Wicked Rake, Defiant Mistress. Ann Lethbridge
or dried mud, revealed evidence of their quarry.
Tucked in a valley near a copse of trees they came across an ancient-looking barn hunkered beside a stream-fed pond. ‘This looks promising,’ Garrick said.
Dan shifted in his saddle. ‘Do you think they are in there?’
‘Doubtful. But in case, I want you to remain here out of sight with our horses. Ride back to Beauworth if anything goes wrong.’
Straightening his thin shoulders, Dan dismounted and grabbed the bridles with a determined expression. The lad was tougher than he looked. He had to be, or he wouldn’t have survived.
Garrick cautiously crossed the clearing to the sound of twittering birds in the nearby trees. He peered through a crack in a wooden door barred and padlocked from the outside. He made clicking noises with his tongue and listened with satisfaction to the sound of stirring feet and the huffing breath of animals tethered inside. The faint gleam of a white coat in the shadowy interior confirmed what he had hoped. He had found their hiding place. And if they were keeping their horses in the neighbourhood, they no doubt expected to strike again.
He returned to Dan, his mind busy forming a plan. If this worked, he’d be leaving in a day or so. He looked into the face of the anxious boy and remembered why he’d brought him along. ‘I have some bad news for you, lad.’
The day after the fire, Martin’s bulk overflowed the wooden chair at Eleanor’s kitchen table.
‘Beauworth has been making enquiries,’ he said, glancing out of the window to where Sissy was sitting reading to Miss Boots. He lowered his voice.
‘Really,’ she said, hoping he wouldn’t hear the sudden increase of her heartbeat in her voice.
He nodded. ‘According to my cousin, he was worried they might try to steal the gold expected from London tonight.’
Eleanor straightened.
Martin’s eyes narrowed. ‘It’s a trap, my lady. Stands to reason.’
Traps sometimes closed in more than one way. ‘I think you are right.’ She crossed her fingers in the folds of her skirt. ‘And besides, I wouldn’t dream of trying a robbery while you are gone.’
A sceptical expression passed across Martin’s rugged features, but he said no more. He flung a small leather pouch into her lap. It landed with a soft clink. ‘This is all the money I got from the first robbery. Not much, considering the danger.’
She nodded and gestured to the valise on the floor. ‘We need to make sure Lady Sissy is safe before we think of doing anything else.’
‘Did I hear my name?’ Sissy wandered in with Miss Boots draped across her shoulders. She rubbed her cheek against the cat’s soft fur.
‘Martin is going to take you to Aunt Marjory,’ Ellie said.
Tears pooled in Sissy’s eyes. She dropped to her knees by Eleanor’s feet. ‘No. You said I could stay with you.’
With a wince, Eleanor looked at Martin. He shook his head. He didn’t like this any more than Sissy did, but Eleanor could not let the little one stay any longer.
She ruffled the dark curls on the bowed head at her knee. ‘You like Aunt Marjory. She has cats. Miss Boots will have company.’
Sissy clutched Eleanor’s skirts. ‘Please don’t send me away, Len. Everyone else has gone. I’ll fetch the wood every day, I promise.’
Not even the loss of her parents to influenza or Michael’s freakish carriage accident had caused Eleanor so much pain in her heart as Sissy’s tears did now. Until William returned to take up his title, she and Sissy were all that were left of their once close-knit family. ‘This is just a visit, dearest. You always visit Aunt Marjory in the summer.’
A hiccup emerged from the face buried against her lap. ‘You won’t leave me there forever, will you? Cross your heart and hope to die.’
‘I promise.’ When Sissy looked up, she made the obligatory sign over her chest.
‘All right.’
The tone was grudging, but Eleanor breathed a sigh of relief. She kissed the top of her sister’s head, stroked the glossy dark brown curls into some sort of order and blinked back her own tears. ‘William will be home soon, don’t forget.’ Anguished, she looked at Martin. ‘Time to go.’
He swung Sissy up into his strong arms. Eleanor handed up Miss Boots and followed them outside to the waiting gig. Martin lifted the child, her kitten and her bag into the carriage and climbed up beside her. He touched his hat. ‘I’ll return tomorrow.’ He set the horse in motion.
‘Give my regards to Aunt Marjory.’
Sissy stared at her mournfully. ‘I will.’ The child looked over her shoulder all the way down the road and Eleanor waved cheerfully until the gig was out of sight. Eyes burning, she closed her front door. If things went wrong, she might never see her family again. But she had to try to put things right.
Moisture trickled down her cheeks, hot at first, then cold little trails. Crying? She never cried.
She wiped her eyes and lifted her chin. This would be her last chance to make amends. She must not fail.
After pushing the bolt home in the door, she drew the curtains across the windows in the parlour and the bedroom. She pulled the trunk from beneath the bed she shared with Sissy and placed the pouch of money among the articles they’d stolen. Items she’d rejected for sale as too distinctive. One such sparkled in her hand. The Marquess had tried to seduce her in order to keep it. And she was a numbskull to be swayed by the charm of a man who had ruined so many lives.
She sat back on her heels, staring at her ill-gotten gains. She would do well to keep that in mind.
Dinner over, Garrick sauntered out of the house with his father’s sword under his arm. After a full morning going over the estate’s ledgers in his uncle’s absence, he now had an inkling of why Beauworth seemed less than healthy. Over the last decade, rents had declined. Why, he wasn’t sure. Le Clere would no doubt have the answer, but would he have a solution?
Modernisation might be the key. He’d heard others talking about new farming methods. He’d mention it to Uncle Duncan when next they met. Right now, he had to deal with the robbers.
In the stables, Johnson had Bess ready to go.
‘Some lucky lady you’re keeping warm tonight, my lord?’ Johnson said with a leer. ‘Not that nice Miss Ellie in the village, I hope. I heard as how you’d been showing an interest in that quarter.’
Garrick frowned. Blasted gossipmongers. In a small place like Boxted, it didn’t take much for rumours to fly. ‘Quite a different sort of entertainment.’ He showed the old man his sword. ‘Going to pay a call on Appleby. I’ve been promising him a return match since the last time I was home.’
Johnson nodded his head. ‘No doubt ’e’ll regret it.’
Garrick grinned. He had no intention of letting his coachman guess what he was about. He buttoned up his coat and pulled his beaver hat down low. ‘You know how Appleby is, so don’t worry if I’m gone for a day or two.’ It might take some time to track down the ring. If they’d sold it, he might have to follow it as far as London. Heaven forefend that they’d melted it down.
Dan must have heard his voice, for the boy came galloping down the ladder to the loft. ‘Can I come with you, my lord?’
‘Not this time, Dan.’
The boy’s face fell. ‘But you’ll be gone soon and—’
‘Don’t argue with his lordship,’ Johnson said. The boy flinched.
It only took one sharp word and the old fear resurfaced. Garrick’s ire rose, curling his hands into fists. The boy stepped