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Frowning, Nathan drew to a halt, gathering the attention of the small crowd. There were three carriages, all in a row, and his frown deepened when he saw the body lying next to the first one. A well-dressed couple and their servants were standing well back from the body and from the ladies’ maid, who had planted herself in the center of the road.
“Please, help!” The maid turned to him, wide-eyed, her expression going from anguished to hopeful as she took in his appearance. “My mistress had been kidnapped by a highwayman!”
The prickle on the back of his neck was so strong, Nathan had to reach back to scratch it. Behind the young woman, he could see the couple rolling their eyes. It took him a moment to place them—Lord and Lady Hatchet. Two denizens of thehaut ton,who he’d had very little reason, much less desire, to interact with. Intrepid and vicious gossips who were convinced of their own self-worth and no one else’s. They had been introduced, however, and they recognized him as well.
“Captain Jones, the gel is hysterical, talking nonsense.” Lord Hatchet waved his hand. “There are no highwaymen along this road. We’re far too close to London for such nonsense. It’s perfectly safe.”
“All evidence to the contrary,” Nathan said dryly, arching an eyebrow and nodding his head at the body in the road. The maid was now at his side, reaching out to grab his ankle as if he were her last hope. Considering her other option was the selfish Hatchets, he could hardly blame her.
“Yes, well, obviously none of our business, is it? He’s just a driver.” Lady Hatchet sniffed. “He probably owed someone money, and they came to collect. We need to be moving on. We have urgent business waiting for us at home.”
The callousness of people like the Hatchets sometimes made Nathan wonder what the point of fighting for his country had been. So vain, selfish people who thought everyone else was lower than them could continue in their delusions?
There were others, though—innocents who deserved protection, the ones he had fought for—and he could not pick and choose among them who would prosper., He made a mental note to keep Talbot affairs well away from anything the Hatchets had a part of. They were the worst of people.
The maid’s face went red with fury, but she knew better than to turn and snap at the selfish creatures behind her, no matter how well-deserved.
“Please, sir, my mistress is Miss Lillian Davies, goddaughter to the Duke and Duchess of Frederick—”
Behind her, Lady Hatchet scoffed. “Not this again. As if someone so important would travel with no one but a maid and driver.”
Nathan caught some of Lady Hatchet’s servants exchanging glances. Clearly, they all believed the maid but were too afraid to speak up against their employers. Unfortunately, he could not take the time to give them the tongue lashing they deserved.
“What did he look like?” he asked, focusing on the maid. She swiped strands of auburn hair furiously back from her face, her hazel eyes widening and filling with hope someone would finally believe her and help. Nathan was busy trying to decide whether this was another ploy by Miss Davies or if she was in true danger.
After multiple assassination attempts this morning… was she kidnapped? It did not make sense. If she was connected to the traitor, a kidnapping might be insurance against suspicion when everyone else involved in the hunt was murdered—or if one of the attempts did not work. So far, they had been lucky. Whether or not that luck would hold… He forced his mind away from the memory of the Marquess lying on the floor and back to the matter at hand.
“He covered his face. He wore a scarf and a hat… his eyes were dark… murderous.” The maid’s eyes filled with tears. “Please, help her! She gave herself up willingly so he would not harm me.”
“Which way did they go?”
She pointed down the road, letting his leg go and stepping back. The hope in her expression was nearly more than he could bear.
Was Miss Davies truly in danger? Or had she had an accomplice kill her driver and threaten her maid to make it look as though she was?
Despite the maid’s claim, highwaymen were rarely interested in kidnapping young ladies. They wanted their money immediately, then they were on their way. Actually, taking a young woman and holding her for ransom was not how any highwayman he’d heard of normally operated, not in England nor on the continent. The maid clearly did not know that, however.
“I will find her,” he said before kicking Merlin into a gallop. He could hear the Hatchets shouting after him, but he ignored them, focused on the road and thinking ahead to the turnoffs. Where might one hide?
Storm clouds were gathering on the horizon as though a portent the danger was not over.
* * *
Lily
Head throbbing, Lily moaned as she slowly came awake. Something cold and wet pressed against the side of her head, where she hurt the most.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
There was no answer. Hardly polite. She tried to move her arms, but they were behind her because… because she was sitting on a chair.
No. She was tied to a chair.
Lily jerked upright, her head snapping back, and cried out as her headache exploded in a new burst of pain.
“Stop moving about.” The frustrated voice brought everything back to her.
The carriage ride back to Derbyshire. The highwayman. Her poor dead driver and his threat to Chastity. Going with him willingly. Trying to knock him off the horse—and failing miserably.
