‘Lady Hannah Chesterfield,’ he demanded. ‘Where did she go?’
The man shrugged, his hands buried in his pockets. ‘Ain’t seen nothing.’
He was lying. Michael grabbed the driver by his coat and hauled him off the carriage. A handful of sovereigns spilled onto the ground, and the driver scuttled to pick them up.
A haze of red fury spread over him as he pressed the man up against the iron frame of the carriage. ‘Who took her?’
When the driver stubbornly kept silent, Michael tightened his grip on the man’s throat. ‘I’m not one of those titled gentlemen you’re used to,’ he warned. ‘I’m a soldier. They pay me to kill enemies of the Crown. And right now, I see you as one of my enemies.’ Holding fast, he waited long enough until the man started to choke.
Michael loosened his fingers, and the driver sputtered and coughed. ‘The—the B-Baron of Belgrave. Said they was runnin’ off t’be together. Paid me not to talk.’
‘What does his carriage look like?’
The driver described an elaborate black brougham with the baron’s crest. Michael stepped aboard the carriage. ‘I’ll be needing this.’
‘But—but you can’t steal his lordship’s landau! I’ll lose me post!’
Michael took the reins and nodded to the man. ‘And what do you think will happen when you explain to the Marquess of Rothburne that you allowed his daughter to be abducted for a few sovereigns? You had best alert him immediately, or you’ll face much worse than dismissal.’ Snapping the reins, Michael drew the landau around the circle and toward the London streets.
There were a thousand different places Belgrave might have taken her. As he struggled to make his way through the London traffic, Michael went through the possibilities. Was the baron trying to compromise her or wed her?
If the intent was to compromise her, then likely he would take Lady Hannah back to his town house where they would be caught together. Michael’s fist curled into the diamond necklace. No innocent young lady deserved this. By God, he wanted to kill the baron for what he’d done.
Luck was on his side, for when he reached a side street past Grosvenor Square, he spotted the baron’s brougham, which had pulled to a stop by the side of the road. Thank God.
Michael raced forward, urging the horses towards the vehicle. He barely waited for the landau to stop before he ran to Belgrave’s carriage and jerked the door open.
Lady Hannah was lying on the floor of the carriage, moaning with her eyes closed. Lord Belgrave appeared slightly panicked, his face pale.
Michael wasted no time and dragged the baron out, pushing him up against the black brougham. ‘I should kill you right now.’
Belgrave blanched, and Michael punched him hard, taking satisfaction when he broke the baron’s nose.
Blood streamed from the wound, and Belgrave snarled, trying to fight back. ‘I’ll see you hanged for assaulting me.’
Michael leaned in close, his grip closing over Belgrave’s throat. ‘I haven’t yet decided if I’m going to let you live. I’m sure Lady Hannah’s brother wouldn’t mind at all if I rid London of an insect such as yourself.’
He clipped the baron across the jaw, following it up with another punch to the man’s ear. The blow sent Belgrave reeling before he lost consciousness and slid to the ground. Michael glared at Belgrave’s driver, who hadn’t lifted a finger to help defend his master.
‘My lord, I had no choice,’ the driver apologised. ‘The baron insisted—’
Michael cut him off. ‘Take Belgrave back to Rothburne House in this landau. Tell the Marquess what happened, and I’ll bring Lady Hannah home.’
The driver didn’t argue, but took possession of the landau immediately, loading Belgrave’s slumped form inside. Michael waited until he’d gone, then climbed inside the brougham to Lady Hannah.
‘Are you all right? Did he harm you?’
Lady Hannah clutched her head, tears streaming down her face. ‘No. But my head hurts. The pain—it’s awful.’
Her eyes were closed, and she was holding herself so tightly, as if trying to block out the torment.
‘Just try to hold on, and I’ll bring you home to your father’s house.’ Gently, Michael placed her back into the carriage seat and closed the door. Taking control of the reins, he turned them back towards Rothburne House. The other driver had already departed with the Baron of Belgrave.
It had been tempting to leave Belgrave in the streets for thieves or cut-throats to find. A man like the baron didn’t deserve mercy.
Michael increased the pace, turning towards Hyde Park, when he heard Hannah call out, ‘Lieutenant Thorpe! Please, I need you to stop.’
Damn it. If she were ill, he needed to get her home. Get her a doctor. Stopping the carriage would only blemish her reputation even more.
He slowed the pace of the carriage and asked, ‘Can you hold on a little longer?’
‘I can’t. I’m sorry,’ she pleaded. ‘I’m going to be sick.’
Michael expelled another curse and pulled the brougham toward a more isolated part of the park. With any luck, no one would see them or ask what they were doing.
He opened the carriage door and found Hannah curled up into a ball, her face deathly pale. ‘What can I do to help you?’
‘Just…let me stay here for a bit. You don’t have any laudanum, do you?’
He shook his head. ‘I’m sorry. Do you want me to go and fetch some?’ But even as he offered, he knew it was a foolish thing to say. He couldn’t leave her here alone, not in this condition.
‘No.’ She kept her eyes closed, resting her face against the side of the carriage. ‘Just give me a few moments.’
‘Let me help you lie down,’ he suggested.
‘It hurts worse if I lean back.’ Her breathing was shaky, and Michael sat across from her. A gas lamp cast an amber glow across the carriage, and she winced. ‘The light hurts.’
He’d never felt so helpless, so unable to help her through this nightmare. She was fighting to breathe, her face grey with exertion.
And suddenly, his worry about her family and her reputation seemed ridiculous in light of her illness. This was about helping her to endure pain, and that was something he understood. He’d watched men suffering from bullet wounds, crying out in torment. On the battlefield, he’d done what he could to ease them. It was all he could do for her now.
Michael closed the carriage door, making it as dark as possible. He removed his jacket and covered up the window to keep out the light.
‘I can’t…can’t breathe.’ Her shoulders were hunched, her eyes turning glassy.
He didn’t ask permission, but unbuttoned the back of her gown in order to loosen her stays. Hannah didn’t protest, and she seemed to breathe easier once it was done. He held her upright in his arms, keeping silent.
An hour passed, and in time, he felt her body begin to relax. She slept in his arms, but Michael couldn’t release his own tension. Her father would be looking for them. He needed to get her out of here, take her home. But he was afraid of causing her more pain.
Her hair had fallen loose from its pins, and the dark honey locks rested against his cheek, smelling sweetly of jasmine. He’d heard that some women suffered from headaches as excruciating as this one, but he’d never witnessed