“The squire told Lady Beauford that they were attending a lecture on magnetism.” Something in the butler’s voice made Ian look closer at the man. “And?”
“I heard him ask Lady Annabelle to attend a lecture by Mrs. Burnaby. It is one of milady’s friends with her cause.”
She had promised only the night before not to attend a lecture of this type without him. She had also warned him that she sometimes acted precipitously. Instinctively, Ian knew that Annabelle would have what she considered a very good reason for going with
the squire. He had no doubt that his unpredictable fiancée would never betray him. She was nothing like Jenna.
Creswell cleared his throat. “I doubt that was his intention, milord, and that is why I took the liberty of sending you a message.”
Ian felt foreboding creep along his skin. “Where do you think he took her?”
“His carriage was set for traveling, milord, and I noticed luggage stowed in the luggage box.” He said no more, leaving Ian to draw his own conclusions.
“Lady Annabelle, did she take anything with her?” He nearly choked on the question, but he needed to hear the butler tell him no.
“No, milord, she believed he was taking her to a lecture. He promised her that he would leave Town afterward. If I may be so bold, I believe she is trying to circumvent the duel.”
Ian cursed. Belle was unlike any other lady of his acquaintance. Why had he believed she would sit idly by and allow him to participate in a duel she strongly opposed? The thought of his Belle in the clutches of the lecherous squire sent his stomach plummeting to his toes. He had to find her.
“There is one more thing, milord. Whilst engaged in conversation over a cup of ale with John Footman, the coachman made a comment about the weather in the north. One might assume from this comment that he expected to head that direction.” Creswell’s words brought the first smile to Ian’s face since he had read the butler’s note requesting his immediate attendance at Lady Beauford’s townhouse. After asking detailed questions regarding the squire’s equipage and the livery of his coachman, Ian stormed outside. Instructing Creswell not to alarm the dowager, Ian gained his horse and was off.
His first stop was Finchley’s home. He needed a pistol. It would be foolish to face a man of Renton’s ilk unarmed. He updated Finchley on the latest development and asked his friend to go directly to Hamilton and apprise him of recent events.
“Send a note, eh what? Can’t go tearing after the blackguard alone.” Ian didn’t want to take precious time arguing. “I’ll write the note while your mount is brought around.”
Finchley raced upstairs to don a pair of riding breeches. When he came back down, Ian was ready. “I told Hamilton to follow in his carriage with Lady Hamilton. I will not allow the cur to tarnish Belle’s reputation.”
Hours of hard riding later, Ian spied the coach ahead of him on the highway. The horses and coachman’s livery matched Creswell’s description. Ian considered his options.
The most important thing was to get Belle from the man’s clutches. He could deal with the squire later.
“Is that the coach?” Finchley rode close, so his voice would not carry and alarm the coachman.
“Aye.”
The fury that had abated on the long ride returned full force. Indicating with an inclination of his head that Finchley should go to the right of the carriage, Ian rode up on the left. He waited until the coachman turned nervously at the sound of the thundering hoof beats behind before firing the pistol.
“Stop the coach or I’ll put a hole through your heart.” Ian roared the command.
The coachman didn’t take time to think about it, he immediately sawed on the reins and within minutes, the coach came to a standstill. Finchley rode to the front and trained his weapon on the coachman.
Ian heard Belle scream from the inside and he was off his horse in a moment. He reached the coach just as the door flew open. The squire held Belle around the neck and pointed a cocked pistol at her head. Ian froze in his tracks.
Renton’s gaze swept past Ian to where Finchley sat atop his horse, his gun aimed and ready. Gripping Belle more tightly, he smiled. “It would appear that we are at a standoff.” Ian ignored the remark. “Let her go.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that. Tell your friend to move away from the coach and drop his weapon.”
When Ian didn’t comply immediately, Renton yanked his forearm against Belle’s throat until she could not breathe. She twisted wildly in his arms, but could not gain a foothold. Her face turned a dangerous shade of red.
“Finchley, do as the man says,” Ian commanded.
When his friend had obeyed, the squire loosened his hold and Belle took several choked gasps of air.
“Well done. I do believe you realize the precarious position of Lady Annabelle,” the squire said.
Ian’s fury was barely in check. He focused on keeping it under control as the squire instructed Finchley further.
“Now, dismount from your horse and send both your horse and Graenfrae’s off.” Finchley looked to Ian for direction. Ian gave a short nod. Finchley did as he had been told. The stupid squire was looking quite pleased with himself. He then demanded that Ian throw away his gun.
“Nay.”
The squire’s polished veneer dropped. “No? Do you want me to shoot Lady Annabelle?” he screeched. “If you do not drop your weapon she does not have a prayer.”
“If I do, she has less of one.” Ian started toward the carriage.
“Stay back.” The squire sounded desperate.
Ian ignored him and kept going. The squire threw Belle away from him and gave his coachman orders to go. Ian caught Belle as she tumbled toward the ground. By the time he set her on her feet the coach was already out of pistol distance.
Ian cursed.
Belle shuddered against him. Giving a piercing whistle, he hugged her close. Within seconds Nightsong stood before him. Turning to Finchley, he instructed him, “Take my horse and find your mount. He will not have wandered far.” Ian swept Belle into his arms and carried her off the road. He found a likely boulder and sat on it with Belle in his lap.
“He wanted to take me to Gretna Green. He’s mad, Ian. He thought I would marry him.”
“Dinna fret, Belle. You are safe now.”
She pushed away from his chest and glared at him. “I’m not fretting. The man could have shot you. Do you realize that?”
The squire had held a gun to her head and she was worried that he might have shot Ian? Ian could not fathom the working of her mind. “’Twas not likely. I am sorry I could not throw down my pistol. I dinna wish to risk you, but the risk of letting him leave with you seemed greater.”
She nodded. “You are quite right. He wanted to marry me, not kill me. I’m no good to him dead.”
“The man must be mad.”
“Or desperate. There have been rumors that he was in deep water financially.
Perhaps he sought to repair his fortunes.”
Ian caressed Belle’s back and pulled her close into his embrace. “I dinna think your modest dowry would tempt a man to kidnapping, Belle.” She went stiff in his arms. “Ian, there is something I must tell you.” What was she going to say? For an insane moment, he feared she would confess involvement with the squire. He rejected the thought the minute it entered his mind. She had said she loved him. True, she had been under emotional strain when she had said the words, but that did not negate their commitment. He would hold her to them.
“What is it?”
“It’s about my fortune.”
“Here you are.” Finchley rode up leading Ian’s horse. “You were right, Buttercup had not gone far at all.”
Ian wished the horse had ridden into the next county. He wanted to find out what Belle meant when she spoke of a fortune.
Finchley said, “We’ll want to make for that inn several miles back, eh what?”
“Aye.” Their horses would not stand the ride back to Londo
n without rest, water and food. Ian stood and set Belle on her feet. “Are you ready to ride?” She nodded. “I am completely unhurt, except of course my pride. I do not know if I will tell you the terrible things that odious man said.” She was wrong about that. She was going to tell him everything, including what she meant about a bloody fortune. He helped her onto Nightsong and then swung himself up behind her.
They did not try to talk on the way to the inn. Ian wanted all of his senses on the ready. Travel was never safe, but the thought that the squire might turn around and chase after them was a real possibility. The man had given up much too easily after going to the trouble to kidnap Belle.
They reached the inn and Ian dismounted, pulling Belle down after him. She stumbled a bit. He put his arm around her to steady her. Finchley stayed outside to see to the horses. A round woman in a mobcap came forward to greet them.
Ian said, “We need a private parlor.”