Authors: Anne Ireland
Unfortunately, the estate was close to ruin. Richard had begun to make what repairs his grandfather’s income would allow, but he needed to marry money. If he could persuade Hester to marry him, he might have the chance to make something of the estate—and to put right the wrong he had done her. Yet, having met the older, sadder Hester, having seen fear and loathing in her eyes, he had realized what his careless behavior had done to her, though he could not begin to understand the various causes.
If she would give him the chance to put things right between them, he would do all in his power to make her happy . . . but how could he expect it? She would turn from him in disgust, as she had every right to do . . . unless . . .
Richard smiled wryly. She had loved him once. Surely, he could teach her to love him again. He could not court her in the conventional way, for she would not listen—but if he abducted her . . . No, it was wicked of him to even think of such a thing. He had hurt her once, and he ought not to do anything to harm her again. He must try to find a way to make her understand that he was sorry for what he had done, that he cared for her . . . perhaps then she would give him an opportunity to make amends.
* * * *
Hester returned from her ride flushed with pleasure. It had been wonderful to taste the freedom and excitement of being on horseback again after being denied the privilege for so long. What had made it all the more exciting for her was having Captain Crawford by her side.
She gazed up into his eyes as he helped her down from her mount. For a moment, she swayed towards him as he stood with his strong, firm hands about her waist, feeling a deep need to be held close to his chest. It was so long since she had felt this close to anyone. She had a warm affection for her cousin, and she loved her brother, but this feeling was something very different. It was almost as if they were two halves of one whole.
Making herself move away from him when her whole body was flooded with a deep longing was difficult. However, Hester had been forced to master her desires these past years and that self-control came to aid her now. Her head up, she smiled at him and thanked him politely for the loan of his horse.
“She is one of the sweetest-mouthed horses I have ever ridden, and I truly love her. You were kind to lend her to me.”
And I love you for it. I love you more than I have ever loved anyone or ever shall.
The words were unspoken but in her heart and mind.
“Pippa belongs to my father, but I know he would join me in saying that you are welcome to ride her whenever you wish.”
“Thank you.” For a moment, her throat tightened with emotion, and she thought that he might take her in his arms to kiss her, but the moment passed, and she was not sure whether she was more relieved than sorry.
“I shall see you tomorrow?”
“Yes, of course. I am looking forward to meeting your family.”
For a moment longer, he lingered, clearly reluctant to leave her. Hester was also sorry to part from someone whose company she enjoyed so much, but she knew that neither of them had any choice. It was impossible to contemplate spending her life with him, though she knew it was what she wanted more than she could ever have imagined until this moment.
Yet, she must not dwell on the future. She must take every second of pleasure from this visit, for it would have to last her a lifetime.
* * * *
Riding home after leaving Hester, Paul was deep in thought. He was almost sure that she returned his feelings for her and yet still she maintained her distance. There must be a painful secret in her past. Something that she could not bring herself to speak of to anyone.
So absorbed in his thoughts was he that he did not notice he was being shadowed, and so when the shot rang out, narrowly missing him, he was taken by surprise.
His horse reared in fright and then bolted. Paul needed all his strength and skill to stay in the saddle. He had no time to look for the source of the shot and did not see the shadow of a man in the stand of trees a little to his right. It was all he could do to bring his horse under control, and by the time he had mastered it the man had gone.
However, another traveller had seen the man take aim and fire, but before he could cry a warning, he heard the shot and saw that it had missed its target. He launched his horse at the copse in the hope that he might apprehend the villain, but before he could reach him, he had disappeared. He searched through the copse for some minutes, but the sound of hooves pounding in the distance told him that his quarry had escaped.
Unaware that anyone else had seen the incident, Paul raced on until he reached his home. He had no doubt that the shot had been deliberate or that someone had been intending to kill him. He had been careless, but he would take more precautions in future. He had good friends who would help him in this fight to unmask the murderer of their comrades, and they were only waiting for him to send word.
* * * *
Richard Mortimer had no love for Captain Crawford but he was not a murderer and he would never shoot a man in the back, though he had killed in a duel while abroad. He might be a rogue and guilty of things he would prefer to forget, but murder was not one of them.
It seemed that Captain Crawford had an enemy. The question was—ought he to try and warn him? If recent experience were anything to the point, Crawford would probably take it into his head to blame him for the incident. Besides, that shot should be warning enough, unless he thought it was a poacher taking an unlucky shot at some pigeon.
Richard knew that Crawford blamed him for the faulty cannon that had killed those men, but he had acted in good faith, his commission a mere two hundred pounds. The man who had paid him had disappeared immediately after receiving the army's money from Crawford's own hand. Richard had been horrified to learn of the accident and had made up his mind to trace the culprit. He had discovered that the maker was actually a foundry in the north of England and not Hanwell’s company. However, when he journeyed to Yorkshire to make some inquiries he discovered that the owner of the foundry had been murdered.
Richard suspected that the murderer must be the same man who had just tried to shoot Crawford in the back—or someone employed by a deadly master. But would Crawford listen to him if he tried to tell him of his suspicions?
Chapter Six
Geraldine smiled happily at Hester. Her fiancé was due to arrive that evening and would be staying with them until after her birthday. She had not seen Thomas since leaving Bath, and she was feeling very excited.
“I am too restless to stay indoors,” she told Hester after they had partaken of nuncheon. “Shall we walk as far as the lake? The days are flying past and we have hardly had any time to ourselves.”
“There has been too much to do,” Hester agreed. She knew that she would miss her friend when she went home. “What with fittings and visiting neighbors, we have been busy all the time.”
“You will like my Aunt Longstanton,” Geraldine told her as they set out on their walk. “Paul’s mother is such a lovely lady. She is always forgetting something, and the servants run round after her, retrieving her scarves or her needlework, but no one minds because she never forgets to thank them for their trouble.”
“I am looking forward to meeting her tomorrow,” Hester said. She saw an inquisitive look in Geraldine’s eyes and understood the reason behind it. Geraldine suspected that her cousin was courting Hester in his own fashion and she clearly approved.
If only she were an innocent girl with no secrets to hide! Hester wished that she had never met Richard Mortimer or that she had not fallen in love with him, as she had. If her past had been as spotless as it might have been, she could have gone to Paul with an open heart—but regrets were useless and would change nothing.
* * * *
The sun was shining down on the two girls as they walked arm-in-arm across the wide expanse of lush lawn and through the well-kept shrubbery, heading towards the open parkland that led to the lake. They were both well dressed, one in pink-spotted muslin, the other in grey silk, both carrying shawls and parasols. They both wore straw bonnets and their feet were clad in soft kid boots, their hands covered in little lace mittens that allowed the fingers to remain free, and they looked what they were—two young and privileged ladies.
In the trees that obscured the approach to the lake from this angle, the watcher saw them coming and blessed his luck in being there at the right time; it would be easier to snatch the one he wanted in the open air rather than sneaking into the house at night as he had been planning to do. His plans were laid, with a coach and horses waiting nearby and ready to carry off the prize if he succeeded. He had been told to capture the pretty one who was kin to Captain Crawford, and his gaze lit upon the lady in grey. He knew her for he had seen her riding with the gentleman that morning a short time before he had taken a pot shot at the gentleman. He had exceeded his orders in doing so, but the shot had missed, and another gentleman had seen him, however he’d run off in time to avoid being caught.
Excitement gripped him as the two ladies drew nearer, for he had been offered more gold than he could expect to see in a lifetime if he carried out his mission. He signalled to the rogues he had employed to help him.
“Grab the one in grey,” he whispered. “If the other tries to stop us, push her to the ground but do not harm her. Kidnap is one thing, but I won’t have a woman’s death on my conscience.” Men like Captain Crawford were fair game, but he was too squeamish to kill a defenceless woman.
* * * *
Geraldine and Hester were laughing in the sunshine, completely unaware that danger lurked ahead of them until the rogues sprang out on them. Geraldine was startled unable to believe this was happening on her father’s land, and she watched Hester being dragged away by two of the men in horror. Hester was struggling for all she was worth, but her arms were imprisoned behind her, and she could not fight two men alone.
“Stop it!” Geraldine cried and flung herself at one of the men, hitting him with her parasol. He wrenched it away from her, snapped it and discarded it. She then tried kicking and punching him until he gave her a huge push that knocked her to the ground. “Leave her alone I say . . .”
“Behave yourself, girl—or you will be sorry!” one of the men grunted at her.
Geraldine lay on the ground for a few minutes feeling stunned and disbelieving. The sounds of Hester’s struggle had died away as she rose to her feet, wondering what to do for the best. She was trying to decide whether to try and follow or to fetch help. Hearing the sound of hoof-beats, she glanced up and gave a cry of outrage as she saw who had arrived.
“You! How dare you abduct Hester? You wicked, wicked man!”
“You wrong me, Miss Holbeach,” Richard Mortimer said and dismounted. “Are you hurt?”
“Only a little—but your men have taken Hester.”
“Not my men, but the same ones as those who took a pot shot at Captain Crawford this morning I make no doubt. Forgive me if I do not see you safely home, but our best chance of finding her is if I can follow them and discover where they are taking her. Send a message to your cousin, Miss Holbeach. Tell him I am not his enemy, and I would help him discover the man who betrayed us.”
Geraldine was left staring at him in dismay as he mounted and rode off in the direction the others had taken earlier. She was trembling now, for she had begun to realize what had happened and the danger Hester was in from the rogues who had snatched her.
She must go home and send a message to Paul. She had a sick feeling inside as she turned and ran towards the house. Hester had saved her from abduction. They had blamed Richard Mortimer for the letters and the attempt at kidnap, but now it looked as if they might have been wrong.
She prayed that Mortimer had been honest with her for she knew that Hester’s life might be at stake. If Paul had an enemy, that person might stop at nothing to wreak his vengeance on the man he hated.
* * * *
Paul was about to sit down to dinner when he received Geraldine’s note. He swore and turned pale, crushing the paper in his hand before smoothing it out to read it once more.
“What is wrong, Paul? Lady Ellen Longstanton asked her son, for the look in his eyes was so bleak that it frightened her.
“Hester has been kidnapped, and by someone who wishes me dead by the looks of it.” His mother gasped for she knew him well enough to understand that he would count his own life as nothing if it meant saving Hester. “It seems I have been looking for the wrong man. Forgive me, Mother, I must go.”
“Yes, of course. Take care, my dearest.”
“Do not concern yourself for me, Mother. I am well able to take care of myself. It is Hester I fear for. If anything should happen to her because of me . . .”
She watched him leave, his expression set like iron as he shouted instructions for a horse to be saddled. Paul had risked his life for his friends during the recent wars and been commended for it more times than she could remember. He would not consider himself if the woman he planned to marry were in danger. He had not spoken to her of his marriage, but she had known his intention the first time that he had mentioned the wonderful Miss Weston to her.