Page 76 of An Unfamiliar Duke

She threaded her head and one arm through the long strap. The bag fell below her hip.

“Now, hold out one hand.” She did as Sellers asked, and the cad smiled. “That’s your cue, Kelbrook. She requires the workshop key.”

Sebastian slid the key out of the pocket in his vest. Stepping forward, he set it in Rosalind’s hand. Their fingers touched. The simple connection hummed between them with unseen force.

“In the corner, Kelbrook,” Sellers snapped, severing the tie. He jerked his head toward the far side of the room. “Over there, beside the bookcase.”

Sebastian backed into his designated spot. As far as he could tell, the only thing currently in his favor was the fact that Sellers’s arms were figuratively tied. With one hand on Rosalind’s arm and the other on his gun, he was not able to bind Sebastian.

As if he were reading Sebastian’s thoughts, Sellers glared at him. “Your wife and I are going to leave Finley Park through the front door. I am well aware that after we turn the key on your workshop, you can leave the room the same way I entered. However, I should warn you that any attempt you may make to rescue Her Grace or reclaim this satchel before I am gone from here will result in her demise.”

Dragging Rosalind with him, Sellers walked backward, keeping Sebastian in his sight all the way to the door. They crossed the threshold, and Sebastian allowed himself to meet Rosalind’s eyes. Her tears were gone, her gaze steady. He nodded. Her answering nod was so slight, he barely caught it, but it was there. She knew that he would come for her.

Sellers slammed the door closed between them, and Sebastian raced for the window. He was through the gap in the casement before the key had turned in the lock. Grabbing the lantern Sellers had left outside, he took off running, heading directly for the stables.

Chapter 30

Perhaps Sebastian had been right after all. This had to be a dream. Why else would Mr. Sellers be dragging her down the dark passage at Finley Park with a gun in her side?

“Stop,” Rosalind said. She pulled back, and pain pulsated up the arm he held. If it was correct that a person did not feel excruciating discomfort whilst asleep, she was truly in trouble. “Why are you doing this?”

Mr. Sellers did not look at her. “Because I must.” He yanked her forward, picking up his pace as the entrance hall came into view.

Rosalind stumbled to keep up. “I cannot believe that. I will not.”

“As you wish, Your Grace.” He spat her title with undisguised contempt. “It is not something I would expect you to understand.”

Rosalind pressed her heels against the tile floor. He may force her to go with him, but she would not make it easy for him. She was not yet ready to risk her life or the life of innocent servants by shouting for help, but she could buy Sebastian more time to escape the workshop. “You are right. I do not understand what would drive a gentleman—whom I once considered a friend—to perpetrate such violence and larceny.”

“This has nothing to do with you.” The gun bruised her ribs as he dragged her toward the door.

“I beg your pardon, but this has everything to do with me. Not only are you are stealing from my home, but you are kidnapping me at gunpoint.”

He pressed her against the wall as he fought to free the bolt at the front door with his other hand. “Very well.” He loomed over her, his eyes flashing dangerously in the dark hall. “It has everything to do with you.” The chill in his voice sent fear skittering down her spine. “You were to marry me. With your money and my charm, no business venture would have been out of reach. We would have been welcomed into the best circles in Society, and I would no longer have creditors breathing down my neck, grasping for every brass penny I own.”

The door flew open, and he pushed her through. Damp, cold air instantly penetrated her thin dressing gown and shift. She clasped her shawl, tightening it across her shoulders and causing the satchel to swing back and hit the doorframe.

“Give me that.” The leather strap cut into her neck as he pulled the bag free. “I have neither the time nor inclination to court another affluent young lady, so I am choosing a second, equally lucrative option.” He threaded the satchel’s strap over his shoulder and towed her down the portico stairs at a run. “The Duke of Kelbrook is known for recognizing the value of new innovations. I have no doubt these papers will be all I need for a fresh start.” His teeth glistened in the moonlight. “And you, my dear, were my guide to locating them.”

* * *

“Dawson!” Sebastian pounded on the door to the stables and yelled for his head groom.

From inside, the wooden latch creaked, and the door opened to reveal a bleary-eyed, tousle-headed Wesley.

The boy snapped to attention when he saw who was standing without. “Beggin’ yer pardon, Yer Grace.”

Sebastian pushed past him. “Where’s Dawson?”

“H . . . he’s asleep in the loft.”

“Fetch him.”

The stablehand ran for the ladder and scampered up it at breakneck speed. Sebastian went directly to Tempest’s stall and was considering saddling the stallion himself when Dawson appeared at the top of the ladder, tucking his shirt into his breeches.

“Wesley can take care of Tempest, Your Grace,” Dawson said when he reached the lowest rung. “He can saddle a horse faster ’n anyone.”

Sebastian stepped back. Wesley was already on his way down again and would know exactly where all the tack was kept.