A few of the undergardeners watched in obvious confusion. They were smaller than Smith, but they were armed in their own way. Shovels and picks and axes make effective weapons.
“Stop him!” Adam shouted.
They needed no further instructions. Brandishing their tools, they ran at full speed to the entrance, blocking Smith’s path out.
Smith veered away, changing directions. He wouldn’t make it outside the castle walls. He was trapped. Smith skirted the outer gardens, running along the stone walls. He’d reach the dairy next. Who knew what he’d do to the maids working there if given the chance. Desperation made a man unpredictable and, thus, extremely dangerous.
He waved the stable hands, following close on his heels, to the left. “Half of you cut him off before he reaches the dairy. The rest, head straight for him,” Adam instructed. He motioned to the gardeners still guarding the exit. “Some of you take his path, don’t let him backtrack.”
All obeyed orders without hesitation.
Adam, with John at his side, cut through the gardens, over hedges and low walls. Smith stopped when he saw the small army from the stables closing in on him, but he couldn’t retrace his steps for the gardeners blocking that path.
Adam reached him. A single blow produced enough blood to prove the man’s nose was broken. He grabbed him by the shoulders and pinned him to the thick, stone outer wall.
“How long has this vermin been working at the stables?” he asked John.
“A month or so.”
“His real name—” Adam shoved him harder against the unforgiving stone wall “—is Mr. Smith. He is the former owner of the Boar and Dagger, which was forced to close because—”
“Because the High an’ Mighty Duke of Kielder got his skirts in a bunch,” Smith replied with a sneer.
Adam shifted his grip to the man’s throat, holding tight enough to give the man pause but not to cause any actual harm. “Because he is a cheat and crook.”
“The Quality thinks they can take whatever they want from an honest working man.”
“Which you are certainly not,” Adam growled. “And you had bloody well better have a good reason for being here.”
A crowd of grounds staff and stable hands pressed in around them.
“Earnin’ a livin’, Yur Grace.” It was, apparently, possible to address a Peer by the proper title and still sound condescending.
Adam squeezed a little harder. “Explain to me—” He barely refrained from strangling the man on the spot “—how it was that my wife’s mount reeked of bacon.”
Smith just grinned, the same slick, oily grin he’d offered when Adam had arrived at the Boar and Dagger looking for Harry and had asked why no one had sent for a physician.
A fist to the gut wiped that smile from his face.
“You expected the wolves to attack,” Adam growled in the man’s ear.
“You took away the only thing that mattered to me.” Smith wheezed out the words. “Jus’ returning the favor, guv’nuh.”
“You’ll hang for that!” John Handly shouted at the man.
“I have a better idea.” Adam shoved Smith upright and flat against the wall once more.
“Ye let us ’ave ’im, Yer Grace!” a stable hand shouted behind him.
“No one hurts our duchess!” another called out.
Adam looked at Smith, stared him down until he saw fear creep into his defiant eyes. He heard him force a difficult swallow.
“Put him in the gibbet.”
“What!” Smith roared.
“Right-o!” someone in the crowd called.
