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Wound and dizziness forgotten, Julian barreled his way through the pub, nearly knocking sailors down in his haste. He reached the rear of the tavern, noted the open door leading to the outdoors, and thrust his head out.
The littered grounds behind the tavern were deserted.
Veering about, Julian ripped open the storage room door, nearly tearing it from its hinges, and stepped inside.
No Aurora.
"'Ey, Merlin, she left already," one of the sailors at the last table called out. "I guess this place finally got to 'er."
"Left?" Julian's insides wrenched. "When? Where?"
"'Bout five minutes ago. Through that there door. With one of yer kind. Real blue-blood type. Guess 'e gave 'er a ride 'ome."
Julian stalked over, grabbing the sailor's shirt and lifting him half off his chair. "Tell me what this man looked like. What he said. What my wife said. Anything you can remember."
"Sure," the red-faced sailor squeaked out. "But I don't think ye need to worry. She seemed real 'appy to see this fella."
"Yeah, she did," the other sailor concurred, nodding and scratching his beard. "She smiled and talked to 'im like they was good friends."
"Bencroft? What's goin' on?" It was Barnes, his weathered face creased with concern as he hobbled over. "Where's yer bride? Last time I saw 'er, she was gettin' ye some towels."
"That's what I'm trying to find out," Julian replied. "These men say Aurora left with someone."
"Left?" Barnes echoed in disbelief. "She'd never leave without ye."
"I know." Julian glowered at the sailor whose collar he grasped. "Talk to me," he demanded, giving the man a shake.
The sailor emitted a gasp, indicating that Julian's grip was choking him.
Shakily Julian lowered him to his seat, striving for control. "Tell me what you know."
"All right." He sucked in air. "Let's see—'e was tall, dressed real good. Kinda lean, not muscular, if ye know what I mean. Sharp features, dark hair. Yer duchess called 'im m'lord."
"She called 'im somethin' else, too," the bearded fellow added. "Before she dropped the towels and left with 'im. Viscount somethin' or other—pill or will—no! Gill, that's what it was. Viscount Gill—somethin'!"
"Viscount Gill—something," Julian repeated, the logical and heinous piece falling into place. "Guillford?"
"Yeah, that was it! Is 'e a friend of yers?"
Julian didn't answer. He was already halfway to the back door.
"Bencroft, wait!" Barnes called out. "Yer too weak to go after this fella by foot. Rawley's 'orse is tied out back. Take 'im. I'll deal with Rawley."
With a grateful wave, Julian rushed outside, bounding down the steps and around to the corner of the building, his own light-headedness forgotten. He had to rescue Aurora.
The mare was tied to a beam alongside the pub, just as Barnes had said. Freeing the reins, Julian vaulted i
nto the saddle and took off toward the path, surveying the area as he rode.
He heard the hoofbeats echo from farther up the path.
Eyes narrowed, Julian peered into the darkness, spying the moving outline of an open carriage heading away from the Cove.
Its driver was tall and lean. Its passenger was small and slight.
A shaft of moonlight illuminated her hair as the carriage veered around a bend, revealing its red-gold color and heightening it to that of a burnished flame.
Digging his heels into the mare's flanks, Julian took off in pursuit of his wife.
