curiously empty house.” It was a calculated cruelty, but he was nearly mad with worry. Fear for Charlotte overrode every other feeling. “Take me to her. And if you have harmed her in any way, I swear I will…”
“I don’t know what you’re…” Aunt Bella began through trembling lips. But she couldn’t complete the sentence. Her face slowly sagged as the full weight of what he’d said sank in.
“She’s gone,” interposed the taller servant. When she spoke, Alec recognized her as the woman who’d cared for his grandmother in her later years. “She was here, but she ran away. We don’t know where she is now.”
“Out? Tonight? Alone?” The servant nodded. “Do you know what’s happening out there? Do you have any idea of the mood of the countryside?”
The older servant began wringing her hands. “I didn’t know nothing about it. I didn’t have nothing to do with it. I told them others…”
Alec spoke through clenched teeth. “If anything happens to Charlotte Wylde, you are to blame. And you may be sure that you will be brought to book. Which way did she go?”
The tall servant stepped forward, interposing herself between Alec and her mistress. He suddenly remembered her name—Martha. “We don’t know. My lady has not been well, you understand. She is in a delicate state…”
Alec gazed past her with contempt. “A ‘delicate state’ like my grandmother’s? I believe such states are self-induced. And if you think that is an excuse for this… outrage, you are dead wrong.” The three women simply stared at him, frightened, lost, blank. There was no help here, and no time. Alec turned on his heel and went back to his horse.
With the lantern to supplement the tiny sliver of moon, he rode to the end of the drive. Where would she go? One way led to the small village of South Wingfield; the other through a long stretch of agricultural land. Charlotte wouldn’t know that, of course. Which way would she have chosen? Surely she would stay on the roads, not attempt to walk cross-country. Alec peered in one direction, the other. How could he possibly find a lone woman in all this countryside? What if she’d fallen, been hurt? His heart seemed to turn over in his chest, and his mouth went dry at the thought. His pulse thundered against the sounds of the night.
Then and there, Alec realized he could not endure a world without Charlotte in it. If she was lost then… so was he. His doubts and denials flamed to ash. He could reject the words “falling in love” as much as he liked. She was meant to be his, and he hers, for all their lives.
***
Charlotte stumbled along the dark lane, ruts and bumps continually jarring her knees and threatening a fall. The sounds of the riot had faded behind her. She was somewhere beyond exhaustion now. It was all she could do to lift one foot, then another, totter a step, hold her balance, repeat. Once the anxiety roused by the milling, angry men had faded a little, her consciousness had contracted to a muddled blur. Thus, the cart loomed up out of the darkness ahead without warning. She hadn’t even heard the sound of hooves.
The person sitting beside the driver stood and raised a lantern, directing its beam right at Charlotte. It was a woman, which was a bit of a comfort. She put a hand up to shield her face.
“Miss Charlotte?”
She couldn’t believe her ears. Could the remains of the drug they’d given her be causing delusions?
“Miss Charlotte, it is you!”
“Lucy? What are you…? How did you…?”
“Ethan and me came to find you.”
The driver had already stopped the cart and jumped down. “Let me help you in, miss,” he said.
“Ethan?” Charlotte was too tired and too relieved to question this miracle. She staggered over to the cart and let him help her up, squeezing onto the seat next to her maid. “I have never been so glad to see anyone in my life.”
“You’re all right?” Lucy touched her shoulder worriedly.
“Now I am.” Or, almost. “There’s trouble in the village up ahead. Men with pikes and a gun.”
“What?” exclaimed Ethan.
Charlotte tried to collect her wits. “The leader shot someone in one of the houses. They’re headed for Nottingham to protest the lack of work.”
“Nottingham. That’s this road. We’ve got to get off it.” Ethan hesitated, frowning, then slapped the reins. “This way’s still closest,” he muttered to himself. “South Wingfield, South Wingfield, who do I know…?