Relieved, Mercy helped the Reverend get the matron back into her chair, suddenly catching sight of the reason Agnes had fainted in the first place. For a few seconds, she’d forgotten he was there. To her surprise, Flossy had ceased her barking and was now busy getting acquainted with the newcomers. The little dog could usually be relied upon to determine whether a stranger was trustworthy or not, and the fact that she was busy capering around the man’s ankles automatically lessoned Mercy’s fear. Evidently, it had the same effect on the Reverend who seemed content to leave her to deal with the stranger as he gave Agnes the remnants of her sherry.
‘Who are you?’ Mercy asked him, pleased to note that her voice was only wobbling a little.
‘Nathaniel Harding, at your service, my lady.’ He took off his hat and gave a small inclination of his head.
‘And do you make a habit of sneaking into private dining rooms, Mr. Harding?’
He gave a rueful smile, and for some reason, even though the scar twisted his lips, Mercy’s heart thudded - and not in fear. ‘I’ve come here to tell you that I believe someone at the inn means you harm.’
His voice was pleasantly deep with a rich timbre. Almost soporific. ‘But that someone is not you?’ she questioned, raising her eyebrows.
He shook his head impatiently. ‘I implore you to listen to what I have to say, my lady.’ He turned his attention to encompassthe Reverend and a now frowning Agnes, ‘I truly believe that all three of you are in grave danger.’ Taking a deep breath, he told them what he’d overheard in the stable. ‘I have no way of knowing for sure that you are their intended victim,’ he finished, turning back to Mercy, ‘but to my knowledge, there’s no other young lady staying here in the company of a priest.'
There was a disbelieving silence until the Reverend growled, ‘I’m a vicar, not a priest.’
‘And you say this man means to abduct me with the aim of forcing me into wedlock? With him presumably?’
Nate nodded his head, wondering at her continued composure – in his experience, most women would, at the very least, have burst into tears. ‘It sounds preposterous, but I can assure you that’s exactly what I overheard.’ He turned to the Reverend. ‘I believe he meant it when he said he would leave no witnesses.’
‘But why me?’ Mercy quizzed. ‘I mean, what could he possibly hope to gain?’
Nate shrugged. ‘I have no idea, I presumed he was a fortune hunter. In truth, I don’t even know what he looks like, though I don’t think he was English. His accent sounded like he was from the Americas.’
‘Tare an’ hounds, I think I actually spoke to him,’ the Reverend interjected suddenly. ‘A suspicious looking individual approached me in the bar earlier. Asked about marrying some young lady without her parent’s consent. I thought it all sounded deuced havey-cavey and told him in no uncertain terms that I’d never conduct a clandestine wedding.’ He shook his head and gave a grimace. ‘I had to hold Flossy back. I’d no deuced idea he was talking about you, Mercedes.’
‘What did he look like?’ Nate asked urgently.
‘Swarthy – very foreign looking. Said his name was Oliver Reinhardt, but if he’s the blackguard after Mercy, I doubt that’s his real name.’ The Reverend paused. ‘As you said, he had an American accent.’
‘I take it you’d remember him if you ever saw him again?’ Nate asked grimly.
Reverend Shackleford nodded. ‘He had a face one was unlikely to forget easily – a bit like yours really.’
‘Grandfather!’ Mercy spluttered.
‘He had a scar you mean?’ Nate interrupted, seemingly unoffended.
The Reverend nodded again. ‘Not nearly as bad as yours though. Looked as though he’d had it a long time. It was across his forehead and mostly covered by his hair. I only saw it as he got up to leave.’
Nate nodded. ‘Being able to recognise your adversary is half the battle.’
‘That as may be,’ the Reverend acknowledged, ‘but exactly what would you have us do? We can hardly run in the middle of the night.’
‘That’s exactly what I believe you should do,’ Nate returned, ignoring the three incredulous stares. ‘Quietly and in secret. This Reinhardt - if indeed that’s his name - and his cohorts will not be looking for you until the morning. By then, you could be away from here and safe.’
‘And what about the carriage, and my clothes?’
Agnes’s voice was shrill, and she was waving her salts around as though she was about to fall off the chair again any second. Clearly, Nate thought, she didn’t share the younger woman’s fortitude.
‘And where would we go?’ Mercy demanded. ‘I am hardly dressed for a hike in the snow. We’d likely freeze to death before we find shelter.’
Nate shut his eyes for a second, deliberating how to phrase his proposed solution without being summarily dismissed. In the end, he simply shrugged and said, ‘My house is close. I could take you there until the danger has passed.’
‘Are you addled?’ the Reverend scoffed. ‘Do you really think we are bottle headed enough to abandon all our belongings and accompany you to your house in the middle of the night?’
Nate gave the clergyman a level stare. ‘It matters not to me,’ he said at length. ‘Accept my offer of help or don’t. It’s not my life that’s in danger. Should you decide to remain here, I will simply return to the stable and bed down with my horse for the night.’ He gave a shrug. ‘Take your chances tomorrow, Sir, if that’s what you prefer to do.’
‘How do we know you won’t simply rob us and leave us for dead?’ Mercy pressed.
