“Then I suggest you pursuethe matter with a solicitor, sir,” Harry said. “Please unhand thelady.”
Gormley turned to look Harry up anddown. His mouth formed a sneer. “Yea’re nothing but a London dandy.Who do you think ye are, coming here and interferrin’? Cathleenwill be me wife before the day is out. Go back to that heathenplace ye came from.” He grasped Cathleen around the waist andalmost pulled her off her feet.
Moving fast, Harry seized the man’sarm and spun him around. “Unhand her, I say!”
As Cathleen slipped from his grasp,Erina held her breath, horrified. A ham-fisted fellow, Gormley wastwice as big as Harry.
“I’ll deal with you first.”Gormley bounced on his toes and took a wild swing which Harryblocked. A well-placed elbow to the side of Gormley’s head, and apunch to the solar plexus sent Gormley off his feet, gasping on hisback in the mud. Harry poked his polished boot into the man’schest. “We are leaving, and I advise you to let us go or you’llfind yourself in worse trouble.”
Gormley gaped, looking stunned. He satup gingerly feeling his head.
“Come.” Harry shepherdedthem to the waiting hackney.
Erin looked back as their carriagetrundled away down the street. The priest and the witnesses crowdedaround Gormley as he stood rubbing his head.
“Harry! You weremarvelous,” Erina cried. “I didn’t think you could…. Well, it wasmost satisfying to watch, I must say.”
“Taught by GentlemanJackson, the best pugilist in England.” Harry frowned as he dusteddirt from his trousers. “I wonder if we might partake of thatbreakfast of yours, Miss Cathleen, before we leave for Dublin? Thejarvie can put the feed bag on the horses and join us for ameal.”
“It’s not my house anylonger, sir. Gormley won it from my father in a cardgame.”
Harry tilted his head. “Won it fairand square, did he? Let him produce the deed of sale then. Whetherguilty or no, the man looked as sneaky as a rat in the palacekitchen. If he’s smart, he’ll wait for us to leave before hereturns.”
Chapter Thirteen
Jack fell back against the squab asthe carriage door slammed shut. The vehicle lurched forward.Opposite him, Lord Caindale looked brittle and pale as death. “I’mglad to have found you, Captain Ryder,” he gasped. “I find myselfas frightened as Macbeth before the ghost of Banquo! I am beingwatched. A brute of a man has been lurking outside my house eversince you left.”
“You don’t knowhim?”
“No, he’s a stranger tome.”
Jack studied him thoughtfully. “Thefellow might be there for some other reason, my lord.”
Caindale removed his hat and rannervous fingers through his thinning locks. “No. They’re watchingme. If I put a foot wrong...”
“But the kidnappers let yougo. What worries you?”
Caindale sighed. “I wasn’t entirelyhonest with them. If I’d told them the truth, I might not besitting here now.”
Jack raised his eyebrows. “Told themwhat exactly?”
“When we were in Paris,John Butterstone did inform me of an English plot to killBonaparte.”
Jack rested his hands on his knees andleaned forward. “Did he give you the plotters’ names?”
“He mentioned someone. ButI have no idea if it was carried out or Bonaparte beat them to itby dying.”
Jack frowned. “Forgive me, sir, butyou have lied to me. How do I know you’re telling me the truthnow?”
“I have no reason to lie.”Caindale’s hair received more rough handling. “I wasn’t sure beforethat I could trust you. I feared you might be one ofthem.”
“What has changed yourmind?”
“A note from Lady Ashley,telling me to receive you, and advising me that she and her motherare returning to London for the funeral service.” He grimaced.“This is not something I can deal with alone. It was a Frenchmanwho questioned me in the cellar. If the French, — apart from theBourbons who are happy to see the back of him—believe we killedtheir Emperor, they won’t leave any stone unturned until they’verevenged him.”
“Am I to be told thisEnglishman’s name?”
Caindale looked stricken. “I want itall to stop. If I tell you, what are you likely to do with theinformation?”
