stating loud and clear what he thought of said visitor.
“Who is it?”
Albert inhaled a deep breath. “Lord Coleridge.”
Pierce’s jaw tensed. “Did he give a reason for this visit?”
“No, my lord. He seemed rather…displeased.”
Pierce snorted, suspecting that that was a large understatement. If everything had gone as planned tonight, then Lord Coleridge had just lost his future fiancée or rather the large dowry she would have brought into the marriage!
“Head on to bed, old man,” Pierce told Albert with a pat on the man’s frail shoulder. “I’ll take care of this.” Then he strode over to the drawing room, waving his footman away as the young man moved to open the door.
No sounds could be heard from inside, and Pierce wondered how far Coleridge’s wrath had cooled. Why had the viscount sought him out anyhow? Because the man knew he and Pembroke were acquaintances? Friends even? Did Coleridge truly entertain hopes of retrieving his lost fiancée-to-be?
Silently, Pierce slipped into the room, noting the way Coleridge paced like a caged animal in front of the fireplace. His clothing looked disheveled and his hair unkempt. His face portrayed a darker shade of red, and his eyes were in slits, his jaw tense as he grumbled something under his breath. It also appeared that the man had been struck down again—presumably by Pembroke—after the blow Pierce had delivered to his head the day before.
A most unfortunate week for Lord Coleridge!
Pierce could not help but smile. “What brings you here this late?” he demanded, his expression, once more, hard and unyielding, his tone authoritative, meant to dispel any hopes the man might have for Pierce’s cooperation.
At the sound of his voice, Coleridge wheeled around. For a moment, he seemed at a loss before anger once more sparked in his eyes. “Where is he?”
Sighing as though completely and utterly bored, Pierce lifted one brow. “Who?”
“Pembroke!” Coleridge fumed. “I know it was him! I know he took her!”
“Who?” Pierce asked, enjoying the way the viscount’s face turned an even darker shade of red.
The man’s teeth gritted together as he fought down his anger. “My fiancée.”
“Then she’s agreed to marry you?” Pierce asked lightly, a hint of incredulity in his voice as he casually strode closer.
Coleridge swallowed. “She was about to.”
Pierce chuckled. “Are you saying Pembroke kidnapped her against her will?”
The man’s hands balled into fists. Still, he made no move to approach. “Her uncle does.”
This time, Pierce laughed. “I doubt the man knows half of what he thinks he does.”
“Where did he take her?” Coleridge demanded, a hint of panic in his widening gaze.
“What makes you think I know?”
Coleridge snorted. “You seem well-acquainted. I always see the two of you whispering.”
Pierce nodded. “And what makes you think I’d tell you?” he demanded with a grin he simply couldn’t keep contained. Not that he needed to. After all, by now, Pembroke and Miss Hawkins were well on their way to Scotland. Soon, there would be nothing Coleridge or her uncle could do.
Coleridge looked ready to explode. “Tell me where they are!”
“You’re not a very persuasive man,” Pierce remarked dryly, noting the fury that held the other man in its grip. Still, he never dared advance, never tried to intimidate Pierce into revealing what he would not. Indeed, Coleridge rather appeared intimidated himself. He was livid, yes. But he did not dare cross Pierce.
It would seem he was one of those men who only preyed on those weaker than himself!
“If there’s nothing else, my lord,” Pierce stated, “I must ask you to leave now.”
Coleridge swallowed, and it was evident that he had more to say. A lot more. However, he refrained from doing so until he was out the door and striding across the foyer, his mumbled curses like music to Pierce’s ears.
It was about time that bad things started happening to bad people!
Chapter Twenty-Five
A Little Girl in the Dark
Not knowing was torture!
Pacing the length of her chamber, Caroline knew not what to do. Her body hummed with the need to move, to find out what had happened, where her cousin was. She hoped and prayed for the best, but she did not know.
“Perhaps you should rest,” Sarah suggested feebly.
Caroline snorted, her restless fingers fidgeting with the hem of her nightgown’s sleeve. How on earth was she to close her eyes under these circumstances? Would her parents truly go to bed and be able to sleep, not knowing where Rebecca was?
To Caroline, it seemed impossible.
Not wishing to endanger their niece’s reputation, Caroline’s parents had refrained from alerting the authorities,