The two men strode into the inn, where a large drunken crowd was spilling out of the tavern, loudly toasting a man standing on the bar. Dunford paused outside the door to get a look at the lucky man. He blinked a few times in surprise and then grabbed Alex’s hand. “Ashbourne,” he said suddenly, “isn’t that your livery?”
Alex moved back to the door to the tavern. “God Almighty,” he breathed. “It’s Ames. He’s one of my grooms. Been with us for years.”
“Well, he appears to be toasting your recent demise, so perhaps you’d better stay out of his line of vision.”
Alex’s heart plummeted into his stomach. “God help my wife if she’s concocted another one of her harebrained schemes because if she gets out of this alive, I’m going to kill her.”
Alex strode over to the reception desk and slammed his hand down on the bell, ringing it furiously until the harried innkeeper finally emerged. He gasped with shock at the sight of yet another aristocrat in his inn, this one even more impressive than the last. “Yes, milord?” he said hesitantly, wisely backing away from Alex’s furious visage.
“I believe my wife checked in here earlier this afternoon. I need to see her immediately.”
The innkeeper gulped with an emotion that started with confusion and ended with sheer terror. “We did have one fine lady check in today, milord, but her husband has already arrived, so she can’t be—”
Quick as lightning, Alex’s hand shot over the counter and grabbed the innkeeper by the collar. “What did she look like?” he demanded.
The innkeeper started to perspire copiously. “Milord,” he gasped, looking wildly over to Dunford for help. Dunford shrugged his shoulders and started to examine his fingernails.
Alex pulled him up so that his feet left the ground and the edge of the counter pressed painfully into his abdomen. “What did she look like?” he repeated in dangerous tones.
“Red hair,” the innkeeper choked. “Her hair was bright red.”
Alex let go of him suddenly. “You have described my wife.”
“Room number three,” the innkeeper said as fast as he possibly could. “I haven’t seen her since she checked in.”
“And the other man?” Alex asked coldly.
“He went up about a half an hour ago.”
Dunford stepped forward. “Could you please describe the gentleman?”
“He was about your height, but a little thinner. Sandy brown hair and light blue eyes. Really light. Barely had any color to them.”
“It’s Woodside,” Dunford said sharply. “We’d better get up there quickly.”
The two men vaulted up the stairs, nearly tripping over Shipton at the top.
“Yer grace!” he cried out in relief. “Thank the Lord you’re here.”
“Where is the duchess?” Alex said quickly.
“She’s in her room with her cousin. They sent me down for some food, but when I got back the door was bolted shut, and her cousin yelled out for me just to leave it outside the door. I think something happened to them.”
Dunford pulled off his shoes so he could slide noiselessly across the floor. “I’m going to listen at the door, Ashbourne. Why don’t you see what else you can find out from your groom?”
While Alex grilled Shipton about Emma, Dunford slipped down the hall and quietly pressed his ear up against the door.
He heard Woodside’s muffled voice. “It’s almost sundown. Almost time for our wedding. I’ll take care of you later.”
“Can’t she come with us?” Belle pleaded. “I wouldn’t want to get married without any of my family present.”
“Forget it. That ill-bred chit has caused me enough trouble tonight as it is. In a few minutes we’ll leave.”
“Then we can come back for Emma?”
There was a pregnant pause. “Actually, I think we will not. Someone will find her like this eventually, and won’t that be a merry tale for the gossip-mongers? Perhaps we should add a blindfold to her current attire. Or perhaps she shouldn’t be attired at all.”
Dunford slipped back down the hall. He’d heard enough.
“What’s going on?” Alex demanded.
“It sounds like Woodside’s going to force Belle to marry him. He’s planning to take her over to the church as soon as the sun goes down, which ought to be in a couple of minutes.”
“And Emma?”
Dunford paused. “Actually, she didn’t say anything. I think Woodside’s got her tied up. He said she’d already caused him enough trouble.”
A muscle started working spasmodically in Alex’s neck as he fought to restrain himself from thundering into the room. The thought of Emma tied up and at that bastard’s mercy sent rage of such ferocity through him that he was barely able to speak. When he regained control of himself, he spoke very slowly. “I am not going to kill him,” he said, his voice very, very cold. “Because he is not worth the legal trouble that will follow. But I am going to cause him so much pain that he will wish I had.”
Dunford quirked a brow and let Alex’s comment pass. A man had the right to be furious when his wife was tied up. Still, he thought it best to try to defuse the rage that was visibly emanating from his friend. “Just be thankful that she is tied up. At least she won’t be able to run into the fracas and get herself hurt. Still, we’re going to have to be careful, Ashbourne. I assume he’s got a gun. And it’s going to be pointed at Belle.”