Corbet turned, his eyes narrowed with suspicion. A hand went to his coat pocket. “Who wants me?”
Ash flicked back his coat, revealing his pistol tucked into his waistband. “We need to talk. There is the matter of Lord Spencer’s death to discuss.”
Corbet’s colorless eyes shifted from Ash’s pistol to Jed a few yards away and back to Ash. “What’s that to me? Know nothing about it, do I?”
“I think you do. Why are you here?”
“I’m visiting my cousin. Not that it’s any of your business.”
“Let’s step down the street apace, and you can tell me all about your cousin.”
“I’m agreeable, but it’s nothing of interest to you.” Corbet turned and walked along the path beside the schoolhouse’s high hedge. He suddenly swiveled, a knife in his hand catching the light.
With a snarl, Whisky was upon him, knocking him to the ground. Corbet’s knife skittered away across the grass, but in a flash, cursing, he was on his feet and scrambling for the knife. Ash stepped in and kicked it beyond his reach, then he punched Corbet hard in the stomach and followed it up with another to the jaw. The blows sent Corbet stagging back, his bloody mouth hanging open.
Ash drew his pistol and leveled it at him. “Pick up that knife, Jed. We’ll tie this rogue up. Bow Street would like to meet him.”
“You’ve got nothing on me.” Wincing, Corbet slowly straightened up. He glanced warily at Whisky, who growled and bared his teeth.
“We’ll let the magistrate decide,” Ash said. “I advise you to come along peaceably. I’m not averse to shooting you after you murdered a harmless old gentleman like Lord Spencer.” He bent and patted the dog. “Well done, Whisky.”
Jed trussed Corbet up like a goose at Christmas and stowed him in Corbet’s carriage, then leaped in and took the reins.
Ash climbed into his curricle and patted the seat. The dog jumped up and sat beside him, panting. “A good day’s work, eh, Whisky?” With a satisfied grin, Ash urged his horses out onto the road with Jed following behind. But he was soon frowning again at a worrying thought. Julia was still not safe.
He had arrived home too late to call on Thea. With Corbet in a Bow Street holding cell, Ash stayed for a word with the magistrate, Richard Birnie. He explained the situation to him and promised he would soon have more information. Birnie agreed to hold Corbet on an assault charge and send a Bow Street Runner out to investigate.
After dining at a hotel, Ash went home, bone-weary. He lay awake after the glass of brandy failed to induce sleep. Julia seemed so certain her mother was alive. Might it be possible? He believed some bereaved could sense the moment a loved one departed this world. He had a similar experience himself. But more likely, surely fearing for her life, Lady Farnborough wrote to her daughter just before Farnborough killed her. He had shown he was capable of it. It had become imperative for Ash to remove the girl from the school as soon as he could work out the best means to do it.
It would take Farnborough some time to discover his henchman now resided in jail, but then he would make another attempt. Ash must locate the aunt. He would need Thea to accompany him, he realized. A man alone would cause suspicion concerning his motives. But a respectable woman accompanying him would allay those suspicions. Ash smiled into the dark. Thea would be eager to offer her help. He would call tomorrow to ask her. He had determinedly closed his eyes and invited sleep when his bedchamber door flew open with a bang.
Ash sat up with a curse, reaching for the gun under his pillow. The intruder, smelling strongly of dog, jumped onto the bed, and with a noisy sigh, settled heavily over Ash’s feet.
“You might have asked,” Ash said. He removed his feet from the dog’s weight and lay down again. Amazingly, he fell into a deep sleep until Whisky roused him again at daybreak.
Chapter Eleven
When the butlerannounced Grainger, it was all Thea could do not to leap up from her chair. Her breath quickened, and her heart thudded with relief to find him alive. Desperate to learn what might have happened yesterday, she searched his face for some sign as he bent over her grandmama’s hand. Thea offered him hers with a speaking glance.
He and her grandmother exchanged the usual pleasantries while Thea grew more impatient. Finally, her grandmother left the room with some mention of her knitting bag, which she declared had mysteriously disappeared.
Grainger grinned. “I believe I see knitting needles poking from that bag beside her chair.”
“Never mind that,” she said, annoyed at his calm demeanor. “Tell me what happened yesterday.”
Grainger obliged. It was worse than she’d expected, causing a knot of anguish to lie heavy in her stomach. “Poor Julia. Is it possible her mother might still be alive?”
“It seems unlikely, but not impossible. The question is, why has Lady Farnborough kept silent for a year?”
“Whether or not she lives, you must save Julia, Grainger.”
He frowned. “I’ve scared you. I’m sorry.” He joined her on the small sofa covered with damask, his broad frame taking up all but her small corner.
His masculinity flooded her senses. The breadth of his shoulders in the dark gray coat and his clean male smell made her want to rest against him. To feel his powerful arms around her. But she warned herself against becoming too dependent on him. He would not be here for her forever. But balked at mentioning a means to end their engagement, and now was not the time.
He stretched out his long muscular legs encased in fitted, buff trousers and gleaming top boots. “I need Mrs. Tyler’s agreement for me to remove Julia from the school. I hope that will flush Farnborough out of hiding behind his henchmen. If I can discover where Julia’s aunt, Miss Bannockburn, lives. It’s somewhere in Cambridgeshire, Julia thinks, I will take the girl to her. Failing that, she can stay at Meadows. She’ll be safe with Grandfather, and it will give me time to find out more about Farnborough’s two cohorts involved in this plot.”
“But he will know it was you who took Julia away.”
