Violet got onto her belly and slid into the rut, tucking herself into the hedge row. Branches pricked her through her gown and pressed into her body. She pushed as far under as she could, wincing when a particularly sharp branch worked its way through the fabric to graze her. Hastily gathering her skirts, she cursed her choice of a pink gown today. Blast it all. Why had she not chosen a plain cream or even a brown?
Wood creaked and she heard the thud of boots upon the ground. She swore she felt it rumble through her too. Her breaths were loud to her ears, and she forced herself to breathe slowly, despite her racing heart.
“Oh, Lady Violet,” one man crooned. “Come out and we’ll be kind.”
The noose of terror tightened around her throat. She forced herself to remain still, digging her gloved hands into the dirt when she spotted two sets of boots nearby.
The other man chuckled, the sound deep and graveled. “Stay hiding and perhaps we will not be so kind.”
Biting down on her bottom lip, she closed her eyes and willed them to vanish, to pass her by. The ground crunched nearby. She waited, breath trapped in her lungs. The sound stopped. She opened her eyes.
A man with a gold tooth bent down and grinned at her. “Well, what do we have here?”
∞∞∞
He had to be but ten minutes behind her.
A mere ten minutes.
During Duke’s rushed departure from the house, stopping only to check the saddle of the horse, he’d bellowed a demand to know when Lady Violet had left.
Ten minutes ago.
He was on one of the earl’s mounts. A fine, fast horse. The roads were uneven but solid thanks to lingering frost. He’d made good time.
Ten minutes.
Ten minutes to decide Violet’s fate. He couldn’t be certain where they were going to grab her. Or if they already had. But the letter wanted him to meet them in the town where they would exchange Violet for him. If he knew anything of these men, that would never happen. Why risk the only leverage they had against him?
The freezing air bit at his ungloved hands. It ate through a jacket not designed to be worn alone in such weather. Yet every inch of him blazed with fire. All he needed to do was make up ten minutes. He could warn her or even intervene in the attempted kidnapping. His singular horse was quicker than a curricle. Surely he could make it? Surely everything would be fine? He’d have Violet back in his arms where she belonged.
Duke pushed the horse harder—the pounding of hooves only just smothering the sound of his heart in his ears. His pulse thudded down to his fingertips where he gripped the reins tight.
Ten minutes.
God bloody damn it.
Ten minutes too late.
Bitterness cut at his throat. A curricle blocked a country lane some way ahead. He directed the horse to the left. She’d been going to the church but that was the other way. The curricle shouldn’t be here. It shouldn’t be stopped. It should not be empty save for the driver.
He drew the horse to a halt and dismounted. The man remained in the seat, staring straight ahead. Reins clenched in both hands, the young man scarcely seemed to notice Duke, his gaze flickering briefly.
“I had no choice,” he muttered.
“Where did they take her?” Duke demanded.
“They threatened me. Threatened my sister. I had no choice.”
Curling both fists, Duke issued a harsh breath. Those damned Doyles would threaten anyone to get their way. It seemed the driver had less courage than the maid, however, and went along with their orders. So fearsome was the gang’s reputation that even this young man had been swayed to do their bidding.
He eyed the carefully wrapped parcels stacked in the footwell. Violet was taking them to the church to be handed out to the needy for Christmas. She’d been performing an act of charity.
And Doyle and his men took advantage of that.
“Where. Did. They. Take. Her?” he demanded of the driver.
The man finally met Duke’s gaze. “She ran.” His bottom lip trembled. “Threw herself off. I could not stop her.”