“I’m not.”
Barrington gave a slow nod. “We’ll bring carriages behind. Armed.”
Gabriel swung into the saddle. “No more delays. If they’ve taken her for the brooch, they’ll want time. But they won’t waste it.”
The gelding stamped once, restless beneath him.
Barrington stepped forward, gripping the saddle’s edge. “You’re not thinking clearly.”
“I’m thinking very clearly. I know how they move. I know how she moves. And I know what time I lost.”
He turned the horse.
“Gabriel.”
Lady Eastbury stood just outside the stable arch, the lanternlight catching on the trim of her cloak. She was alone. Wind tugged at her hood, but her spine was straight, her hands unshaking.
“I need a word.”
Gabriel didn’t dismount, but he turned the horse toward her.
She stepped forward. “There’s something you don’t know. About the brooch.”
“I assumed as much,” he said.
“It wasn’t just her mother’s.” Her voice was tight, clipped. “It came from a set. Six pieces. All from Vienna. They were part of a cache her uncle brought back with him. I told myself they were sold. Lost. But that was a lie.”
“Why?”
“Because some secrets are more useful if you pretend they’re forgotten.”
She met his eyes.
“Someone is collecting those pieces again. Someone who knows where they scattered. And if your suspicions are right, that the brooch marked her, they’re not just reclaiming heirlooms. They’re reclaiming power.”
Gabriel’s breath stilled.
Lady Eastbury stepped closer, her voice low. “You must find her. Before they decide she’s served her purpose.”
“I will.”
A beat passed.
She did something unexpected, something that struck him harder than any plea. She reached up and pressed her hand once, briefly, to the horse’s shoulder. A silent blessing. A benediction for the road. And she stepped back.
Gabriel didn’t look at the others. He turned the horse toward thegate, heels light against the gelding’s flank. And he rode.
*
The clatter ofhooves faded into the dark.
Barrington stood at the edge of the stable yard, arms crossed, face set. Lady Eastbury hadn’t moved. Her gaze followed the road, as if she could force her vision farther than the lanterns allowed.
A few stable hands hovered nearby, uncertain whether to retreat or offer aid.
A rider approached from the east. Hard and fast. One of the guards reached for his weapon, but Barrington lifted a hand.
“Townsend,” he said.
