“What is it?”
“They’re coming back.”
She listened for horses but there was only silence. “I don’t hear anything.”
Mr. Clancy grinned as he pointed to the floor. “Not hear, feel.”
She stood as well, trying to feel what the old man said he felt, but she didn’t. Maybe it was her shoes. Quickly, she followed him to the entrance of the stable, very aware that he did not step out even though they couldn’t see anyone yet.
For a few moments, they both scanned the field Marcus would need to ride through to reach the gardens.
“There.” Mr. Clancy pointed to the north instead of the south where she’d come from.
Shading her eyes, she finally saw them. At the sight of two horses, relief threatened to buckle her knees, and she quickly leaned against the stable doorway. They didn’t ride fast, so she could only assume that all danger had past.
As they rode in, she couldn’t help comparing the two. Marcus had a much better seat on Freesia and his movements were in complete unison with his mount. It had been one of the first things she liked about Marcus, his riding ability. Once she discovered he understood horses and took the utmost care of them, she was half in love with him.
The two men came to a halt before the stable and jumped down.
Mr. Clancy frowned. “Did you find the miscreant?”
Marcus shook his head. “We caught sight of him, but he was already too far away to catch.”
“Do you think it was a poacher?” She scanned his body making sure he’d come to no harm.
“A poacher?” He paused. “Most likely. We do have deer in that wood.”
“Well, he was a terrible shot.”
Mr. Taylour laughed before starting to cough. “I’ll get a groom to walk these two.” He strode past her and Mr. Clancy, a smile lingering on his face.
“We best get you home.”
At Marcus’ statement, she returned her gaze to him. “I can ride home just fine.”
He walked up to her, hooked his arm in hers and turned her back into the stable. “No. That poacher could take another shot thinking Atalanta is a deer. He’s obviously half-blind. You can use my coach.”
She looked into his gray eyes and found they had turned hard. “Obviously, you will not be argued with.”
“Correct.”
“Very well. But if I’m going home in the coach, then I’m having another sip of whiskey, or two.” Pulling her arm from his, she stalked over to the bench, picked up the cup, and purposefully threw back the rest of the contents. The burn was harsher than she expected and she wanted to cough, but she refused, her eyes watering instead.
“See, my lord. I told you there was more to her than you know.” Clancy laughed before setting two grooms to harnessing horses for the coach.
In no time at all, she found herself on her way back to Silver Meadows, her horse tied to the coach, Mr. Taylour driving, and two footmen on the back. The liquor not only calmed her but she desperately wanted to sleep.
Finally, she made it to her bedroom at Silver Meadows, ready to collapse on the bed in her riding habit, but she stopped just in time. On the bed was a book with a letter. She moved the letter and read the title,The Education of the Feminine Species. “Oh, Joanna. I don’t have time to read one of your books.”
Setting the book and letter on top of the table next to her bed, she dropped onto the mattress and within seconds fell into sleep.
Chapter Eight
Marcus pulled onthe sleeves of his tailcoat as the coach rumbled toward Silver Meadows. After sending Mariel off the day before, he and Anthony visited everyone within riding distance, peer, and commoner alike, and Cobby was nowhere to be found. Though he allowed Mariel to believe the shooter was a poacher, he’d seen the telltale light brown hair pulled back in an old-fashioned queue. There was no one else it could be. There was no one else who wanted him dead. He could no longer ignore the obvious.
Now his priority was to keep Mariel safe and London was the perfect place. A shooter in London would be far too obvious. Though his father had been killed by a thief, it had not been a man with a gun. In fact, if his father hadn’t resisted, he probably wouldn’t have been hit on the head with a hammer. But that was his father, too arrogant to think someone would dare rob from him. It was such an unusual occurrence, especially not far from Cavendish Square, he could imagine his father’s disbelief.
In London, Mariel would be in coaches with her family, or walking about crowded streets, shops, and theatres. She would be safe until he could catch the man who had committed the most unspeakable crime under the guise of war. Being in London would make it more difficult to tract Cobby’s movements, but with Anthony and a couple of well-paid men, he’d find him and meet out his just punishment.
