Page 55 of Sinfully Mine
“And Mr. Godwick—”
“What about Godwick?” Drew felt the fear sink deep into his bones at the mention of the solicitor.
Mrs. Ebersole paused, wringing her hands. “Well, Mr. Godwick stopped in yesterday, looking for Mrs. Black. He was…twitchy.”
“Twitchy?”
“Like a dog that has fleas. Jerking about. Acting odd. He asked to see Mrs. Black. When I informed him she’d gone to Lincoln, he didn’t act surprised that Mrs. Black was gone.”
Drew would bet his purse that Hester wasn’t in Lincoln. Or Horncastle. Godwick had somehow coaxed her to write that note, because Drew knew Hester would never willingly leave Blackbird Heath. The entire trip to Lincolnshire, he’d examined over and over what he knew of the solicitor, starting with the obvious delay in informing Drew of Blackbird Heath. His acquaintance with Godwick was brief, but Drew could sense awrongnessabout him.
“Mr. Godwick offered to go to Lincoln and check on Mrs. Black for me,” the housekeeper continued. “Said maybe she’d run off with an amorous suitor and would return a married woman. Then he winked at me.” Mrs. Ebersole looked up at Drew, worry shining in her homely features. “But you’re her,” she cleared her throat and waved about a hand. “Suitor.”
Godwick wanted to be that suitor. The solicitor had much to gain from Drew’s leaving Lincolnshire. No wonder he’d been so bloody happy. The attempts on Drew’s life had never been about Blackbird Heath.
“He’s taken her,” he said with certainty to Mrs. Ebersole, knowing he was right. “Godwick.”
“But—” A palm flew up to cover her lips. “Why would Mr. Godwick lie to me? Why would he take her?”
“To make sure you or anyone else wouldn’t go looking for Mrs. Black.” He placed a hand on the housekeeper’s shoulder. “I believe Godwick to be unstable. Mad, even. And the mad do things for no reason at all.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Hester lay onher back, careful to keep her breathing deep and even so that Martin wouldn’t suspect she was awake. He’d long since divested her of her clothes, stating the dress and apron smelled of animals and dirt. She still had her chemise, though it was little protection. At least Martin had the decency to cover her with a blanket.
Two days. That was how long it had been since Martin forced her on to his horse at Blackbird Heath. No one had seen them leave given he’d conveniently coordinated events so that Mrs. Ebersole and Mary were gone from the house. Hester had made the mistake of struggling, trying to fling herself off the saddle as they started down the road away from Blackbird Heath. Martin’s fingers had closed around her throat until she had gasped for breath. The world had gone dark, and when Hester awoke, it was to find herself half-naked and tied to this bed. She was in a small cottage of some sort, one layered in dust from disuse. A rickety table and two chairs stood in one corner along with a collection of fishing poles.
And she’d been completely alone.
Hester had screamed, praying someone would hear her as the light outside the dirty windows began to dim. But no one came. Not even Martin.
Hester spent a sleepless night struggling against her bindings, cursing Martin, and wishing for all the world that Drew would suddenly appear. Impossible, of course. Andrew Sinclair had left believing that the woman who he’d shared a bed with was capable of murdering him over a bloody farm. Hester and her stubborn pride had done little to dissuade him.
When she awoke yesterday morning, it had been to stare at the ceiling above her, trying to decide if the water stain resembled a rabbit or a dog because it kept her from screaming again. Or weeping. Hester thought of Drew with the terrible knowledge that she would never see him again. He would never know it had been Martin, or that Hester loved him.
When Martin finally appeared, Hester was relieved if only because she’d been worried he meant to leave her to starve. He fed her some cheese and a bit of bread, informing her that she was in the fishing cabin once owned by Mason Godwick, his father.
Hester must have regarded him with some hope because Martin then went on to assure her that no one remembered Mason had enjoyed fishing or kept a small, well-hidden sanctuary in the woods. Best of all, no one was looking for her. Everyone at Blackbird Heath believed Hester was in Lincoln. He’d visited Mrs. Ebersole and assured herhewould go to Lincoln and fetch Hester home.
That was part of Martin’s grand scheme. Telling everyone that he’d gone to Lincoln to retrieve Hester where they would miraculously fall in love and return to Horncastle, married. It was a stupid plan but would likely work given no one but Mrs. Ebersole and Dobbins gave a fig for Hester. She didn’t have any friends or family. Or anyone who might care at all.
Her heart squeezed inside her chest thinking of Drew. Would it matter to him if he ever returned to Lincolnshire and found her wed to this madman? Or was he already back out in society having forgotten all about Hester?
Martin had stayed a while longer, annoyed at Hester’s efforts to ignore him and finally stormed off, leaving her alone for another night.
She didn’t even bother to scream for help. No one would hear her.
“I know you aren’t asleep, Hester,” Martin drawled, stepping closer to loom over her. “You can’t fool me.”
Hester’s eyes popped open, to glare at her captor. Freshly shaved. Clean clothes. Maniacal gleam in his pale blue eyes. Nothing had changed. She wanted to turn her head and ignore him, but her bladder felt as if it might burst.
“I must see to my needs, Martin.” She jerked at the rope binding her wrists to the bed. “Privately.”
The bed dipped with his weight as he sat beside her. His fingers stroked along her cheek and jaw. “Not alone, my darling Hester. I can’t trust you not to run off.”
She pulled from his touch. “Won’t the good people of Horncastle find it strange that you must keep your bride tied up?”
Martin’s left eye twitched.
