“Yes, of course.”
“Good.” He kissed her, grinning.
“You’re excited about this!”
“Ecstatic! I’ve been worried sick about who might still be after you. This way I will know what to do to protect you and where the threat is coming from, and maybe even why.”
She flung her arms round his neck and kissed him, just barely swallowing the words that wanted to burst out about how much she loved him. “Thank you,” she choked out instead.
He rose, heading for the door. “I’ll see to the horses and let Mrs. Green and the children know. You pack and then pen a note to the duchess and ask her to pop in and check on the children while we’re gone.”
*
Two hours laterthey were mounted and heading out of London. Charlie had clung a bit when informed they were going to be away for a couple of days, but when Lizzie told her to buck up, she suppressed the tears and tried to be brave, which got Emrys in the chest. He gave each of his children a big hug in farewelland left them in Mrs. Green’s capable hands. The woman was truly a treasure.
By his calculations, they had four hours of daylight left. With any luck, they would reach Reading tonight, which would leave them eight, perhaps ten hours of riding tomorrow. They would stay with his grandmother in Bath tomorrow night.
Chapter Twenty-Six
They entered thevillage of Monkton Combe in the late afternoon. The church was situated at the end of the village’s main street in a cul-de-sac. It was a small building, rectangular with a small spire, and stained glass windows down the side. It looked surprisingly new. Leading the horses under a tree, Emrys dismounted and helped his wife down. He was tired and a little saddle sore himself. He could imagine how she must feel, but she hadn’t complained once.
“All right?” he said, his hands still resting on her waist. Her riding habit of green velvet was fitted to the waist and displayed her figure to perfection.
“Terrified,” she admitted with a rueful smile.
“Come on,” he said, offering her his hand. “Let’s go and find out who your sainted papa is before I expire of curiosity.”
She took his hand and picked her way across the tussocky grass toward the little church.Would there be anyone here at this time of day?He looked about for a rectory building nearby but couldn’t see one.
They reached the entrance to the church. The door was ajar, and it was rather gloomy inside. He poked his head in and called out. “Hallo, anyone about?”
Annis slapped his arm, embarrassed. “Emrys! It’s a church. You don’t yell in church!” she hissed.
He shrugged, and a figure appeared in the aisle toward the front. He was a middle-aged man with a shock of thick partially graying hair. He was in shirt sleeves and carried a cloth in his hands as if he might have been polishing something.
“May I help you?” he said, walking toward them.
“I hope so,” said Emrys, stepping over the threshold. He held out his hand. “I’m Viscount Ashford, and this is my wife, Lady Ashford. I was wondering if we might take a look at your parish records?”
The man blinked. “My lord, this is most unexpected. We don’t get nobility visiting us very often. Reverend Paul Annerley at your service. Do come in!” He wrung Emrys’s hand enthusiastically and waved them in. “You’re lucky I was still here. I was about to shut up shop and go home for tea. This way—the records are kept in here,” he said, leading them to what Emrys guessed was the vestry, a small room off the right of the altar.
“Has the church been here long?” asked Emrys. “It appears to be relatively new.”
“Oh, this building is very new—only four years old! But the original church was Norman, very ancient and uncomfortable. It was demolished and this one rebuilt in its place.”
“Oh, do you have all the records from the original church?” asked Annis anxiously.
“Yes, of course. The registers were transferred,” said the reverend, holding the vestry door open for them. “Which year were you interested in?”
“We actually have a date” said Annis, blushing. “We—we think it might be for a marriage.”
He nodded and smiled. “And the date?”
“The seventh of January 1790.”
“Mm, 1790, 1790.” He turned to peruse a shelf with large, bound volumes on it. There were a lot of them taking up theentirety of the inner wall of the vestry. On the very topmost shelves Emrys even spied some scrolls. “Ah, here we are—1789 to 1794. We don’t get a lot of births, marriages, and deaths here you understand.” He drew out the large volume and rested it on the table. Opening the parchment pages, he leafed through them until he found the correct year. “Here we are, there are three entries for January 1790. Take a look.” He stepped back, and they bent over the book. Emrys peering over Annis’s shoulder.
The third was what they were looking for. He heard Annis’s in-drawn breath as her finger traced beneath the spidery, hard to read letters.
