“Yes, well.” With a distracted wave, Sophy urged her aunt back to the armchair, then sat on the long sofa. “Strange to say, that’s not due to being kidnapped but rather the reason why.”
Lady Bracknell huffed as she sank into another armchair by the fireplace. “A bit of a facer, what we’ve just learned. I’m not sure I fully comprehend the implications.”
“Nor I,” Sophy admitted.
The clatter of carriage wheels on the street outside drew Martin to the as-yet-uncurtained window. He looked out, then reported, “It’s Oliver and Charlie.” Being careful not to be seen, he drew the curtains over the windows, then turned to the ladies and directed a half smile Sophy’s way. “At least they’ve brought my curricle and horses back.”
A brisk tattoo on the front door was followed by a muted exchange with Higginbotham, then the door opened, and Oliver and Charlie strode in. Both halted just inside the room and looked from Martin to Sophy, and the tension that had ridden them visibly eased.
“You’re all right,” Oliver stated.
Charlie added a heartfelt, “Thank God.” He walked to a chair and dropped into it. “We came back from our ride to find the Elliots and Old Joe and Reggie quartering the garden. We helped, but found no sign of you. We had no idea where you’d disappeared to. We were organizing a search when the messenger arrived.”
“We drove straight back.” Oliver grinned at Martin. “I like your horses.”
Martin arched a brow. “So do I.” He waved Oliver to another chair and moved to sit beside Sophy. “Now we’re all here”—he caught Sophy’s eye—“I suggest we start at the beginning. We were strolling in the shrubbery when I was hit rather viciously over the head and lost consciousness.”
Sophy picked up the tale, explaining how the two thugs had taken her and Martin to a hut on the moors, where they were visited by the thugs’ leader and she was given a document to sign in return for being set free.
Oliver frowned. “So you were essentially being held hostage in order to get your signature on a document?”
When Martin and Sophy nodded, Oliver asked, “What was the document?”
Martin caught Sophy’s eye. “We’ll come to that in a moment.”
Sophy nodded and continued, recounting how the leader had confessed to being behind the accidents at the steelworks. “All on the orders of some man who’d hired him—him and his men.”
Charlie was frowning as he followed the tale. “Was the document something the leader wanted you to sign for his own benefit, or was that also a part of what he’d been hired to do?”
“The latter.” Sophy glanced at Martin.
He added, “The document originated with the man who hired the thugs we met.”
Charlie and Oliver both nodded, and Sophy went on, “I stated I couldn’t possibly sign such a document given I couldn’t understand what it said.”
“I was still feigning unconsciousness at that point,” Martin explained, “and Sophy persuaded the leader to give us an hour for me to recover and read the document and explain it to her.”
“Apparently,” Sophy said, “he—the leader—had to return to town, so he was willing to give us that time.”
“Once he left…” Martin outlined the events that had led to them arriving at Lady Bracknell’s house. “After explaining matters to her ladyship, we sent word to you.” He glanced around the circle.
Lady Bracknell stirred. “The document Sophy was pressured to sign was a legal one and all but incomprehensible. We needed a solicitor to decipher it, and luckily, we had just enough time to consult Martin’s man in town.”
Her ladyship looked at Martin, and he filled in, “The document is one that would have transferred the voting rights of Sophy’s shares in Carmichael Steelworks to someone else.” With Charlie there, he didn’t specify to whom the voting rights would have gone. Martin wasn’t sure how best to broach the question of Charlie possibly being involved in the campaign against Sophy.
At that moment, he didn’t know how he—or she or Lady Bracknell—felt about Charlie.
Oliver was frowning. “The thugs’ leader—the one who brought the document to you. Do you have any idea who he is?”
Sophy and Martin shook their heads.
Martin added, “I heard no names.”
“No,” Sophy agreed. “But by their accents, all three—the two who seized us and the leader—are locals. Of that, I’m sure.”
Charlie leaned forward. He, too, was frowning. “The leader—what did he look like?”
Sophy rattled off a description of the man.
