“I had the musket,” she retorted, chin high. “And Martin came with me. I couldn’t leave Robbins alone up there. He saved my life, Rob. He—”
Rob raised his face to the heavens. “And it would have been for nothing if Miller circled back. You could have been killed.” He wanted to shake her but was afraid to touch her, afraid he’d never let go if he did.
Rob turned from Lucy abruptly. He took comfort in command.
“Let’s move Robbins into the house. Agnes, get Miss Whitaker some strong tea. Put brandy in it. Abbott, take that musket and plant yourself at the front door.” He looked around the barnyard. “Thatcher, you and Pomfret watch the back of the house until we get back. Can your boys send a message to Ashmead? Does Isaac Norton, the carpenter, still serve as undertaker?” He waved it away. “Just send word to the Willow. They’ll know who to send. The rest of us are going after Miller.”
He started to walk away, gave in to temptation, and scooped Lucy into his arms. “What are you doing?” she demanded.
“Fetching Khalija. I left him out front.”
“Put me down! I need to help with—” Lucy tried to wiggle loose, but Rob held her in place, his jaw clamped in grim lines.
“Abbott, Pomfret, and Vincent Thatcher are bringing the lieutenant round. You stay put,” Agnes called from behind.
He carried her to the front of the manor and into the drawing room, where he dropped her on the settee. “Do not move. When I come back, I expect to find you right here, am I clear?” He took a deep breath and added weight. “You will not endanger this search any further than you already have. And Agnes needs your help.” He was groping by that last, but his need to have her safe outran his command of logic. “Do you understand me, Lucy?”
She opened her mouth, and he braced himself for, “I’m not yours to command,” but it didn’t come. “Yes,” she said, so quietly, he wasn’t sure what he heard. “Yes!” she repeated, this time almost a shout.
He left her there.
Chapter Thirty-One
It took himtwenty minutes to find the lamb and three hours of fruitless tracking to accept that Miller had crawled back into whatever hole he came out of.
The wooly little creature appeared unhurt.
“Looks content enough, sir,” Goodfellow said.
It does, but… She’ll want the blasted thing.
Rob dismounted with a curse, scooped the wiggling body onto his shoulder, and mounted Khalija, dumping the lamb in his lap. Either too terrified to move or exhausted, the beast snuggled down and closed its eyes. “Show me where Robbins died.”
The remnants of blood stains and signs of a scuffle marked the clearing, but the rocky ground hid any sign of footprints. Between the three of them, they managed to follow a trail of broken branches and scuffed pebbles over the ridge only to lose it when it reached the bottom in a heavily wooded area of Caulfield Hall.
Rob strained his memory for hiding places at this end of the estate. He led them to a spot where branches hid a comfortable clearing, a caretaker’s cottage long gone to ruin, and a shallow cave further down the ridge—all empty, none showing signs of recent occupation. They crisscrossed the woods until Gibbons spied a trail leading out into the fields just as dusk fell. It appeared recent and headed in the direction of tenant farms.
“We need to question the farmers,” Gibbons said.
Rob surveyed his companions, rough and dirty from searching and heavily armed, and considered Gibbons’s words. “We’re likely to terrify them.”
“All the easier to get information,” Gibbons replied. “Unless you want to speak to the landowner first.”
“The earl needs to know he’s sheltering a murderer, think on,” Goodfellow said, peering at Rob.
“He does indeed,” Rob replied.
He led them up the circular drive to the massive façade of Caulfield Hall, and Rob snatched the lamb from Khalija before it could slip to the ground.
He strode up the steps with the lamb over his shoulder, flanked by his men, all three weary, and none in the mood for nonsense. He pounded on the door.Let that sniffy butler make something out of this.
A look of horror, quickly suppressed, widened the butler’s eyes. He tried to close the door on them, but Rob brushed past him, and Gibbons pushed the door open. All three marched into the gilt and marble entranceway, and Rob didn’t bother with any neatly engraved calling card this time. “We need to see the earl. Now.”
Rob spied a red-haired footman, his avid expression taking it all in, and thrust the lamb into the boy’s arms. “Take care of it and don’t lose it. I won’t be long,” he said, turning to glare at Higgins. “Well, man,” he told the stammering butler. “Get on with it. We need the earl now.”
“What is the meaning of this?” The dowager countess swept in, the very picture of aristocratic outrage. “Higgins, have these gutter rats tossed out into the dirt where they belong.”
Rob shot Higgins a look, daring him to try it, before turning a disdainful glance at the countess. “Good evening to you, too, your ladyship. I fear we cannot leave as you so eloquently propose. We have come to see the earl, not his underlings.”
