Chapter 25

CHAPTER25

“Daniel, are you sure about this?”

“I’m certain.”

He detached one of the horses from the front of the carriage with the help of the driver. A spare saddle that was kept in a compartment at the back of the carriage was thrown over the horse’s back by the accompanying footman.

“Anne, you must go to the constable at once. Tell him all you’ve heard and get him to send a man to follow me to the brewery.”

“Will he believe me?” Anne asked, peering out from the carriage.

Daniel hesitated. He couldn’t be certain after what the constable had said that morning, but they had to try.

“See if you can persuade him to believe you, if not—” Daniel swallowed. It could mean that he alone had to find Rachel and stop Lord Repington.

“Daniel! Look!” Anne pointed out of the carriage and down the small lane behind Lord Repington’s house.

At the end of the lane, another horse was setting off. It rode away fast, with Lord Repington on its back.

Curses escaped Daniel as he pulled himself into the saddle, knowing now he was losing time. If Lord Repington got to the brewery before he did, who knew what could happen?

No, Rachel, I will not let anything happen to you.

With fear, a memory from their wedding flashed into his mind. It was the nervous way that Rachel had looked at him, the two of them so uncertain together, when he’d been asked to make his vows, amongst them the vow to protect her. When he’d said the words, Rachel had looked lost.

I wonder if she believed me when I made those vows.

He had a chance to prove himself now.

He flicked the reins of the horse and rode off, not even bothering to say another word to Anne, though she called after him incessantly.

“Daniel? Daniel! Please, stay safe!”

The words brought back a feeling from the war. It was the anticipation and the fear of pain, as an enemy constantly lingered at the edge of your vision. This time, Daniel was chasing after that enemy.

He cut through the roads, racing as fast as he could toward the brewery and the forest beyond, where this hunting lodge was placed. In the distance, he once caught sight of Lord Repington on his own horse, but as they crossed London Bridge, he lost sight of him. The last Daniel saw of Lord Repington, the man had that determined look in his eyes, with that malicious curl of his top lip.

I’m coming, Rachel.

* * *

Rachel woke up, opening her eyes and shifting with discomfort.

“Oh God,” she whispered as she looked around the empty room.

It was no nightmare. I’m really here.

With horror, she thought back to what had happened on the driveway. She’d come across Lord Repington, who had pleaded for a chance to talk to her alone. He’d explained it was urgent, that he was worried about her husband’s safety.

Despite their argument, despite everything, Rachel could not bear the thought of Daniel being in danger, so she had followed Lord Repington as he’d ridden down a path into the trees, then dismounted from her horse. The strike to her temple had shaken her to her core, then she’d seen stars and slipped into oblivion.

The next time she had awoken, she’d been in this hunting lodge, with her hands tied to a bedhead.

Lord Repington had visited her just once since. He had brought her food and water that she tried to preserve, uncertain how long she would be here.

Straining against the ropes, she stood off the bed, her arms stretched to their full extent, and looked out of the bedchamber window. From what she could see, she had deduced something about where she was.

The hunting lodge was in a deep part of a forest, in some sort of valley with the ground raised on either side and so many thick fir trees that it was hard to discern one trunk from another. There was no main path or road nearby. Anyone would struggle to stumble across this place.

The day before, she’d tried screaming through the window, shouting for help until her voice had become hoarse. Today, her throat was sore because of it. She reached for the table where she’d left the water and took small sips, her mouth dry.

What does he want? Why is he doing this?

She thought back to the tale Daniel had told her about Lord Repington’s father and the lost brewery. There had to be more animosity than Daniel had expected, more than resentment for it to lead to this.

“This is hatred, venom, and revenge,” she whispered miserably.

She strained once more, the ropes digging into her wrists as she looked out of the window and tried to learn something more of her whereabouts.

The one path that led up to the house was empty. The only sign of someone being there at all was her horse, which had been tied to a nearby tree. She supposed Lord Repington had thrown her over her saddle to draw her all the way here, though she didn’t know how he had managed to get her out through some of the streets on the outskirts of London without being seen.

“He planned this well,” Rachel muttered to herself in realization. Lord Repington had thought it all through very well.

Sinking back down on the old, dusty bed, which smelled of must and moths, she squeezed her eyes shut, fearing what would happen to her. Lord Repington hadn’t given her much food, so she feared just how long he intended for her to be here.

Perhaps he does not intend to keep me alive at all.

A tear rolled down her cheek. She didn’t bother pulling against the ropes to dry it, for what was the point? Instead, she cast her mind back to happier things, trying to make the isolation and fear bearable.

She thought of her sisters and what they would say about this situation. Emily would mistakenly believe it was some adventure, and Bridget would worry, fidgeting restlessly.

What would Daniel say?

She imagined being in his arms back at home in her bed. She thought of his kiss, the way she had held onto him the last time she had slept beside him, then she thought of the anger in his eyes the night they had fought after the ball.

Her breathing stuttered as she cried harder, great sobs escaping her. Turning and pushing her head down into the musty bed, she thought only of Daniel, wishing desperately she could turn back time.

If she could, she’d go back to the morning when she had ridden away. She’d apologize to Daniel for her anger and ask if there was any way they could mend things, for them to be as they had been before. She would tell him the very thing she had been too nervous to tell him for so long.

I love you, Daniel.

Her breath hitched again as a horse whinnied outside.

Scrambling to kneel up on the bed, she looked out of the window, hoping for some sign of a constable or anyone that could come and help her. A horse emerged between the trees. It was the same black steed she had seen the day before, ridden by Lord Repington.

He hastened to halt the horse, his eyes flicking up to her in the window. The lodge was so small that even at this distance, she could see the coldness in his eyes and the flashing hatred.

He flung himself down from his horse, his boots landing heavily in the dirt, then he slapped the rump of the animal, urging it to hide in the trees. Taking down a bag from his shoulder, Lord Repington unpacked two things.

The first thing was a box of matches, the second thing was a tall, clear bottle of some colorless liquid.

“What the…” Rachel trailed off as he walked forward.

His eyes shot to hers, then he reached for the door and unlocked it, striding into the house.

She leaned back, listening to his footsteps as he marched around the house.

“What are you doing?” Rachel roared. “You hear me? You can’t ignore me forever. What is it you plan to do with me? Say something!”

“Very well,” a calm voice answered.

Rachel whipped around, turning to face the open doorway where Lord Repington was standing. There was a darkness to his expression, and his lips were flattened.

“Goodbye, Your Grace.” He bowed his head to her, then retreated back down the stairs.

“What does that mean? Come back here at once!”

She shouted his name over and over again, straining against the ropes frantically.

He appeared outside again, walking down the path and dragging the clear bottle behind him, spilling its contents on the ground. Once the bottle was empty, he threw it to the side, then lit the match, holding it in the air so she could see the small flame.

“No,” Rachel whispered, all anger escaping her voice as he lowered that match to the line of liquid.

At once, a fire broke out.

* * *

Daniel rode madly through the trees. The smell of smoke lingered in the air, and his horse began to snort.

No, no! I cannot be too late.

A great orange light danced ahead, so strong between the trees. Daniel urged the horse on, and they galloped harder.

Abruptly appearing in a clearing, Daniel struggled to stop, his eyes darting to the hunting lodge before him. The old stone cottage was lit in flames, the whole ground level engulfed. Smoke was billowing out of the open windows on the top floor.

“Rachel!” he bellowed.

Someone moved at the window, a shadowy figure, then it vanished.

“It’s too late,” a calm voice said from the edge of the clearing.

Daniel saw Lord Repington leaning against a tree, his arms folded. The Marquess smiled as he watched the cottage burn, like a boy gazing on a campfire.

“It will burn to the ground, all of it, much like the brewery did.”

“That was an accident,” Daniel hissed. “Are you mad?” He flung himself from the horse and marched toward the house. “Everything said it was an accident. If you believed it to be arson, then you are wrong. Sorely wrong. If your father hadn’t gambled away your fortune, then he could have kept the brewery and paid for it to be rebuilt.” Turning away, he faced the windows again. “Rachel!”

Was that her? In the top window?

Daniel had to find out.

He launched himself at the door, intending to go inside and find her, but he was tackled to the ground.

“Oomph!”

He landed face first on the dirt as Lord Repington punched his back repeatedly.

“You will not get her. You will not.” The Marquess grabbed Daniel’s tailcoat and used it to lift him a little so he could whisper in his ear, “Watch what you prize burn, Your Grace. Watch it all vanish!”

It has not come to this.

Daniel’s training kicked in.

Bracing his palms and his feet against the dirt, he hauled his back upward and threw Lord Repington off him. Lord Repington rolled away across the ground as Daniel followed him. Pulling back his elbow, Daniel punched him in the nose.

Bones cracked audibly, and Lord Repington wailed, the pain instant.

The way to immobilize a man.

Daniel had learned it early on in his training. The searing pain had a way of traveling up a man’s nose and into his skull, incapacitating him.

Struggling to his feet and wincing at the bruises that were now forming on his back, Daniel ran toward the door of the cottage and tried to open it. Yet, he found it locked.

“No. No!” he roared, shoving his weight against it. The old oak door was too thick and heavy. It merely rattled in its frame.

A short distance away, Lord Repington moved to his knees, now clutching at his broken nose.

“Give me the key!” Daniel bellowed, hurrying toward Lord Repington.

The Marquess tried to run away. He got a head start, but Daniel was faster. He caught up to him in the clearing and grabbed his hair, jerking him to a stop.

“Give me the key.”

Lord Repington whipped around, his elbow going for Daniel’s gut. Winded, Daniel bent double, but he did not drop to the ground. He couldn’t capitulate, not now.

Lord Repington ran again, loping as he tried to reach his horse and make his escape. Daniel ran after him, seeing a way to stop him from fleeing for good.

In the undergrowth between the trees, he found rocks. He picked up a large one, cradling it in the palm of his hand. He tossed it through the air, hard. It landed cleanly on the back of Lord Repington’s head as he reached for his horse.

Spooked at the Marquess’s cry of pain, the horse lurched forward, dragging Lord Repington with him. He was towed under the horse, trampled by its hooves, then the horse stopped, as did Lord Repington.

Daniel hastened forward, moving over to Lord Repington.

The Marquess was alive, breathing heavily, but injured and not able to walk right now. Daniel searched his pockets and found the key in his tailcoat. Snapping it up, he ran back to the cottage and thrust the key into the lock.

“Rachel!” he bellowed.

Still, there was no answer.

With fear and dread filling him up, he pushed open the door.

At once, the memories of the war returned. Just like a fire he’d once seen in the trenches; the whole room was engulfed in great leaping yellow flames. Some were tall and thin, like prancing dancers, others were thick, eating up the ground beneath them and anything in their path.

His mind shot to the war and those that suffered burns, but then he pushed those images to the back of his mind.

This is not war anymore.

He shrugged off his tailcoat and threw it over his head, then held his breath and ran into the cottage. Flames leapt at him from either side, like great demons wanting to pull him down into the fiery depths of hell.

He half thought he was at the mouth of hell itself, running in to find Rachel and pull her out.

She does not belong here!

He kicked away a flaming chair that broke in half and tipped toward him, stopping it before it could hit him and burn him. He headed for the old spiral staircase, hurrying up as fast as he could. The smoke was billowing up, the blackened fog rising above the staircase, but the flames hadn’t extended this far yet.

Reaching the top of the stairs, Daniel barreled into a bedchamber, his eyes darting around as he looked through the smoke.

Rachel was slumped on the floor, her hands bound to a wooden bedhead with ropes.

“Rachel!” Daniel dropped his tailcoat and ran to her, trying his best to untie the ropes as fast as he could. “Rachel, can you hear me?”

Her eyes were closed, and she didn’t move.

“Please, Rachel, please. What did he do to you?” He undid the ropes and flung them to the side, then took her cheeks and lifted her face toward him. Her eyes fluttered open.

She’s alive!

“Smo…” She tried to say the word but then coughed.

It was the smoke. It had knocked her out, made her unable to take a clean breath.

“I’ve got you, Rachel. I’ll get you out of here.”

Then, her eyes fluttered closed again.

He’d seen this sort of thing before. Men in the war that had inhaled too much smoke sometimes lost consciousness, in need of clean air.

Gathering Rachel in his arms, he stood. At first, he carried her in front of him, her head resting on his shoulder, but he didn’t have freedom of movement, and with her legs dangling down over his elbow, they’d struggle to fit down the stairs.

“I’m really sorry about this,” he said, even though she couldn’t hear him.

She groaned, trying to open her eyes as he put her down on the bed. Then, she fell silent again.

Knowing there was one certain way to carry a person with ease, he hauled her over his back. Carrying her over his shoulder, he turned toward the stairwell, intent on getting her out when he saw with horror that the fire had grown.

The flames leapt up the stairs so high that they licked the ceiling above them.

“Rachel?” Daniel whispered. Still, she didn’t stir, but he said what he wished to say regardless. “We’re trapped.”