“Thieves have had years to tear apart the house.” His complacent assistant intervened before Grey could formulate a cutting response. “We are curious as to why they have chosen now to cause trouble. Is it the professor? His book? Or did the arrival of new people bring interest that wasn’t here before?”
“That doesn’t mean you must go haring off without your dinner.” His cousin could be as acerbic as Grey. “I’m sure Hunt and Rafe have the place surrounded.”
“They do,” Andrew replied, as imperturbable as his sister. “But the bailiff is unlikely to recognize an intruder who isn’t local. We fear an outsider is giving orders to people desperate for a little coin. We want to catch the ones giving orders. That takes a wider net.”
Grey shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. He was starting to enjoy the intervention. “We ate earlier. Miss Fields is quite creative with our improper hours. Now, if you will lead us to rooms where we might change. . . You are welcome to play spy along with us.”
Thea almost looked as if she’d like to, but she refrained. Clare Huntley signaled a footman, explained what was needed, and bid them good luck.
Grey didn’t believe anything would come of the evening, but he seriously disliked sitting about, waiting to be attacked. Now that he had his own army, he wished to be the aggressor for a change. Besides, roaming dark streets at night was just the sort of thing he enjoyed when the book was giving him trouble.
Bringing his assistants with him, one female, the other hobbled. . . was more problematic. Endangering others was definitely not the sort of thing he was inclined to do. He enjoyed their companionship, admittedly. If they were merely strolling down the street, taking the air, he’d be delighted.
But when they met at the service stairs as planned, Grey had fourth and fifth thoughts about the wisdom of this plan.
Eleanor no longer looked like a gentleman, even though she was garbed in the same dreadful coat, waistcoat, and linen that she’d worn to Harrowby. Grey simply could not erase the earlier image of her in fetching muslin. She was female and shouldn’t be engaged in dangerous expeditions.
He removed a cloak from an assortment hanging on the wall. “Put it on.” She frowned but did as ordered.
And he was asking too much of Andrew to be traipsing about on that foot. How would he escape if he was attacked?
This was why he shouldn’t be responsible for anyone other than himself. He was a selfish, thoughtless creature of habit with no ability to foresee consequences.
“This idea is ill-advised,” he decided. “Leave the law to those better equipped. We haven’t a pistol between us. If the soldiers catch someone, they can bring them here. If they don’t. . .”
Andrew raised his walking stick, pushed a button, and produced a blade. “I have a horse waiting, if that is your concern, sir. I can simply be a passerby, trotting down the lane. I’ve found a vacant lot from which I can watch.”
With an almost balletic twirl, Eleanor swept her own walking stick under her arm in a casual stance, then, in a move too swift to follow, gripped it in the middle with the brass knob in a strike position. “We have been roaming city streets on our own for years, sir. We couldn’t afford maids and footmen to accompany us.”
Grey couldn’t have swung that stick better himself. But things happened to people around him. . .
Alone, they might be safe. It was a village, not a city full of pickpockets and worse. With him. . . They were better off separating.
He frowned, revealed the small sword under his cloak, and gestured for the stairs to the service door. “I will take the footpath down the front hill, to the brook, around behind the physician’s cottage, to the river. I want to see if river thieves linger on that bridge.” That should keep him safely from his assistants, who would be surrounded by Rafe’s men.
They nodded without argument.
“I’ll stroll down to the green,” Eleanor decided. “I’d like to keep a watch on Bradford, but if he has a third entrance on the side, I’ll have to hunt for a good hiding place with a view of both roads.”
“I’ll patrol both roads and hope the soldier in the privy will catch anyone going through the alley,” Andrew said cheerfully, taking the stairs at a decent speed despite his impediment.
They were grown adults, independent, not his servants, not his responsibility, Grey kept telling himself as they separated outside the manor.
But even his pathetic upbringing said letting a woman run about like a man was an extremely bad idea. He’d prepared for the eventuality, however. At his signal, Silas slipped from the shrubbery and followed Eleanor down the drive, sticking to the grassy verge and hedges where she wouldn’t notice.
She’d no doubt brain him with her stick if she learned he had her followed, but the physical pain would be preferable to the mental anguish should anything happen to the intrepid lady.
Grey would ponder that anomaly another time. Fastening a cloak over his dark clothing, he swung his own walking stick and trotted around the manor for the path into the village.
Thirty-four
Eleanor
Eleanor shivered even though male attire required more layers of clothing than she had worn dressed in her new dinner gown. She appreciated the cloak Grey had insisted that she wear. Back in Edinburgh, she’d reveled in the invisibility of her gentleman’s cravat, hat, and jacket. But perhaps that had been an illusion created by narrow dark streets and large numbers of strangers. Here, she was in full view and aware that people knew her and would not be fooled by her disguise.
She waved at Andrew as his horse trotted past, but he was happily engaged in his favorite activity and didn’t notice. He really ought to have a horse of his own, not just a pony. By the time she reached the bottom of the drive, she was aware of being followed.
The inn and chapel were nearby, the tavern a little way closer to the village center. It wasn’t too rowdy on an evening when men had to be at work the next day. But at this early hour, the occupants lingered.
