Gregory leapt to his feet as Caitlin’s cousins swung around.
Patrick Fergusson pushed out of the chair and peered past his sons.
Gregory strode forward. “William! What’s happened?”
“Ran…as fast as…I could,” William gasped. He leaned heavily on Cromwell and tried to straighten as his wide eyes found Gregory’s face. “It’s Miss C, sir. Some blackguard came past and kidnapped her—right off the lane.”
“What?” Commandingly, Gregory held up a hand to silence all the other exclamations. “Start at the beginning, William. We know Caitlin went down to see your mother. Did she reach the Osiery?”
William nodded. “Aye. She spoke to Mama and set off again, walking up the lane back toward the Hall.” He drew in a deeper breath and rushed on, “Hattie was in the osier beds with me. She was pruning closer to the lane and saw Miss C walk past. Then a carriage came along—one of those gentleman’s carriages with two horses between the shafts. Hattie heard the horses and the carriage stop, and she thought that was odd, so she went a little way toward the lane to see what was going on.”
William sagged, and Rory stepped in to help him stand. “Easy, lad.”
Gregory bit his lip, but couldn’t help prompting, “And?”
William hauled in a breath and raised his head. “The carriage had pulled up beside Miss C, and Hattie saw the gentleman in the carriage talking to her. Hattie said she—Miss C—looked shocked, and then the gentleman gave her his hand, and she climbed up to the seat. But she’d no sooner sat than the gentleman grabbed a black sack and pulled it down over Miss C’s head. She cried out, but the material cut off the sound, and the man tied a scarf about her head—a gag holding the sack in place—then he grabbed Miss C’s hands and bound her wrists with a rope.”
William met Gregory’s eyes. “Hattie ran to help Miss C, but by the time Hattie reached the lane, the man had whipped up his horses, and the carriage was bowling off. Hattie ran back and got me from the river. She told me what she’d seen, and I came running.”
“My thanks to you and to Hattie.” Gregory gripped the lad’s shoulders and locked his eyes with his. “Did Hattie recognize the man?”
William shook his head. “But she said he was definitely a gentleman. He had dark hair and was tallish, but not as tall as you. Oh, and he was wearing a coat with big buttons—she saw them, even from a distance.”
“Ecton,” Gregory snarled. He released William and patted the lad on the shoulder. “You did well to come running.” He looked at Cromwell. “See he eats and drinks something and rests.”
“Aye, sir. Come on, lad. Let’s take you to Nessie.”
The instant Cromwell turned away with William in his care, Rory rounded on Gregory. “Ecton’s that ponce next door, right? The one who offered to buy the estate?”
Gregory narrowed his eyes. “Yes. Twice. I refused both times.”
“So now he’s kidnapped Caitlin?” Hamish looked stunned.
Gregory knew how he felt. “So it seems. Presumably, he intends to use her as a pawn to force me to sell to him.” If so, he wouldn’t harm her. Not yet.
Patrick blinked. “Would you agree to sell this place to get Caitlin back?”
“Of course,” Gregory replied, “but it won’t come to that.” His expression hardened as he envisaged what had happened. “Ecton was in his curricle. If he intends to use Caitlin to bargain with me, he won’t harm her, but he can’t risk going far with an obviously trussed-up lady beside him. He was on the track driving toward Bellamy Hall. Just past the Osiery, there’s a turnoff, an arm of the track that continues west along the riverbank south of the ruins to eventually join the lane near the entrance to the Ecton Hall drive.”
Gregory met Rory’s eyes. “He’ll have taken her to Ecton Hall.” He swung around and stalked out, into the front hall.
Rory, Hamish, and Daniel were right behind him, with their father on their heels.
Patrick was expostulating, “I can’t believe it! You numbskulls let Caitlin wander about alone and unprotected? Of course she got kidnapped!” When Gregory glanced at him, Patrick demanded, “Don’t you know how much she’s worth?”
It was Gregory’s turn to blink. “No, I don’t. I hadn’t thought of that angle.” He wondered if Ecton knew Caitlin was a wealthy heiress.
That doesn’t matter. Finding and freeing her immediately does.
Grimly determined, he faced forward and strode on—straight out of the house and around to the stable.
Caitlin’s cousins kept pace, as did their father.
By the time Gregory had ordered horses for them all—Patrick had demanded a horse as well—the entire stable knew of Ecton’s perfidy. Several of the footmen went running from the house, intent on spreading the word.
Tight-lipped, Jenkins, summoned from the carriage works, nodded to Gregory as he settled in his saddle. “The ground between here and the Hall’s too uncertain—too many rocks and holes—to ride horses over it. The fastest way for you lot will be around by the track along the river and into Ecton Lane. The rest of us”—with a tip of his head, he indicated the men who were arming themselves with all sorts of implements—“will go direct across the fields. By the time you reach Ecton Hall, we won’t be far behind.”
Grimly, Gregory nodded. He didn’t waste his breath trying to dissuade them from forming a mob; he had no idea what the situation at Ecton Hall would be. He glanced at the Fergussons. His gaze fell on Patrick. His jaw set like iron, the elder Fergusson was swinging up to the saddle.
