Whoever the hell had ambushed him would deal with his reckoning later. His first thought was getting to Jane.

When a servant finally happened by to unlock the door, Garrett rushed past the footman who’d freed him. “Thanks, chap.” Without slowing down, he called, “What time is it?”

“Nearly eight o’clock, sir,” the servant returned.

Eight o’clock? Bloody hell. Where would Jane be at this hour?

His first stop was the breakfast room where Lucy, Claringdon, and some of the other guests were eating breakfast.

Lucy’s eyes went wide when she saw him. “Garrett, what are you doing here? What happened to your cravat? Why are you wearing your evening attire at this hour? Forgive me for saying so, but you look dreadful.”

Garrett tried to catch his breath. “I’ll explain later. Have you seen Jane this morning?”

This time Lucy narrowed her eyes. “Yes. She was up with the sun, quite unusual for Jane. She said she and her parents wanted to get an early start back to London.”

Garrett cursed under his breath. “Have they gone already?”

“I believe their coach is just now being pulled around,” Claringdon added.

Garrett sprinted for the door. He flew down the hallway, his footsteps echoing against the marble, and came to a sliding stop near the front door where Lord and Lady Moreland were taking leave of their guests.

“Are Sir and Lady Lowndes and Jane still here?” he asked, not pausing for the answer.

“Their coach is pulling away right now,” came Lord Moreland’s reply.

Garrett ripped open the front door and raced out onto the gravel drive. “Miss Lowndes!” he called at the top of his lungs. The coach, which was already moving past the drive onto the lane that led up to the house, came to a stop. Garrett didn’t wait. He sprinted toward the vehicle, completely winded by the time he got to it.

The window opened and Jane’s mother stuck out her head. “Mr. Upton, is that you?”

“Y—yes,” he managed, desperately trying to catch his breath.

“May I ask what you’re doing?”

Garrett bent over and braced his hands on his knees, breathing quickly and struggling to remain calm.

“I—I must speak with Jane.”

There was a bit of discussion inside the coach, which allowed him time to right his breathing. It still wasn’t perfect but was markedly improved by the time Jane stuck out her head. “Go away, Upton.”

“No. I won’t. I must speak with you.”

More discussion in the coach ensued. By the time the door opened, Garrett was able to straighten himself. Jane emerged from the entrance, and Garrett held out his hand and helped her down onto the gravel. She was still favoring her ankle and behind her spectacles her face looked a bit red. Had she been crying? Damn it.