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“Anything you have to say, you can say now—in front of everyone.”

Lord Stanton frowned, but shrugged his shoulders. “In that case, I am here to ask you to allow me to return Miss Elizabeth to those who love her.”

“OUT OF THE QUESTION!” Stefano shouted, ignoring his father as he turned his back and addressed his men. “Let us get started!”

Immediately, servants began bustling about, finishing their tasks as Stefano clamped his hand around Elizabeth’s arm and dragged her forward.

Lord Stanton stepped in front of his son. “I cannot allow you to take her with you, Stephen. You are already married; you cannot marry her. She deserves a chance for happiness, and I ask you again to please let me take her home.”

“Home? To that fool Darcy, you mean. Or you will do what exactly, Father? You have not enough men to take her from me by force, and you do not see Mr. Darcy here, do you? She is mine! He has no right to her! She will sail with me to Spain within the hour.”

“Do not underestimate Fitzwilliam Darcy or the lengths to which he will go to find you and recover Elizabeth. He truly loves her.”

Tears shone in Elizabeth’s eyes at Lord Stanton’s declaration, though she was clearly trying desperately not to cry.

Stefano’s voice escalated. “I have no doubt you and he have become allies in your quest to take Elizabeth from me!”

“Darcy is a decent man who will take care of her, which is more than you can claim!”

“Is that all you have to say?” Stefano sneered. “Get out of my way, old man.”

Again the count started towards the coach, trying to shove his father out of his path. But Lord Stanton did not budge, instead pulling a small pistol from an inside pocket of his coat. “Release her to me or I shall ...”

Stefano let go of Elizabeth, who retreated several feet, while he fought with his father. As they wrestled more violently, a solitary shot rang out. No one made a sound as father and son halted in their struggle, still holding on to each other.

After several seconds, Stanton murmured weakly, “I never stopped loving you, Stephen,” then sank to the ground, mortally wounded.

Stefano, purloined weapon still in his hand, stared at his father’s body in astonishment. For a fleeting moment, his face took on the look of a young boy who had suddenly discovered that his beloved father had died, and his face contorted in anguish as tears filled his eyes. Those standing about were astounded at the transformation. Nevertheless, only seconds later, his expression reverted to its former state, and the man they were well acquainted with replaced the child.

Lifting his chin in defiance, he spit out orders. “Put him in his coach! No wait! Switch the coach from Northgate with the one that was to carry the women, and get his men aboard it.”

As Maria quickly tried to follow Cecile to a coach, he shouted, “Mrs. Preston, wait where you are. Maria, come here!” Visibly frightened, both women turned slowly, afraid to hear what he might say. Having no alternative, Maria did as he said, moving forward. Stefano had caught up with Elizabeth and roughly untied the ribbons on her bonnet, jerking it from her head.

“Take off your cloak!” he barked, and Elizabeth did as he demanded. Bonnet and cloak in hand, he motioned to Maria to take them. “Replace yours with these!”

Maria obviously understood English even if she did not speak it, for immediately the girl replaced her own modest coat and bonnet with the more expensive ones Elizabeth wore moments before. When she was finished, Stefano motioned Maria to make a complete circle. As she did, he laughed, his eyes glowing in satisfaction.

“Excellent! Now, get in the coach with Mrs. Preston and sit next to a window, but do not show your face. With your head turned, they will think you are my wife.”

Meanwhile, Stefano’s men had finished depositing his father’s body in his coach, so he marched over to the stunned driver and footmen. “Leave now! At the main road, take a right away from town. My men will be following and if you disobey, you shall be killed! Do you understand?”

Nodding vigorously, Lord Stanton’s stunned servants took their positions, and with the driver whipping the horses into a run, they fled the estate in one of Stefano’s coaches with their murdered master.

~~~*~~~

Learning of Stanton’s arrival, Richard ordered the two servants to mount their horses. They had barely done so when a coach suddenly left out of the gate to Tuscany, racing as though the devil himself was chasing it. Having turned right at the end of the drive, the coachman lashed the horses into a frenzy as they sped past the group’s hiding place—heading away from Liverpool. In the light of the early morning sunrise, it was easy to read Stefano’s crest on the side.

“Come on!” Richard cried, and everyone pursued the pitching and swaying coach. As the men on horseback drew nearer, getting off a few shots, the unarmed driver and footmen were convinced to raise their hands in surrender. Richard forged ahead, managing to grab the reins of the lead horse, and pulling the carriage to a stop several hundred yards past the gate. As they gathered about the ill-fated coach, they realised it was not Stefano’s men but only Lord Stanton’s servants.

“My Lord, man! Why the devil did you speed past?” Richard barked to the thoroughly frightened driver. For a moment, the driver could not find his voice. “Speak up!” Richard shouted, as William, who had already dismounted, opened the door to make sure Elizabeth was not inside.

“He killed Lord Stanton!” a footman cried. “That son of his—sorry bastard that he is! He told us he would kill us, too, if we did not leave straightaway and head right at the end of the drive! The others are supposed to be just behind us!”

William examined Lord Stanton for a pulse, but he was already dead. Shaking his head at the other men, he slammed the door. At that precise moment, two coaches flew out of the drive to Tuscany not two hundred yards back—both headed in the opposite direction.

“After them!” Richard shouted, kicking his horse into a gallop and easily taking the lead. The others were close behind, with Evan out front of that group. Since William had dismounted to peer inside the coach, he was the last to mount and was several yards behind everyone else when he passed the drive that turned to the villa. The same small voice he had heard in the past spoke again.

Elizabeth is still at Tuscany.