Page 86 of Love Abandoned

Chapter Forty-Three

The time approaches

That will with due decision make us know

What we shall say we have and what we owe.

—Shakespeare,Macbeth

Richard took thepath back around the house, but instead of returning to the ballroom, he veered left through the formal gardens. At the sound of rustling from the rose arbor, he stopped and listened. Giggling and a low moan of frustration assured him it was someone enjoying the pleasures a masquerade often offered and not one of Sophia’s men, nor the kidnapper.

He stepped through the gate at the far side of the gardens and continued along the path to Sophia’s summerhouse by the lake. Nestled in a copse of trees near the shoreline, it was an extensive house with a wraparound veranda. No light shone through its many windows, and the moon was behind the clouds, but Richard knew the place well enough. He and Elizabeth had picnicked here in private a few times. He smiled at the memory and made a mental note to ask Sophia if they could do so again. Maybe with the boys? Or maybe not. Anticipation trickled down his spine. He swung toward a noise in the woods, anticipation quickly replaced by trepidation. He wished this night over for many reasons, not the least being so he could return to Thornwood Manor.

Nothing further sounded, and he decided it must be an animal or bird startled by his presence. He took the stairs two at a time and opened the paneled glass double doors. He stepped inside, stopped, and listened, his breathing echoing back at him in the mask.

“Thought you’d never get here,” Walford said from the corner of the room. “Have fun with your wife?”

Richard could hear the smirk in his voice. “I did indeed,” he said and smiled to himself. He could still feel the warmth of her hand in his. But this was no time to linger on the memory. “She is safely away.”

“I assumed you would see her gone. I’ve seen no sign of anyone. Truth told, it’s been bloody boring. Although, it’s a far more comfortable assignment than watching the comings and goings at Tate’s privy.” Walford chuckled. “Here’s your satchel.”

As Richard’s eyes adjusted to the darkened interior, Walford was becoming more visible. Richard stepped forward and picked up the bag, slinging it over his shoulder. Walford had an identical one. “What’s in it?”

“Sophia’s doing. Nothing of value, I’m sure.” Walford stood and stretched. “Any idea how many men Miller has here tonight?”

“No. I’ve not heard from him at all. It’s all been funneled through Sophia. Lord knows how she became involved in this mess. I hope she knows what she’s doing.” Richard had not been able to tell who was who in the ballroom, other than Sophia, who had made no attempt to disguise her identity.

“It is an unexpected twist in this adventure of yours, but have no doubt, Sophia always knows what she’s doing.” Walford tied his mask on, grabbed his satchel, and slung it over his shoulder. “Ready?”

“As one can be, I guess.”

“Give me a few minutes to disappear into the woods, then go to the designated area.” Walford clasped Richard’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, my friend. Regardless of who is on standby to assist, we’ve got it in hand. You and me. Like we did last summer.” He walked toward the door, stopped, and turned around. “If you hear me warn him, get out of the way. The last bloody thing I want to do is rob Elizabeth of her husband. Catherine would never forgive me,” he said and chuckled again before turning and slipping out the door.

Of course Walford would bring a gun. Richard had considered it, too, but he doubted he could use it on a man. Some grouse or pheasant was one thing, but to aim at a human? It was not in him. He’d more likely find it used against himself. Nevertheless, while Richard hoped Walford would have no need to use it, there was some comfort in knowing he had one.

Richard waited until he was certain Walford was well into the woods. He headed out, walking cautiously along the path, pausing periodically to ensure no one was behind him. His nerves tingled, but they did not vibrate with warning. He rolled his shoulders and adjusted the satchel. It would be good to be done with this intrigue.

They were to meet the scoundrel outside the garden gate. Men would be in the woods and stationed around the grounds, so the culprit would be trapped on both sides. Walford was guarding the far side of the path, and if anything seemed untoward in the exchange, he would show himself and confuse the situation by pretending to be Richard. The idea was to provide an opportunity to solicit information while giving everyone involved a chance to get closer to ensure Patricia’s safety as well as nab the scoundrel. Richard had been adamant she be the priority, and Sophia had agreed.

The gate area was empty when Richard rounded the curve in the path. The clouds shifted, and a dusky light fell on the trail. He stepped into the shadows of the trees and waited. He could not see his fob but knew it could not be long until midnight. Thoughts of Elizabeth crept in. What had she come for tonight? Was she truly seeking pleasure in another man’s arms? It did not sit well, but it was his own fault if she was. He had driven her to it.

The gate squeaked, scattering all thoughts of Elizabeth. A dark shadow stepped through. Cloaked in black and carrying a scythe, he glanced in Walford’s direction, then looked toward where Richard stood. Wearing a solid black mask, the man looked like Death come to claim a soul. Richard was sure he’d not seen Death in the ballroom. He waited a few minutes, but there was no sign of Patricia, or anyone else for that matter. It must be their man, for who else would come and stand idly outside the gardens? And the man continued to scan the area, his tension evident even from where Richard stood.

Richard counted to three to calm his nerves and then stepped from the shadows. Death swung fully around to face him and pointed the scythe menacingly. Richard could have done without the added dramatic effect, never mind the potential danger of it all. “Put that damn thing down, or I’ll not come closer.”

Death hesitated, but slowly he set the scythe against the gate. Richard noted that it remained within arm’s reach. He’d need to get the man to move farther afield. Richard walked toward him but stopped at a safe distance. “Where’s the girl?”

“You’ll get the girl when I get the money.” The voice was unrecognizable under the mask, as was Richard’s, he hoped.

“That was not the plan.” In the scenarios he and Walford had worked through, they did not anticipate the villain would not bring Patricia with him.

“Plans change,” Death said calmly.

Richard’s nerves had now entered the vibrating stage. Something was off. “No girl, no money,” he said with a bravado he did not feel. What of Patricia? Could he actually walk away from this?

Death shrugged, grabbed his scythe again, and turned to the garden gate. Richard heard movement in the woods, but he did not want anyone nabbing the man until Richard knew where Patricia was. The man might not be forthcoming in the hands of the police. No victim, no proof. One thing Richard knew was the law and how easy it was to circumvent it.

“No, wait!” he shouted as much to stop whoever was in the woods as to stop Death. “Tell me what you want.”

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