One True Love (32 page)

Why would a family member travel on the road out of London if Mary were in London hurt? At that moment, the rain came down hard enough to give him a thorough second soaking which interfered with his visibility. He cursed the skies as he waited for the coach to come to a stop. William jumped off of his horse, ran to the coach, and yanked the door open.

Stephen sat inside, "William! What the hell are you doing?"

"Mary?"

"What about Mary? Why are you riding out in the rain? Or did you get caught? I was on my way to see you. Mother was quite concerned when you and Cassie left Town with hardly a word or reason."

"Stop blathering, damn it! Is Mary alright?"

"Of course she is alright. Why would not she be?"

The hairs on the back of William's neck prickled. "She is not hurt?"

"What the bloody hell are you talking about? I just came from Camberley House not an hour ago. She was taking tea with Mother."

"I received a note from the new footman. It came unsigned. The missive said Mary was hurt." William's heart raced.

Stephen sat up straighter as alarm registered on his face. "New footman? There is not a new footman. As you know, Father handed the responsibility of hiring new staff over to me. And Mary is not hurt. Who would send you such a note and why?"

"If only I knew the answer to that question."

"Tie your horse to the back. We will go on to Rosehill Manor. I would like to see the missive and this supposed footman."

"I doubt our
new footman
will still be there." William clenched his fists at his sides. Why would someone want to lure him to London?
Cassie.
A sense of dread clutched his heart.

"Ever since Winnington made a threat against you, I arranged to keep an eye on him. He booked a cabin for two passengers to America. The ship leaves tomorrow morning. Considering he just came into his title recently, I thought it odd for him to leave the country now," said Stephen.

Winnington.
William wondered if he sent the false missive. But, why? Panic reached up and grabbed him around the throat. Thunder rumbled and the rain came down harder. This damnable rain would slow them down. He could move faster if he rode Mirabelle.

"What are you thinking?" he asked.

"Winnington blabbers when he is drunk, and apparently he was deep in his cups again two nights ago. No one took him seriously, considering his state of mind and all, but now I am wondering if he was not boasting after all. He carried on that he would steal your bride away because she was betrothed to him first. Perhaps he did have a plan in place."

"I will kill the bastard."

***

Cassie noticed they were on the road to London. The lull in the rain did not last long, and the skies soon opened up. Her teeth chattered from the cold drenching as Winnington chattered nonstop. She considered jumping out of the moving vehicle, but thought better of it. He could stop and overtake her, and really, she did not want to risk breaking her neck or hurting the baby.

Placing a hand on her stomach in a protective gesture, she searched for a way out of this ridiculous situation. She gripped the seat in response to Lord Winnington's reckless driving, and hoped fate did not deal a cruel hand and throw her out of the phaeton. They moved at a dangerous clip, considering the hard rain and sticky mud.

"Could you slow down please?" she asked.

Winnington ignored her and kept going at an alarming speed. At least he put his pistol away. If she escaped him in London and made her way to Camberley House she would be safe. She did not have any money on her, and would be unable to hire a hackney, but she was strong and could walk. She prayed an opportunity presented itself.

"Once we are in America, we will change our names to Mr. and Mrs. Parker. I hear Boston is a modern community. We will buy a house and settle in. It shall be a grand adventure." Winnington talked in this vain the entire time. Cassie believed his mind slipped and wondered how she could get him back to reality.

"What about your mother and sisters?" she asked.

"Do not worry. I set them up for life. They are fine."

Perhaps she could appeal to his sense of responsibility and honor. "And what of your title, and your responsibilities to your estates?" She pressed her nails into the palms of her hand to keep from reaching over and throttling the man. He might become angry and shoot her right here on the London road. Cassie bit her lip until she tasted blood.

"Lord Winnington, I am cold and wet. Could not we find shelter until the storm passes?"

"Call me Miles."

"What?"

"Call me by my given name, Cassandra.
Miles
. I want to hear it on your lips." He turned and smiled at her as if they did not have a care in the world.

She suppressed the temptation to argue or refuse. Battling with him might tempt him to do something drastic. How far would he go if she pushed him? The edge of a cliff came to mind. It was better to try and appease her kidnapper. He might give her the moment she needed to escape. "Miles," she whispered.

"Much better. I am sorry for your discomfort. Once we are in London, you can have a hot bath and change of clothes. I took the liberty of purchasing a traveling wardrobe for you."

The very idea unnerved her as she wondered how long Lord Winnington had planned this farce. How long would it take William to discover the missive was fake? Would he return home right away? She retraced the events of the day in her mind. William left for London first thing this morning. He should have arrived and discovered the truth at this point. He may be headed down the London road in her direction.

Hope swelled before bursting into bits. If they crossed paths with William, Lord Winnington might shoot him, or her, or both of them.
Oh dear God.
She closed her eyes and prayed for Lord Winnington to come to his senses.
Please let William stay in London.
She prayed for a way out of this tangle that she may return home in to the arms of her husband.

The strong desire to have William's arms around her shook her to tears. She forced down the great gulps of air that threatened to rise into sobs. Salted tears ran down her face in the disguise of raindrops. Her love for William and their child dominated her mind for the next half hour. Winnington kept quiet, leaving her in solitude with her turbulent thoughts, which matched the horrendous storm.

Why did everything have to turn so very wrong when William finally came to her? At last, she had hope they might make something of their marriage, something beyond convenience. Now, she wondered if she would ever see her husband again. Would she be able to escape her captor? Or would she be forced to go to America and live with Winnington as his wife? Bile rose up her throat, and she covered her mouth with her hand then swallowed it back down.
No, no, no.
She would not go to America with Winnington, but instead, she would find a way to escape him.

Cassie shivered from the cold rain. If Winnington did not shoot her, she may very well collapse from lung fever. Regret ate away at her. She loved William, yet, she never told him, and he believed she loved Winnington. What if he thought she left with him because she wanted to go, not because he forced her with the gun? Hopefully, Margie would figure out her predicament and report the truth of the situation to William. If he thought the worst of her though... well, it did not bear thinking.

Surely, after last night William would know in his heart he could trust her. She may not have told him she loved him, but she was certain she showed him.

***

Stephen placed his hand on William's shoulder. "Stay calm. Panic will only serve to keep you from reasonable thought. If Winnington goes to Cassie, do you think she would willingly go with him?"

William's mind churned with memories as his marriage flashed before his eyes, both the good and the bad, but mostly, he envisioned last night. She swore to him she did not want Winnington, and he believed her. "No, she would not."

William believed her and trusted Cassie. He knew in his heart she had not lied. The weight of the burden of his trust in her, lifted from his mind, and changed to a deep, compounded fear. What if Winnington took her against her will?

He rubbed his throbbing temples. "We cannot rely on assumptions. We do not know for sure Winnington is responsible for the false missive. But, if not, then who and why?"

"My instincts tell me Winnington is behind the fake message. I am afraid the man is possessed with his former betrothed.
Your
wife."

William's imaginings took a sinister turn. He remembered the night of the ball when he found Winnington's hands on his wife. Cassie's fear streaked face came to him. At the time, he assumed she was fearful of being caught in a tryst with her lover, but, now, he understood her fear came from something else. His innocent wife was attacked and he accused her of a sinful wrongdoings. He was no better than Winnington, and most certainly a fool. William banged on the coach rooftop and demanded the coachman speed up.

"Stay calm. Cassie is most likely at Rosehill Manor sitting cozily by the fire."

"I love her."
He had not meant to say it out loud, but there it was. The words had sat on the edge of his consciousness for some time now. He tried to hide from them, tried to close them out of his mind, to keep them from invading his heart, but they were there all along.
He loved her.
From the first moment he laid eyes on her, he believed her his angel.

He closed his eyes against the pain. He saw her with her golden curls down to her waist, naked in all of her glory, smiling a brilliant ray of sunshine. The fresh scent of lemons wafted through the carriage. No wonder Winnington was obsessed! He might act just as rash if their positions were reversed. No longer able deny his feelings, he confessed he loved his wife.

Regret swelled inside, and left him empty and numb. Last night, he made love to her, and attempted to show her he loved her, but he never said the words. With four sisters, he understood the importance of words to women. He should have said the words. Three simple words, but no, he held back, afraid of being hurt, or rejected by his wife.

William slammed his fist into his thigh. That ridiculous curse affected him more than he would admit. After a series of rejection, he began to question his judgment. The curse scratched at him, wormed its way into his heart and soul, and gave him an excuse for his actions. When he married, the curse ended.
Cassie
did not reject him. She did marry him after all, and, then, out of his own ridiculous fears, he rejected her. He turned his back on his wife. He opened the door for another man to slip in, and this allowed Winnington to continue his obsession.

Now, the damn blackguard might have her in his clutches, and only heaven knows what he would with her. He could not bear to think about it. Impatience shook him, and he clenched his jaw against it. The rain beat against the roof of the coach, and the scent of humid, earth-washed air permeated deep into his lungs. He attempted to calm himself, as the coach came to a shuddering stop.

***

The wind whipped the stinging rain into Cassie's face. Lightning lit up the darkened sky, and thundered rumbled overhead. "Misery" was the only word she could think of to describe the wretched experience. How much more could she take of the elements or the insanity?

She took hold of Lord Winnington's arm. "Miles, we must find shelter. It is too dangerous to travel."

He cursed under his breath, "There is an inn a little further up. I suppose we can stop there, but I warn you, you will not say or do anything to bring suspicion on our heads."

"No, of course not. I just want to get out of the rain and warm up. We are both soaked through." She tried to look ahead, to see how far to the inn, but the rain came down in thunderous sheets.

The rain and mud forced Winnington to slow down. She prayed the inn was not too far away. Despite his warnings, Cassie planned to stay alert for an opportunity to escape his clutches.

Lightning crackled in the sky, and charged the air, as it prickled Cassie's cold-numb skin. The horses startled forward so quick that Winnington lost control and fumbled the reins. She held onto the sides of the seat as the horses galloped at a dangerous speed, which caused the phaeton to perilously balance on one side or the other. The wild ride tumbled and tossed her back and forth like a child running with a pull-toy.