“She went out the door with that man who didn’t have anything on underneath his skirt.”
“Kilt,” he replied absently, then suddenly grabbed Nick by both shoulders. “She what?” he bellowed at the boy. “When did she leave?”
Nick’s face turned pale. “Just a few minutes ago, but Papa, I want to tell you about—”
Noble was off before Nick could finish his sentence.
“—the man who hurt you,” he said softly.
“McGregor!” Noble roared as he pushed his way through the remaining gawkers, his heart feeling as if it was going to burst out of his chest. “McGregor!”
He’d done it; the bastard had done it. He’d taken Noble’s soul and crushed it to a lifeless pulp. If he’d done anything to harm her…Noble choked on the thought. He rounded up his men and, after giving them a brief tongue-lashing for letting Gillian out of their sight, raced down the stairs and out onto the street, the entire population of Jackson’s following swiftly on his heels.
Noble paced back and forth in front of a house in Cheapside, muttering to himself just what he’d do to that murdering bastard McGregor when he caught up with him. He wanted nothing more than to be on the back of the nearest horse, hunting for his Gillian, hunting for the man who had spirited her away directly under his nose, doing something — anything — to find her.
“If he’s harmed a single hair on her head,” he threatened, shaking his fist at the sky, “by God, I’ll—”
“Tear his head off and spit down his neck, yes, Noble, we’ve heard that already,” Lord Rosse said as he strode down the front steps and toward his friend.
Noble spun around and took the marquis by the neck cloth. “What have you found out? Where did the devil take her? What did the murdering bastard’s man have to say?”
“Noble, calm yourself, you’re upsetting your son.”
Rosse waited until Noble released him before continuing. “Carlisle’s man doesn’t know where he’s gone, but he did verify that he had ordered a small case packed earlier, so evidently he’d planned this all along.”
“No, not this,” Noble said, resuming his pacing as his mind wheeled and turned frantically, trying to make sense of it. “He couldn’t have known Gillian would appear at Jackson’s. No, what he planned was something else, a plan he decided to abandon once he realized he could take advantage of Jackson’s madhouse to kidnap her.”
He combed an agitated hand through his hair as he stopped in front of his friend. “Where, Harry, where has he gone to earth?”
“I don’t know, Noble. I wish to God I did. I never thought — I was sure Carlisle was innocent — but I suppose you were right. My nose has gotten cold.”
Noble clapped a hand on his friend’s shoulder, then resumed his pacing. “It’s not your fault, old friend. She was my responsibility — what is it, Crouch?”
“M’lord, one of the Runners ’as returned.”
Noble raced over to where the Runner, still dressed in his livery, was jumping off a horse. “They’ve gone toward Colfax,” he said breathlessly. “We followed them to the east road. Davey’s on their heels, but I’d wager a year’s worth of blue ruin that they’ve gone to the Nag’s Head Inn at Colfax.”
Noble was in the carriage before the man had finished, ordering the coachman to spring the horses.
“Papa! Don’t leave without me!”
Noble swore and threw the door open, grabbing the small figure of his son and hauling him into the carriage just as the horses leapt off.
“We’ll be right behind you,” he heard Rosse shout as the carriage barreled down the road, the coachman bellowing oaths at the people who were foolish enough to block his path. Noble closed his eyes briefly against the pain that threatened to overwhelm him, pain at the thought of losing Gillian. She was his very soul, hers entwined so tightly with his that he didn’t think he could survive the separation. His mind repeated a litany in time to the horses’ hoofbeats, “Please God, let her be all right.”
A small, cold hand slipped into his. Noble opened his eyes and looked down at his son.
“She’ll be fine,” he said, wiping off a lone tear streaking down the boy’s cheek. “Don’t worry, son, we’ll rescue her.”
“Just like she rescued you?” Nick asked, squeezing his father’s hand tight.
A small smile flashed over Noble’s face. “Yes, just like that. We’ll save her and take her home and keep her safe for the rest of her life.”
Nick burrowed his head into his father’s side. “That man will hurt her like he did Mama,” he said into Noble’s coat.
“What man?” Noble asked, the idea of locking his wife away in a tall tower beginning to look very attractive.
“The man who hurt Mama. The man who hit you on your head when you came in to help me.”
Noble felt his blood turn to ice. Gently he pushed the boy back until he could see his face. Nick’s eyes — those eyes that made him feel he was looking into a mirror — gazed back at him filled with pain and worry.
“The man you saw who…” God, he hated to do this to him, but it was Gillian’s life at stake. “The man you saw shoot your mama?”
Nick nodded, a tear spilling over his brimming eyes.
“Where did you see this man?”
“At Gentleman Jackson’s. He was watching Gillian.”
The ice turned to fire deep inside him. “Was the man still there after Gillian left?”
Nick nodded again, looking even more worried. He twisted the material in his short pants between nervous fingers. “Did I do something wrong, Papa? I tried to tell you, but you wouldn’t listen.”
Noble hugged his son fiercely. “No, son, you didn’t do anything wrong. Now, I want you to tell me from the very beginning when you first noticed that man at Gentleman Jackson’s.”
Lord Rosse, riding one of the Black Earl’s horses, was surprised to see Noble’s carriage suddenly stop. He rode up and leaned down to ask if everything was all right.
Noble stepped out and handed Nick up to John Coachman. “You can ride up there with John for a bit, son. If you’re good, he’ll let you handle the whip.”
Noble turned back to his friend. “Tie him off.” He nodded at the horse as he climbed back into the carriage. “We have to talk.”
“What’s all this about?” Rosse asked a minute later as the coach once again started off at a fast clip. “You’ll have to change horses at Rowley at the rate you’re pushing them.”
Noble ignored the comment, his face hard and bitter. “It’s Tolly.”
Rosse stared at him, not understanding his cryptic comment.
A spasm of pain swept across Noble’s face. “God help me, I thought the man was my friend, but it’s been Tolly all along. He’s been behind McGregor’s attacks on me, I’m sure of it. Tolly was the man who killed Elizabeth.”
“Tolly?” Rosse asked, disbelieving. “Our Tolly? Are you sure? He’s the one who told us to look at Carlisle’s house…oh.”
“Exactly. Nick identified him, right down to those blasted seals and fobs he always decks himself out with. He told me…” Noble’s voice choked to a stop. It took him a few moments before he could continue. “He told me how Tolly would visit Elizabeth and they’d play their little games in front of Nick. My God, Harry, how could she do that to him? How could she hate him so much that she’d want to see him suffer like that?”
Rosse swallowed back his own lump. “She never liked him, Noble, you knew that.”
“I knew it, and I thought I’d protected him from her wrath at not being able to have children…but I didn’t. I failed him, Harry, and that thought will haunt me till the day I die. And now—” Noble stared blindly out the window. “What if I fail Gillian, too?” he whispered.