Page 151 of The Viscount’s Vice

“Five, if I’m lucky.”

“You’re not going.”

“Why shouldn’t I be the one? I can outride you any day—”

“Devil you can!”

“—And I’m a better shot.”

Lenora gasped.

“If needed,” Millie added.

Before he left, he’d have to reassure Lenora. If he could help it, there would be no shooting. With Willard involved, he knew how easily things could get out of hand.

But, this time, he was going in clear headed.

“Asquith,” Millie said in a too-reasonable tone, “you can keep me from borrowing your horse, but you cannot stop me from renting one.”

“I can march you straight into my mother.”

“And I can tell her you’ve been cavorting with staff in the stables!”

Asquith glanced over his shoulder. “What is it with you Wainwrights and blackmail?”

Millie frowned. “What do you mean?”

Asquith buried his fingers in his hair. His brow furrowed with the effort of planning.

The abduction of an earl went far beyond any of Willard’s other crimes. Too brazen to be ignored. Asquith intended to go to the place Millie believed Neville had been taken, alert the local JP, rescue Neville and, if necessary, Preston, and he would get that forged bond.

“I’m going to that lodge. I will not lose him.” Millie flushed, looking perilously close to tears. Not the sort of tears that fall when one is defeated, but the sort that fueled action. “Do you understand?”

“I do, actually.” Asquith cast a glance over his shoulder. If Willard had Lenora, what would he do?

Move heaven and earth, my son.

Celestial manipulation would be the least of his efforts.

“I will come with you,” he said.

“No!” Lenora called from the top of the stairs.

Asquith winced. “Millie, would you...ah?”

“Be quick,” Millie replied.

He raced up the stairs, drew Lenora back into Barker’s room and closed the door.

“I’m going to come, too,” she said.

“You aren’t.”

“I am. Either you believe we are a team or you don’t.”

“If I take Chanson and Millie takes Calder, there won’t be a fast horse for you to ride.” He waited for her to take in the truth. “Nor,” he added with greater gentleness, “should you be riding hard, given your condition.”

She blanched and put her hand over her stomach as if she’d forgotten.