If the Earl Only Knew (The Daring Marriages)

by Amanda Forester

  She turned and ran with all her might, though it was difficult with her hands bound before her. Her heart beat wildly in her chest from the exertion and raw fear. She ran down the road and saw the posting house in the distance like a beacon of hope. Could she reach it before she was caught?

  Behind her, the man was running awkwardly after her. Maybe she had a chance to reach the inn before him. The road curved, but going through the forest was a more direct path, so she took it, hoping to outrun him. She rushed into the trees and looked behind her. He was not to be seen. Perhaps he was going to head her off by running down the road. Or maybe he would suddenly appear from behind one of the many trees.

  Wynbrook. She needed him.

  She sprinted to the inn, jumping over downed tree limbs and sliding over the icy rocks. She fell twice but got up and kept running. Kate ran until she feared her lungs would burst and then she ran some more. Finally, she emerged at the edge of the wood by the inn. She paused before entering the clearing next to the public house. Where was the man who had been chasing her?

  She panted for breath, her lungs screaming in pain. She had never run so hard. Where was her knife? She had dropped it somewhere close. She scanned the snowy ground, her breath steaming from her lips. The knife glinted in the snow and she pounced on it.

  Footsteps came up behind her and she jumped up, lunging at her attacker.

  The man in the large greatcoat turned toward her and she skittered to a halt.

  “Wynbrook!”

  Twenty

  “Kate?” A startled Wynbrook dropped the book from his hand.

  Kate aborted her attack, lost her footing, and fell right into his arms.

  “What has happened?” asked Wynbrook.

  “Robert has been taken. Quick! There is no time to lose,” she panted.

  “Good heavens, Kate. Are you all right? My word, are you bound?”

  Kate realized that though she held her knife with both hands, her wrists were still bound. “They have Robert in a coach. They grabbed me first to hold me for ransom. Robert caught up with them and managed to push me out of the carriage, but he was shot, and somewhere there is a man who is following me. We must catch them. We must catch them now!”

  “Hold still, let me free you.” John grabbed the knife from her hands and cut through the bonds on her wrists. She rubbed her wrists, which were raw from the effort of trying to loose them herself. He picked up the book and dropped it and the knife into one of his greatcoat pockets.

  “The man, we must get him.” She turned and would have run from the clearing except for a strong hand on her shoulder that held her fast.

  “My goodness, Kate, you are bloodied and bruised. Let me help you.”

  Kate’s legs buckled under the slight pressure and she collapsed into his arms. “But, Robert… The man…”

  “I will see to it.” He carried her to the clearing, and for just a moment, she rested her head against his shoulder. Despite all that was happening, he had a certain confident calm about him that made her feel things would somehow be set to rights. She took a deep breath to revive herself and motioned for Wynbrook to put her down. This was no time to lose her nerve. Taking a careful look around, she could see nothing but the Wynbrook coach being readied to go.

  “Come, we must go after them.” Kate ran for the coach with Wynbrook at her side. “I left them stopped down the road. If we hurry, we might overtake them.”

  “Where is the coachman?” Wynbrook asked the stable lad who was holding the heads of the horses, their breath visible in the crisp cold.

  “Gone in for a pint,” replied the lad.

  “No time!” Kate urged.

  “I’ll take this for a spell,” Wynbrook said to the baffled stable hand as he took the reins.

  The stable lad shrugged. “Your coach, m’lord.”

  “You stay here,” Wynbrook directed Kate, climbing up to the coachman’s seat.

  “You don’t even know which coach you are looking for without me,” said Kate, climbing up after him.

  Wynbrook sighed through gritted teeth and slapped the reins to get the horses moving. They rolled out of the yard and onto the road.

  “John?” cried Tristan, emerging from the inn. “John! Kate! Where are you going?”

  “Trouble with Robert. Must run!” cried John and urged the horses to gallop down the road.

  “Trouble? What trouble?” called Tristan, but there was no time to stop and explain.

  “I don’t know how long they stopped. Might still be waiting,” said Kate, rubbing her elbow where it ached from her fall. Now that she was sitting, she took a mental check of her person.

  “You are hurt. You should not be out here,” said John, squinting into the stinging cold as they galloped down the road. “Do we need to stop to attend you?”

  Kate was hurting in several places but not bleeding profusely and she doubted anything was broken. “No, I am all right. It is not much longer. If we are quick, we might overtake them. I just wish I knew where the man who was chasing me is now. Wait, stop!”

  On the side of the road lay the crumpled form of a man in a black wool coat. Wynbrook pulled up short and Kate jumped down from the coach. She crept up slowly, cautious of an ambush.

  “Is that the man who was following you?” asked Wynbrook beside her.

  “Not sure.”

  Wynbrook rolled the man over. The man’s glassy eyes stared unseeing toward the sky. “Dead.” Wynbrook looked back at her.

  “It must have been the man Robert shot.”

  Kate wondered if Wynbrook, who was accustomed to the finer things in life, would be able to manage such a shocking turn. He had the presence of mind to unwrap the man’s muffler, revealing his face.

  “Do you know this man? Do you know any reason why he would have attacked you or Dare?”

  Kate shook her head. “We must follow the coach.” She turned and ran back to their coach, the horses pawing at the frozen ground.

  “We cannot leave a dead man on the side of the road,” said Wynbrook.

  “We must go after Robert or his will be the next body we find. He was shot!”

  Wynbrook covered the man as best he could with the muffler and joined Kate on the driver’s box of the coach. Wynbrook took control of the horses and sped along the frozen ground as fast as possible.

  Kate wondered what they were going to do if they caught up with the coach. Even with one man dead, there were still three left in the coach, plus the driver. As if reading her mind, Wynbrook reached behind him and lifted up a brass-barreled coaching blunderbuss. “Do you know how to use this?” he asked.

  “Yes.” She took the gun.

  “Careful.” He released the catch and a sharp blade sprang from the tip of the barrel. “It’s spring-loaded.” He grabbed one for himself as well. Clearly the Wynbrook coach was prepared for highwaymen.

  “Nice.” Kate was impressed. Far from being unhinged by events, Wynbrook was as collected as ever, taking on this new challenge as calmly as he entered a society ballroom. She couldn’t help but be a little more attracted to him. A handsome man was nice. A handsome man holding a brass-barreled pistol with a spring-loaded bayonet was even better.

  “Here we are. This is where I left Robert in the coach,” said Kate, getting back to the task at hand.

  The coach was gone, leaving deep ruts in the snow. She quickly looked on both sides of the road to see if he had been dumped there. It was clear, no bodies in sight. She took a breath, wondering how long she had held it.

  “They must have driven on,” said Kate, fear gnawing at her heart.

  “Then so shall we,” said Wynbrook. He put a gloved hand on her arm. “Do not worry. We’ll find him.”

  Kate nodded and Wynbrook snapped the whip to get the horses moving at a fast clip. Wynbrook was a competent horseman, she was pleased t
o discover, and she soon put complete faith in his driving ability. He would catch up with them. He must.

  “Do you know who these men are or where they were going?” asked Wynbrook.

  “No. But they said something about a captain.”

  “Sea captain or army captain?” asked Wynbrook.

  Kate shook her head, miserable for not knowing their enemy. “I do not know.”

  “We shall find him,” Wynbrook said, trying to encourage her.

  Clouds rolled in and the afternoon darkened as it grew closer to night. Still they did not overtake the coach. They came to a turnpike as it began to snow.

  “We are looking for a dark blue coach with a broken right-side window,” said Kate. “Maybe the man here has seen them.”

  Wynbrook asked the toll collector whether he had seen the coach they sought, providing a few extra shillings for the information. They were rewarded with confirmation that such a coach had recently passed.

  Kate’s heart soared. They were on the right track. “Was there anything unusual about the occupants?” she asked. “Was anyone sick or hurt?”

  The man stared at her and she realized it was an odd question. “No, milady. Nothing odd. Just the coachman and the three men inside.”

  “Three men?” Kate choked. “Just three? Are you sure?”

  “Three was all I could see,” said the man, removing his hat and scratching a bald head that somehow matched his short stature.

  “Thank you,” said Wynbrook, driving on in the direction the man had indicated. They said nothing for a few minutes. What had they done to Robert after she had escaped? Was he even still alive?

  “Dare is a formidable opponent. I would not want to be the man who attempted to subdue him,” said Wynbrook in a confident tone.

  “He fought them after he pushed me out of the carriage. What if they…”

  “He’s strong and tough—stronger and tougher than any English gentleman has a right to be. I cannot begin to imagine all the many battles he has faced. He has survived till now and I believe he will survive this as well.”

  “But the man said he saw only three in the coach.”

  “From his vantage on the ground, he would be looking up at the persons in the coach. If your brother was tied and lying on the floor, he would not have been seen.”

  “Yes, yes, you are right,” said Kate with renewed determination. He was alive; she just knew it. If he were dead, she would feel it somehow.

  Wynbrook navigated as swiftly as possible to the next turnpike. Yet at this next turnpike, they had no luck. No coach of their description had passed. Wynbrook turned the horses and coach around in fine form and had them flying back down the road in no time. They must have taken the wrong fork in the road. They corrected themselves and flew to the next turnpike.

  At the next turnpike, they were rewarded with the information that they were on the right road. The coach with the broken window had passed not an hour before. At the next crossroads, they again had disappointing news. No coach.

  By now darkness had fallen and they had to light the coach lanterns. Kate was frozen through and desperately wished to stop to warm herself but knew they must push on.

  “Tristan must be utterly confused,” said John. “I have done him a bad turn leaving him and Ellen at that humble inn.”

  “At least they can stay there tonight out of the wind and snow,” called Kate over the biting wind that blew snow sharply into her eyes. She pulled her collar up even farther, disappearing into her coat like a turtle.

  “Oh no!” cried Wynbrook.

  “What is it?” asked Kate, looking around, fear pulsing through her veins. Did he spy Robert by the side of the road?

  “Tristan’s chest. We have it in the coach.”

  “He will have to spend the night without a change of clothes?” asked Kate.

  “He might have to borrow sleeping garments from the landlord.”

  Kate covered her mouth, holding back untimely mirth. Tristan without his wardrobe was unthinkable. “Oh, he’s going to kill you.”

  “I think you might be right.”

  They followed the tracks in the snow until they turned to ruts, making it impossible to tell who had passed by recently. The weather also deteriorated, and Wynbrook was forced to slow down to travel safely.

  “They will be forced to go slowly as well,” said Wynbrook. “Why don’t you sit in the carriage and warm yourself? I will keep watch and let you know if I see anything.”

  “No. Good to keep more than one set of eyes on the road,” she said through chattering teeth. What she didn’t say was that she was keeping watch for anything by the side of the road that might be the form of her brother. If she sped past her brother in the night, she would never forgive herself.

  It had stopped snowing, which was good, though the temperature seemed to drop even lower, which was not. They pushed through and made it to the next turnpike, asking the man if the carriage had passed. This man appeared to go about his work with his eyes closed. He did not know about any blue coach with a broken window, but Kate was of the opinion that he had not opened his eyes for any passing travelers. He did murmur sleepily that a coach had passed by relatively recently. He was less helpful in identifying which way the coach had gone.

  The road out of the turnpike branched into several directions, a few leading in various ways down to the coast. Both roads showed signs of travel and it was impossible in the dark to tell which ruts had been made more recently than others.

  “Lady’s choice,” said Wynbrook.

  Kate sighed. If she chose wrong, it could mean the death of her brother, her only family. She did not frequently turn to prayer, but she did so then. If ever she needed divine intervention, it was at that moment. A sliver of the moon emerged from behind a cloud and shone over one of the paths. She pointed toward it and Wynbrook snapped the ribbons.

  She only hoped they would be in time to save Robert.

  * * *

  Silas Bones sat in the private room of the inn, sipping his sherry. He had everything prepared for his guest, the Lady Katherine. Food was laid on the table, a fire was in the hearth, and an unscrupulous landlord had been given a hefty bribe to see nothing.

  Three of his men shuffled into the room, holding their caps in their hands and looking sheepish. Something was wrong.

  “Did you not get her?” asked Silas.

  “Aye, we did,” said one.

  “But we lost her,” said another, staring at the floor.

  “You lost her?” Silas rose to his feet.

  “But we got Darington.”

  “You kidnapped Darington instead? What is wrong with you idiots?”

  His men all began to talk at once, saying it wasn’t their fault, blaming Kate and Darington for resisting her abduction, and informing him that one of their number had been shot dead.

  “Silence! You are utter fools.” Silas had heard enough.

  “You want us to bring Darington here?” asked one man.

  Bring Darington to his little scene of seduction? He had planned to enjoy the company of his captive while he waited for the ransom to be paid. “Are you daft? No. You take Darington to Portsmouth and tell my father what happened. Maybe somehow we can make this work.”

  “Aye-aye, Cap’n,” said a lanky lad, sitting down at the table and gazing at his supper with a hungry eye.

  “Good, then you can get on the road now.” Silas held up his hand to silence complaint. These men needed to be taught to fight a little harder.

  “But it’s cold,” complained the big man.

  Silas made no return reply but glared at the men until they all shuffled out of the room. His father was not going to be happy with this turn of events.

  He shuddered at the thought.

  Twenty-one

  The pit in Kate’s stomach grew as
the light faded. It was late and she was beginning to despair. She had hoped against hope that somehow they would be able to find her brother before night fell. It was clear now that hope was in vain.

  She pretended for a while that it was only twilight, but soon she had to admit they were in complete darkness. The brief reprieve they’d had from the weather lapsed, and the snow fell hard and wet. Kate would have preferred fluffy white flakes, but this was heavy and thick. She was cold, she was wet, and they could hardly see the road before them. They could run over the body of her brother without seeing it.

  After their initial successes with the toll collectors at the turnpikes, they had not found any further word of the broken coach. Her brother’s abductors could have continued down the main road or taken any number of side roads to one of the many towns or hamlets or country houses that dotted the landscape. In truth, her brother could be anywhere.

  Wynbrook slowed the horses to a walk, further straining her already taut nerves.

  “We cannot tarry. We must move faster.” Though move faster to where, she could not say.

  “The horses are blown.”

  She knew that. But still she needed to press on; they must find her brother. “We must get a change at the next posting house.”

  Wynbrook said nothing for a moment. He adjusted the ribbons in his gloved hands. “It is late. And we are alone together.”

  “What has that got to do with anything?” she snapped. She did not want to hear about propriety when her brother’s life was at risk.

  “You must be aware that if we arrive together at this hour at a posting house—”

  “We will simply tell them that we are a married couple or make up whatever story you choose.”

  “Unfortunately, I have traveled these roads frequently and I am known in many of the posting houses.”

  “Then go to a posting house in which you are not known. Or go to one that you are. I care not. I cannot do nothing when my brother’s very life hangs in the balance. If my reputation is ruined, it is no great loss. I was not particularly fond of society anyway.”