult.” Dr. Sterling rose and snapped his black bag closed. “I’ll check tomorrow, but at this point, if there’s no infection and no fever, he’ll just need time to recover. If anything changes, call me right away.”
Jeffrey heaved a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Doctor. Is there anything else we can do?”
“Just keep the wound clean and change the bandages regularly. He needs to lie still and rest.” Dr. Sterling eyed the bowl of soup and wrapped bricks. “That’s right. Get him to drink the broth and keep him warm.”
“We’ll do whatever is needed.” Jeffrey shook the doctor’s hand.
The front door swung wide and Frank, with a much disheveled Edward Thornby in tow, rushed in. After shedding his coat, Frank strode directly to the settee. “How’s he doin’?” His gaze darted from Adrian to Jeffrey.
“The doctor has said he’ll be fine with rest and time to heal.” Jeffrey moved aside to allow Frank a closer look. Frank crouched silently beside Adrian. The emotion on his face spoke volumes.
“Have you been with Adrian long, Frank?”
Frank regained his feet. “Right after he came ta Texas. I was in the Army with the captain there, and one day he says he wants ta introduce me ta this Lordship fellow who wanted ta build a ranch.” Frank grinned in remembrance. “I expected ta meet some pantywaist lay-about, no offense meant,” he hastened to add, glancing quickly at Jeffrey. “Instead, the captain, he introduces me ta one tough son of a,”—Frank coughed—“er, one tough man. He worked right alongside the other men.” Frank gazed at Adrian. “There ain’t much we wouldn’t do for him. I left the Army for him and never regretted it for a minute. Spencer Ranch is somethin’ we’re all proud of.”
Catching sight of the silver case laying on the table, Frank picked it up, examined it, and frowned. Slowly shaking his head, he laid it down and met Jeffrey’s gaze.
“Everything was good ‘til this Malcolm guy showed up. He’s so evil he don’t deserve ta live, and I plan ta help send him on his way ta hell where he belongs.”
Jeffrey squeezed Frank’s shoulder. “Adrian will be all right, Frank. You’ll see.”
“Yeah, I know.” Frank gruffly cleared his throat, then strode to the window and looked out.
Jeffrey noticed Edward standing in the threshold, his satchel clutched against his chest as he stared at Adrian. Michael motioned the timid man forward.
“He’s going to be all right?” Edward questioned.
Michael nodded. “Yes, thank God. But we have another pressing issue we need your help with.”
“Anything.” Edward straightened. “What can I do?”
Michael looked him in the eyes. “Lady Angeline is missing. We need the locations of any properties Malcolm owns or has use of.”
“She’s missing?” Edward squeaked. His glasses lost their purchase on the end of his nose and fell to the floor.
When Michael bent to pick them up, Jeffrey caught the look that passed between Michael and Frank. Obviously, Frank had not explained much to Edward. Michael raised a brow at Frank and handed the glasses back to Edward.
“I didn’t want ta’ scare him,” Frank responded to the unvoiced accusation.
Michael’s gaze returned to Edward. “We’ll find her, but we need your help to do it. Can you get this information for us?”
“Yes, Captain, I can. I must leave now for town, but I’ll return first thing in the morning.” Clutching his satchel, he hurriedly left the house.
Sometime during the night, Adrian became aware of Michael and Frank taking turns spooning broth into his mouth and exchanging the cooled bricks with warm ones.
His chest and arm hurt like hell, but the pain in his head was excruciating. He tried to open his eyes and winced at the effort and groaned. Both men were beside the settee in seconds.
“We’re here, Boss.” Frank reached for a lantern.
Adrian sighed. “What of Angeline? He has her.”
Michael let his hand rest on Adrian’s uninjured shoulder. “Edward is looking for the locations of everything Malcolm owns. We’ll find her. If Malcolm sees Angeline as a way to gain entrance to the aristocracy, let alone the wealth she could bring him, I doubt he’ll harm her.”
“We’re talking about Charles Malcolm.” Adrian tried to sit up. The pain in his head increased.
Frank clapped his hand on Adrian’s chest to keep him from rising.
Michael cautioned, “Take it easy. You don’t want to reopen the wound.”
“I’m sitting up. Either help me, or take your hands off me,” Adrian demanded.
They each slid an arm around his waist and lifted carefully. Pain shot through his chest and arm, momentarily robbing him of breath. When he leaned back against the cushions, the pain eased.
The familiar sound of the staff as they went about their various tasks felt somewhat comforting, but he couldn’t shake the almost paralyzing fear for Angeline’s safety. He knew better than most what Malcolm was capable of. Until sh
e was back safely, he wouldn’t rest.
Shirley rushed toward him. “Should you be sitting up?” At his scowl, she slowed and hastened to add, “I need to check the wounds and change the bandages.”
Adrian suffered her ministrations. Finding no sign of infection and fever, she reassured the others.
“I would love some coffee. And maybe some bacon and eggs. Perhaps a biscuit or two? But no more broth,” Adrian pleaded hopefully.
“It’s clear you’re feeling better, Lord Adrian. I’ll tell Cook to send in some porridge while I see about a clean shirt for you. Don’t move,” Shirley admonished.
“I don’t want porridge, I want—” He caught his breath as pain shot through him.
“Tsk, tsk,” Shirley clucked as she left the room.
Adrian shot a glance in Frank’s direction. “Bossy woman.”
Frank grinned. “She is, isn’t she?”
When Jeffrey and Penelope found Adrian awake and sitting up, they rushed to his side. “How are you?” Penelope knelt beside him.
Adrian squeezed her hand. “Much better, Pen.”
The knocker fell on the front door, and Adrian heard Mansfield’s, “Good morning, Mr. Thornby.”
Edward stepped into the foyer and sniffed appreciatively.
“Some tea, perhaps?” Mansfield inquired.
“That would be very nice, Mr. Mansfield.” Edward replied in gratitude. “Would it be too much to have a piece of toast? I haven’t been home since I left here yesterday.”
“Of course, Mr. Thornby. Perhaps a sausage and a shirred egg?”
“Oh, yes indeed.” Edward rubbed his hands together in anticipation.
As Mansfield began to close the front door, it was forcibly pushed open, shoving him back against the wall. Two men brushed past him, both wearing black, flat-brimmed hats. On their hips hung Colt 45s, the handles of which were tooled in silver. Their gazes swept the drawing room before they entered.
Michael was on his feet and reaching for his gun when one of the men stopped him with a curt, “Do not, for if you do, you will surely die.” He watched as Michael slowly raised both hands, palms outward, and laid them carefully against his thighs. The man inclined his head.
“My lord, there are at least ten armed horsemen out front,” Mansfield advised in some alarm.
“Who are you, and what do you want?” Adrian struggled to his feet.
“We are Cordova,” the taller of the two said. “And we have come for our niece.”
Chapter 28
“My wife is not here.” Adrian wobbled unsteadily on his feet.
The taller of the two Spaniards removed his hat, revealing raven-black hair. “Tell us where she is. We do not have much time.”
“I think we had better talk.” Adrian decided the wiser course of action was to include them. This was what Angeline had wanted, to find her family. He only hoped they were willing to listen.
“I’m Adrian Spencer, Earl of Windsford, and Angeline is my wife. These people are our family and friends. We could use your help to find her.” Adrian staggered, then braced himself on the back of the chair.
“I am Don Rafael Cordova and this is my brother, Don Esteban. What do you mean, find her?” His gaze slid over the bandages. “What has happened?”
Michael stepped forward. “He was shot at the same time Angeline was taken.”
Rafael turned a cold stare on Michael. “And when was this?”
“Yesterday.” Michael stepped to Adrian’s side. “How did you know where to find us?”
“I told them, Captain. I thought all could be resolved if we could but talk things over with her family,” Edward Thornby replied, visibly shaking.
Rafael’s dark gaze fastened on Edward. “You must be Señor Thornby. You have done the Cordova family a great service, and we are in your debt.” His gaze moved to encompass those in the room. “We were already on our way to find Franchesca when we met the rider you had sent. We were saddened to learn of our sister’s death and did not know of the niña.”
Adrian caught the quick glance Edward sent in his direction. When he narrowed his gaze, Edward blinked and pulled the satchel close to his chest.
“That was a very good idea, Edward,” Adrian conceded.
“Please, gentlemen, have a seat so we might discuss this. And, Adrian, you need to sit back down,” Jeffrey interjected.
Esteban removed his hat. “Gracias, it has been a hard trip.”
Penelope approached Rafael. “I’ll have Cook bring in more coffee and pastries. Perhaps your men would like to dismount and have something as well.” She waved a hand in their direction. “There’s a stable behind the house with hay and grain for the horses.”
Rafael inclined his head to Penelope, then signaled Esteban to talk to the men. His attention returned to Adrian. “You say you were wounded and our niece was taken? Why would someone do this thing?”
“To explain, we will need to start with the death of Lord William, Angeline’s father,” Adrian began.
Carefully, so as not to leave anything of importance out, Adrian sorted through the chain of events leading to the shooting and kidnapping. When he tired, Michael took up the narrative.
“Dios,” Rafael interjected forcefully.
When they spoke of the young Franchesca who had given birth to a daughter whom she called Angelina Franchesca Cordova, Edward explained the confusion of names and the legalities.
Rafael glanced toward the ceiling as if asking for guidance, then looked down at his folded hands held tightly between his knees. “All this time and we did not know.”
Esteban stared out the window and listened quietly. He said nothing; neither did he face those in the room.
Then Adrian explained why they believed Charles Malcolm was so desperate to have her, and his twisted desire for recognition and power.
The room remained quiet while the two men tried to regain their composure before they spoke.
Adrian was the first to break the silence. “Why now, Don Rafael? Why, after all this time, would you try to find your sister? Why didn’t you search earlier? It’s obvious you cared deeply for her.”
Rafael raised his head. “Of course we cared, but you do not comprehend our culture. Our father forbade us to search for her. Not a day has gone by that we did not miss her. Our mother has not laughed once since Franchesca left.” A muscle clenched along his jaw.
“Then I ask again, why now?” Adrian regarded Rafael.
Rafael sighed. “Don Fernando is dying. We thought to reunite them before his death.” His eyes held Adrian’s. “But you are mistaken on one point. William did not take Franchesca from the church before she married, but afterward. The vows had been spoken, the papers signed.”
Adrian leaned his head back and wearily closed his eyes. When he opened them, he felt Rafael’s keen regard. Any lingering hope, any chance there had somehow been a legal union between William and Franchesca, vanished.
Michael broke the silence. “Edward, what information did you find to help us?”
As Edward spread maps and papers over the occasional table in front of the settee, the others gathered.
“Some locations are here in town and should be easy to check.” Jeffrey took note of the addresses.
“I doubt he would bring her to London where she might be seen. I would think the country.” Adrian studied the list. “But we’ll check them all if necessary.”
“You will check nothing. You are in no shape to do so,” Rafael retorted.
“Where Adrian is concerned you are right, but you won’t stop the rest of us from looking,” Michael pointed out.
“This is a family matter, and—” Rafael began.
Esteban interrupted him. “Have we not done enough in the name of family and family honor?” His expression clouded with anger. “I will never forget the last time I saw our sister. She was laughing when she clasped the hand of the man she loved and ran from the church. She stopped for a second as she passed and blew a kiss to m
e.” His face twisted in pain. “I never thought it would be the very last time.”
Esteban’s accusing voice stabbed the air as he turned on his brother. “All this,”—he waved his hand—“because she wanted the right to choose whom she would marry. And now you are trying to impose restrictions on these people and the niña.” He shook his head. “I will not be a part of it this time.”
Rafael stared at Esteban for a long moment, then dipped his head in agreement. He regarded the list and maps. “Where is the most likely place to start?”
Edward cleared his throat. “I’ve thought about that. He’s had most of these properties for quite some time and quite a few are leased out. There is one that he acquired from his last wife after her demise. If I hadn’t remembered his latest, uh, acquisition, I wouldn’t have known where to look as it’s still under her father’s name.”
Edward tapped his finger on the map and the men stepped closer. “The house in the country between Windsford Hall and Ashley Manor. I believe the property is north of them, but I’m not certain how far. Because he wouldn’t expect us to know of it, this would be the best place to take her.”
“Very good, Edward,” Jeffrey approved.
Adrian rose. “Send some of your men to check the locations here in London. The rest of us should start for the house Edward mentioned. It seems the most obvious choice.”
Rafael stepped outside and gave orders and directions to some of the men. He also warned them about the man Malcolm had hired.
Jeffrey laid his hand on Adrian’s shoulder. “Adrian, this is not wise. You’re in no condition.”
Calmly, Adrian replied, “But you know I must, Uncle.”
Rafael looked squarely at Adrian. “Although time is of the essence, I think we should wait another day or two for the riders to return. If Malcolm was foolish enough to stay in town, I do not want to be away when the news comes. And you, Lord Adrian, will kill yourself for nothing.”
Cazador refused to leave Angeline’s side, choosing to care for her personally. No woman had ever been hurt at his hands, and shooting her, though accidentally, severely distressed him.
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