She was tall, but her willowy figuremade her appear delicate. He suffered a moment of deep concern forher. A challenging time lay ahead until this matter was dealtwith.
He took his leave and made his way tothe stables where there was nothing new to be gleaned from eitherthe distraught groom, or the coachman. The carriage had been heldup on the road through the forest, about five miles from the town.No other vehicles, or people, were within sight. Lord Caindale hadordered the groom to put down his gun. His lordship went willingly,having said there was no need for bloodshed. Then the two men rodeaway into the trees, with the kidnaper holding the reins of hislordship’s horse.
Arion was fresh and pulled at thereins, so Jack let the horse have his head as they galloped alongthe Holyhead Road toward Dunstable, the cool breeze in his face.The busy toll road led all the way through Wales to Holyhead. He’dalready encountered a coach and six, a wagon, and a gentlemandriving a curricle. A straggling line of merchants, tinkers andassorted folk trudged along the side of it. The kidnaper must havehad knowledge of the area to pick a spot that was unlikely to beoverlooked, with a good chance of escape into the dense woodlandafterward. If he didn’t live in the area, he would have to do areconnaissance and might have visited the Dunstable coaching inn orthe tavern. He’d worn a scarf over his face again, so thedescription given by Lord Caindale’s servants had tallied with theButterstone’s and proved to be of little help, except to show thatthe same man was probably behind both attacks.
But what prompted such violent acts?Odd indeed to shoot a marquess down in cold blood, then takenothing from him. Then kidnap another lord of the realm. Thereseemed more than vengeance behind it. Would the truth die withButterstone, and possibly Caindale? Despite Lady Ashley’s doubts,Jack was inclined to think this had something to do with France.The marquess had been on a diplomatic mission of some kind. Jackknew little of the man. He seldom attended soirées or balls, but hehad often dined with his father, who out of some desire to see hisson a respected member of society, sought to keep him up with theintrigues in George’s court and the current politics. Somethingnagged at the back of his mind. Something he might have dismissedas gossip. Maybe it would come to him while he slept. Happenedsometimes. Although most of his dreams were made up of disturbingand violent images from the war.
We’ll expect you fordinner.Lady Ashley’s words pushed theirway into his thoughts. Had she begun to depend on him? Somethinghe’d tried to avoid. And now, not only was he compelled to oblige,he found himself caught up in the mystery. Not surprising to wantto help ladies in distress, any man would heed the call. But thatwas where the matter must end. A marquess’ daughter was off limitsto a bastard. Jack recalled her flowery perfume when they’d enteredthe salon together, and how her slender hands had trembled. In hermid-twenties, he wondered why she hadn’t married.
Jack spent the rest of the journeyraking his memory to discover something he might have heard aboutthe Butterstones, both father and daughter. By the time he enteredthe village high street and dismounted at The Dun Cow tavern, he’dfailed to come up with anything. Annoyed with himself he strodeinside.
Half an hour later, Jack returned tohis horse. An exercise in futility. The town was a busy place withpassing trade. The proprietor saw fresh faces almost everyday.
“You could try the coachinginn,” he’d said as Jack drank his ale. “But unless someone goes outof their way to make themselves known, they would go unnoticedamongst those piling in from the coaches.”
He was right.
As he mounted his horse, he noticed acleric in black garb trudging into the town. He rode over to him.“Good day, sir.”
“Good day, my goodman.”
“I wonder if I might have aword.”
The man, not young his hair grizzled,nodded wearily. “But of course.”
Jack dismounted. He explained what hadoccurred. “Have you heard anything about it on your travels?” heasked him.
The man removed his hat and scratchedhis head. “Might have done. Not sure if it’s helpful.”
“Anything.”
“Well, two riders did passme in the woods. I took note of it due to theirurgency.”
“When was this?”
“Late morning, it wouldhave been. Took me another hour before I reached open country. Theyrode east, away from Dunstable.”
“What did they looklike?”
The cleric shrugged. “A well-dressedgentleman and a scruffy one. His servant perhaps.”
“Ages? Size? Anything aboutthe horses of note?”
He shook his head. “The well-dressedman was older but apart from that nothing. They had their horses ata gallop.”
“The servant was notleading the other horse by the reins?”
He widened his eyes. “I don’t believeso. I think I would have noticed that.”
“You’ve been most helpful,thank you. Can I stand you an ale? A glass of wine?”
He smiled. “Kind of you. But I mustget on. I’m on my way to my new Parish.”
“Far to go?”
“Another eightmiles.”
“I hope the weatherholds.”
