Page 84 of How to Capture a Duke

Chapter Thirty

Tristan felt like a caged beast inside the carriage. He was desperate to find Olivia and bring her home safely. He clenched his fists, and his knee jostled against the side of the padded carriage. Both of his brothers-in-law, Ian and Hugh, sat across from him on the bench. It was ominously quiet as the well-sprung carriage jostled over rough paving.

“We’ll find her,” Hugh said. “If not, Ellie will never let me back home.”

If the marquess meant to ease his fear, it did not work. Still, Tristan nodded. “We must.”

“My sister is stubborn and a fighter,” Ian said. “After we come to her aid, I have a mind to let her have her way with Jeffries.”

The earl was also doing his best to help. As a man who’d never had a brother, Tristan was grateful for their presence tonight. Olivia came from a loving family, something he’d lacked and he’d come to highly value. Other than Antonia, he’d never known such loyalty, and he was grateful he had married into his wife’s brood.

The carriage turned, and the pungent smell of fish and seawater wafted through the carriage windows. Ships’ masts appeared through a thick fog. At last, the London docks came into view. Tristan leaped from the carriage before the wheels could come to a complete stop. The other two men followed.

“Which warehouse does Jefferies own?” Ian said.

“He never specified. Let’s split up and search for one with light or activity,” Tristan said.

Spencer’s warehouse was the one place Tristan believed he would take Olivia. It was dark, isolated, and rarely patrolled at night.

Urgency clawed at Tristan’s innards. He had to find her. His thoughts were tormented as he ran from warehouse to warehouse, looking for any sign that one was occupied. He’d been wrong, so wrong. His unwillingness to trust was his weakness, and his flaw had kept him isolated and alone his entire life. Years of suffered slights over his stuttering had filled his life with frustration and guilt. He’d learned never to trust, to see the bad in people and believe they would not change. Then Olivia had walked into his Rosehill stables, asked to ride Atlas, and his life had never been the same.

The truth struck him like a blow to the gut.

He loved her.

He loved her for her fierce loyalty and her unwillingness to give up on him. She was the light to his darkness, and even though he’d never asked for her help, she’d cared enough to bring Higgins into his home and convince him to work with the man and give the treatment a chance.

He’d been a fool to think he could keep himself from her—that spending time with her but not making love to her would be enough. It would never be enough. He wanted to start a family with her. He knew she was nothing like his cold and disapproving mother. Olivia would never give up on their child, just as she had not given up on him.

He loved her.

And he might lose the chance to tell her.

And their child.

He ran like he’d never run before in his life.

…

Olivia’s bindings unraveled bit by bit. The men were just outside her door.

She worked furiously now, rubbing the strands of the rope that remained until the entirety of it gave way. She kept her hands behind her just as Spencer and his hired man halted by the doorway.

“Is she the doxy?”

Olivia tried not to cringe at the first sight of the criminal. Tall and cadaverously thin, he had a pockmarked face, full beard, and greasy hair. But it was the dark depths of his gaze that made her seize with fear.

“She is,” Spencer said.

A corner of the man’s lips turned up to reveal brown, crooked teeth. “Can I ’ave me way with ’er first?”

“No.” Spencer’s voice was hard. “Do as you’re told, Robby, or there will be no gold in it for you.”

Robby. The criminal’s name was Robby.

She tried not to cringe beneath that evil, black-eyed stare. It took all her effort not to spring off the crate and run out of the warehouse like a mad woman. She’d never make it past both of them without a weapon. She had to bide her time and flee when she had the best opportunity for escape.

The two men stepped out of the room again, but she could hear them discussing about how best to dispose of her body. How much did Spencer promise to murder a woman? Bile rose up her throat, but she forced herself to breathe. She had a slight advantage. Her wrists and hands were free. She wiped the blood on her skirts.