Page 53 of Against the Wind

“’Tis not surprising,” John said. “He had that letter from Sidmouth’s brother introducing him to all the local magistrates. ’Twould seem he’s made use of it.”

“This part of England is a pot ready to boil,” Martin said. “It won’t be long before something happens.”

“Aye,” John agreed. “Brandreth will see to that.”

“We must do something to prevent it. I have a few ideas—”

“Oh, ye remind me, sir. A message arrived from London,” John said, reaching into his coat and pulling out a letter bearing the seal of the Marquess of Ormond.

Martin tore it open. “I hope this is the answer I’ve been looking for, the chance for us to intervene. If Brandreth and Oliver are working toward the date they’ve set for their march on London, I am hopeful we…” He read the message and his heart sank. Staring at his tankard of ale, he saw nothing and let out the breath he’d been holding.

“Not the news ye were looking for, sir?” John inquired.

“Damnation. No, it isn’t. The Prince Regent does not want me to confront Oliver directly or make our identity known. We are just to observe, working only from behind the scenes if we wish to discourage the villagers from participating.” He crumpled the letter and stuffed it into his pocket. “I suspect Prinny is curious to know how far this will go, content to watch, knowing he has the power to quash any rebellion.”

“’Tis frustrating,” murmured John. “To be forced to watch while Oliver’s wolf approaches the sheep.”

“Yes, Brandreth is a wolf. While I find myself having some pity for him, pauper that he is, he is more worrisome even than his leader. Find out who manages the ironworks in Ripley, John. It’s time we paid the man a visit.”

Badly shaken by the debacle at the barn and the argument with Martin that followed, Kit tried to settle her mind by finishing her sketch of the man called the Nottingham Captain. She worked from memory, her pencil moving quickly over the paper as she focused on recreating his eyes. The intensity of that gaze had been unusual, striking. Perhaps even a little frightening. And as she captured his eyes in the sketch, her mind strayed to the last words she’d exchanged with Martin.

“You disobeyed me, Kit. It might have cost you your life. Can you not see it is dangerous for you to go about the village dressed as a lad and hiding out in barns where men are meeting? Are you perchance aping Lady Ormond? Did the idea for this masquerade come from her?”

Dismayed, she’d lowered her head. “No. It was my idea. Of course, you are right. I did not realize it would be dangerous.”

That wasn’t quite true. She did know if she were to enter a barn full of men plotting treason there was the possibility of danger, which was the reason she’d gone disguised. And because she would not have been admitted otherwise.

“That is why I confined you to the village and the inn, Kit. Much is going on in the Midlands just now. I am trying to keep you safe. You must trust me.”

She’d seen his exasperation. And, she realized, anger. Perhaps like Ormond’s for his wife, the emotion had its origin in a need to protect what was dear. Did he love her? She had given Martin her love. Could she give him her trust?

“I do want to trust you, Martin,” she said. But there is so much I do not understand.

“I wonder if you do. Perhaps I should send you back to London,” he repeated. “At least there Ormond has the resources to see to your safety.”

He’d stormed out, leaving her shaking. Would he send her away? She couldn’t imagine being sent from him, now that she realized she loved him, now that she wanted his love. No, she would not go. She would stay with him. Perhaps she could persuade him to leave off this treachery.

Deep within her she believed he was a good man. But she had trusted her father to care for her and Anne, had trusted Baron Egerton to provide for her, had trusted Lord Rutledge to be honorable. She would not trust so easily now.

A gentle knock sounded at the door. Rising, she opened it to find a smiling George Weightman carrying a tray.

“Yer husband has sent ye tea, ma’am. And he’s ordered a bath for ye, which the boys are bringing behind me.”

“Thank you,” she said, setting aside her sketch. “Tea and a bath would be lovely.”

It was a marvel, really, Martin’s kindness. He’d been so angry stomping out of their rooms. Or was this bath to prepare her to leave for London? Fear and anger warred within her. He’d confined her to their rooms and might be sending her back to London. Casting her away like an unruly child. Hadn’t he been at the barn where the men were meeting? Likely it was only luck that he wasn’t inside when the magistrate arrived. He, too, could have been arrested or shot. But, of course he’d refused to tell her why he was there when she’d asked, though he insisted on knowing all she had done that morning. She had not been candid in telling him how she’d discovered the meeting, but then what could she say—that she worried the man she loved was a traitor to the Crown?

An hour later, Kit had bathed and was dressed in a blue day gown. Her nerves much calmer, she had just set down her empty teacup when Nanny Weightman appeared at the door to tell her she had a visitor, a solicitor named John Highmore. Kit knew no man by that name, and she could not imagine what business a solicitor might have with her, but she thought it best to learn why he had come.

“Thank you, Mrs. Weightman. Could you send him up and arrange for more tea?”

The proprietress graciously agreed, and soon there was another knock at the door.

Kit welcomed the older gentleman into the sitting room as he handed her his card. Dressed like a country squire, in a soft brown wool jacket and tan trousers, the slight man with silver hair appeared frail. His face was kindly, however, and just now it bore a smile as if he were greatly pleased with himself.

She accepted his card and directed him to one of the large chairs in front of the fireplace. “Mr. Highmore, please be comfortable. I’ve ordered some tea. Have you come far?”

“Thank you, Lady Powell. Yes, it has been a long journey.” Setting down the case he carried, he focused on her with a satisfied look. “It’s taken me a long time and many inquiries to find you.”