Ridge ground his teeth together in frustration. “Did he have any distinguishing features? Anything at all?”
The shop owner rubbed his chin. “He was a quiet fellow. Strange accent.” His face lit up. “Oh, and he had an interesting tattoo on his left wrist.”
“What sort of tattoo?” Ridge demanded. “And what sort of accent?”
“I couldn’t place the accent. Tweren’t nothing I can recall ever hearing. The tattoo though. I can’t rightly identify what it was. It was a symbol of some kind. Looked like a sun over a mountain top.”
Ridge sighed in frustration. The fellow may well have had nothing to do with the break-ins. Had Miss Ashton gotten a good look at her intruder? He’d have to remember to ask her.
“Thank you,” he finally said, reaching into his pocket for a few pound notes. He thrust them at the shop keeper. “I would appreciate if you would contact me should anyone else ask after the journal. And it goes without saying that I do not want anyone to know I have it.”
“Yes, yes of course, my lord.”
Ridge nodded and strode back out to his carriage. The whole thing was growing more puzzling by the minute, and if he didn’t find some answers soon, he was going to strangle someone.
###
Ridge yawned broadly and removed his spectacles to rub his eyes. He shoved the journal away in disgust and gazed balefully at the candle that had burned down to a nub.
No matter how hard he studied the intricate symbols, he couldn’t decipher their meaning. How had Philip Ashton and his daughter managed such a feat?
After checking his timepiece, he frowned. It was well past his usual hour to retire, but thoughts of Miss Ashton and her mysterious intruder had occupied his mind until he’d poured over the journal in an attempt to dispel the images of her being hurt. Or worse.
He rubbed his chin, fingering the bristly stubble that lingered. It was high time he sought his bed. Tomorrow he would pay Miss Ashton another visit, and this time, he wasn’t taking no for an answer.
His head came up in surprise when he heard Moreland open the study door.
“My lord, you have visitors,” he said uncomfortably.
“Visitors?” he asked in astonishment. “At this hour?” He scowled. “What the devil do they want?”
Moreland cleared his throat. “I tried to turn them away, my lord, but the woman was most insistent.”
Ridge’s brow furrowed, increasing the tension in his already aching head. “Woman you say?”
“She has two Indian companions,” Moreland said in distaste. “Miss Ashton insisted you would see her despite the lateness of the hour.”
“Miss Ashton!” He rose to his feet. What the deuce was she doing here? He daren’t allow himself to hope she had changed her mind, but why else would she be here? “Show her in at once. Never mind. I’ll receive her myself,” he amended, striding out of the door.
He hurried down the stairs and paused outside the drawing room door to collect himself. He surveyed his unkempt hair in the mirror that hung on the wall and grimaced at his reflection. He looked bloody awful.
He strode through the drawing room door, his eyes taking in the scene before him. Miss Ashton rose, her hands smoothing the dated dress she wore. He arched an eyebrow at the difference in her appearance. In the dress, albeit a very plain one, she looked decidedly more feminine. Though he had to admit, he preferred the trousers. Gray eyes assessed him in kind, a flicker of worry in their depths.
“Miss Ashton,” he finally said, nodding his head in her direction. “To what do I owe the honor of your most unexpected visit?”
If he had thought she looked tired in their first meeting, today she looked utterly exhausted. Shadows rimmed her eyes. He felt a twinge of guilt. Being accosted by an intruder certainly would account for her fatigue.
“I apologize for the hour of my call, my lord.” Her husky voice sent shivers over him, and he frowned at his reaction.
“Please sit, Miss Ashton. If I may be blunt, you look unwell.”
She flushed a delicate pink, and irritation flashed in her eyes. “I’ve reconsidered my decision,” she announced as she settled in an armchair behind her. Her servants flanked her, and the man glared angrily at him.
Ridge sat down across from her and lifted a brow, wondering what prompted her sudden reversal. Before he could voice his question, she leveled a stare at him.
“I’ve decided to help you. I’ll translate the pages. However, I have a set of conditions.”
“I see.” Perhaps his earlier offer had been paramount in her change of heart. His gaze flitted over her modest apparel. “And they are?”
