Page 80 of An Unfamiliar Duke

“It is,” Sebastian said grimly. “David, do you have rope?”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“Fetch it. Dawson, stand guard over this fiend. I must find the duchess.”

Leaving Mott at the gate, David took off toward the back of the cottage. Sebastian turned, his eyes searching the darkness for Rosalind. He stepped onto the lawn, scouring the shadows for a trace of white. There was nothing. She was gone.

He heard a thud. Dawson cried out, and Sebastian pivoted in time to see his head groom fall to the ground. Sellers bolted for his horse, but Sebastian was right behind him.

“Get him, Mott!” Sebastian yelled.

With a growl, the vigilant dog leaped over Dawson and launched himself at the fleeing felon. Sellers swung his uninjured arm, knocking the dog across his nose. Mott snapped and caught Sellers’s coat in his teeth. Sellers lunged for his horse’s reins to the sound of ripping fabric. The nervous animal skittered sideways. Sellers cursed, and Sebastian barreled into him.

Sellers hit the muddy road with a sickening thud. Sebastian pulled back his fist, but Sellers remained motionless.

Dawson appeared beside him, gun in hand. “Devil take him,” he said through gritted teeth. “He must have noticed my limp. The moment you looked away, he kicked me in the leg.”

David ran to join them, carrying a rope. Sebastian leaped to his feet.

“Tie him up,” he said. “I’ve had more than enough of him.” The moment David took his place, Sebastian sprinted back to the garden. “Rosalind!” he called. So help him, he must know that she was safe.

“Over here, Your Grace.”

He whipped around. A narrow crack of light shone around the cottage’s front door. He ran to it.

“Mrs. Beckett?”

“Is it safe to open the door?”

“Yes. The blackguard is unconscious, and David is tying him up.”

The door opened wider to reveal Mary Beckett with a bundle in her arms. “I was up with the baby when we heard voices outside, and Mott started barking. David told me to keep everyone inside with the door locked.”

“Have you seen Her Grace?”

She nodded. “I think you’d best come in.” She moved aside to allow him entry. As soon as he crossed the threshold, she closed the door and locked it. “Her Grace made it to the door on her own. Edith woke up to the shouting and let her in. We’ve just started a fire in the kitchen.”

Sebastian followed Mrs. Beckett to the doorway of their kitchen. A wooden chair was pulled up to a small fire. Rosalind was sitting on it, wrapped in a brown wool blanket. Little Edith sat on her knee.

“What comes after eleven?” Edith asked.

“Twelve,” Rosalind said.

“Twelve,” Edith repeated. “Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Thirteen—”

“Fifteen. Sixteen,” Rosalind corrected.

Edith sighed. “The Duke of Kelbrook is taking a long time. I thought he was coming before we counted to twenty.”

Rosalind squeezed her tightly. “We have not yet reached twenty, my dear. He will come.” Her voice broke. “Pray that he will come.”

Sebastian swallowed past the lump in his throat. Dear heaven, what had he ever done to deserve this woman?

“Seventeen. Eighteen,” he said, stepping into the room.

Edith gasped and scrambled off Rosalind’s knee. She ran to her mother, and Rosalind rose. The blanket fell from her shoulders, and she pressed a mud-covered hand to her mouth to cover her sob.

Sebastian closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around her. “Oh, my sweet Rosalind,” he said.