"My solicitor," Wyatt answered. "He is the one I believe is behind our difficulties."
"Your solicitor?" Nia was temporarily diverted by the news. "Ha, I knew he was a villain the moment I clapped eyes on him!" she exclaimed, her own eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "A more pompous and calculating creature I've yet to meet, and I hope he swings from Tyburn Tree for this!" Then her expression of triumph faded, replaced by a look of confusion.
"But why would your solicitor with you harm?" she asked, her brows meeting as she puzzled over the intelligence.
"That is what we are attempting to discover." Wyatt spoke through gritted teeth as he struggled to a sitting position. "So far all we've learned is that he once served as my mother's secretary, and that he—" He broke off at the expression on Nia's face. "What is it?"
Nia pushed her glasses back up her nose, the fear she'd felt at seeing Wyatt falling from his horse returning tenfold. "Miss . . . Miss Haverall told me there was a stranger in the village," she said slowly, forcing herself to speak carefully. "She says he was recognized as having once been employed in that capacity."
The news that Elliott was virtually on his doorstep drove all thoughts of pain from Wyatt's mind. "For God's sake, Nia, why the devil didn't you say something?"
She was so nonplussed she began to apologize. "I meant to, my lord, but it slipped my mind. And then—" She stopped as the inequity of the situation struck her.
"Why didn't I tell you? Why didn't you tell me?" she demanded, glaring at Wyatt as, with Mr. Royston's help, he staggered to his feet. "I must have asked you the villain's name a dozen times, and you fobbed me off with some nonsense about not having enough 'proof.' " She gave his bloodstained jacket a pointed glare. "Well, Your Grace, it would seem to me that you now have more than sufficient proof."
Wyatt sucked in his breath as the world swayed dangerously about him. He fought off the momentary weakness, his jaw rigid as he confronted her. "Blast it, Nia, you must know I'd have told you if I could!" he said, his voice clipped with fury.
"And pray, sir, how am I to know that?" she demanded querulously, furious to feel the sting of fresh tears in her eyes. "You've made it obvious on more than one occasion that you do not trust me!"
Her angry reply brought Wyatt's head snapping back, an action he quickly regretted. "Of course I trust you, curse it!" he snapped, ignoring the pain and nausea tearing at him. "I would have thought I had made that clear by now! Furthermore—"
"I beg your pardon for interrupting what sounds to be a most edifying conversation"—Ambrose's amused drawl cut into Wyatt's heated response—"but may I remind you that while we're standing here airing our vocabulary, Elliott is in all probability making good his escape?"
Wyatt glared at him, knowing he was right. "We will discuss this later," he told Nia in a strained voice. "In the meanwhile, it would probably be best if we returned to the house. Help seems to be rather late in coming, and I want to get started after Elliott. And of course I'll want my horse examined," he added, turning to run an anxious hand over Mahdi's flank.
"Oh yes, on no account must the horse be allowed to go untreated," Nia grumbled, mentally tossing her hands up in defeat. "What a pity his master isn't nearly so particular with his own hide."
Wyatt ignored her, his expression determined as he swung himself up into the saddle. The wound in his arm was no more than a graze, but that didn't stop the damned thing from aching with increasing ferocity. He'd also struck his head when he fell, and it was throbbing in tune with his arm.
Without another word they took off toward the house, each lost in his own turbulent thoughts. They were almost halfway back when Ambrose gave a sudden cry. "Look there!"
They stared in the direction he indicated with his whip, all spying the still figure lying on the ground at the same time. Wyatt gave a furious curse and raced his mount forward, reaching the stricken groom a few steps ahead of Nia.
"Is he alive?" she asked as Wyatt gently turned the younger man over.
"Yes, thank God," he answered, moving aside so that she could examine him more thoroughly. "I don't see any blood, so I don't believe he's been shot. But—" Before he could speculate further the groom groaned and opened his eyes.
"Your Grace?" The young man's voice was slurred.
"Yes, Harry," Wyatt said. "Where is Lady Amanda?"
Harry's eyes filled with tears. "He rode out of the woods, Your Grace. He—he said he would shoot her ladyship if I didn't let him take her. I tried to stop him, but I was afraid he'd hurt the wee one. I'm sorry."
"You did the right thing, Harry," Nia assured him softly, trying her best to remain calm. Inside she was exploding with rage and fury, but she knew now was not the time for emotion. "Did you see which way they rode off? Did he take her back into the woods?"
"I didn't see them, Miss Pringle," Harry replied, wiping his cheek with his fist. "The man told me to dismount, and then he hit me with something."
"His pistol, no doubt," Wyatt said. "Will you be all right by yourself, lad?"
"Y . . . yes, Your Grace," Harry stammered, regarding Wyatt with apprehension. "Will you be going after the blackguard?"
"Yes, but first we must ride to the house for reinforcements." Wyatt rose to his feet, dusting his hands on his breeches. "I'll send someone back for you, I promise. And Harry?"
"Sir?" The groom drew himself up as much as he could.
"Miss Pringle is right, lad, you did the only thing you could, given the circumstances. If you'd resisted, he might well have carried out his threat. This way, there is every hope we shall soon have Amanda back."
The butler and the housekeeper were enjoying a cozy cup of tea when Wyatt, Nia, and Ambrose burst into the kitchen. Their precipitous appearance sent the startled couple stumbling to their feet in alarm.
"Saints save us, Your Grace!" the housekeeper exclaimed, clasping her hand to her ample bosom as she took in Wyatt's bloodstained appearance. "What has befallen you?"
"Nothing of import." Wyatt impatiently waved his injury aside before turning to the gawking butler. "I want you to call in all of the servants and all of the tenants as well," he ordered. "Lady Amanda has been kidnapped, and I don't want a stone of this estate left unturned until she is found."
"My lord!"
Wyatt didn't wait to listen to the rest of the elderly man's shocked protestations. He hurried Nia out into the hall and took both her hands in his as he gazed down into her drawn features.
"Ambrose and I shall ride directly into the village," he said, wishing with all her heart that he could take her into his arms. Unfortunately, there was no time for such luxuries, and he prayed to God that it wasn't already too late to save Amanda. He pushed the panic back and forced himself to think rationally.
"Tell me everything you remember from Miss Haverall's conversation," he ordered. "There's a small chance Elliott hinted at where he might have taken her."
Nia repeated everything she remembered. When she finished, Wyatt's expression was grimmer than ever.
"Travlock runs the staging inn on the outskirts of the village. That is where we shall start." He turned to leave, but Nia caught his hand in hers.
"Will you not let me tend your arm?" she asked, her lips trembling as she fought back tears. "It's only a graze, but you ought to have it wrapped."
The concern in her green and gold eyes was almost Wyatt's undoing. "Not now, dearest," he said, the endearment coming unbidden to his lips. "In the meanwhile I don't want you taking any foolish risks. Have I your word you won't go tearing after Elliott the moment my back is turned?"
A strangled chuckle burst from Nia. "I might have known you'd be unable to resist issuing one final command," she said, blinking back tears. She knew he was out of his mind with fear for Amanda, and she wanted to do something to ease his terrible burden.
Her teasing jab seemed to have missed its mark entirely as his expression grew even more somber. "I have to know you're safe, Nia," he said, his hands sliding up her neck to cu
p her face. "Give me that much at least, or I swear I'll go mad."
A tear fell down her cheek at his impassioned plea. "I promise I shan't do anything dangerous," she promised, all but choking on the words of love she longed to utter. "Have I your word you will be equally prudent?"
In answer his mouth closed over hers in a fiery kiss, his lips telling her more than words ever could. When he raised his head, his ebony eyes were burning with the force of his emotions. "Wait for me," he ordered in a thick voice, and stepped back into the vestibule where Ambrose was waiting for him.
Chapter 13
It was late afternoon before Wyatt and Ambrose returned from the village, and the news they brought was far from good. They'd arrived at Elliot's rooms to find he'd already fled, leaving no indication as to where he might have gone. A message was sent out to the surrounding villages, but Wyatt doubted it would do any good. Elliott had the advantage of time and surprise in his favor, and he was familiar with the neighborhood. He could be anywhere, and the realization added to the icy fear growing inside Wyatt.
With nothing to do but wait for the searchers to return, Wyatt submitted to having his shoulder tended by Nia. While she was cleaning the wound, he and Ambrose discussed what to do next.
"I want the area already searched gone over again," Wyatt ordered, ignoring the stinging pain as Nia gently dabbed salve on the torn and bruised flesh of his upper arm. "I'm certain he's somewhere close by, and I won't rest until we find him."
"Why do you say that?" Ambrose asked curiously. "I should think he'd want to be as far from here as possible."
"He wants to see me suffer," Wyatt reminded him, his voice harsh. "He can hardly do that if he's miles away. No, he's here. We've just missed him, that's all."
They were still discussing various options when Jamesfield, Wyatt's bailiff, returned. "Still no sign of the scoundrel, Your Grace," the young man admitted, twisting his hat in his hands as he met Wyatt's gaze. "There's not an inch of soil on this estate I've not ridden over myself, and he's nowhere to be found."
"Then ride over it again," Wyatt snapped, "and while you're about it, have a horse saddled for me. I'm going with you."
"Do you think that's wise?" Ambrose suggested, sending Wyatt a worried look. "Elliott's already taken one shot at you. The next time he may not miss."
"At least then we'll know where he is," Wyatt retorted, thinking a bullet couldn't hurt any more than the pain already tearing at his heart. He turned back to Jamesfield. "Where did you first search?"
"The north field, Your Grace. Near the old hermit's cottage."
"The cottage?" Wyatt's eyebrows met in a frown. "I thought I'd given orders it was to be pulled down."
"Quite so, sir, but you arrived rather ahead of schedule, and there wasn't time."
"Never mind," Wyatt replied with a heavy sigh, deciding it hardly mattered now. "Well, what did you find inside? Any sign of either Amanda or Elliott?"
Jamesfield shuffled his feet. "I'm not certain, Your Grace."
"You're not certain?" Wyatt repeated incredulously. "The cottage was searched?"
The tips of Jamesfield's ears turned red. "Not precisely. There was no sign of anyone living there, and as there was so much ground to be covered we—"
"Do you mean you didn't even go inside?" Nia demanded, indignation finally loosening her tongue. "Why the devil not?"
"Because it's haunted, miss," Jamesfield answered, turning to her with an apologetic shrug. "Or at least that's what folk hereabout believe. No one goes near the place, and as I said, I saw no reason to search an obviously deserted cottage when there was dozens of acres waiting to be gone over."
Wyatt's heart began pounding as he pushed himself to his feet. "Call in the others," he commanded, his mind racing. "I want the cottage surrounded at once."
"You think that's where he's holding Amanda?" Ambrose asked, his expression grim.
Wyatt nodded, not bothering to question the matter. He'd never been more certain of anything in his life, and he accepted the knowledge with a deadly calm.
"Make sure the men are armed," he continued, his voice devoid of emotion. "While the rest of you are taking up your positions, I'll do my best to distract him. With luck I'll convince him to exchange Amanda for me, but if not, you may have to rush the cabin." He turned to go, only to find Nia blocking his path.
"I'm going with you," she declared, her hands on her hips as if daring him to object. "I won't let you leave me behind."
Despite the serious nature of the situation, the pugnacious look on her face made Wyatt smile. Unable to resist the comfort of touching her, he reached out to straighten her spectacles. "Somehow I never doubted that for a moment, my sweet," he drawled, his fingers lingering to caress her cheek. "Now, let us go. It will be dark soon, and I don't want to give Elliott any more of an advantage than he already has."
The cottage stood forlorn and alone in the small clearing, its tumbledown chimney and broken door adding to its melancholy air. Studying it, Nia could understand why the bailiff and the others hadn't bothered to search it, although she was of no mind to forgive them. Such dereliction of duty appalled her, and the moment Amanda was safe Nia fully intended ringing a peal over the servants' heads. She refused to contemplate even for a moment what she would do if Amanda wasn't safe.
"Now remember," Wyatt was saying, studying the cabin through narrowed eyes, "let me go up alone. He's liable to shoot her if he sees more than one of us."
"Are you sure that's wise?" Ambrose asked. "What's to keep him from shooting you and then Amanda?"
"Nothing," Wyatt admitted, having already considered this very real possibility. "I'm praying his need to see me suffer will make him incautious. If it does, we'll have him."
"And if it doesn't?"
Wyatt didn't bother to answer Nia's whispered question. Instead he inspected his pistol one final time before slipping it into the waistband of his breeches. "Give me five minutes and then begin moving in." He issued the clipped command to Ambrose. "The windows are boarded up, so I don't think there's a chance he'll see you, but to be safe I want you to keep low. Use the grass for cover."
"All right," Ambrose said, checking his own weapon. "Any other instructions?"
Wyatt's eyes rested on Nia. "Keep an eye on her," he said softly. "If anything happens to me, I want you to promise you'll take care of her."
Ambrose gave a solemn nod. "I will, Wyatt," he said quietly. "I give you my most sacred word."
"Good." Wyatt couldn't tear his gaze from Nia. She was wearing the same riding habit she'd worn that morning, and although it was stained and thoroughly disheveled, she'd never looked more beautiful. Her chestnut hair lay in an untidy knot at the back of her head, and he remembered the sweet, soft weight of it in his hands. Studying her, he finally accepted the truth of his own emotions. He loved her.
As if sensing his thoughts, she suddenly turned her head, and their eyes met and held in a moment of shared wonder.
The expression on Wyatt's face sent elation shooting through Nia. Her logical mind told her she was imagining things, but she didn't care. She loved Wyatt, and that love gave her the strength to set aside her pride. If she'd learned anything in her years with her father, it was that there were no guarantees, and that life could sometimes be appallingly short. Fearing she might never get a second chance, she gathered her courage and went to stand directly before the man she loved.
"Please be careful," she pleaded, her eyes moving over his face as she committed his features to memory. "I couldn't bear it if something were to happen to you."
Her low words filled Wyatt with happiness and searing regret. He gently cupped her chin in his gloved hand, his eyes burning with the words he could not yet say. " 'Had we but world enough, and time,'" he quoted with a rueful smile as his thumb brushed over the full curve of her lower lip. "Ah, Nia, the things I would tell you."
His unspoken promise made Nia tremble with hope. Ignoring the presence of the others, she rose on tiptoe and s
lipped her arms around his neck. When his arms closed around her waist in response, she pressed a shy kiss to his mouth.
"I love you," she said softly, her eyes meeting his without shame or remorse.
"Nia . . ."
"No." She lay a finger on his lips. "As you said . . . world enough and time. Amanda is what matters now. Bring her back safely, and then we will talk."
He longed to disagree, to speak the love burning in his heart, but he knew she was right. He gave her one final searing kiss and then turned away, closing his mind to everything but Amanda. He'd taken only a few steps when Ambrose moved to stand in front of him, blocking his path.
"Here," he said, handing Wyatt a second pistol. "He will expect you to come armed. If he relieves you of this, he may not think to search you for another."
Wyatt accepted the weapon with alacrity. "You're right," he said. "You dandies do have your uses. Remind me to ask you later how you came to be so devious." And he began making his way toward the cottage.
The broken door lay drunkenly on its rusty hinges, and as he crept closer, Wyatt could glimpse the gloomy interior just inside the doorway. He lay the flat of his hand on the rough wood and gave the door a shove as he stepped warily inside, Ambrose's pistol held in his hand.
At first glance there was no sign of recent habitation, and he was beginning to wonder if he'd made a mistake when a soft noise came from behind him. He whirled around to find Elliott sitting in the shadows, levelling a pistol at his enemy's chest.
"Ah, Your Grace, I wondered if you were going to honor us with your presence," he drawled, the lenses of his spectacles winking as a ray of watery sunlight pierced the dusty darkness. "Do come in."
Wyatt did as ordered, blinking as he fought to become accustomed to the shifting patterns of light and darkness. "So you've finally decided to show yourself," he said, his voice disdainful as he drew closer. "What have you done with my niece? I demand you release her at once."
"Demand?" Elliott repeated mockingly. "My dear duke, you are hardly in a position to demand anything of anyone, especially me. But if it will relieve your mind, your precious niece is safe . . . for the moment."
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