Gabriel shook his head. “She made the choice. She knew the risk.”
She looked away, but only for a breath. When she looked back, her composure had returned, but not untouched. “We must act quickly.”
“We are.”
A young footman approached, pale and stammering. “M-my lord, someone said they saw a dark carriage leave the side path less than ten minutes ago. It headed west, toward the old toll road.”
“We’re behind,” Gabriel said. “But not by much.”
He turned to Barrington. “I’m not waiting for a coach. I’ll take a horse.”
Barrington nodded. “We’ll follow in carriages. Give me a direction.”
Gabriel didn’t answer. Not yet. He turned on his heel and strode out of the ballroom, boots ringing sharply on stone. He needed space.He needed air. He needed a map in his head and silence to trace the route.
Behind him, the music resumed, faint, awkward, and completely irrelevant.
Leticia had trusted him. And they’d taken her.
But he wasn’t going to follow their path. He was going to intercept it.
*
The coach swayedhard with the road.
Leticia sat with her wrists bound and her ankles pressed tight together, the leather straps not painful, but firm. A loop ran through a hook bolted into the floor, tethering her with the quiet certainty.
They hadn’t blindfolded her. They hadn’t gagged her. They didn’t think she’d scream. They had not needed to force her silence.
Erica sat opposite her, unbothered by the ruts and jolts. She looked entirely at ease, legs crossed, gloved fingers tugging at a loose thread on her cuff. The oil lamp hanging from the ceiling creaked with every jostle, throwing dim golden arcs across the wood-paneled cabin.
Leticia stared at the knot binding her wrists, and at the gap between shutter slats. The road outside blurred past in bursts, gravel, hedgerow, black sky. They weren’t going slowly, but they weren’t galloping either. Leticia tracked the movement of the coach, counting turns, marking distance by sound and rhythm.
Gabriel would have seen the tracks. He would have heard the gravel when she dragged her foot. He would.
She pushed the fear down, pressed it hard against the place where panic wanted to root. Her throat tightened, but she locked her jaw against it.
The man beside Erica dozed with his chin tucked, and his hat slouched low. Another drove the coach. She could hear him shift withthe motion of the wheels, the creak of leather, the soft metallic clink of something at his hip.
None of them had spoken since they left the garden, none except Erica. And even now, she wore silence with ease.
Leticia turned her head. “Is this your plan then? Kidnap me in full view of a ballroom and hope no one notices?”
Erica’s lips twitched. “You give yourself too much credit. No one notices what they don’t understand. You walked into the garden with me. You followed. You disappeared.” She shrugged lightly. “They’ll assume you stepped out for air. Or that you and your aunt went to her room. People see what they expect.”
“My aunt doesn’t leave parties early.”
“No,” Erica said softly. “But you do. For him.”
Leticia held her gaze, but something in her stomach dipped.
Erica leaned forward slightly, resting her arms on her knees. Her voice was low, coaxing. “He can’t save you this time, Leticia. He’s too proud to ask for help. Too used to being right. Men like him don’t lead rescues. They walk into traps.”
Leticia flinched before she could stop herself. Not visibly, not enough for Erica to gloat, but it was there. The crack. The breath that caught.
“That’s what you’re counting on?” Leticia asked. “Gabriel making a mistake?” Leticia held her gaze. Not arguing. Not conceding. Listening.
“I’m counting on men like him thinking they’re the ones who set the rules.”
