Page 112 of The Mistletoe Countess
Hunting rifle? If they all survived this, Grace could ride astride whenever she chose, and he might very well teach her how to use pistols himself.
“I had hoped that instead of you, she’d be the first from the house— to reduce the middleman.” She chuckled. “We’ll just have to turn the plan around. She’ll give us what we want as long as we have you, and you’ll give me what I want as long as I have her. It’s all fairly simple.”
Her words shot a shaft of fear through him. He hated to imagine what Celia and her thugs might do to Grace.
He shifted his attention back to Parks and lowered his voice. “Do you really want a crime on your head, old bean?” Of course he already had a few at this point. “Is all this worth it to you?”
“I’d stop speaking unless spoken too, Lord Astley. Or dear Randolph will have to silence you.”
The driver turned enough to show a hint of a smile on his profile. Frederick’s stomach curled with a wave of nausea. How could he have been dimwitted enough to fall for Celia’s manipulation? When held against the forthrightness of his bride, Celia’s falseness and shallow affections were revealed as the grotesque distortions they were. There was no comparison.
And he wasn’t a fool anymore.
Grace’s words rushed back to him.“Remember whose you are.”
Havensbrooke held his heart and his history. A piece of him inextricably linked to the stories and soil of this earth, but he belonged to an even greater legacy. One bound to an eternal story—etched out of sacrifice and love, not stone and dirt. Facing life as Earl of Astley gave him a temporary home, but living life as a child of God gave him an identity.
A truth written on his soul.
“Pull behind the ruins, and we’ll sort out the next step of our new plan.” Celia’s words jerked Frederick’s gaze ahead.
The walls of the ruins took a golden hue in the glow of morning. How much time did he have? He needed to stall them. Give the police more time to arrive.
“People know I’m missing, Celia. They’ll be looking.”
“Not here. Who would even care for our little rendezvous spot?”
Perhaps her arrogance would be her downfall. Frederick could only hope. Someone had to have seen where the car turned and made a guess as to the possible location.Lord, please. Bring help. And protect Grace.
As Parks took hold of him to pull him from the car, Frederick rushed the man, knocking him to the ground. Without pausing, Frederick stumbled into a run and darted toward the forest trail.
His bonds hampered his escape, but he tried nonetheless, dodging one attempt by Randolph to apprehend him. Turner tackled him at the forest’s edge, both falling into the moist earth. Using tactics learned through his military stint, Frederick tripped Turner to the ground and then wrapped his legs around the man’s neck, squeezing with enough force to render his assailant unconscious. Just as the man’s struggling began to weaken, a shadow fell over Frederick and a crash shook his skull. Everything froze. Pain ricocheted inside his head, loosening his balance, his vision blurred, and the world crumbled to darkness.
“Someone’s taken Lord Astley?” Grace took Mary by the shoulders. “What are you talking about?”
“I heard a commotion at the front, your ladyship.” The young maid shook her head. “And when I got there, Brandon was laid out on the floor.”
“Brandon?” Grace rushed down the corridor toward the Great Hall.
“I saw two men shoving Lord Astley into the back of a car.”
Grace’s feet came to a stop, and she stared at Mary for the longest time. Was Grace dreaming? This sounded too much like something she’d actually concoct to be real. After all,shewas the one with the scissors. “Two men kidnapped Lord Astley?” She forced her feet into motion again, meeting the stairs.Kidnapdidn’t seem right, because her strong and capable husband was anything but a kid.Man-napperhaps, but that word didn’t seem to fit either.
When Grace reached the bottom of the stairs, the truth crashed into her fictional world with painful reality. Elliott, Peter, and Mrs. Powell struggled to pull Brandon’s still body into one of the chairs in the Great Hall, while several of the housemaids stood watch.
“Oh my! Frederick really has been man-napped.” She rushed to the bottom of the stairs and joined the servants, an unexpected burn of tears threatening release. It was one thing to turn the page at such a moment and quite another to wonder if she’d ever see her husband again. “How did this happen?”
“I was just coming from the kitchens, and I heard Brandon cry out.” Elliott adjusted the unconscious man into the chair. “When I reached the front hall, Brandon was on the floor, so I rushed to the door.”
“That’s where I was,” Mary added. “Two men, one who was placing a sack over the master’s head, were dragging him to a car.”
“What?” Grace gasped. “A sack over his head?”
“I can’t be sure,” Elliott continued, as Mrs. Powell reached around him to place a cool cloth on Brandon’s forehead. “But one of the men looked like Mr. Parks.”
Oh, the fiend!Grace stepped close to Elliott, taking his hands in hers and shaking them. “Did they bind him with ropes? Gag him? Was there any sort of injection into his skin?”
Elliott stared down at her, mouth opening and closing like a fish.
