Not wanting to disturb her roommates further, Violet decided to take her target practice outside. The watery light of dawn was already slipping through the curtains; it was early enough that no one would take note of her. She wrangled on a front-lacing corset and her simplest dress, throwing her blue cloak on top. Lastly, she tucked her crossbow and sticks into a knitting bag and slipped from the room.
Given the hour, the corridors of the inn were deserted, and she made it past the dozing clerk at the reception without waking him. Outside, she inhaled deeply; the invigorating, greenery-scented air reminded her of Chudleigh Crest. Feeling marginally better, she headed toward the courtyard. She turned the corner… and stopped short. A familiar figure was adjusting something on the outside of a mud-splattered carriage.
“Goggs?” she said, startled. “Is that you?”
He spun around. His chubby face had a sheen of sweat. “Violet! Lord, you gave me a scare.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.” She ambled up to him. “What are you doing here?”
His eyes darted around the environs. He tugged on his waistcoat, which had ridden up on his belly. She noticed that his hands and the garment were streaked with dirt.
“I came to find you,” he said.
“Me? What for?”
“Carlisle—he sent me. He has a plan, you see, to free Wick. And he needs your help.”
Excitement shot through her. Richard had sent for her… and he had a plan to save Wick!
“What does he want me to do?” she said eagerly.
Goggs unlatched the carriage door, held it open. “Get in. I’ll explain on the drive back.”
She went to the door, tossed her knitting bag inside. As she was about to climb in, a thought stopped her.You can’t just leave without telling the others, you pea wit.
Turning, she said, “Wait, I have to tell Marianne first—”
“There’s no time. We have to leave. Now.”
“But my family will worry.” Something in Goggs’ expression gave her pause. “Why… why didn’t Richard come himself?”
“You ask too many questions.”
Goggs’ face had lost its amicable mask, a hard and foreign glint in his eyes. He looked like… a stranger. Sudden fear welled inside her. Before she could gather the breath to scream, something crashed into the side of her head. Through the exploding pain, she felt herself being shoved into the carriage and then she knew no more.
~~~
Richard was the first to arrive at the Red Lion. The inn was the first on the road to London, the obvious place to stay given Mrs. Kent and the girls’ late departure last evening. Goggston would look here first. Pulse racing, Richard tossed Aiolos’ reins to a waiting stable hand just as Kent and McLeod thundered in on horseback. The three of them entered the inn. After a quick exchange with the innkeeper, they headed for Mrs. Kent’s suite.
She opened the door on the third knock, still tying the belt of her silk wrapper.
“You’re all right.” Relief threaded Kent’s voice. “Where are the girls?”
“In the suite next door.” Frowning, she said, “What is going on, Ambrose?”
Kent was already headed to the next room. He banged on the door.
After the fourth knock, Richard said impatiently, “Move aside.”
“I can kick down a bloody door,” Kent snapped.
Just as the investigator reared back to do so, the door opened.
“Papa?” a sleepy-eyed Primrose Kent said. “Why on earth are you pounding like that?”
“Thank God. You’re safe.” Kent exhaled as a drowsy-looking Polly Kent appeared behind the other girl. “And Violet’s in there with you?”
“Actually… she isn’t.”
