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“I’m off,” he muttered and, before Jeb could say anything else, left the pub.
“Is he always that chatty?” Jeb asked the barkeep wryly.
The barkeep threw a dark look at the tavern door.
“Damned strange, that one,” he grumbled with a sha
ke of his head. “In all the time he has been working for your father, and has come in here for his ale, I have barely been able to get more than two words out of him. He just comes in, orders ale, and then leaves again once he has drunk it. Various people have tried to talk to him, even workers on your father’s estate, but nobody gets anywhere.”
“There is nothing wrong with him wanting to keep to himself,” Jeb reasoned, although could do not see why he would go for an ale in the tavern if he didn’t intend to talk to anyone.
The tavern was the hub of the village’s social scene. Practically everyone went to it at some point, if not to eat then to meet with friends or simply enjoy a pint of ale or two in good company. Still, Jeb couldn’t criticise. When he was tired and needed time to himself to think he often propped the end of a bar up somewhere, and quietly sipped his ale without speaking a word to anyone.
Although several of his father’s workers were present, they were all deep in conversation, crowded around small tables in large groups. He strained his ears to listen in on their conversation, but they weren’t discussing anything other than Tabitha’s disappearance. Although several theories were put forward as to what had happened to her, it was all purely conjecture. Without a body to prove anything sinister had happened, nobody knew what had happened.
Thankfully, Jeb was left to drink his ale in peace. Although he didn’t do anything to correct it, he ruefully had to acknowledge that he was copying Everson’s rather unsociable behaviour. At the moment, there were more important things on his mind though; like what to do about Sophia.
Should he probe to find out what the discord with her aunt was all about? If it was a family matter he didn’t want to get embroiled in that as well, but it mattered if she was to be a part of his future. However, if the ladies just didn’t get along, did he really want to involve himself?
Wrinkling his nose up in disgust, he turned his attention to the thefts. The thief hadn’t struck again yet, but Jeb knew it was only a matter of time. He suspected they planned to steal something from the Squire’s ball next week. That being the case, Jeb had every intention of being on his toes and catching them in the act.
CHAPTER TEN
The evening air was considerably colder than it had been when he had entered the tavern. He tugged the collar of his coat up and hunched his shoulders against the chill, and turned toward home.
The night was pitch-black. So dark in fact that it was hard to see his hand in front of his face, but he was used to working at night and didn’t give it a second’s thought as he made his way down the deserted main street.
He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t see his attacker until the man landed on his back. Jeb was well trained. The brawl that ensued was brutal and bloody. Jeb grunted when several blows rained down on him with breath-taking accuracy. Gritting his teeth, he returned a series of thumps that made his assailant step back. But not before one heavy fist landed with unnerving precision on the side of Jeb’s jaw. Stars danced behind his eyes. In spite of the pain, he refused to cave in to the need to drop to the floor and surrender to darkness. Instead, he snarled and threw himself shoulders first into the stomach of the man who was now trying to kick him. They hit the ground with a dull thump with Jeb landing on top of the winded man.
With the upper hand, Jeb brutally pummelled the man beneath him. The sound of flesh striking flesh didn’t bother him, and he showed no mercy for several bone crunching moments. Once he was sure his assailant was dazed enough to no longer pose a threat, Jeb pushed to his feet and glared down at him.
“Get up,” Jeb snarled, spitting blood out of his mouth. “What do you want with me?”
Before his assailant could catch his breath and answer, Jeb yanked him roughly to his feet. Using height to his advantage, he hauled the man up until he was standing on tip-toes and struggling for balance, and leaned forward until their noses were practically touching. Jeb didn’t recognise him but suspected this was no random attack.
“Speak,” he growled in a voice as cold as ice.
“Keep your nose out,” the man snapped defiantly in a broad London accent.
“Of what? Who are you? Who sent you?” Jeb shook the man with each question.
“I am a friend of a friend. I have been sent to warn you to keep your nose out of things that don’t concern you,” the man grunted.
“Who sent you?” Jeb persisted.
Inside, he was horrified that he had been followed all the way from London. This man was no opportunistic thief, nor was he local. This man had something to do with Sayers.
While he remained perfectly still, his gaze darted up and down the road. Unfortunately, Jeb knew this man was unlikely to be on his own. He had help – somewhere. Determined to get off the streets before accomplices turned up, Jeb shook his captive roughly.
“Tell Sayers he can go to Hell. You will never stop me in anything I do,” Jeb snarled.
Rather than reply, the man kicked out and landed a knee in Jeb’s groin. Jeb’s curse was bitter as he sucked in his breath. Pain made him instinctively released the man, who took advantage of regaining his freedom to resume his assault. This time, the fight had more ferocity. The rapid series of punches thrown warned Jeb this man most probably spent his youth fighting in streets rather than polite and civil gentleman’s clubs. Jeb had been in this situation too many times though, and knew exactly how to fight with the man’s speed and precision. His down and dirty punches, supported by random kicks, were carefully placed to fell a man. Although the stranger was a worthy opponent, he wasn’t as tall as Jeb, and couldn’t dodge the kicks Jeb landed in his midriff.
After several moments of venting his fury, and aware that the man wasn’t going to give up and leave, Jeb decided to despatch him. He placed several blows to his stomach. It winded him, and gave Jeb the opportunity to deliver one last warning.
“Tell your boss to give me the message himself rather than send his grunt to do his dirty work for him,” Jeb ordered, and landed a heavy thump straight in the centre of the man’s face and watched the man fall to his knees. “Attack me again and you won’t walk away.”
Unfortunately, Jeb couldn’t see him clearly enough in the darkness to know if this was the same man who had been watching Sophia. The height was just about right, but he couldn’t see enough of the clothing to be definite, and his face was encased in shadow.
