“Woltham,” Tillie gasped, nodding like a marionette.
“The quarry?” Emma asked. “Why would Lord Pendlebury go to Woltham Quarry?”
Susan already knew the answer. “Has Arthur taken him there?”
“Arthur’s dead,” Tillie wailed mournfully. “The beast killed ’im. ’is ’enchmen took the earl.”
Not for the first time in her life, Susan gave thanks for her ability to immediately see to the heart of a problem. She’d be damned if she was going to allow Griff Halliwell to end up broken at the bottom of an abandoned quarry, which had clearly been Arthur’s intent. Acting on instinct and pure adrenalin, she stood on tiptoe. “Will you trust me?” she whispered close to Orion’s ear.
“Give me a leg up,” she commanded Emma when the horse nodded.
“Surely you’re not…”
“Help me, please,” Susan begged, swamped with relief when her friend acquiesced and helped her scramble to sit astride the dancing thoroughbred.
It wasn’t elegant, but she didn’t care.
“Wait,” Tillie exclaimed, holding out a dagger to Emma. “She must take this.”
Susan steeled herself to be courageous as she took the weapon Emma handed to her without hesitation. This was no carefully crafted romance novel. She was about to ride into danger to save the man she loved. She’d never used a blade before, but would if necessary.
“Be careful,” Emma rasped. “I’ll send riders to Withins Hall to alert Gabe and Bradley.”
Fisting one hand in the thick mane, Susan urged Orion forward. “I know you have bad feet, but Griff’s life is depending on your speed.”
She held on for dear life as the horse surged forward into the night.
Brave and Beautiful
Flickering torches andraised voices indicated a commotion was going on behind Withins Hall. It prompted Gabriel to remain mounted when he arrived. “We’ll carry on to the stables,” he advised Bradley.
There, they found the source of the racket. Gaping servants clustered together watching a tableau that might have been a scene from an opera. Wailing loudly, Lady Anthea knelt beside a body.
Her husband stood over her. “He’s not worthy of your tears,” Springer growled.
“But he’s my brother,” she sobbed.
“What’s going on here?” Gabe demanded as he dismounted.
“It’s Arthur,” Springer replied, striding over to him. “Judging by the hoof-print, his head’s been caved in by a horse,” he added, pointing to the shattered walls of a stall. “However, all our mounts are accounted for.”
“Is he dead, my lord?” Bradley shouted from the edge of the meadow.
Still sobbing, Anthea nodded woodenly.
Gabe found the situation mildly amusing. Arthur had stolen Orion and the stallion had killed him. It was as if…
He shook the ludicrous notion from his head. “So, where’s the horse now?”
Bradley pointed toward the Farnworth estate. “Looks like he escaped this way.”
Anthea suddenly struggled to rise as Gabe headed for the meadow. “Wait! More importantly, where are my father and the earl?”
“The earl?” Gabe queried, thinking grief had muddled the woman’s thoughts. She tended to be addlebrained at the best of times.
Judson stepped forward. “The Earl of Pendlebury called earlier, but we found his driver unconscious in the driveway. His carriage has disappeared, along with two unsavory characters Arthur kept hidden away in the folly. He thought I didn’t know, but…”
Dread crept into Gabe’s heart as the butler carried on his explanation. “We didn’t pass the earl’s carriage on the road.”