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CHAPTER12
Ainsworth was here somewhere.
William wasn’t precisely sure where, for he’d followed the man into the crowd and Ainsworth had disappeared like a specter on a moonless night. The town had shown up in full force to support the Blakemore men, joining them for the welcoming feast if they were not already helping in the fields, but even considering that, there were not so many people here as to make entirely losing a man possible. If he’d seen Ainsworth—and he was absolutely certain he had—then he was still around.
William approached the group of older men sitting around on crates and makeshift chairs.
“Father,” William said, bending down to speak into his ear. “I saw Ainsworth.”
His father’s shoulders stiffened, but his smile remained perfectly situated. “It was a trick of the light.”
“No, I truly think—”
Father laughed loudly, slapping William on the back. “Too much to drink, dear boy. You might want to slow down.”
Was that entirely necessary? He’d only drunk one measly cup of ale, and no one in the vicinity had heard what he’d said to his father.
“Do you not have others you wish to speak to?” Father said, the lines tight about his mouth. “Get to know these good people, Will. They are the best in all of England.”
A round of cheers followed his pronouncement.
Father certainly did not believe his own words, or he would not have lived the last twenty years in Dorset, surely.
“But Father, I think—”
“Go, Will. Meet more of the good people of Collacott.” His hard tone had a strong undercurrent of meaning which was not lost on William. If he did not walk away from tonight’s festivities with more connections, he would receive a tongue lashing later that night. His father was not pleased with his lack of progress in winning over the people, but he thought he’d done a good enough job.
He was tired of playing games.
William left his father behind. He circled slowly around a group of children playing cup and ball and made his way toward the music. A man played the violin splendidly beside another man beating a steady rhythm on a crude drum. The group dancing in the center of the small clearing consisted of an array of all ages, and William stepped back, raking his gaze over the groups of people, searching for the familiar wavy hair and freckled nose belonging to Ainsworth.
The intruder hadn’t been wearing any sort of uniform, as far as William had been able to tell, but it was him all the same. Ainsworth had promised to make them pay for what Roger did, and it would appear that he had finally found them. He’d come to collect.
Roger sidled up to William, crossing his arms over his chest as mischief danced in his eyes. “They’ve almost convinced me to enjoy being in Collacott.”
William continued to search the crowds, distracted. He would not be able to rest easily until he found Ainsworth and whoever he brought with him. Surely he had not come alone.
“William?”
He glanced at Roger. “Oh? Was it the food or the dancing?”
“Neither. I think it was their complete willingness to do all the work for us today and then feed us.” He grinned. “I could get quite used to this.”
William swallowed his disgust. “You hadn’t planned to work the field or cook your own dinner this evening, so I’m not exactly sure what you were saved from doing.”
Roger looked at him sharply.
William should warn Roger. The man clearly hadn’t seen Ainsworth himself or he would be much more worried and far less snappy. The words quickly died on his lips when their cook, Lily, approached with a shy smile.
“Good evening, Miss Burke,” William said, bowing. He couldn’t speak of Ainsworth while they had an audience.
She curtsied to them both. “Will you be dancing gentlemen, or do you prefer to watch from afar?”
The poor woman was absolutely begging to be asked for a dance, and William hesitated. He liked her well enough, but if he danced this evening, it wasn’t Lily he wanted to dance with.
It was Pippa.
“I could be persuaded,” Roger said with a rakish lilt to his words. “What inducement could you offer? An extra pudding this week, perhaps?”
