The Scandalous Lady Sandford (Lost Ladies of London 3)

Good Lord! The men had run amok

in his absence. “May I borrow a pistol?” Fabian gestured to the duelling pistols on the table. “And your coat.”

“I’m coming with you, and only one pistol is loaded. I fired a shot when your man refused me entrance.”

“I’m coming, too, my lord.” Mackenzie stepped forward. “Anyone who harms the lass will have to deal with me.”

“The lass?” Vane raised a reproachful brow. “Are you not taking simplistic living a little far?”

Fabian ignored the comment. “Fetch two swords, Mackenzie, and meet us in the bailey.”

They were about to leave when the door burst open, and Ursula rushed in, her clothes sodden and water dripping from her straggly locks. She dropped to her knees before them. “Please, my lord, you must come quickly. Lady Ravenscroft needs your help.”

Fabian’s blood froze in his veins. He gripped Ursula’s arm and brought her to her feet. “Why? Where is she? Is she hurt?”

“I don’t know. We went to the cottages to find Mary, but she wasn’t there. And so we went down to the dock.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

“We walked the coastline looking for Mary, but someone attacked us from behind.” Ursula gasped for breath.

“Attacked you? Was it one of the men?”

She shook her head. “There were two of them, Mary and a man I’ve never seen before.”

“Mary?” Mackenzie spat. “She’s lying, my lord. Mary would never hurt her ladyship.”

Fabian did not want to suggest his friend was naive, or that love was blind. Women were just as callous as men when it came to deception. “Let us hear the rest of the story before we make any judgements.”

“But, my lord—”

“Enough. I must know what these blackguards want.” Crimes such as these fell into two categories: a need for money or a desire for vengeance.

Mackenzie covered his hand with his mouth.

“I didn’t want to believe it of Mary, either,” Ursula implored. “Truly I didn’t.”

Fabian tried to remain focused. “You mentioned a man. Was it Doyle?”

“Things happened so quickly.” Ursula squeezed her eyes shut as if trying to form a mental picture. She shook her head and looked at Fabian. “If it is Doyle, then he is thinner than I remember, and he has a beard. Please. You must believe me. The only reason I stand here is because I’m forced to bring you a message.”

Vane remained silent but his intense, unwavering gaze fixed on Ursula.

Fabian inhaled deeply. “What message?”

“You’re to travel to Branscombe. You’re to bring five hundred sovereigns if you want to see Lady Ravenscroft again.”

Fabian cursed and punched the air. So the motive was money. It had to be Doyle. Who else could it be? He wanted to wrap his hands around the bastard’s neck and squeeze until his face turned blue.

“Mary is to hold Lady Ravenscroft in a secret location until he agrees to her release.”

Mackenzie stepped forward. “May I speak to you alone, my lord?”

“Certainly, but be quick. We cannot afford to linger.”

They moved closer to the door, out of earshot.

“My lord, there is no man here more loyal than I.” Mackenzie covered his heart with his hand. “Believe me when I tell you, there must be another explanation. Mary despises Doyle and was glad when he left.”