Page 64 of The Widow Wore Plaid

“Definitely. Had you arrived fifteen minutes ago you’d have seen him trying to shoot me and Jane.”

“Jane, I beg your pardon.” Lathbury grasped her hand, as if glad to be able to touch one of them. “Are you well? I was convinced all along that Kinellan would let no harm come to you.”

“Nor did he, Matthew. Other than pitching me into the loch, he has taken excellent care of me.” She patted Lathbury’s hand, then let go. “Kinellan, however, needs a doctor as soon as we can get him home and fetch one. He’s wounded in the shoulder and I’m not certain it has not begun to fester.”

“Good Lord. Sit down, man.” Lathbury assisted Gareth to sit on the ground just as the rest of their friends appeared through the trees. “Here we are. You’re safe as houses now.”

“Not a moment too soon.” Gareth nodded to his cousin, who had begun to moan. “I think Rory is waking up.”

“He’ll wish he’d stayed unconscious if I have anything to do with it.” Lathbury walked up to meet MacKenna at the head of the search party.

“Jane, help me up, please.” Gareth offered her a hand, but she shook her head.

“You are wounded and have been through a terrible ordeal. You need to rest until they can figure out how to get you back to the castle.”

“I think that has been taken care of.” He nodded toward their horses, bringing up the rear behind Brack and St. Just. “We shall ride home in style. Apparently so will Rory.”

A third riderless horse appeared, one Gareth knew well. “He must have taken Hermes yesterday just as we were leaving, although I didn’t see him.”

“Neither did I, although I do not think we can be blamed for not noticing him.” Jane wrinkled her nose. “Why would we? He’s your cousin and a guest at the castle. Of course he’d be allowed to ride your horses. You’d think nothing of seeing him on one.”

“I suppose you are right.” Still, it bothered him that he hadn’t been more observant.

Rory had begun to stir in earnest when Lathbury returned with some sturdy rope, Wrotham, and Lord Harold.

“We’ll truss this one up until he looks like a Christmas goose and put him up on his horse, or your horse, I assume.” Lathbury and Wrotham swiftly tied Rory up. Lord Harold held Hermes’s reins while the others worked.

“May I offer my services to escort Mr. Seton to the county jail?” Lord Harold looked eagerly from Lathbury to Gareth. “I’ve so often been the one incarcerated it will be quite a novel experience to be on the other side of the bars at the end of the day.”

Gareth and Lathbury exchanged glances, but then Gareth shrugged. “Have at it, my lord. But be sure you do return at the end of the day.” He gave the young lord a stern look. “There are those who would be distraught should you go missing as well.”

“Of course, my lord.” Lord Harold bowed, then hefted the bound man over his shoulder and took him toward Hermes.

“That young gentleman is trouble.” Lathbury took Gareth’s arm and hoisted him up.

“Then he’ll fit in well with us, don’t you think?”

“Better to be Granger’s headache than mine.” Lathbury frowned. “My eldest sister will be coming out in something like five years. I’ll want Lord Harold well settled down by that time.”

“Sooner than that, I’ll wager. Jane, let me help you up on Penelope.” Gareth went toward her, but she stopped him with a brief cut of her eyes.

“Nash can do that very well, thank you. Let Lathbury help you to mount.”

Lord Wrotham put his hands together and tossed Jane up on the horse, her wet skirt now plastered along the horse’s side. “I say, Kinellan,” Wrotham spoke up once Jane was secure. “You seem to have had everything well under control the entire time, down to the detaining of the villain. I suppose we could have simply stayed at home and waited for you to appear.”

Weary to the bone, Gareth took in the search party, from his master of the hunt, in the lead, to the excited younger gentlemen who considered it a lark most likely, to Lord Harold, his attention concentrated on Rory, to Jane, to Lathbury standing by in case he needed assistance. “I will thank you for bringing the horses, Wrotham. That was thoughtful of you.”

Laughter floated up the line of riders as Gareth climbed onto Hector, with very little assistance from Lathbury. He took his place beside Jane, Lathbury brought up the rear, and they moved off back up the trail.

Almost immediately Gareth’s head began to swim and his eyes began to close. The last thing he heard was Jane’s calm, dispassionate voice. “Don’t be alarmed. I have my smelling salts with me.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

The grave look on Mr. Robbins’s face next morning as he tended Gareth’s shoulder wound could not have made the situation clearer, although the doctor did indeed lay the bleak verdict before him in no uncertain terms.

“I am sorry to say there is no improvement from when I dressed it last evening, my lord.” The gray-haired Robbins had been the local doctor since before Gareth had been born. He met Gareth’s fevered gaze without flinching, but sadness lurked behind his eyes. “In fact, the wound seems to be even more inflamed this morning.”

Gareth had expected as much. The pain in his shoulder had worsened during the night and his fever had returned, leaving him weak and restless. Jane had checked on him constantly and it had been exhausting to pretend to feel better when he certainly did not.