doors to her balcony were thrown wide.”
Alarm on his pleasant features, Sir Edward put down his brandy and swept past his son. With Robert on his heels, Sir Edward hurried to Nell’s rooms.
The wind and rain were pouring in through the doors that Robert in his anxiety had left open. Paying it no heed, both men quickly lit several candles.
Nell’s room was ablaze with light and in that bright light both men stared in mounting fear at the muddy boot prints that marred the surface of the cream and rose carpet that covered the floor. Muddy prints that led from the balcony to the bed and away again…
“I knew it! I knew he was up to no good. It is that bastard Tynedale!” Sir Edward burst out, his face a mixture of horror and fury. “He has abducted her! And is probably at this very moment on his way to Gretna Green. We must stop them.”
“Wait!” Robert said, when Sir Edward would have run from the room. “I know it looks suspicious, but how do you know that it is Tynedale that took her? I agree that it appears that someone has taken Nell, but we must completely search the house first. We will feel perfect fools if there is a simple explanation for this.”
Looking at him as if he had lost his wits, Sir Edward snapped, “You rouse the servants and have them look. I am ringing for the coach and sending a note around to the twins—we may need their help. We must not delay.”
Drew and Henry, full of anxious questions, arrived shortly. Upon hearing what was feared, outraged and hungry for Tynedale’s blood, they were impatient to set off in pursuit. The search of the household was completed and beyond a scrap of delicate material caught on one of the bushes leading away from the house, there was no sign of Nell.
Within moments of finding the scrap of material, Sir Edward and Robert were in the family coach and rattling over the London streets. Drew and Henry, swathed in greatcoats, their heads bent against the storm, had chosen to ride astride and their horses splashed alongside of the swaying coach.
Until the coach was clear of London, Sir Edward and Robert sat grim-faced and tight-lipped, neither inclined to talk. Finally leaving the city behind them, Sir Edward tapped on the roof and sticking his head out the window, yelled to his coachman, “Spring ’em!”
The driver cracked his whip and the horses leaped forward. The coach, flanked by the twins, rocked and lurched through the night, the blackness lit now and then by the silvery flashes of lightning.
Tynedale possessed nothing so luxurious as a coach—his had been sold weeks ago to pay off his most pressing debts. He was driving his curricle and even with the top up, he and Nell were pelted with rain as he urged the pair of rented horses on to greater speed. He didn’t believe that anyone had heard Nell’s cries, but he was taking no chances. Besides, he had to have her safely hidden away by daylight. He had known from the beginning that Gretna Green on the Scottish border was not feasible—and the first place the family would look for her. He smiled tightly. There were other ways to bring about a hasty wedding…Once he had compromised her, he was confident that their marriage would follow immediately. All he had to do was get through the next twenty-four hours and all his problems would be solved.
Tynedale glanced over at Nell sitting next to him. She held herself rigid, one hand wrapped around the leather strap to steady her swaying body, her eyes fixed on the galloping horses in front of her. Wrapped from head to toe in the concealing folds of his cloak it was unlikely that anyone—anyone fool enough to be out on a night like this—would recognize her. The blackness of the night would have shielded them, anyway, and the storm was a stroke of luck.
He would have preferred to have planned the abduction more carefully and he certainly would not have chosen a curricle in which to make his escape, but the news that Nell was leaving London on Monday had left him with no time to make other plans. That and the news that Wyndham had bought up all his vowels. Bloody stiff-necked bastard! Wasn’t it enough that Wyndham had beaten him in that duel earlier this year and scarred him for life? It wasn’t his fault that Wyndham’s ward had been weak and unwilling to face the loss of his fortune. “Play or pay” was his motto and if the boy couldn’t stand the nonsense, then he shouldn’t have played…Tynedale smiled. Especially since the dice were loaded. It was a pity what had happened and he’d admit that if he had known that the boy would take such final and drastic action, that he might not have completely ruined him. But his own needs had come first and he had needed the Weston fortune to bring himself about. And I should have followed my first instincts, he thought grimly, and with the Weston fortune at my fingertips, put my own affairs in order. He sighed for the lost chance. But once a gambler, always a gambler, and he had been convinced that his luck had finally turned. With an ill-gotten fortune to back him, he was positive that he could recoup all of his former losses. If one fortune was nice, two would be even nicer. With that thought guiding him he had continued his reckless gaming and whoring. It wasn’t until he had discovered himself once again on the verge of ruin a few months ago that he had begun to cast around for a way out of his difficulties. Marriage to an heiress seemed the only answer.
He glanced again at Nell’s set face. Yes. Marriage to an heiress was the simplest solution. And Eleanor Anslowe suited him. She knew the ways of the world and having reached her majority, her fortune was hers to command—his, once they were married. Sir Edward might puff and rail, but there was nothing that he would be able to do. Once Nell was married to him, all his worries would be over.
Her courage waning with every mile that took them farther from London, Nell stared out into the night. She was exhausted. Fright had taken its toll and her leg was aching unbearably. But she was not beaten and she was not going to make Tynedale’s task easy for him. She had a fair idea what he had planned and she knew, with a sinking feeling, that she would not be able to prevent him from raping her. She swore to herself that even if he succeeded in his evil plans and she had to hide her face in shame for the rest of her life, she was not going to marry him! She took a deep breath. She would get away from him. Somehow.
Since it was unlikely her screams had been heard or that she would be missed until the morning, her escape was going to have to be of her own devising. She looked out at the rain-drenched countryside revealed in the flashes of lightning. She had no idea how far they had traveled from London and in the darkness everything looked different, anyway. She doubted that Tynedale was going to stop soon, but she determined that when he did finally pull the horses to a halt that it would be then that her best chance for escape would present itself. And if there were other people around so much the better. She wasn’t a bit averse to revealing his perfidy.
Nell’s chance came sooner than she expected. A jagged bolt of lightning streaked across the night sky and struck the ground less than fifty feet in front of the racing horses. The very ground seemed to shake and the carriage shuddered. The gigantic flash was followed by a boom of thunder that sounded like the end of the world was at hand. The horses screamed and reared and fought Tynedale’s nervous jerk on the reins. One horse slid on the muddy road and became tangled in the traces; the other was plunging and rearing, fighting to escape. Tynedale could not regain control and the curricle was dragged off the slick road. As the vehicle lurched drunkenly into a ditch at the side of the road, the nearside horse broke free and galloped off into the darkness.
Nell was almost thrown from the curricle by the accident, but she managed to stay inside the vehicle. Tynedale was not so lucky. The jolt and plunging of the curricle pitched him into the ditch.
Cursing, he climbed to his feet. Clutching his shoulder, he surveyed the damage. In the midst of one of the worst storms he’d ever seen, one horse was gone, the vehicle was mired in a muddy ditch and if he wasn’t much mistaken he had broken his collarbone. The night could not get much worse.
But it could. Nell hesitated
