approval.
She was gone.
Seized by a third villain?
But then he heard hooves.
He ran out, but saw the tail of his horse disappearing at speed down the lane. He swore long and vividly. “Why the devil did you let her have my horse?” he demanded of the groom.
The man backed away. “She said as you wanted her to ride for help, Captain. Seemed likely enough, begging your pardon.”
“Get me another one. Any.”
The man worked fast, but it took five minutes before Thorn mounted.
“But what about those men, Captain?” the groom asked anxiously, nodding toward the stables.
“Let them loose in a few minutes, but don’t let them have a horse. If they give you any trouble, tell everyone that they’re attempting to abduct a nobleman’s sister and deserve to hang.”
It might even be true.
“And make sure they know that if Captain Rose hears of them troubling the lady any more, they’re dead.”
The bound men would hear that for themselves. She didn’t deserve protection, but he had to offer it.
He considered riding at speed along the London road, but he didn’t think that cunning wench would take a straight route. She probably never had any intention of going to Maidstone. He made some inquiries nearby. A woman on a horse at night would be rare enough.
Those not celebrating the new reign were in bed, however, so he had only two sightings, neither of which led him to her. He suspected they were deliberate feints. Damnation, she wouldn’t get away with this. He wasn’t finished with her yet, and how did she expect to survive out alone at night on a stolen horse?
He’d delayed as much as he could, however. He turned the horse toward Ithorne Castle, annoyed, concerned, but reluctantly admiring as well. Such a resolute wench intrigued him, and he wanted to know her story.
But the king was dead.
Long live the king, and he needed to be in London to seize this moment.
The new king was young and hesitant, and those at court would already be jostling for influence. Some already had an advantage. The Marquess of Rothgar, for example, had been cultivating the young man for years, playing the respectful mentor rather than the parent or tutor. The Dark Marquess had a reputation for omniscience. It was as if he’d known this day would come unexpectedly soon.
But he and his like wouldn’t have the field to themselves.
A shave and fashionable elegance, and on to London at all speed.
The Duke of Ithorne had rank and power above most, and must be at court to use it at this crucial moment.
Chapter 3
Carscourt, Oxfordshire, April 1764
“A carriage! I wonder who it can be?” Bella Barstowe ignored her sister’s speculation. Lucinda wouldn’t expect a response, and the visitor would not be for Bella. Nothing at Carscourt was ever for the penitential sinner except the meanest bed and board. All the same, tedium made even tiny things interesting, and as she continued to embroider a violet in the corner of a handkerchief, Bella listened for any indication of who the arrival might be.
A neighbor? No, Lucinda was at the window now and would recognize a neighbor’s carriage.
A guest? There’d been no preparations, and guests were rare here now that the only residents were Lucinda and their brother, Sir Augustus. Lucinda was both silly and sour, and Augustus was a sanctimonious prig who in any case was often away on business of various kinds.
As for Bella, she was the black sheep of the family, and if it had been possible to wall her up in a cell in this day and age, that would be her fate. As it was, she was confined at Carscourt by lack of even a penny of her own. She’d thought of stealing to fund her escape, thought of it many times, but she was sure first her father and now Augustus would enjoy seeing her in court and transported, even hanged.
Bella bit her lip against tears. She hadn’t wanted her father’s love, but she had hoped for justice, or even mercy, up to the day he died.
As
She was gone.
Seized by a third villain?
But then he heard hooves.
He ran out, but saw the tail of his horse disappearing at speed down the lane. He swore long and vividly. “Why the devil did you let her have my horse?” he demanded of the groom.
The man backed away. “She said as you wanted her to ride for help, Captain. Seemed likely enough, begging your pardon.”
“Get me another one. Any.”
The man worked fast, but it took five minutes before Thorn mounted.
“But what about those men, Captain?” the groom asked anxiously, nodding toward the stables.
“Let them loose in a few minutes, but don’t let them have a horse. If they give you any trouble, tell everyone that they’re attempting to abduct a nobleman’s sister and deserve to hang.”
It might even be true.
“And make sure they know that if Captain Rose hears of them troubling the lady any more, they’re dead.”
The bound men would hear that for themselves. She didn’t deserve protection, but he had to offer it.
He considered riding at speed along the London road, but he didn’t think that cunning wench would take a straight route. She probably never had any intention of going to Maidstone. He made some inquiries nearby. A woman on a horse at night would be rare enough.
Those not celebrating the new reign were in bed, however, so he had only two sightings, neither of which led him to her. He suspected they were deliberate feints. Damnation, she wouldn’t get away with this. He wasn’t finished with her yet, and how did she expect to survive out alone at night on a stolen horse?
He’d delayed as much as he could, however. He turned the horse toward Ithorne Castle, annoyed, concerned, but reluctantly admiring as well. Such a resolute wench intrigued him, and he wanted to know her story.
But the king was dead.
Long live the king, and he needed to be in London to seize this moment.
The new king was young and hesitant, and those at court would already be jostling for influence. Some already had an advantage. The Marquess of Rothgar, for example, had been cultivating the young man for years, playing the respectful mentor rather than the parent or tutor. The Dark Marquess had a reputation for omniscience. It was as if he’d known this day would come unexpectedly soon.
But he and his like wouldn’t have the field to themselves.
A shave and fashionable elegance, and on to London at all speed.
The Duke of Ithorne had rank and power above most, and must be at court to use it at this crucial moment.
Chapter 3
Carscourt, Oxfordshire, April 1764
“A carriage! I wonder who it can be?” Bella Barstowe ignored her sister’s speculation. Lucinda wouldn’t expect a response, and the visitor would not be for Bella. Nothing at Carscourt was ever for the penitential sinner except the meanest bed and board. All the same, tedium made even tiny things interesting, and as she continued to embroider a violet in the corner of a handkerchief, Bella listened for any indication of who the arrival might be.
A neighbor? No, Lucinda was at the window now and would recognize a neighbor’s carriage.
A guest? There’d been no preparations, and guests were rare here now that the only residents were Lucinda and their brother, Sir Augustus. Lucinda was both silly and sour, and Augustus was a sanctimonious prig who in any case was often away on business of various kinds.
As for Bella, she was the black sheep of the family, and if it had been possible to wall her up in a cell in this day and age, that would be her fate. As it was, she was confined at Carscourt by lack of even a penny of her own. She’d thought of stealing to fund her escape, thought of it many times, but she was sure first her father and now Augustus would enjoy seeing her in court and transported, even hanged.
Bella bit her lip against tears. She hadn’t wanted her father’s love, but she had hoped for justice, or even mercy, up to the day he died.
As
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