Page 45 of A Night of Forever
“Norton,” the man said after a moment. “Sam Norton, local farmer.” He gestured to Arend’s obviously swollen knee and disheveled state. “And you look like a man in a spot of bother.”
Arend swallowed back another laugh. “That I am. Arend, Lord Labourd, at your service—or, more accurately,needingyour service. It’s a long story. Perhaps you’ll be kind enough to help me to your home, and I’ll tell you all about it.”
Mr. Norton appeared to doubt the title. “A lord, you say? You’d not know it from looking at you. Maybe there are some fancy clothes under all that soot.”
Fancy or not, Arend never intended to wear them again. “I was kidnapped and left in the mine,” he told Norton. “I must get a message to my friends. How far out of Durham are we?”
“Durham?” Norton frowned. “You’re not near Durham. You’re in Bedworth, near Warwick.”
Not Durham? What the hell game was this? “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure I know where I live, your lordship. Now.” Norton bent down, grasped Arend by the elbow, and hauled him to his feet. “My girl will have her mama in a state by now, but if I know my Molly, she’ll have scones and cider waiting.”
Arend’s stomach moaned like a dying horse.
Norton laughed and shoved a shoulder under Arend’s arm to support his weight. “To the pump first to clean you up, your lordship, or Molly will skin us both. Then over a pint of cider I’ll hear your story.”
Norton said little during the walk to the farmhouse, but Arend didn’t care. There was only one thought thumping through his head: this mine was not near Durham.
Had Isobel knowingly lied to him?
If she had, God help her when he found her.
—
The pump water had been bracing, the scones and cider perfect, and Sam Norton eager to help him on his way. By the time Arend was able to send his message to the rest of the Libertine Scholars it was almost nightfall. So, weary and needing rest, he took a room at the local inn and waited for a reply.
The reply was not what he expected. It came in the form of a carriage complete with some of the Libertine Scholars and a chilling message from Hadley. He wanted them in Doncaster as soon as possible.
Victoria had escaped.
—
The private room at the Horsemen’s Inn should have been cheerful. All of the Libertine Scholars except Hadley were there, along with Grayson’s brother-in-law Philip, Earl of Cumberland. But with Victoria now free and able to continue her crusade, none of them felt like celebrating.
When Hadley finally walked in, Arend was shocked. He looked as if he’d aged ten years.
He was even more shocked when Hadley marched straight up and wrapped his arms around him. “I thought she’d killed you,” Hadley muttered.
Embarrassed by the display of affection, Arend slapped his shoulder. “I’m hard to kill. But I’m warning you—if you try to kiss me, I’ll tell Evangeline.”
Hadley flushed and stepped back as if he’d been shot. “Don’t be so ungrateful. Since Victoria escaped, I’ve been thinking you were dead.”
As he could have been.
“I have no idea what that bitch is up to.” Arend gestured Hadley to the only empty chair in the large half circle around the fire, while Christian poured the recent arrival a drink. “I was dumped in a mine near Warwick and left. They didn’t restrain me, so once I regained consciousness and my head had stopped trying to break out of my skull, it was relatively easy to find my way out.”
“Easy?” Hadley echoed.
“What you still haven’t explained,” Grayson said in a plaintive tone, “is how you let anyone abduct you in the first place.”
“Yes,” Maitland agreed. “He’s been very quiet about that part. Well, Arend?”
Now it was his turn to flush. “They took me by surprise while I was otherwise engaged.”
“Pleasantly engaged?”
At Grayson’s raised eyebrows, Arend felt he had to elaborate. “Very. I was in the stable with Isobel.”
