The Heart of a Duke(108)

“No, I received a more personal invite,” Daniel muttered as he followed Ricker into the thicket.

Riker led them to a group of a half a dozen men, two with their hands tied behind their backs, sporting bruised faces and truculent looks.

“What’s going on?” Taunton said, his sharp gaze raking over the bound men and the detritus surrounding them. Long coiled ropes were curled up beside a wooden crate with the lid cracked open.

“Somebody was planning to have a celebration. That’s gunpowder.” Riker indicated the crate.

“Bloody hell,” Daniel breathed. “He was going to incinerate the place.” He strode over to one of the men, caught him by the lapels of his jacket and jerked him close. The man stank of body odor. “So you like fires, do you? Did you ignite the last one at Lakeview Manor?”

The wiry man did not respond, just looked mulish, white lips pressed tight. With a snarl, Daniel shoved him toward Robbie. “See that he talks.”

“My pleasure.”

The sheer size of Robbie had the man babbling. “I didn’t do nothin’ here. Nothin’.”

Robbie grasped him by his upper arms and lifted him so the man’s toes barely brushed ground. “Lord Bryant asked you a question. I suggest you answer it.”

“I did. I set it. ’Twere just timbers. A frame. No harm done.”

His cohort cursed. “Shut your trap, Monie.”

Robbie snarled at the speaker, who heeded his own advice, snapping his mouth closed and retreating. “So you were going to take this manor to the ground as well? No harm there?”

“The toff said t’would be empty. No harm done. He’d come tell us when all was clear.”

“So why are you lighting it up?” Brett asked, curious.

The man’s eyes scanned the group, then cast a longing look toward the crate of powder. “I like . . . I like watching it explode and then burn. It’s grand.”

“Bloody hell.” Robbie abruptly released him, stumbling back as if he had the pox.

“Bedford was going to light the whole place up. How many of us does he plan to kill? The man is mad,” Brett said, uttering a curse beneath his breath.

“Be careful when you go inside. Curtis is right, he is deranged. We will surround the perimeter and slowly move in behind you,” Taunton said. “But you need to go. He has Julia.” His usually vibrant blue eyes were shadowed, and he looked years older.

“He’s right, Daniel,” Brett said. “Distract him or keep him talking until we can find a way in.”

Robbie snorted. “Shouldn’t have any problems with that. You talk circles around me, getting me to do your bidding whether I want to or not.”

Daniel clenched his jaw, appreciating Robbie’s stroke to his confidence. His friend was right. He was a good negotiator. He had convinced the most taciturn of New Englanders to trust in him. He hadn’t had success with Bedford in the past, but the stakes had never been this high. He would succeed or die trying.

The men divided into groups. Some walked farther down the thicket, others going in the opposite direction.

Robbie, Brett, and Taunton followed Daniel. A vast expanse of green lawn swept uphill to the front entrance. The imposing sandstone house capped the incline with peaked roofs and a balcony lining the length of the second story. To gain entry, it required walking across the lawn or down the lane, in full view of the house. Daniel needed to go in alone and distract Edmund long enough to keep his attention away from the windows so that the others could follow without being seen.

He gave Robbie and Brett a deliberate look, and then turned to Taunton.

“I am trusting you to bring my daughter home, son.” Taunton clasped his shoulder.

“I will, sir,” he said. Taunton’s confidence in him, and the conviction in his own tone helped to ease the vise of fear squeezing his chest.

He closed his hand over the Manton and strode into enemy territory, fervently praying that he was not the sacrificial pawn in a final game of Edmund’s as he moved across the lawn, exposed.

Daniel lifted the heavy brass ring looped through the mouth of a feral lion, and slammed the doorknocker again and again. Its noise reverberated in the silence that followed. When no one answered, he tried the doorknob and found it unlocked. It was a trap, but he had no choice.

He stepped inside and a guttural growl of rage greeted him.

He froze, his heart stopping until a feminine shriek and the racket of pounding feet severed his immobility.

Julia.

He barreled into the front drawing room. Empty. He careened through a cavernous dining room and then the library, cursing each room and the time wasted until he stepped into the dark-paneled study and located his cousin. Glasses askew, a cut cheek, Theo was bound and gagged in a corner chair. Despite his binds, he frantically jerked his head toward a door standing ajar at the back of the room.