Page 25 of The Highwayman's Bite

Chapter Nine

This was the worstnight of Aldric’s life. The Gathering had dragged on until midnight because one of his vampires had argued Aldric’s decision to accept a petition allowing a new vampire into Blackpool simply because he thought there were too many females. The current female vampires of Blackpool loudly voiced their opinion on that sentiment until Aldric ordered the meeting adjourned.

He’d rushed to Galveston Hall, his apologies and excuses memorized as he anticipated Vivian’s hurt at his tardiness. He’d hoped the dancing was still going on, so he could at least fulfill that promise.

But when he’d arrived, the hostess, Lady Galveston had blinked at him with owlish eyes and informed him that Miss Stratford had not attended the ball at all.

Before Lady Galveston could begin poking into the situation, doubtless to feed the village’s dearth of gossip, Aldric bade her farewell and returned to his home, wondering what had possessed his niece to order the carriage turned around and return home. It smacked of disobedience, even though he hadn’t precisely commanded her to attend.

Aldric was angered at her defection as well as the ill manners to not make an appearance after the invitation had been accepted. Yet he also wondered if perhaps he should have had a talk with her and gotten to the bottom of her obvious lack of enthusiasm for the event. What if someone had gossiped about her scandal in London and she’d been afraid of being shunned? Or what if there had been a deeper reason?

Self-recrimination weighted his shoulders as he’d plodded up the drive to his manor. Perhaps he should not have been in such a hurry to find a husband for Vivian. She’d only been here for less than a fortnight. Yes, his secret had to be secured at all costs, but the poor girl was surely distraught over being uprooted from her life in London to live with a relation who had been all but a stranger to her. And he had agreed to shelter her. Only then did Aldric realize that should mean more than his roof.

With scoldings and apologies swirling through his head, Aldric strode into the house, only to discover that Vivian and Madame Renarde had not returned home.

That was when real fear crawled over his flesh. A fear that penetrated him with stinging tendrils and curled around his heart when he retraced her route and found the empty carriage. The horses were gone, the driver as well, and there was no sight of his niece or her companion.

For a moment Aldric wondered if his own footman had done something sinister, but he immediately dismissed the notion. Jeffries was the sort to smuggle wounded birds into his quarters to heal them and he was always kind and courteous to every female he encountered.

“Not Jeffries,” Aldric whispered as he inspected the carriage. “Yet something sinister is indeed afoot.”

To his everlasting relief, there was no scent of blood. Hopefully that meant the women and his servant were unharmed.

Then he saw a folded piece of parchment resting on the velvet seat cushion. Aldric opened it easily, for it wasn’t even sealed with a blob of wax, much less a crest.

With a deepening frown, he read the missive.

Lord Thornton,

I apologize for the loss of your horses and the inconvenience I cause, but sadly, it is necessary.

I have taken Miss Stratford and Madame Renarde under my hospitality. The former is a tempting morsel, but the latter is with me to testify that I behaved as a gentleman so long as my instructions are followed.

If you want to see your niece alive again, bring two hundred pounds in coin to the Saint Nicholas parish cemetery in Wrea Green, and place it atop the granite stone with the name of ‘Gerald Burlingame’ tomorrow one hour before midnight.

I will then send you a letter giving you a time and location to collect Miss Stratford and Madame Renarde.

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