Page 34 of Redemption for the Baron

“We need to ensure nothing is disturbed until we’ve had time to assess,” Barrington said smoothly.

“Did you see anyone else?” Barrington asked, his voice low and edged with authority.

“No,” Davenport replied, shaking his head. “The path was clear, though the red ribbons were…odd. I pulled one off a tree.” He held it up. “Look at it. They were tied in a crude knot, the fabric frayed. These weren’t placed by my men.”

“What about Marjory?” Bridget asked, her voice breaking slightly. “She was riding with him. Have you seen her?”

Davenport shook his head, looking genuinely distressed. “No, my lady. We haven’t seen a trace of her.” He looked at Grenville with a pained expression. “The ribbons…”

“We’ll address that later. We need to spread out and search. Lady Alastair can’t have gone far,” Barrington insisted.

“Do you think she might…be hurt?” Davenport asked, confusion etched in his tone. “Or worse?”

“We won’t know until we find her,” Barrington said sharply.

Barrington issued orders. Grenville nodded, accepting the silent responsibility passed to him. Find the girl. Bring her back.

He turned away, meant to go alone. That would have been simpler. Cleaner. But something about Bridget, her refusal to flinch, the steadiness in her voice when others stammered, cut through the old instincts. She wasn’t acting out of panic. She was choosing courage.

And damn him, but he recognized it.

He turned back to her. “Come with me. We’ll lead the horses.”

Barrington’s gaze flicked to Davenport. “Mrs. Bainbridge went back to the manor to alert them that someone was hurt. Get word to Mr. Simmons to have someone come here and stand watch over Alastair’s body. I’ll remain here and make sure no one disturbs the scene.”

Davenport, still shaken, turned and mounted his horse.

Barrington’s gaze flicked to Bridget, assessing. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” she said. “Only…shaken. I’ll be alright with the captain.”

Barrington nodded, and Grenville and Bridget headed for their horses. “I thought you would leave me with Alastair.” It wasn’t a statement or an acknowledgment. It was said with gratitude.

“Not taking action, even if it comes to nothing, would have eaten you alive,” Grenville said softly. “She is your friend, and friends don’t abandon each other, especially in the face of danger.”

She reached out and gently touched his arm.

Startled, he glanced at her hand and then at her face.

“Thank you, Captain.” She withdrew her hand. “For understanding.”

He said nothing. He helped her into her saddle and mounted his horse. He leaned in toward her. His voice was quiet but firm. “Marjory needs you. And whether you admit it or not, you need to be here, too.”

They moved through the trees with purpose, the damp earth muffling their approach as the tension deepened with each stride.

“She must be somewhere nearby,” Bridget insisted, her voice taut with urgency. “Marjory would never leave Alastair, not willingly.”

Grenville cast her a sidelong glance. “Let’s hope you’re right. We need to be prepared if she’s hurt…or worse.”

He watched as Bridget moved ahead, each step deliberate, her breath tight in her throat. The oppressive silence stretched between them until she froze. He followed where she was staring and saw a glimpse of fabric through the tangled ferns.

“Captain!” she gasped, pointing toward the base of a tree.

“Captain! Over there!” she called again.

He hurried toward the crumpled figure lying near the tree’s base, partially hidden by a tangle of ferns.

“Marjory?” he said urgently.

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