“One way or another, I’m going to that lodge.” Tears burned at the corners of her eyes.Angrytears. Heartbroken tears. Tears of determination. “I will not lose him. Do you understand?”
“I do, actually.” Asquith let his hand fall. “I will come with you.”
“No!”
The single, pained word had come from the woman on the stairs. Whoever the woman was, she had fallen for Asquith as hard as Lenora had.
Asquith winced. “Millie, would you…ah…”
“Be quick,” Millie replied.
She let herself into the stall and began brushing down the horse. She listened hard, but, at first, could not understand any of the furious, whispered exchange.
Then, Asquith said, “You will—or the deal isover.”
The woman growled in response.
Millie frowned. That growl had been familiar. Lenora wouldn’t. She couldn’t! She glanced up the stairs, but the petticoat had disappeared.
Asquith returned, looking furiously harassed. “Don’t ask.”
“Oh,” she widened her eyes, “Iwillbe asking. But first, we save Neville. We’re running out of time.”
“Right,” he replied, grimly pursing his lips. “Let’s go.”
Working quickly, silently, and in tandem, they packed saddle bags with firearms and other supplies. Millie tracked each breath—slowly in, slowly out—attempting to preserve a hunter’scalm. Willard had tried to damage John. Willard had tried to take her virtue.
Willard would not take her husband.
She, Asquith and Mr. Dixon would thwart Willard’s plans. If there were truth to the rumors about other young women, she would make sure they, too, were rescued. Most importantly, she would then tell her husband she loved him.
Only after, would she hold Asquith’s feet to the fire.
She’d been sure, so sure, Asquith returned her sister’s affection and was only holding back because he was her guardian. She’d never been so disappointed to learn she was wrong.
*
Neville listened, butall he could hear in the growing gloom was the slight whistle of wind through some unseen gap somewhere along the barn wall. Mark had driven the cart directly into this putrid-scented building, lifted him from the bales and then tied him to an iron ring set into the wall.
A ring meant to tether an animal.
Surprisingly, the worst part of being bound in a dark, cold barn without any idea what horrible fate was to come was not the discomfort, nor the recrimination, nor even the fear. What made the whole thing unbearable was the endless waiting.
The mind, Neville supposed, could only tolerate a fixed amount of panic before ennui dulled the senses. Given the circumstances, Neville’s increasing boredom made him feel disconnected from reality. Death might be imminent. He cared, of course.
Then again, some part of him did not.
He’d long wearied of wondering what he would have done differently. Wearied, too, of trying to devise a way out of hissituation. The ties were secure. No one came when he called. And those people he had seen since that cursed footman chained him here had been disinclined to help. There was little hope where his flitting mind could land.
Earlier in the afternoon, a series of young women had passed through the barn. One had brought his food, another had come to clear it away, and a third had changed the bucket they’d brought for him to relieve himself.
The final young woman had even adjusted his clothing so he could tend his unmentionable needs—a humiliating experience. More disturbing still, she’d done so quite as if this was not the first time she’d taken on the task.
All attempts to engage the women in conversation had failed. Not only had they been unresponsive, but they also hadn’t even met his gaze, almost as if they neither wanted to know who he was, nor wished to reveal anything about themselves beyond what their physical presence implied.
Chilling.
Was this what Willard had in store for Millie? Willard had, after all, left London immediately after the performance. Neville had assumed he’d done so out of fear of his father’s reprisals. But what if the journey had already been planned?