Chapter 29

Chapter Twenty-Nine

I t had been too long since Richard had learned of Amelia’s disappearance, and he had yet to find her. His stomach churned, the tension in his muscles so strong it threatened to bend his bones. Where was she? What had that bastard done with her?

He’d sent out word with the servants, and there were several who had taken to the streets to see if any rumblings existed throughout London as to where she could have gone.

I cannot wait for them to return. I must do something myself.

Richard had informed the constables about her kidnapping, and he was providing updates to them. Still, none of it was moving quickly enough for them. So, instead, Richard stood from his desk in the study and went for the door. He would find her himself.

Snagging his waistcoat from where his valet had hung it on the coat rack near the door, Richard slung the fabric around himself and hurried toward the main entrance, where he procured his walking stick, aggressive uses in mind for it. It was quite possible that the staff hollered at him to wait or inquired about what he might be doing, but he heard none of it, too set on his goal.

The air outside his London home was chilled, the overcast sky darkening the streets and bringing with it a cooler day than the last. He knew where Isaac lived, so with no other notion as to where to begin, Richard approached the carriage set outside his house and informed the tiger waiting at it to carry him to Seton Manor.

It was not a long journey, and when they arrived, Richard dropped down from the coach before it fully came to rest and stormed up to the front door. Knocking, he was greeted by the estate’s butler.

“Your Grace. I regret to inform you that the Earl is not at home at present. Would you care to leave a message that I might deliver for you?”

Rage chomped at the bit, and Richard reached for the butler’s overly fluffy cravat and yanked him forward. As he leered over him, two more servants rushed to the door from the inside but paused as they saw who it was.

“You will tell me where your master has gone,” Richard demanded, his voice a deep growl.

“I-I do not know, Your Grace! I swear it!” The man shook in his hold, his voice now an octave higher. “The Earl took his carriage from the manor over two hours ago. He did not give a word as to where he was going, and the tiger seemed to already know the destination.”

Fury gnawed on Richard’s spine, making him grip the man’s shirt all the tighter. “Dammit, that is not good enough. Where would he go? Tell me!”

As Richard shook the man once more, he whimpered lightly, and as much as he knew that the butler was hardly to blame for his master’s actions, there would be no reasoning with him right now.

“W-What do you mean?” Richard growled once more, putting the blunt head of his walking stick beneath the man’s chin. “I don’t understand!”

“Your Earl has taken the Duchess of Blackford against her will. Where would he take her?!”

The butler’s eyes widened and even as the fear clung to him, his expression morphed into one of concern and sorrow.

“Amelia? Oh, Lord, no. I-I cannot believe it. This…” The man sagged slightly in Richard’s hold. “We all worried over this.”

Exhaling hard, Richard set the man back down on his feet but kept his stick pressed into the man’s neck. “Explain.”

“We—the other servants and I—have heard the Earl speak on his affections for Amelia in private. He becomes…loud when he is angry or ill at ease.”

“Affections? What do?—”

But the Duke stopped himself, the cogs of his mind whirring quicker like a clock being wound up. Isaac coveted Amelia. He wanted her for himself. That was why he had taken her from Heartwick. While the idea may have been laid at the back of his mind, hearing the butler’s words had pulled it to the forefront.

The way he looked at her…those eyes he gave me when I fetched her from the hall at Frederick’s dinner party…

Returning his attention to the butler, Richard looked down at him from beneath his brows. “You have this one final chance to tell me where he would take her. Now .”

“I swear, I don’t—Wait. The Earl has access to another estate abroad. He rarely travels to it, so not many would think to look for him there. It belonged to his late mother’s side of the family and sits in disrepair, from what I understand. He would need to travel there by ship.”

Pieces of the ghastly puzzle fell into place, and Richard’s nerves doubled down on their flaring of warning bells. He was going to take her out of England. It would be nearly impossible to return Amelia from that.

“The nearest port?” Richard demanded.

“Just there, Your Grace. You may take the main thoroughfare down to the water’s edge. I warn you that you will be entering less…hospitable territory. Many a cit dwell there as well as many more a bulk and file.”

“It is of no matter. Call the constables and inform them that I have gone to the port to stop Isaac from absconding with my wife. They have heard of the complaint already, and your providing more information to them will paint you in a better light.”

Without another word, Richard practically leapt down from the steps that led up to the Earl’s door and rushed back to his carriage.

“To the port! Don’t stop until you see the docks!”

The tiger was quick to action, a feat that Richard was increasingly grateful for, and they were flying down the road toward the water as if possessed. For in truth, Richard was in his way. If he did not retrieve Amelia from Isaac’s dastardly clutches, then he feared a trip abroad would be in order—and were that the case, Amelia’s safety would be even less assured.

Fight, Amelia. Fight him as hard as you can.

He offered up the silent prayer, hoping that every being in the heavens above was looking over Amelia and seeing to her uninjured return. Whatever the end of this miserable day revealed, he was now sure of one thing more than ever. Leaving his wife had been the biggest mistake of his life.

And he would not repeat it.

When Richard arrived at the port the butler had directed him to, he was quick to exit the carriage and survey the area. This was a little-used location, and the business day had ended for the textile manufacturing companies in the location. There was a larger building set back from the dock itself that stood out on the horizon.

With nothing else to go on except a feeling in his gut, Richard ran toward the looming warehouse. He pushed his legs for all the speed they would give him and worked to keep his steps as quiet as possible. The vicinity here was eerily silent and empty, not a single soul in sight. Worse still, the clouds hung like a curse, obscuring his view.

“Amelia, where are you?”

Salt was thick in the air, and Richard closed in on the taller building. Still, there was another smaller one next to it. Perhaps he should start there first?

But just as he was crossing by the front entrance to the textile plant, her heard an unmistakable sound.

A scream.

Richard’s heart dropped into his feet, and he rushed forward, flinging his coat off behind him as he sprinted toward the shadowy interior. Unexpectedly, the door to the plant was cracked open, and as a gust of wind blew from behind it, it shoved the thing further open, if only slightly.

Amelia.

There on the ground, Isaac’s hand clutching her hair, his wife scrabbled to get herself free. But the Earl’s fist collided with her cheek, and she was rendered unconscious. As she went limp in his grasp, Isaac stooped to pick her up.

Instinct drove Richard forward, and he flew across the ground like a wild beast. Smashing through the door, the Duke launched himself at the Earl, taking them both down to the ground as he knocked the man away from Amelia. They tumbled in circles over each other until they came to an abrupt stop as Richard’s back collided with what he had to guess was the leg of the loom above him.

“Ugh!” The air was forced from his lungs as he hit the thick post, and Richard was only just able to get his wits as Isaac scrabbled across the floor toward his wife. “Amelia!”

The sound of his voice echoed in the dim expanse. A groan escaped her, and Amelia flickered open her eyes as Isaac lumbered straight for her. Richard put his palms to the floor to push himself up, and a sharp lash of pain stole his breath once more as his body hollered in protest. He’d done a number on himself tackling the Earl, and he feared for the state of his back.

“Get away!” Amelia screamed, and Richard snapped his attention to her.

She crawled backward across the dirty floor, her lovely dress soiled and torn, but she reached for something. Before Richard could process what, she appeared to grab hold of it. She threw the heavy-looking rectangular object at Isaac. Her aim was true, and the blow landed directly into Isaac’s bone box. The Earl was pitched backward like someone had tied a string to the back of his skull and yanked hard.

Crimson dripped from his forehead as Isaac righted himself. “You bloody whore!”

He charged at her again, and this time, Amelia was without a weapon. Struggling against his body’s pull to fall unconscious, Richard hauled himself up and dashed across the space toward the Earl. He had taken in his fair share of boxing matches in his day, and calling to those memories, the Duke leveled his fist at Isaac’s lower back just off to the side.

Richard hammered his attack forward, hitting the man in the kidney, if memory served. Isaac hollered, crumpling to the side of the blow. With the window open, Richard leveled another punch to Isaac’s jaw. His head jacked backward once more, and this time, he didn’t right it so quickly. The Earl’s bell had certainly been rung.

The man looked dazed, and Richard shoved him away, immediately going for Amelia and checking her over. Bruises dotted her face, and the ruffles and flounces of her gown were crumbled and torn. But she didn’t look significantly worse for wear. Though, Richard couldn’t be entirely sure of that without inspecting the rest of her.

Renewed rage boiled in his blood at the process that the Earl had savaged her, but as Richard turned to face the man, Isaac still lay on the floor, unconsciousness rapidly claiming him.

“Are you all right? I…well, of course, you’re not. But are you injured?”

Amelia looked up at Richard, dazed, with eyes seemingly having difficulty focusing. “My head is screaming. Though, I do not think it is too bad.”

“Amelia, I?—”

But Richard’s words were cut off by the sound of several more footsteps rushing in their direction. The constables he’d informed of the situation had arrived on the scene. A well of relief overflowed through the Duke. Isaac would not be able to get away with all this now, and Amelia was here. He could put his hands on her and feel her solid beneath his palms.

Turning to one of the constables who appeared to be in charge, Richard held a hand aloft and called out. “Here! The perpetrator has been found.”

The small handful of men hurried over, and two of them took up Isaac in their arms, holding him in place. The two others approached Amelia and Richard. The Duke nodded at them, putting out a hand to introduce himself.

“Constable. I am Duke Blackford, and this is my wife, the Duchess of Blackford. This man, the Earl of Ellingham, attempted to kidnap my wife and take her out of the city limits by way of these ports. I demand that he is taken into custody immediately.”

Isaac was still too shaken by his physical state to put up much of a fight. Still, Richard was surprised to see Amelia step forward.

“He is also responsible for the Viscount St. Vincent’s attack. He confessed it to me in the carriage he used to abscond with me and take me here.”

The man’s eyes widened, and the constables both looked back and for between the couple. “This is a serious offense indeed. Can we count on you testifying to all this?”

Both Richard and Amelia nodded at once. Stepping closer to Amelia, the Duke put his hand on the small of her back, subtly bringing her closer.

“We shall take no issue with reporting as much in detail. If it is somehow yet uncertain, I never with to see this man darken our doorsteps again. He is not to come anywhere near me or my wife, and I am making an official complaint.”

“Of course, Your Grace. We will take the Earl back to the Magistrate. He shall stand trial at Bow Street court for what he had done to you both.”

“Glad to hear it,” Richard offered, his voice rougher than usual.

The aches in his body began to well up as the constables gathered up Isaac and took him away to be loaded into their wagon. He watched with Amelia right at his side as the man who’d almost successfully stolen her from him was ridden off to be tried for his crimes against the Duke and Duchess.

There was a moment of quiet, and Richard absently knew that he needed to get Amelia home and call a doctor to look her over. Still, as they turned to face each other, the chaos of the previous moments gradually fading, all Richard wanted to do was just stare into her eyes and drink in her presence.

“Richard, I…Thank you. If you hadn’t arrived when you did…” Amelia’s words drifted, and Richard could tell that she was searching for the correct words while attempting to keep her emotions in line.

Words were wonderful tools that had a practical use case of nearly a perfect score, but right now, they would not do.

Richard took a step forward, effectively getting Amelia to pause and stare up at him. With her brows raised in expectation, the Duke slid his hands up either of her arms and then yanked her against his chest to embrace her. He could not let her go. He needed to remind himself that she was here and that she was not terribly harmed.

“Oh,” she exclaimed and then melted into the hold, the sound of crying muffled as Amelia buried her face into his chest.

“I am only sorry that I didn’t get here sooner. You were… fearless. And I…I am so very glad that you are all right.”

After a moment, she looked up at him with watery eyes, the mark on her cheek darkening.

“Please,” she whispered, “take me home.”

“Of course, Amelia. Anything.”