“The name of the man who kidnapped you?”
Beads of sweat glistened on the baron’s upper lip. He dabbed it with a handkerchief. “I want it all to stop. If I tell you all I know, what will you do with the information?”
“I’ll question him and attempt to uncover the truth.”
He threw up his hands. “There. I thought so. If you approach these men and make it public, it will be like setting the hounds among the rabbits. And I will be the one they go after.”
“I shan’t mention you,” Jack said. “What else do you wish of me?”
“Protection for my family. My sister and niece may be in danger too.” He leaned in, his gaze fixed on Jack’s. “You are an army man; you will have useful friends.”
“Then you must tell me everything you know. Why was Lord Butterstone killed?”
“I can only imagine it was because he made inquiries of the wrongpeople at Whitehall. Stirred the hornet’s nest.”
Jack frowned. “You’re suggesting that someone in our government was involved?”
“It’s certainly possible,” Lord Caindale said.
“The other possibility is that the French might have considered the marquess to be a party to the plot to bring about Bonaparte’s death,” Jack said. “In that case, why didn’t they kill you when they held up your carriage, as it appears it was they who shot Lord Butterstone? Why take you back to London and then set you free?”
“They believe I can lead them to Bonaparte’s supposed assassin.” He peered anxiously out of the window. The carriage traveled through the park. “I must be careful…”
Jack studied him. The baron’s forehead dripped sweat, and his hand clutching the handkerchief shook. His fear was real. But could there be more to this than he revealed? Jack recalled the pastor saying he’d seen two men riding side by side toward London. Common sense urged him to refuse to have anything to do with Lord Caindale. To leave the major part of the investigation to Bascombe. But was Althea in danger? That was not to be borne. “I’ll have someone watch your house.”
The man’s shoulders drooped with relief, and he held out his hand. “Thank you, Captain. I am in your debt.”
Jack shook it. “Now, my lord, you say you know the name of the Frenchman?”
Lord Caindale nodded furiously. “As soon as your guard arrives, you shall have it.”
Annoyed by the man’s obfuscation, Jack thumped on the roof. When the horses were pulled up, he opened the door and leaped from the carriage.
Jack strolled toward his rooms in Piccadilly. Frustrated, he didn’t feel as if he’d advanced any further. The more he learned of this affair, the muddier the waters became. He thought again of Althea. Wouldhe be able to do as he had promised and solve her father’s murder? It was really all he could give her of himself. And this was the real reason he wouldn’t drop the matter. Not unless he came up against a dead end with nowhere else to turn.
*
Thankfully, Gormley failedto make an appearance during the meal. After they’d eaten, Cathleen went to her bedroom to pack a valise. When she came down, she glanced around the parlor, regret in her eyes. “I hate having to leave my home, and my animals.” Her chest heaved with a sigh. “And Ireland.”
“In time, you might return,” Erina said. She had been so keen to take Cathleen to England, it hadn’t occurred to her how hard it would be for her to leave her home and country.
“But when, and to what?” Cathleen shook her head. “The farmhand has promised to look after the livestock. Gormley won’t care. I can assure you he won’t pay the man!”
Erina placed an arm around her shoulders. “Let’s go to Dublin. You’ll feel better when you put a bit of distance between yourself and Gormley.”
Harry took her valise. “I’ll shake up the jarvie. He’s got a bit too comfortable in the hayloft.”
The rain held off on the way back to town. They traveled in silence, with Cathleen staring glumly out the window. At the hotel, they alighted from the carriage and stood on the pavement while Harry paid the driver. Cathleen instructed the hotel footman to retrieve her luggage.
“You there!”
They all spun around to find Gormley across the street, his rifle aimed at Cathleen. Stunned, her heart beating in her ears, Erina stared at him.
“Hold on, sir. We can settle this in an amicable manner. Go inside,” Harry ordered Erina and Cathleen over his shoulder as he stepped in front of them.
Erina’s legs didn’t want to move.
“There’s no need for violence,” Harry said. “We can talk this through. Come inside and have a drink with me.”
