Smith smiled ruefully.“Actually, no.I’m afraid that I gave your servants a false name in order to avoid gossip at this point.My name is Hunter Lisle and I am afraid, to put it in a nutshell, sir, this is not your house.”
Ralph stepped back toward the bell pull, saying haughtily.“I have the name and pedigree that says it is.”
“So do I,” Smith said, and Ralph’s hand paused in mid-air.“And it is a fact that mine trumps yours.Being the son of the third earl’s second son, and you the son of his third.”
“But...Carrington is dead!There were no children.”
“I beg to differ,” Smith said gently.“I am, you see, very much alive.”Smith held out his hand.“Cousin Ralph.”
Ralph stared at the hand in loathing, and his false cousin let it fall back to his side.This was why the Writ of Summons was taking so long.This imposter had delayed it.
“I wrote from Canada some months ago,” the imposter said.“Did you not receive my letter?”
“I put it in the fire with other rubbish and begging letters.”
“I’m afraid this is a shock to you.”
“Not at all.”Ralph yanked the bell rope and for once Joseph appeared almost immediately.Ralph hoped he had not been listening at the door.“Mr.Smith is leaving.Show him out.”
***
JACK WAS RESTING HISnew horse at the side of the road, within sight of the Sark Park gates.It had taken him several changes of horses to keep up with the Smiths, but somehow he had never suspected they were coming here.
Could the new Earl of Sark be somehow involved in this smuggling of French people?If Tabitha’s cousin by marriage was a traitor, it put a whole new complexion upon everything.Jack’s aim had not changed, but discretion might well be called for, since he could not bear Tabitha to suffer from this.
Long before he had expected it, the three horsemen walked their mounts out of the gate and turned right toward the London road.
Confused, Jack followed on and realized, eventually, that his quarries were indeed heading toward the capital.He didn’t follow too closely, instead preferring to ask for them at the posting inns along the way.
The closer he drew to London, the more uneasy he got.Uncle Hazlett was always in Town when he was not at Isley, and the other uncles were also frequent visitors.In addition, several of his doctors lived there, and when London was thin of company, he was more likely to stand out.
And yet, he needed to follow Smith.He never thought seriously about giving up, but gradually, following his quarries more closely through the tollgates into the city, several plans began to converge in his mind.They thrummed excitingly in the background while he strove to keep his quarries in sight.
It would be easy to lose oneself in the heaving melting pot of people that made up London.He almost expected the Smiths to dive into the back streets to do just that.Instead, they went quite openly and directly to Albemarle Street and Grillon’s Hotel.As if they knew the way.
Well, it was easy enough to keep maps in one’s head.Jack was doing much the same, for although he had made occasional trips to London with his guardians, he did not know the city well.Somewhere close to the hotel was Isbourne House, his town residence, though he could count on one hand the number of nights he had stayed there.A spurt of curiosity struck him, but he ignored it, preferring to watch the hotel door.Smith and his son went inside, leaving the servant with the horses.
Jack dismounted, inspecting his tired horse as though worried about it while he watched for the Smiths’ exit.Ostlers appeared and led the horses away.The servant followed them.It seemed they were putting up at Grillon’s.
Jack was just beginning to feel conspicuous, when Smith emerged again alone and spoke to the doorman, who immediately summoned a waiting hackney carriage.Alarmed that he might lose his quarry, Jack led his horse nearer, but he was not quick enough to hear the direction to the jarvey.
Instead, as the hackney horses trotted off, he addressed the doorman, “The devil, I’ve missed him,” he said in annoyed tones.“Was that not Mr.Smith?”
“No, sir,” said the well-trained doorman, who would not give away the names of residents to strangers.However, the tiniest trace of relief in the man’s face told Jack he was not lying because he didn’t need to.Mr.Smith had changed his name.
Jack swung himself into the saddle and trotted off in pursuit of the hackney—no easy task in the chaotic, snarling mess of carriages, carts, drays, and pedestrians in Piccadilly.Several times, he was sure he had lost the hackney in the host of other vehicles.Once he almost followed a different carriage, only to discover the grey horse that had been his guide trotting along beside him.He dared not look inside the carriage.
Oddly, Smith was travelling toward the city, where Jack had been before with Uncle Hazlett.Finally, the hackney stopped and Smith got out.The hackney waited.
Again, Jack dismounted and led his horse past the nameplate on the door.Turnbull, Turnbull & Vernon, Solicitors.Interesting.He moved on, as though searching for a different office, as indeed he was.Only two doorways further on, he found the office of the De’Ath family solicitors, Langham, Fortnum and Dabbs.
Jack hesitated, for there were matters he needed to discuss with them.But he wasn’t yet sure he wanted word of his presence getting back to the uncles, and in any case, he needed to know what Smith was doing.Calling on a reputable solicitor was hardly the act of an enemy spy smuggled into the country with illicit brandy.
In fact, Smith spent so long inside that Jack began to wonder if he had been given the slip.Then, as he walked past the door yet again, he almost bumped into Smith emerging precipitously from the doorway.They both murmured apologies without looking at each other, and Smith reached for the hackney door.
“Back to Grillon’s,” he instructed.
There was no urgency about following him there.In fact, consulting his fob watch, Jack came to a sudden decision and sought out lodgings for himself and his horse.Having unpacked his saddle bags in an indifferent room of a backstreet inn close to Grillon’s, he sat down at the rickety table and wrote several letters.Then, although it was getting a little late, he went in search of his tailor.
