Sam nodded.
“But very many people will treat them that way, I am afraid.”
“Yes.”
“It is her choice,” Élise mused. “I often hated my life as Lady Dunthorpe, and I do like sleeping under the stars when the weather is fair and the air is balmy. But abandoning the modern conveniences forever? I do not think I could do it.”
“Neither could I.” Sam had been absent from those conveniences enough to appreciate wholeheartedly a soft bed and a warm hearth whenever he returned to them.
“There. Then it is a fact,” Élise announced. “Your mother is a singularly special person.”
Sam slanted her a glance, feeling a smile curve the corner of his lips. “You know … you’re right about that, love. She always has been different. Special.”
She nodded in agreement and slipped her hand into his.
* * *
Élise and Sam stood outside the inn until Élise’s feet started to ache and darkness began to draw its veil across the sky. Mr. Lowell and the duchess had returned at midafternoon, parking their cart in the innyard even though that hostler—who was as awful as the innkeeper—kept shooting them nasty glances.
The duchess had brought them a supper of cold potatoes, corn cakes, and dried beef, and Sam bought them each an orange from a street hawker.
And they waited.
It was nearing eight o’clock when a man rounded the street bend on horseback, traveling dangerously fast.
He halted the horse abruptly and the animal reared back slightly, but the man held on. Then he slipped off and called for the hostler without sparing a glance at the party of four loitering in the eaves.
Sam stepped forward. “Theo?”
The man whipped around to face Sam. He was young, tall, and handsome but with a serious face. He had dark eyes and dark hair, but he looked nothing like Sam. His eyes were lighter, as was his hair. His build was slighter, his face narrower, and his complexion didn’t contain any of the olive shades of Sam’s.
“Sam, is that you?” There was a desperate edge to his voice as he strode toward Sam. “Thank God! Esme is—” He broke off suddenly as his eyes came to rest on his mother. “Mama?” he gasped out. He blinked several times as if not quite believing his eyes. “Mama?” he repeated.
The duchess blinked, too, but Élise knew she was blinking to hold back tears. “Oh, Theo. You do not hate me?”
“Hate you?” The poor man sounded utterly confused. He looked at the duchess with unfocused eyes. “Mama, is that really you?”
And then, much as she had done with Sam, the older woman threw herself at her son—it clearly was of no consequence that he wasn’t her son by blood—and began to sob. Sam and Mr. Lowell gathered around her as if to protect her, and all three men soothed the older woman as Élise stood back and watched, her heart melting.
The duchess was surrounded by men who loved her. This was a family. It reminded her of her own family, so long ago, before the Revolution and before the guillotine …
They all seemed to be talking at once.
“Are you all right, Mama?”
“Where are Esme and Mark?”
“Why don’t you have shoes?”
“Can you ever forgive me, darling Theo?”
“Wait.” Theo pulled back from his mother but cradled her hand in his and kissed it. “I am so glad Sam found you. I want to know everything. We all do.”
Both the duchess and Sam stared at him, and Élise could see Sam’s spine stiffening.
Something was wrong, she realized. Sam sensed it from the way his brother was speaking.
“But it can’t be now,” Theo continued. “It’s going to have to wait.”
“Why?” Sam asked. “What has happened?”
Theo gazed at Sam, and deep grooves appeared in his brow.
“Esme is missing. She disappeared from her bed four nights ago. We believe she was kidnapped.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Élise watched how Sam changed after that. He turned into a brusque, efficient leader of men. So hard and commanding, no one dared to disobey him.
Theo described how Esme had been taken from her room early in the morning before her maid had come to wake her. To them, it was clear she’d been kidnapped because she hadn’t taken her notebook with her, and according to Theo, she took her notebook everywhere.
Currently, Mark was out searching the countryside. Had been all day, though Theo expected him back as soon as he grew too tired to continue. They’d already sent word to the duke, who had evidently gone to Ironwood Park for a brief holiday, and they expected him to arrive late tonight or early tomorrow. As when the duchess had disappeared, they hadn’t enlisted the help of the authorities, although Mark planned to go to a constable if the duke didn’t arrive by tomorrow.
Sam glanced her way, and their eyes locked.
“Dunthorpe?” Élise mouthed. Certainly Adams held enough respect for Sam and for his family that he wouldn’t stoop so low. Dunthorpe, on the other hand, would possess no such qualms.
Sam gave a short nod.
Their interaction caused Theo’s eyes to fall on her for the first time, and hasty introductions were made, to both her and to Mr. Lowell. The suspicious look Theo gave the older man did not escape Élise’s notice. Of course, he didn’t know the duchess and Steven Lowell’s story yet.
After the introductions, Sam turned back to his brother. “Theo, I know who took Esme—”
“Who?” at least two voices cried out.
“Here on the street is not the place to discuss it.”
“We will go into the inn.”
“No,” Sam said. “Our mother and Lowell aren’t welcome here.”
Theo turned wide eyes on the older couple. “But—”
“Come to our camp,” Lowell interrupted mildly. “It is close, and outside of hearing range of anyone in town.”
“Thank you,” Sam said, but he looked warily around them, searching, no doubt, for one of Dunthorpe’s men who might be watching.
Élise’s breath caught. Dunthorpe would be a fool not to post men in town. They’d probably been watched all afternoon. The thought of it sent a cold shiver up her spine.
Fifteen minutes later, they had all gathered around a fire pit in which Mr. Lowell was patiently fanning the flames. Sam had brought two boys from town, both of whom he’d hired to watch the area surrounding the clearing and notify him right away if they were pursued here.
All of them were seated except the dowager, who was pacing the clearing restlessly, and Sam, who stood in front of the fire.
Sam didn’t waste any more time. He met each of their gazes, one by one. “I have a plan. As I said, I know who took Esme.”
“Who?” his mother asked again, an edge of panic in her voice.
Sam sighed. “Please sit down, Mama. To make a very long story short, the new Lord Dunthorpe has kidnapped Esme to get to me. The bastard is using my sister to get to me.” Rage bristled in his voice, so sharp that it abraded something in Élise’s chest.
And it didn’t escape her that he didn’t make her a part of his story. But she was—she was deeply mired in it. In fact, Dunthorpe had probably used Lady Esme more to get to her than to Sam.
She wrapped her arms around her body to contain the roiling feelings of anger and fear.
Theo’s lips flattened to a tight white line. “How can we find him?”
Sam glanced at Élise. “If I am correct, and he’s using Esme as bait … I know exactly where he is.”
Élise nodded. Yes. Dunthorpe would take Esme to the cottage. It was the most obvious place if he wished to draw Sam and Élise to him.
His mother held up a hand. “Wait. Would this man hurt my dear Esme?” Her voice pitched higher. “Would he hurt you? Does he … does he intend to kill you?”
“I can answer your last two questions,” Sam said. “Yes and yes. He intends to kill me; that is for certain. But”—he gave his mother a grim look—“I won’t let him.”<
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“And … Esme?” his mother asked weakly.
Sam looked to Élise. And when he did so, everyone else turned to look at her as well. She thought hard about Francis, about how low he really would stoop in order to get to her and Sam.
“I would say no,” she said finally. “I don’t believe he would hurt an innocent lady. But …” She gnawed on her lip for a second, then looked up at Sam. “There is a madness in him, Sam. Similar to … to my husband’s madness, but more unstable. He knows what is right and what is wrong, but at times it’s as if he ceases to care.”
Sam rose to his feet. “I’m going to get her back.” He turned to Theo. “Did you bring your pistol?”
Theo nodded. “Mark and I both have one. We brought them”—he glanced at Mr. Lowell and his cheeks grew rosy in the firelight—“er … in the event we needed them.”
“Good.” Sam turned to Mr. Lowell, but before he could say anything, the older man rose, too.
“I would come with you,” he said gruffly. “But someone needs to remain with the ladies, so I will stay here. I’ve a pistol, too, if it comes to that.”
Sam stared at him for a minute, then nodded. “You will remain out here with my mother. I don’t think we were followed, but you can never be too careful. Don’t sleep until I return.” He turned to Theo. “Return to the inn with Lady Dunthorpe to await Mark and Trent. I hope to be back by the time either of them arrive, but …”
He let that final word hang, but Theo nodded. “I understand. But you will need help—”
Sam shook his head. “I won’t involve you unless there is no other option.” He turned to Élise. “If I don’t return, you will need to guide them to the correct place. You know where he has taken her?”
Élise nodded. She knew the cottage on the lake very well. She also knew the exact route to take from Kendal.
Sam held out his hand to Élise. “Walk with me a moment.”
She took his hand, and he pulled her up.
He nodded briskly to his family. “We’ll get her back,” he told them solemnly.
He led Élise to the clearing where the horses were grazing. She watched in silence as he saddled one of them, her heart hammering.
How many men did Dunthorpe have? He’d have Edmund with him, surely, but how many others? Sam would be completely outnumbered. How could he possibly have a chance?
He cinched the belt beneath the horse and turned to her.
“Sam,” she choked out. She went into his welcoming arms, and they folded around her, strong and large, offering some reassurance. But she didn’t like the look in his eyes. He was going to rescue his sister at all costs. All costs.
“Take Theo with you,” she begged. “I can wait for the duke and Lord Mark alone. Please.”
She felt him shake his head. She squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her face into his chest.
“Listen to me, Élise. If I don’t return—”
She made a choked noise, but he continued in a steady voice. “I’ll take care of Dunthorpe. You won’t need to worry about him. But Adams still has the order on you. Speak to Trent. My mother knows what you are to me, and she will tell him. Trent will help you. He’ll find a way for you to change your identity. Or a place for you to go—”
“Nooo,” she groaned. She couldn’t think this way. Of hiding from this Adams while Sam no longer existed in this world. She drew back from him, wrapped her hands behind his neck, and pulled him down to her. She kissed him hard on the lips. “You will come back to me. Do you hear me, Samson Hawkins? No more of this talk. Do you understand?”
“Élise, you must—”
“Non!” she said firmly. “I will listen to no more of this. You will fetch your sister, and all will be well. You need to survive, because without you …” Suddenly her chest seemed to collapse in on itself, and the next words were so painful she almost couldn’t push them out. “Because … without you I … I am nothing.”
“Élise.” He groaned softly. His lips pressed against the top of her head.
“Bring your sister home to us,” she murmured. “That is your only choice, Sam. Your only choice.”
* * *
Two hours later, Sam dismounted a half mile away from the cottage. He secured his mount a good distance from the road and then wound through the forest.
Finally, through the trees and brush, the cottage came into view. The moon was completely full tonight, and the sky clear, which was both a blessing and a curse. A blessing because he’d be able to see danger coming. A curse because danger would be more easily able to see him coming.
Sam withdrew the pistol from his coat and checked the chamber. Then he did the same with the smaller gun tucked into his boot. He’d have two shots. It was doubtful they’d give him time to reload. Two shots and then his fists against an unknown number of men.
He tucked away the smaller gun and straightened, gazing at the cottage. No lights glowed in the windows. All was quiet.
Too quiet, he thought. He crouched down in an opening between two bushes, where he could get a good view of the land surrounding the cottage.
He scanned for several minutes. Patient, as his training dictated. And then there it was … a movement in the trees on the south side of the drive. His breath released in a long, low hiss.
He’d been right. Dunthorpe was here, lying in wait for him. A man had been placed on watch—in a good location, with a view of not only the cottage and the surrounding clearing, but also of the long drive leading to it.
Sam felt the familiar calm coldness wash over him. Calmer and colder than usual, for this wasn’t obeying an order. It was for his family. For himself. For Élise. And for Esme. These men were holding his sister, possibly abusing her. Hurting her.
He’d kill them all.
He fell back into the forest, retreating to the first bend in the packed-dirt drive, where he crossed in a crouch. The lookout wouldn’t see him from here. He approached on silent, well-trained feet. He was a large man, but he was adept at being invisible when the occasion demanded it.
He approached the lookout from behind. The man was a fool. He didn’t look in Sam’s direction; nor did he hear him coming. Sam scanned the environs, made his decision.
He came at the lookout from behind, leaping on him, covering his mouth with a solid palm. Taken completely by surprise, the man grunted as Sam twisted his body and rammed his head into the solid trunk of the oak he’d been leaning against. He immediately slumped into unconsciousness.
Sam searched him, found a gun, which he took. He’d have three shots now.
One man down. How many more? From his new perspective, Sam studied the cottage and its surroundings. No movement, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t anyone there.
He needed to get to the cottage, but he’d be completely visible by the light of the moon as he crossed the lawn. There was no escaping it, though. He’d chosen this cottage as a safe house because its prospect was not only private but allowed for excellent visibility for someone defending it. However, in this case, Sam wasn’t there to defend his castle, but to raid it.
He couldn’t remain out here forever. Certainly not until morning when everyone would be awake and more eyes would be watching and waiting for him. This needed to happen now. He checked the lookout again. He was breathing but deeply unconscious. It would be a while before he woke.
He held the man’s gun at his side, ready.
Then he took a deep breath and sprinted for the cottage door.
* * *
Theo and Élise returned to the Crown Inn, where Theo asked the innkeeper to send anyone who came to see them upstairs immediately. They ignored the man’s curious stare as they went upstairs to the suite of rooms the siblings had procured. There were three bedrooms and a connecting sitting room, where Theo and Élise made themselves comfortable, preparing for a long wait.
The place was lavishly decorated—it was obvious that travelers from the upper orders visited this place frequently. A marble fireplace tri
mmed with gilt adorned the sitting room. The sofas and chairs featured carved oak armrests and upholstery of the finest light yellow silk.
Theo was silent and broody at first, obviously shocked about finding his mother, concerned about his sister, and wary about Élise.
She was quiet, too. She was too worried about Sam to attempt small talk with his brother. But eventually Theo ordered dinner sent up, along with a bottle of wine. A full glass of the stuff seemed to lubricate Élise’s voice. She gazed at the young man sitting before her. The poor boy had hardly touched his food and kept glancing at the door as if expecting one of his brothers to throw it open at any second.
“They’ll be here soon,” she said in a soothing voice.
“Right,” Theo said. “If the waiting doesn’t drive me mad first.”
“You should eat, my lord. You will need your strength.”
He looked down at his food, his lips twisting, then back up to her. He stared at her for a long moment, and Élise recalled what Sam had told her about his youngest brother. He was the studious one. Academic, always with his head in books of chemistry and mathematics. He was intelligent and thoughtful, and the closest of all of them, not only in age but in spirit, to Esme.
“I cannot eat.” With a sigh, he laid down his fork, giving up on the roast of beef on its bed of vegetables, which had surely grown cold and soggy by now. Élise glanced down at her own plate. She had done far better than him, for which she was proud, as she’d had to go searching for her appetite when the food had arrived.
“You’re worried about your sister,” she said.
“Yes. And Sam.”
She closed her eyes briefly. She was desperately worried about Sam, but she said, “He knows what he is doing.”
Theo leaned forward, curiosity emerging from behind his frown. “You know what Sam does, then? Exactly what he does?”
She didn’t want to give away Sam’s secrets, but she didn’t want to lie to any of his family members, either. “Yes.”
“What does he do?”
She shook her head. “I cannot say.”
Theo’s eyes narrowed. “How, exactly, do you know my brother, Lady Dunthorpe?”
The Scoundrel’s Seduction Page 27
