Page 65 of What a Widow Wants

Windmilling his arms in an attempt to keep standing upright, the coachman staggered forward onto the cobblestone, narrowly missing falling to his knees. He righted himself and whirled on Matthew, a snarl on his lips. “You have no authority over me, my lord.”

“I wouldn’t count on that, Davies.” Matthew drew himself up until his entire six-foot-three frame towered over the shorter man. “The law severely frowns upon men who abscond with women and children. By the authority vested in me by virtue of my title, I charge you tell me where you have taken Lady Stephen Tarkington and her daughter.” His voice thundered in the cold air. “I suspect it was against their wills. Do you dare deny it?”

“I do.” The man raised his head, defiance in his eyes. “I took them to Copsale, like Lord Theale ordered me to.”

“You lie.” Advancing on the coachman, who immediately gave way, Matthew backed him all the way across the courtyard until he ran into the stone wall of the stable. “One of the grooms informed me you came through here after two o’clock this afternoon. He also confirmed that Copsale is twenty-two miles farther on. It is now half-four and you’ve been here some time. Even if your carriage had been drawn by winged Pegasus himself, I doubt you could have gotten there and back again in that amount of time.” He grabbed the man by his poorly tied neck cloth and twisted. “Where are they?”

“Gawp.” Davies’s mouth opened and closed, but no other sound came out.

Matthew hefted the scrawny servant until his feet dangled, kicking in the breeze. “Get used to this feeling, my fine lad. It’s the last one you’ll ever have if I have anything to do with it. If one smidgeon of harm has come to Lady Stephen, you’ll be hanged man’s grease before the new year.” He tossed the rogue onto the cobblestones at his feet. “Speak!”

Coughing and sputtering, Theale’s coachman clutched his throat, fear bright in his eyes. “I . . .” It came out a croak so he cleared his throat and began again, not taking his eyes off Matthew. “I put them out of the carriage ’bout an hour south of here.”

“You blackguard.” A white hot rage distorted his vision. All about him turned black, save the center in which shone the white, pasty face with two staring eyes filled to the brim with fear. Grabbing the man again, Matthew drew back his arm and planted him a facer that whipped his head back with a snap. “If anything has happened to them, by God, you’ll never live to see a hangman’s noose. I’ll track you down and tear you limb from limb until all that’s left is a bloody stump where your head used to be.” He reared back his fist, itching to let fly again and again, but a trickle of reason found its way into his brain. “Describe the place to me. Exactly where did you leave them?”

“There’s a clearing like, on the left side of the road.” The man worked his mouth, paused, then spat blood. “You’ll know the one because of the big oak. Folks about here call it the ‘dancing oak’ ’cause the limbs look like a lady kicking her legs up.”

“And Theale ordered you to do this? Why?” He and the marquess would have some words when Fanny and Ella were safe. Words over pistols if he could arrange it so.

“I don’t know meself, but he told me to tell her ‘it was with his compliments and a fitting end for a disloyal wife.’ He’s been a queer nob the past weeks. Rantin’ and ragin’ at all hours of the day and night, so the footmen say.” Davies gingerly got to his feet.

Ever since he’d found out about his and Fanny’s affair, and Ella. So when Fanny returned, he’d thrown her out, but agreed to take her to Copsale? That made little sense. Why not just throw her out on her ear in London. He’d rather get this petty revenge? Of course, it wouldn’t be deemed petty if Fanny and Ella came to grief. Theale might simply hope they caught the ague being out in the cold, though he couldn’t know if they’d be out in the weather very long. A passing coach might very well take them in and give them shelter.

The marquess seemed to have aimed only for a bit of spite at Fanny, although the petty action didn’t seem to fit with his dire message. Well, it would have even less sting when he arrived shortly to rescue them. Poor Ella must be frightened out of her wits. Thank God for Fanny’s strength. No matter what their quarrel had been, he would see her safe and marry her tomorrow if he could only get her to agree. “I will call for your carriage to be brought here.”

“What you want my carriage for? You stealin’ it?” Davies had a bit of life in him yet, it seemed.

“No. I am going to rescue Lady Stephen and her daughter. For that I need the carriage.” He grinned at Davies. “Poetic justice, isn’t it, that the instrument of their punishment will also be that of their salvation. I’ll return with it shortly and you can tell Theale how his plans were thwarted, if you dare.”

“I’ll do that, milord.” The self-satisfied smirk on the coachman’s cunning face, sent a ripple of warning to Matthew.

He grabbed the man by his throat and squeezed. “What are you not telling me?”

CHAPTER 28

The clop-clop of their shoes on the hard dirt road had grown monotonous in the past hour—or hours, Fanny had no idea how long she and Ella had trudged along. A pale sun skimmed the horizon over the fields to her right. The chill damp had penetrated her spencer long ago and Ella shivered as they walked, hand in hand, silent.

Fanny had at first tried to make a game of their situation, to distract her daughter. She’d set her to counting the sheep in the fields they passed, which seemed to occupy the girl quite well. They would joke about the few black sheep dotted here and there and Fanny had questioned Ella’s count a time or two, making her daughter scold her for not trusting her to count properly. It had passed the time until the fields had changed to vacant pasturelands. No fun to count bushes or trees. None of it was any fun now.

“Mama, I’m cold. When are we going to get there?” Ella’s pinched face with the red cheeks and nose smote Fanny’s heart.

Her folly and hers alone had brought them to this pass. She should have married Matthew long ago, this past summer, and all of this would have been avoided. “I’m sure we will come to a house or an inn soon, lovey.”

“That’s what you said hours ago, Mama. I’m tired and cold and my feet hurt.” Tears began to drip down her child’s face.

“I’m so sorry, Ella.” Fanny stopped in the middle of the road and knelt down in the dirt. She dug in her reticule and withdrew a handkerchief. Brushing away the child’s tears, she peered into the miserable blue eyes. “We shall find somewhere to spend the night soon.” Hugging the child, she rubbed her arms briskly, trying to warm her up. “I promise.”

A promise easier said than kept. They’d seen no living creature so far along this road, save the sheep. Only the interminable fields ringed by trees. Unfortunately, there weren’t even sheep now or they might have hoped to find a sheepfold. No time to go back either, even if they could. Weariness had settled into Fanny’s bones until it was a struggle to put one foot before the other. Coupled with the gnawing fear that they would not find shelter before it was too late, she’d begun to shake like a leaf in a high wind. She glanced up at the darkening sky and shuddered. Soon they would be unable to see the road. Even worse, with the darkness the cold would intensify. They could freeze to death if they didn’t find shelter before the light went completely.

Panic settling in around the edges of her mind, Fanny rose and looked about again, as if an inn might have magically appeared. Only blasted fields and trees, however, as far as she could see. “Let’s see what’s over that little hill ahead of us. Perhaps we will finally come to a farmhouse,” she said with a cheerfulness she did not feel.

“Hooray! A farmhouse!” Ella jumped up and down, then took off, racing up the slight hill ahead of Fanny.

“Ella,” Fanny called, starting to walk again. Dear Lord, let there be some place nearby.

“Mama, Mama. Look! Look!” The child had crested the hill and stood jumping and pointing down at the other side.

Dear Lord, could it be true? Had her prayers been answered? Fanny picked up her pace to a fast walk, then a run. Ella was still jumping up and down and laughing. Could it really be a farmhouse?