A sick feeling roiled through Garrick’s gut. When he’d caught the bully laying a stick across the boy’s back, he’d seen red. The blood red of terrible rage. If Harry hadn’t separated them, the man might have cocked up his toes.
When it was over, he’d paid handsomely, both for Dan and for the damage he’d wrought, yet his gut still churned when he recalled his desire to spill blood. After years without incident, he’d lost control, let the inner beast slip off its chain. He’d been a fool to think he could beat the Le Clere curse. He wasn’t fit for civilised society.
If it wasn’t for his lost signet ring, he’d have left for Lisbon today.
‘Dan should not have said anything,’ Garrick muttered.
‘I winkled it out of him, my lord. I couldn’t understand why he flinched every time I raised me arm. Won’t do him any good around your uncle.’
Garrick patted Bess’s neck. ‘Keep the boy busy and he’ll do well enough. I’m surprised you don’t have more help.’
Johnson shrugged. ‘Mr Le Clere don’t like to spend a shilling when a groat will do.’
At that moment, Dan entered the stable whistling. Garrick leaned out of the stall. ‘Give Mr Johnson a hand, lad. You are riding out with me.’
Dan’s angelic face lit up. ‘Yes, my lord.’
From his side of the stable wall, Garrick listened to Johnson giving instructions. He’d been right to bring the lad here to Beauworth. He’d learn a useful trade as well as grow strong away from the foul London air. Today, he’d explain his plan for the boy’s future.
He finished saddling Bess and led her out into the sunshine. Dan followed a moment later, the old nag Johnson had found for him chewing on its bit.
‘Ready, boy?’ he asked.
‘Aye, my lord.’
They mounted and rode out of the stable yard towards the place where they’d been held up the previous night. If luck was with him, he’d find some trace of his attacker. Attackers, he amended. Damn it. He should have expected an accomplice. Her husband, perhaps? Or was she his doxy? A repulsive thought. Just thinking about the man with his hands on the saucy wench made him go cold.
What the hell was the matter with him? To be attracted to two women in one week seemed overly debauched even for him. Two very different females, too. One sweet, innocent, barely aware of her feminine appeal. The other, coarse and brash, a lure to the brute every civilised man held at bay.
What a base cur he was, to look forward to meeting the lady highwayman again.
Leaving the lane, they entered the woods. Ancient oaks and elms rose above their heads, the cool air smelling of leaf mould. A breeze stirred the branches and gold-dappled shadows shifted on the track. Here and there the damp soil revealed the passage of two horses travelling fast, one large and one smaller.
When they emerged into open country again, Garrick lost the tracks. Forced to dismount, he cast around.
Dan slid warily from his horse a short distance off. ‘There are hoof prints in the dried mud over here, my lord, leading that way.’
Garrick inspected the prints. They were the same as those he’d seen in the woods. ‘Well done, Dan. Let’s see where they lead.’
Walking their horses, they continued on. In the distance, hedgerows seemed to stitch the patchwork of green-and-gold fields together, and the dipping sun gilded the tops of emerald trees. Once in a while, a patch of soft earth, 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.’