Page 81 of My Hellion, My Heart
He bit his lip in concentration. “Brown, my lady, with green markings.”
Something glinted in the sunlight near one of the wheel ruts, and Irina knelt to retrieve it. One of Henry’s cufflinks. She recognized the etched family crest on its sterling-silver face. Clutching it in her palm, Irina felt sick. She tried to keep her mounting nausea at bay, but doubled over, a sob choking her throat. Henry had beentaken. To a shipping port somewhere. Where a ship was turned over.
Suddenly, Irina stopped breathing.
“Joseph,” she asked urgently, looking up over her shoulder. “Could the lady have meant a ship inDover?”
“Mayhap,” he said, though his eyes remained doubtful.
It wasn’t much, Irina knew, but it was all she had. She wouldn’t wait to let Bow Street determine whether she was right or not, and Stevens would make sure that Lord Bradburne had also been alerted. There was not a moment to waste as she calculated the time and distance in her head. They would have had a head start of thirty minutes in a carriage for the six-hour ride, if they were indeed heading to the Dover coast. The pace of a horse would triple that of a coach. With a fast mount, she could catch up to them quickly. But not alone. She needed help.
Rising, she hurried back to the carriage. “To Lord Remi’s lodgings at the Clarendon Hotel,” she said to Beckett. “And hurry.”
To his credit, Beckett did not drive as sedately as he usually did, and they made it to the Clarendon in short order. Irina prayed that Max wasn’t still abed, and drummed her fingers nervously on the seat as Becket disappeared inside. Within a few minutes, Max’s blond head appeared. He did not seem to have been woken mid-sleep, but was fully dressed. Despite her surprise to see him awake before noon, Irina breathed her relief, gesturing to him from the coach window. They would lose less time.
“What’s the matter?” he asked, his brow pinching. “I couldn’t understand a word your coachman was saying. Something about an abduction? Are you hurt?”
“Get in,” she said.
“What has happened?”
“Those horses you purchased, the Arabians,” she said urgently as he climbed in and sat next to a wide-eyed Jane. “Are they here in London?”
He frowned. “At the Gower mews, yes.”
She nodded feverishly and instructed Beckett to drive there. “Good, good. I need your help. Something terrible has happened. Lord Langlevit has been taken by some highwaymen. I think they’re headed for Dover. The stableboy overheard something about a ship.”
Max reached out, his hands grasping her clammy, nervous ones. “Calm down, love. Start from the beginning and tell me what happened. I will help you, but you must try to relax.”
Drawing a breath, Irina nodded and attempted to speak clearly and slowly. “The earl received a note that his mother was ill, so he left for Hartstone, whereupon he was attacked by highwaymen. Joseph, the stableboy, saw them overcome him. However, I received a letter from Lady Langlevit only this morning that she was in better health and about to take a trip to the coast.”
“You think the two are connected?” Max asked. “The note he received and the abduction?”
“I don’t know,” Irina replied, her anxiety cresting. “But how could they not be? I fear the worst.” Her voice dropped, her glance sliding to Jane who held her head in her hands. “That he has been taken by old enemies,” she whispered. “Dover is the closest port to France, where he was held captive for so many months. He’s in danger; I can feel it.”
Max squeezed her hands, his face determined. “We’ll find him, love, do not worry.”
“Thank you,” she said, breathing deeply for the first time in the last hour.
Max rapped on the carriage roof and helped Irina down from the coach. “Take Jane and the boy back,” he said to Beckett. “I’ll see to the lady.”
Max eyed Irina as they headed toward the mews where he instructed the stable master to ready his horses at once, handing over a few discreet coins to hasten the process. As requested, the horses were ready within a few minutes.
“Are you certain this is what you want to do?” Max whispered. “It could be a foolhardy chase.”
“Yes,” she said in impatience, stepping on the footstool and pulling herself astride. “And I am well aware of that. You needn’t go with me.”
“And leave you to chase down a carriage on its way to Dover all by yourself? I think not.” He pulled himself atop his stallion. “Though you’ll likely be recognized leaving London,” he said. “With me.”
“Do I look like I give a bloody damn about my reputation?”
He grew quiet. “No.”
Managing their pace while they rode through London made her worry spike, but once they rode past the narrower streets and got onto the Dover Road heading southeast, Irina shifted her weight and settled into the saddle, her thighs gripping the powerful beast’s sides. For once she was grateful for Max’s impulsive purchases. Arabians were built for speed and distance, though she didn’t intend to run the horse into the ground. Her half-cocked plan was to intercept the carriage.
Kicking her heels, she did not have to signal to Max to follow when she sped forward. His pace matched hers as huge clumps of dirt spewed upward in their wake. Irina did not want to talk, even though their brutal pace would not have allowed it anyhow. She was driven by one need: to catch up to the brown carriage with the green markings as soon as possible. They rode hard for the first thirty minutes, stopping only briefly to water their horses before resuming their course.
“Irina,” Max began, handing her a cup of water he’d gotten from the nearby inn as their horses grazed in an empty pasture. “You know I will do whatever makes you happy, but the chances of us finding Langlevit are—”
