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CHAPTERTHIRTY-SEVEN
“Marriage has been very kind to you, Guildford,” William chuckled, lazily gesturing at Rhys’ face. “You look nobler.”
“Nobler?” Rhys echoed, laughing.
“Yes. You do not look as devilish as you once did.” William raised his whiskey tumbler. “I hope to achieve that, too, someday.”
“You might if you marry,” Rhys suggested.
William grinned. “I am going to find a wife, then. My mistress would not have me any longer because of what happened to her, and now that I wish to retire, I think it is time.”
Rhys nodded in agreement. “We should discuss your retirement properly now.”
“It is unfortunate that this happened before my last fight,” William said as scratches and whimpers at the door made Rhys’ head snap up. At first, he thought it was Brutus seeking to be let into the study, but the whimpers were drawn out as if the dog was in pain. Rhys went to open the door immediately.
Brutus began to bark and ran down the hall. When Rhys did not follow and only stared at him in confusion, the dog ran back and began to gnaw at Rhys’ boot. A dark and uneasy feeling took hold of Rhys, and he moved in the direction that Brutus was leading him.
The more steps he took toward the conservatory, the more his dread grew. “Elizabeth!” he called as he passed through the conservatory, his eyes searching frantically. They emerged in the garden, and Brutus went to stand beside a small shining object on the ground.
Terror pierced through his senses when he discovered it was Elizabeth’s hairpin. He picked up the pin and looked around the garden. The sound of his heart pounding sought to drown out everything else. He did not want to think that Elizabeth had been snatched away, yet that was what it looked like.
When Brutus ran northward, Rhys suspected she had been taken in that direction, and he ran back into the Castle to arm himself and find someone to search for her with.
“What did the dog want?” William asked when Rhys barged into his study.
“Someone has taken my wife.” He opened a drawer, removed two pistols from it, and began to load them.
William rose slowly from his chair. “Let me help you search.”
“No, your wounds are still healing. Winston will help me.” He was doing anything but allowing the fear crawling around inside him to surface. He saw her gloves on his desk which she had left when William came and snatched them up then he gathered more bullets and darted out of the room. William said something that sounded as if he was wishing Rhys luck, but he did not stop to hear.
Winston was alone in one of the drawing rooms, and Rhys held out a pistol as soon as he walked in. “Elizabeth has been taken. Help me find her.” This was the worst way to tell a father that his daughter had been kidnapped, but Rhys was functioning on instinct alone. “I will explain on the way,” he added when he saw how shocked Winston was.
Winston took the pistol and followed him out. Irene was in the front hall with Mayton, someone Rhys did not expect to see, but he was glad. “Where are you flying to?” Mayton asked, but Rhys held up a hand.
“Find a weapon and follow me. Elizabeth is missing,” Rhys said then paused when he saw Brutus following him. Brutus had been on Rhys’ heels ever since the dog alerted Rhys of Elizabeth’s absence. “Irene, take him and comfort him, please.”
Irene, whose eyes were filled with tears, knelt beside the dog while Rhys bellowed instructions to every servant he could find before leaving the Castle with Winston and Mayton. Webster would lead a search around the sea and then east of the castle while Rhys and his party would follow the trail from the garden with the gamekeeper’s hounds using the gloves he had picked up in his study for her scent.
* * *
Elizabeth started awake, blinking rapidly in the dark as she tried to discern where she was, but it was too dark for her to see anything. She tried to breathe but felt as if she could not get enough air into her lungs.
She tried to move her hands, but they were tied behind the chair she was sitting on. Recalling what had occurred before she got here, her heart beat faster, and her breathing became labored.
“Is someone there?” she called, her voice quivering when she heard movement around her. A light came on, but it was dim, and strong footsteps sounded behind her. She turned to look, but the person was beyond what she could see. “Who are you?”
“You do not have to know who I am,” he said and stepped where she could see him. His face was still covered, but Elizabeth tried to recognize him using his voice.
“What do you want with me?” she asked.
“I want your husband, and you are the perfect lure.” He laughed. “I am sure he is searching the entire county for you at this very moment.”
Elizabeth was unable to recognize him, and her senses had been dulled by what she had inhaled in the cloth that had been held to her nose at the time of her capture. “What do you want from my husband?”
“Revenge,” the man said simply. “He murdered me years ago, and I have returned to avenge myself.”
“How did he murder you?” She thought that if she could keep him talking, she could distract him while she thought of what to do. She did not think she could escape, but she had to think. She did not even know where she was, and the room she was in barely had any furniture.
