It took onehour to run the mail coach down.
Jackson’s horse hadn’t even come to a full stop before he dropped to the ground, tossed a coin to the mail driver for the inconvenience, and ripped the coach door open.
Three occupants stared with wide eyes. One woman. Two men. One with flax hair, the other a most common shade of brown.
“You.” Jackson grabbed the brown-haired man by the collar, his head pounding at the sudden movement. “We’ve things to discuss, you and I, Hobbs.”
He didn’t wait for the man to descend gracefully. Jackson dragged Hobbs into the road and called for the coach to drive on.
The driver didn’t need a second order. A quick slap of the reins, and he and Hobbs were left alone on the dusty road.
Scrambling behind him.
Jackson didn’t bother turning around. “Flee, and I will hunt you down like a dog.”
The rustling stopped.
“Let me be clear,” Jackson said, his gaze on the mail coach as it became a distant speck. “I did not chase down that coach toaskif you had anything to do with the sabotaged buggy. I came to ask simple, basic questions. So simple, in fact, that if you were to lie to me, I would grow quite angry.” He turned, slow and with full knowledge of how the movement would appear calculating. “You wouldn’t want to anger me, would you, Hobbs?”
The man—boy—couldn’t have been more than seventeen. Wide-eyed and rightfully terrified, Hobbs nodded.
Jackson smiled. “Good. Now...” His voice dropped. “Was the duchess your target?” The words were acid in his mouth. If this was but the first attempt, there would be others. He’d left Anna in her chambers with three footmen standing guard in the hall. She’d been too busy fussing over his head wound as they’d walked back to Grandfellow Hall to ask questions. Then, when they’d reached the estate, exhaustion had clung to every line of her body, but as soon as she regained her spirit, there’d be no stopping that sharp mind of hers from working,demanding, answers.
He should have assigned five footmen.
The boy shook his head adamantly.
“Words,” Jackson ordered.
Hobbs jumped. His voice was little more than a squeak when he said, “Wasn’ supposed ta be anyone but you. They’s told me ta fix your saddle, but yous never went riding. Whenthe stablemaster called for the buggy to come ’round, I saw me chance.”
Tension eased out of his chest.
No one was coming after Anna. Which meant the boy had been hired by the counterfeiting ring. A sad excuse for an assassin, and an act that smelled of desperation.
Jackson would’ve howled triumphantly at the evidence that he was snipping at the ring’s heels, but Anna had come too close to harm for any premature celebrations of victory.
Mercy was for men less infatuated with their wives.
A fact he’d admitted to himself as he’d near lamed his favorite stallion pursuing this wretched bastard.
Jackson took the boy by the collar again and said without artifice, without mask, without forgiveness, “If my wife had come to permanent harm, I would have flayed you alive and let the birds pick at your exposed innards with no thought for how loud you screamed.” Who needed Greek mythology when a man had imagination?
The boy paled.
Jackson smiled without humor, knowing the boy would take nothing to crack. “Then again, youdidnearly hobble my favorite pair of mares.”
Hobbs clutched his sleeve. “Please, guv! Don’ leave me ta the birds. I ’ad no choice. Thems that made me do it.”
“Give me the names,boy, before I call the local magistrate. I believe attempted murder of a duke is a hanging offense.” Jackson set the boy back on his two feet and patted his shoulder. “At least it’ll be a quick death.”
Hobbs dropped to his knees and brandished his clasped hands like a repentant club. “Please, no. Please.Please. I’ll tell ya anythin’ ya want ta know.”
“The name!”
Hobbs pulled at his hair. “I don’ know the names. They never gave me none. Just some alias. The code ta use at the meetin’ place when me job was done.”
Jackson’s spine went rigid.Meeting place. Code name.
