“I have searched the place, top to bottom, and, to be frank, remain at a loss as to who did this and why. If you’d like to try your hand, maybe you’ll catch something I missed.”
Sterling did. He found nothing new. The same messy wardrobe. Same unmade bed.
With nothing else to be gained, North announced his intention to depart, and Sterling bid him good day, citing a desire to search the property once more before leaving himself.
In truth he wanted to question the neighbors without the presence of the magistrate to induce them to silence.
He began with the two men, laboring over their tools. They’d seen nothing. Knew nothing. Had barely conversed with Blackwell. Such was their story.
Sterling smiled congenially and thanked them for their time. His gut told him they were lying. There were several reasons they could have chosen to do so. A lack of respect for authority figures or those whom they considered higher up the social strata, a lack of impetus, or fear of reprisal.
It was the latter Sterling sensed. It came off the men like stink off manure.
He would need to approach the woman with care and in such a way that did not arouse suspicion fromherneighbors.
He saw his opportunity when he spotted her attempting to hoist a large basket of folded laundry fresh from the line.
“Allow me, madam,” he said, taking it off her hands without waiting for an affirmative reply. “This way?” He started toward the back door to her cottage which stood open.
She glanced around her, then shrugged. “Aye, milord.”
Five minutes later, he departed on Zeus. He took his time making his way down the lane, as if he’d learned nothing untoward. But the moment he was out of the line of sight of any who might be looking from within one of the cottages, he gave Zeus his head and raced for the coble he’d arranged to await his return in advance.
He had no reason to believe Annabelle or Caroline might be, at this very moment, in imminent danger. But given his track record where Annabelle’s safety was concerned, he wasn’t taking any chances.
Especially as he now knew the identity of the person who had employed not only Blackwell but the two men Sterling believed responsible for robbing her at gunpoint—a nobleman who regularly frequented Holy Island. Lord Vane.
Chapter 36
Trembling with nerves over what she’d done, Annabelle let herself out of Sterling’s office. She was acutely aware of the letter in her pocket addressed to Sterling.
She started toward the stairwell, intending to go up to her bedchamber. At the base, she hesitated. Babette was probably there, packing her things. Too, Caroline might pop in at any moment.
But where could she go to afford herself privacy? Either of the women might discover her in the parlor or any of the shared spaces within the castle.
The stables.
She hastened toward the foyer, snatched her crimson cloak off the hook, and tossed it over her shoulders, then let herself out the front door. With haste, she crossed the courtyard, the folds of her crimson cloak flapping furiously in the wind. Even now she might be drawing the attention of anyone indoors who happened to be near a window. It couldn’t be helped.
Nearing the stable doors, she stuttered to a halt. They stood open. She had not considered someone else might be inside. A quick glance revealed Chip, mucking the stables.
To the kilns, then, or rather, the small adjacent work shed. The kilns had been sealed, and even if that were not the case, she would not step foot inside of them, ever again, after what had happened. The shed, though not fully enclosed, would be empty and would provide ample privacy.
She marched up and over the winding gravel road, the icy wind off the water ripping her hood from her head, buffeting her face, and causing fine hairs to escape her loose knot to whip her cheeks. Minutes later, the bricked building jutting from the earth came into view.
It wasn’t until she rounded the corner to face the defunct limestone kilns that she noticed the heavy doors Sterling had recently installed were not all closed and locked.
One stood open, a heavy bag of clinker propped against it. Gooseflesh sprouted over her. Had someone pried open the door? Dear God, had she stumbled into the gang of thieves again?
Sterling’s parting words came back to her in a flash.Do not leave the castle while I’m out.
Spoken as if he had reason to believe she might be in danger.
No.No, she was being fanciful. There must be a logical reason for this door to be open. She eyed the ground nearby and saw distinct wheel tracks, like those of a weighted-down cart running from the one open door, downhill, toward the sea.
No doubt one of Sterling’s important tasks, the accomplishment of which she was proving ahindrance, involved emptying the kilns of the accumulated refuse abandoned by workers when Sterling’s grandfather ceased production.
She sniffed and peered toward the shore, partially obscured by distance, sporadic, tall grass, and meager foliage. Nevertheless,she could make out a horse, tied off. No, two. A small coble bobbed in the waves, as well. If there were workers present, she could not tell.
