“The duchess carries no money with her,” Yates barked back above the wind.
He thinks they are highwaymen.
“Then it’s a good job we are not here for money.” The rider moved forward. Margaret could no longer see him from her position in the carriage, but she heard a thud and a cry of pain. It sounded like the assailant had struck Yates with the butt of the gun.
“Yates!” Margaret called out. She reached for the door of the carriage, only to find it was blocked by the second rider.
He angled his head sharply to the side, almost bird-like. It was eerie as he took hold of the carriage door and jerked it open.
“What do you want?” Margaret demanded of the silent figure. “He is right. I carry no money with me. I have these.” She snatched the necklace from her throat and threw it at him. She took off her fine silk gloves and threw them at him too, but they just dropped into the snow by his feet.
He is not here for money.
He stepped over the gloves and reached into his frock coat, just as Louisa’s hands tightened on Margaret’s shoulders. From within the frock coat, he pulled out a pistol, this one longer barreled than the other.
He pointed it straight at Margaret.
“Get down,” he ordered.
Margaret didn’t hesitate. She stepped out at once. As Louisa made to follow her, the man waved a hand.
“You’re to stay,” he snapped at Louisa. “Justyou,”he said again to Margaret.
“No. No!” Louisa cried. “You will not take her from me. You will not.” She tried to hold onto Margaret’s shoulders again, but the masked man had now grabbed Margaret’s arm and jerked her down the last step of the carriage.
“Margaret!” Louisa screeched as the man kicked the carriage door shut, forcing her back inside.
“Louisa!” Margaret matched her volume.
“Not another word,” the man hissed as he pressed the pistol against Margaret’s temple.
Tears stung her eyes though she didn’t let them fall as words starved themselves on her tongue.
“Now, unless you wish to have a bullet in your temple and to be left here in the snow, you will do exactly as I say,” he insisted.
Margaret thought about defying him, about trying to kick him away, to make a run for it, but the risk was too great. She couldn’t let her future be a death in this cold snow, as she bled out from a bullet.
Ever so slightly, she nodded.
“Good girl,” he said, his voice dark and malicious, despite the words. Margaret was dragged away as Louisa’s screams of fear filled the air from within the carriage. “Now, this way, duchess. There’s someone who wants to talk to you.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
“Theodore? Theodore!” The words were accompanied with heavy thuds on the door. “Don’t make me break down this door.”
“You’re going to break down his door?” That was Gabriel’s voice. Theodore would know it anywhere.
“If he doesn’t let me in,” Cedric said simply.
“You don’t need to do that,” Theodore called back. “The door is unlocked, you fool.” He sat up in his chair as the door swung open.
“I thought I’d find you here,” Cedric declared, with Gabriel behind him. “How long has it been since you have taken refuge here?”
Theodore didn’t answer him. He took another sip from the whisky glass that was keeping him company as he looked around the apartment.
He had taken this London flat some years before. It was after his father had died, but still when his mother had frequented the grand estate. In order to find some peace, some time alone, he had bought this flat. Cedric and Gabriel were the only ones who had ever known this address.
Though it was a well-kept flat with few staff, it was not publicly known it belonged to the Duke of Thornfield.
