It took over two days to reach Nigel’s estate. Stephen stopped only when nightfall made it impossible to go farther. As soon as enough light permeated the horizon, he continued on his journey. He’d switched horses twice, his mind focused on the task at hand. He wore a revolver at his side, a knife hidden inside his coat. Landscapes shifted into rolling meadows, sunsets merging until one day met the next.

Why had he not foreseen the danger? He blamed himself for what had happened. Emily’s devastation haunted him, her fingers curled around Victoria’s blanket.

He remembered, too, the laughing smile of the baby who had drooled all over his waistcoat. Even when Victoria had sobbed herself to sleep in his arms, he couldn’t forget what it had felt like to be a father.

And then there was Royce. The boy reminded him so much of himself—mischievous, eager to please, and yet shielding himself from hurt. Stephen had to succeed in bringing them home. Emily was relying on him.

The thought encouraged him to increase the horse’s gait. He envisaged Emily with her hands buried in bread dough, a smile meant for him. He wanted to make love to her until she cried out, arching her back and drawing him close. He wanted to wake up beside her.

He loved her. The knowledge filled him with an iron-clad resolution not to let her or their family down.

He drew his horse to a stop, the animal’s sides heaving. In the distance he saw Nigel’s country estate. Night descended over the landscape as he drew nearer, darkening the shadows until the glow of gaslights was all that illuminated the manor.

He could not go in alone; Nigel would kill him. He needed stealth, and at the moment, time was on his side. Nigel would not expect him for many days yet. No one else knew of his arrival.

If he moved too swiftly, he risked their lives. Stephen watched the house, turning over possible strategies in his mind. Without leverage against Nigel, the only means of rescuing the children was to overpower him.

He needed a diversion so he could move in for his own attack. It was critical to destroy Nigel’s command of the situation.

He knew just what to do.

Why was it that men always insisted on leaving a woman behind? After surviving a horrid journey by train, riddled with soot and traveling at speeds no human should have to endure, the marquess had ordered Emily to remain in the village.

Her patience had lasted little more than an hour. She needed to be there, to know what was happening. Already she had thought of a plan. She could stay hidden from the others and yet be inside the manor house.