Page 63 of The Meriwell Legacy
He stepped out of Percy’s door—and instantly saw the beaded reticule lying beneath a side table. Even more telling, the rucking of the runner was more extensive than he’d thought. The struggle had gone around the corner and all the way down the family wing to the rarely used west stairs.
He swore as Percy and Monty joined him. He pointed at the runner. “Edward seized Constance, and he’s taken her that way.”
He broke into a run, heading for the stairs.
He’d taken three strides when Monty called, “There they are!”
Alaric pulled up, swung around, and saw Monty staring out of a window. Alaric rushed to a closer window and looked out.
Edward was heaving and wrestling Constance along, pushing her before him onto one of the many paths that led into the surrounding woods. Seeing Edward manhandle Constance sent a surge of fury through Alaric, an emotion more intense than he’d experienced in decades.
Possibly ever.
Percy and Monty hurried up to look out of the same window.
“What the devil does he think he’s doing?” Monty demanded.
Neither Percy nor Alaric answered. Alaric’s mind was racing, thinking, considering… He glanced at Percy. “Does Edward know the woods?”
Grim faced, Percy nodded. “Not as well as you or I, but he’s been visiting since he was a child.”
Alaric looked back at the struggling figures. “She’s slowing him down.” Constance was no lightweight, and Alaric thanked God for it.
He hauled in a breath and fought to batten down his impulses. He had to think—quickly and clearly. He had to rescue Constance—yes!—but he also had to approach Edward and his captive in the right way; he couldn’t—wouldn’t—fail Constance, and rushing after the pair with no plan would risk doing precisely that.
The driving thud of his heart in his ears made it difficult to think, but… “Edward won’t risk killing her too close to the house.”
“Killing her?”Monty paled. “Good God!”
Alaric made up his mind. He swung to Percy and Monty. “Percy—I’ll need you with me. Monty—go and send a groom hell for leather to the inn to fetch Stokes and the Adairs back. Whatever happens, we’ll need them.”
Monty boggled for a second, but then nodded and dashed off. He rounded the corner, and his footsteps were swallowed by the thunder of heavy feet determinedly marching closer.
Henry Wynne swung into sight; he was followed by Walker, Fletcher, Collins, and Viscount Hammond—all the unmarried gentlemen. In the lead, Wynne said, “We left the others to watch over the ladies. What’s afoot?”
Alaric wanted to race after Constance, but there were lots of paths through the woods. It was possible he might lose Edward and Constance; he couldn’t afford not to accept any and all help.
Impatience yanked at him; ruthlessly, he held it back. “Edward Mandeville is the murderer, and he’s seized Miss Whittaker and dragged her into the woods. Obviously, we have to go after him—Percy and I know these woods like the backs of our hands, so we’ll take point. It would help if you lot could follow as quicklyandas quietly as you can. Unless we spook him, Edward won’t kill Miss Whittaker too close to the house—he’ll be thinking to ensure her body isn’t quickly found so he can get away tomorrow. Once Percy and I figure out where he’s heading—where he thinks to hide her body—we’ll need the rest of you to fan out and then close in. Stopping Edward from killing Miss Whittaker…the only way might be through persuading him there’s no longer any point to it.”
Henry Wynne grimly nodded. “Understood. You go—we’ll follow.”
Alaric didn’t wait a moment longer; he turned and raced for the stairs at the end of the wing. He plunged down, leaping down four steps at a time, Percy at his heels, just as when they’d been children.
There was nothing childish about what drove him now. Fear, urgency, and something much more powerful compelled him. He pushed through the half-open door at the bottom of the stairs and burst onto the lawn. He put his head down and raced, flat out, for the opening to the path along which Edward and Constance had gone.
* * *
The shadows of the wood closed around her, and still, Edward forced her on. She didn’t make it easy for him but fought and made him battle for every step, ignoring the obscenities he hissed in her ear.
Despite the fear that clogged her throat, she vowed she would not give up—not in any way. She wouldn’t be dead until she was; she could give up then. Right now, she had far too much to live for—to fight for.
Avenging Glynis.
Seeing her grandfather and her aunts again.
Alaric. And the possibility she’d sensed between them, the easy camaraderie, the gentle light in his eyes.
She’d never had a man look at her as he did. He saw not just the large physique but the mind and soul her body sheathed.
