A Rogue to Ruin (The Pretenders #3) - Darcy Burke Page 0,103

people’s interest, some of whom approached him to brazenly ask about his claim to the earldom. Most, however, looked at him from a distance and spoke amongst themselves. And Rafe didn’t give one whit.

A footman came by with a tray of champagne. Rafe took a glass and nearly downed the entire contents in one drink.

He caught sight of Harry, Selina, Beatrix, Thomas, and North stalking toward him and clenched the glass so tightly in his hand that it broke, cutting his thumb. He shook his hand out, dislodging the bits of glass from his flesh.

To a one, their expressions were grim. An icy fear that Rafe had only experienced once before in his life slowed the blood in his veins. “What?”

It was Harry who spoke. “Anne’s gone. We followed her into the house, but we were waylaid by Deborah. She made quite a scene, and by the time we extricated ourselves, we couldn’t find Anne or Mallory.”

Rafe ran his shaking hand through his hair. “Let’s split up and look for her.”

Harry nodded. “We were thinking the same.”

“We’ll recruit Anthony and Jane too,” Thomas said, “And Ripley. I’m sure he’d want to help, and he can rally his servants to the cause. I’ll take care of it.” He took himself off.

North started to turn. “I’ll go to the stables.”

“He wouldn’t take her into the maze, so I don’t think we need to look there,” Harry said.

Rafe felt an overpowering sense of helplessness. He couldn’t breathe. “Do you think he took her from the estate?”

“It’s possible. I’ll hunt down his coach.” Harry gave Rafe an anguished stare. “I’m sorry.”

“We’ll stay with Rafe,” Selina said, quickly squeezing her husband’s hand before he left.

Rafe started around the maze toward the house. “We need to look. Did they search the entire house?”

“I think just the downstairs. They wanted to let us—and you—know what happened before too much time had passed.”

How much time? How long had Anne been gone? He stopped suddenly.

“What is it?” Beatrix asked from his left. Selina stood to his right.

“Are we even sure Mallory took her? He wouldn’t hurt her, I don’t think.” Hell, could he really be certain of that? The man had murdered his own flesh and blood. Rafe felt sick.

As Rafe struggled to draw a breath and calm his racing pulse as well as his careening insides, a footman in sharp blue livery walked straight toward him. Good, Ripley had already engaged the retainers. Perhaps they’d found her!

“Mr. Mallory?” the footman asked.

“Yes?”

“I’ve a message for you from Miss Pemberton. You’re to meet her at the folly.”

Rafe’s heart beat even faster. “Where is that?”

The footman pointed away from the house down a hill. “It’s not terribly large, but you can’t miss it. Would you like me to take you?”

“No. I need you to find Lord Northwood and Mr. Sheffield or Lord Rockbourne and tell them we’ve gone to the folly to find Miss Pemberton.”

The footman nodded once. “Yes, sir.”

Rafe spun about and strode toward the hill.

Selina and Beatrix had to practically run to keep up with him. Hell, why wasn’t he running? They’d reached the top of the hill, and he broke into a sprint, letting gravity help him along the way.

“Rafe, wait!” Selina called, but he didn’t slow.

At the base of the hill, he caught sight of the pale stone of the folly. It was smaller and far less ornate than the one at Ivy Grove. This looked more like the partial ruins of an abbey that Henry the Eighth had destroyed.

“Anne?” he called as he arrived at the folly, his chest heaving.

A dark figure stepped out from behind one of the walls, his hand arcing up. Rafe ducked and drove forward with his shoulder, catching the man in the groin. The brigand collapsed with a grunt, but another took his place, his arm coming down and the blade in his hand glinting in the moonlight. Rafe tumbled to avoid the blow and immediately rolled to his back. The floor of the folly, made of flat rocks pieced together, did not make for a soft landing.

He stood over Rafe and snarled, brandishing the knife as he bent. There was a flurry of activity then, of dark red and turquoise skirts swirling and multiple bodies moving. The man above him groaned and pitched forward. Rafe rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding his falling body.

Jumping to his feet, Rafe whipped his knife from his boot and started toward another villain. Glancing around the folly, he counted four men on their feet