“Your rags,” he said, but made no move to release her bindings.
Lottie rested her cheek against the seat and closed her eyes. How was she going to get out of this?
Chapter Twenty-Six
Ethan had never pushed Ezra so hard. Lady Agatha’s carriage was somewhere on the road behind them. Calvin kept pace beside him, although they didn’t exchange much in the way of conversation. Lady Agatha’s outriders surrounded them, breaking off at inns and posting houses along the way to ask after the red carriage. They were assuming Scotland was the destination, but he couldn’t help thinking there was an awful lot of England outside London.
Gretna Green made sense. Montague had no property of his own. His father’s hunting box lay somewhere to the north. Ethan could not recall where. Maybe Calvin knew.
If Montague’s purpose was to get his hands on her fortune, a hasty marriage would be the most expedient way. Dragging her to a hunting box would not serve any long-term goals.
If he thought ruining Lottie would deter Ethan, then Montague didn’t know his foe. Ethan would not leave Lottie to that brute. It did not matter what happened; he would happily marry her—assuming he could convince the woman in question. Damned managing female.
No matter how he inspected the situation, it seemed his and Calvin’s financial machinations had driven Montague to this. Panic-induced kidnapping hadn’t been considered as a probable outcome while hatching their plan. Applying financial pressure to Montague and convincing his father to pull him from Town should never have hurt Lottie. The whole point had been to protect her.
Beside him, Cal motioned to a posting house. Ethan waved him on, indicating he would continue on to the next one. Several days without rest were taking their toll, and his vision began to blur around the edges. No doubt as soon as he stopped, he’d collapse from exhaustion. The harried flight to London seemed to have happened a hundred years ago.
Another posting house loomed ahead. Tossing the reins to a nearby groom, Ethan slid off Ezra’s back and brushed a soothing hand over the mount’s heaving chest. “I need a new horse and information. Red carriage, yellow trim, black wheels. Have you seen it?”
“Aye, exchanged a team a while back,” the hostler said.
“Which direction did they go? Did you see the passengers?”
The man stared, then spit on the ground. “How much is it worth to ya?”
Digging a coin from his pocket, Ethan slapped it into the man’s hand, not caring about the denomination. “Now talk. Tell me everything.”
Five minutes later he tore off down the road to catch up with Calvin. Cold wind whipped at his face. The hostler claimed to know nothing about a female passenger, but his description of Montague had been accurate, right down to his obnoxious habit of mentioning the Earl of Danby every ten seconds. Discreet, Montague was not.
The information wasn’t much to go on, but at least they were going in the right direction. Over the next rise the yellow of Agatha’s livery stood out against the dull colors of the road. If the outriders were there, Calvin might be too. Ethan pushed the horse harder, murmuring words of encouragement.
He prayed that Lottie’s remarkable brain was even now finding a way to stall her travel north. His strong, bullheaded love had a mind of her own and wouldn’t appreciate this situation. Hell, Montague might be in pieces by the time they arrived. The thought gave him his first smile in hours.
Calvin nodded a hello when Ethan caught up to the group, and they set off. “You’ve looked better, my friend.”
“I found a man who saw Montague, but he didn’ see Lottie. They have a decent lead on us and are making good time.”
“So they’re on their way to Gretna,” Calvin called over the wind.
“Aye. What if we’re wrong, though? Doesn’ his father have a hunting retreat up north? He may have taken her there.” Montague wasn’t the most patient of fellows, as this situation showed.
“There was mention of a hunting box one night at the gaming hells. Let me think on it,” Cal said. Several minutes passed with only the thunderous hoofbeats between them before he called out, “Peterborough—the hunting box is near Peterborough.”
“We’ll check there first. Lady Agatha should be close behind us.”
Peterborough. Please let them catch up to Montague that quickly. Exhaustion made Ethan sway in the saddle, but he somehow found the energy to stay seated. They had to find her.
By the time they arrived the last rays of sun cast amber and pink streaks across the rooftops of Peterborough. Lady Agatha’s carriage had caught up shortly before the turnoff for the small town.
At the Earl of Danby’s hunting lodge, all was quiet, dark, and closed up. The driveway’s unmarred fallen leaves created a colorful testimony to how long the house had sat undisturbed.
Ethan hung his head. Cursing each mile they’d driven off the Great North Road, he calculated how long it would take to recoup the time lost to this detour.
“Might as well be certain,” Calvin said, dismounting and tying his horse to a tree. They circled the house, looking for unlocked doors and signs of life. The dark windows and cold chimneys gave off a depressive feeling.
“Stable is empty. No livestock,” a footman reported.
“I shall secure lodging for the night. We will meet you at that inn we passed in town.” Lady Agatha knocked on the ceiling of the carriage to signal the driver. “My old bones are ready for a soft bed, and I imagine yours are too, gentlemen.”
Lady Agatha opted to dine in her room, while the rest of the group ate in the taproom of the least questionable lodging to be had. The inn sat like a squat mushroom in the shadow of a great Gothic cathedral. But as inns went, it was clean, and the service hadn’t given Ethan any reason to complain. Not that he’d be terribly picky in his current condition. Food,
