Dom rolled his eyes. “Of course I do. Let’s get going. We haven’t a moment to lose if we’re to get her back for the duchess’s ball.” He crossed to a small writing desk and scribbled a note then handed it to Paken. “Get the town coach ready. This is the direction.”
“My lord, what shall I tell their ladyships and Sir Henry?”
Despite everything, Dom grinned. “Tell them we’ve gone to Richmond.” Dom glanced at Miss Turley still standing in the doorway. “Miss Turley, thank you for your help. I’d appreciate it if you did not repeat anything you heard.”
“You may be sure I shall not.” She descended the steps quickly.
“Paken, horses, now.”
His butler sent one of the footmen running.
“Mine’s in your stable,” Worthington said as they made their way to the back of the house.
By the time Dom and Worthington reached the stables, their horses had been saddled. They rode as swiftly as possible through the busy afternoon traffic. It would take at least an hour for them to arrive and close to two hours before the coach reached Fotherby’s manor house. The dinner prior to the ball started at nine o’clock. It was almost one o’clock now.
He scowled. “I’m going to murder Fotherby.”
“So you’ve said. I don’t blame you at all. Take my advice, and do it straight out and not in a duel. The ladies don’t like them.”
They reached the first toll and had to wait for the gatekeeper for so long, Dom was tempted to jump it. Finally, an old man came out and collected their money. They rode as fast as they could, slowing only to rest their horses at intervals, until the village of Richmond came into view.
Dom reined in. “It’s not far now. About a mile past the village.” For the first time he was a little lost as to how to proceed. “Do we just ride up the drive or go around to the back?”
“I would rather not be shot as a thief,” Worthington replied drily. “We shall approach from the front.” His lips twitched. “You may announce you are a marquis.”
Dom tossed his head back and laughed. Since being around Thea, the only time his rank had mattered was when his uncle’s voice had crept unbidden into his mind. “As I’m the one Fotherby’s trying to hide her from, I do not think that will work. We’ll pretend we’re lost. If he has anyone other than the old couple who care for the house there, I’m more than happy to take them on.”
And if anyone hurt Thea, Dom would not be responsible for his actions. It was time he behaved more like his father than his uncle.
* * *
Dotty waited impatiently for Fotherby to answer her. She drummed her fingers on the seat until finally he said, “I mean you no harm, but Merton deserves a suitable bride, and I intend to see he finds one.”
Trying to control her temper, she bit the inside of her lip. “What do you plan to do?”
“I have an old manor house not far from Town. I’ll hold you there until after the wedding. Once you leave Merton at the altar, he’ll forget about you and find someone else to marry.” Fotherby leaned back against the squabs. “Don’t worry, your virtue is safe. We’ll send you home to your parents in a couple of days.”
Obviously, the saphead had not done his research and was unaware her parents had arrived at Merton House yesterday. “And who will want to marry me after I jilt Merton?”
Fotherby’s jaw opened and closed like a fish. “Hadn’t thought of that, but the scandal will blow over in no time. They always do.”
Dotty held back a snort. He was an idiot. Mayhap they would stop and she could jump out of the carriage, but then what? With the shades down, she didn’t even know where he was taking her. Did she even have enough money to travel back to London? Surely Dom would discover her missing and search for her. Yet, would he even think of Fotherby? No. Somehow she must rescue herself.
Closing her eyes, she tried to rest. Something would come to her. She was nothing if not resourceful.
When the coach stopped, she sneaked a peek at her pin watch. They’d been traveling close to two hours. Well, if they had gone north, she should recognize something; if not . . . Fotherby unlocked one of the doors and it opened. The footman standing next to it helped her down. An old couple stood in the doorway. Obviously the caretakers. They might help her.
“Well, here she is,” Fotherby said as if they’d been expected. “I sent a message to her parents, and they will arrive in a few days.”
The old lady glanced at Dotty and gave her a severe look. “Don’t try none of your tricks with us, miss. There will be no more running off with fortune hunters.”
Obviously, there would be no help from the servants. If she thought she could get away with it, she would hit Fotherby. Instead, she assumed her most demure expression. “Indeed, Mrs . . . ?”
“Whitaker,” the woman said, seeming surprised to be asked.
“Mrs. Whitaker”—Dotty added an injured tone to her voice—“truly, I thought he loved me, not my money. I never meant to do anything too wicked, and I would never dream of causing my parents any more distress.”
Mrs. Whitaker seemed to thaw just a little bit. “You will be treated well here as befits your station, miss. But I’m sorry to say, you’ll have to stay in your room.”
