Hearing voices in the pub, he avoided that. The laughter of children drifted from down the hallway where Rafe had his quarters, so he took the stairs up, leaving the lady to take herself after her brats.
They hadn’t been brats. They’d been extremely sensible under the terrifying circumstances. The boy had driven the carriage back to town on his own. The girl had whispered her questions to her mother rather than disturb Fletch, who had been muttering vile language and hanging on to his arm.
He’d stabbed a total stranger in a fit of rage. Or fear. His head was too muddled to know which. He’d simply seen the enemy and attacked like the monster he was.
He retreated to his room overlooking the stable but it was too early to sleep. He settled at a table covered in the works of an automaton he’d taken apart. He’d practice putting cogs together with one hand.
After a few minutes, he realized it was impossible. He flung his chair at the wall.
A timid knock on his door prevented him from raging down to the pub. Scowling, he yanked it open. The fool lady on the other side didn’t flinch.
“Verity said you didn’t eat earlier. I brought a sandwich you can hold with one hand and some cider. And your pain pills. Meera said you left them.” Kate shoved past him and left the tray on his bed since the table was covered in metal parts.
After setting down the food, she studied the dismantled automatons. “Toys?”
His rage drained away and he turned the key in a completed toy soldier, making him march and drum. It had taken him weeks to replace broken parts but it moved smoothly now, creating a slight rat-a-tat-tat.
She exclaimed in delight. Had he ever seen her smiling? Quite possibly not. The sunbeam disappeared quickly, but Fletch let the moment soothe his aggravation.
“That is marvelous! I’ve never seen the like. Do you make them?”
“Repair them. If I had any talent for design, I’d create one of those fantastical clocks they have on the Continent, with people and animals popping out on the hours. This one is crude,” he said dismissively.
“You speak.” She stared at him in wonder, then demurely dropped her eyes. “I won’t disturb you more. Thank you again for what you did, and I am so sorry that you were harmed.” She dropped a curtsy and fled.
Well, hell. If he’d talked more, would she have stayed longer? The distraction would do him good.
He needed more than distraction. Disgruntled, he bit into the sandwich and studied the cogs. He’d have to figure out how to do this one-handed.
Or remove the danged sling and risk crippling for life.
THURSDAY
April 4, 1816
Six
Rafe
“I'll go back out this morning, see if we can find a trail.” Sitting in the inn’s kitchen, Rafe took a strong gulp of coffee. It was too early for his staff, but Verity puttered about, listening while he debated who might help with his search.
Then there was the matter of who to leave in charge of the inn while he was out chasing madmen and Fletch was out of commission.
He glanced at his wolfhound, currently guarding the hallway to their private quarters, where the children were preparing for school. He’d always taken the hound with him on searches, but with a lunatic running loose, he felt better leaving Wolfie to guard the inn.
“Take Rob with you, if Kate will allow it,” Verity suggested, refilling his cup. “He has sharp eyes, knows the area, and may recognize his uncle.”
Rafe needed the coffee’s energy. He hadn't come home until late and it was barely sun up now. “Shouldn't he be in the schoolroom?”
He relished the brief brush of Verity’s loving hand on his wretched ginger curls before she returned the pot to what served as a stove in these ancient premises. “Rob’s almost thirteen. It's spring. He's older than the other students. What do you think?”
“He should be in a different school, like Arthur. And Kate can't afford it.” Rafe pushed to his feet and kissed his wife's cheek. “He'll make a better farmer than Arthur, though. I'll ask.”
Kate looked dubious about allowing her son to go with the men, much less miss school, but gave in when Damien arrived and seconded the suggestion. Kate’s brother-in-law’s size, sophistication, and authority could sway entire courtrooms of gentlemen when needed.
“You'll stay with him, won't you? Hugh could be anywhere,” she asked worriedly.
Rafe and Damien had never met the late George Morgan, wouldn't recognize a resemblance, but Rafe hoped the boy might.
