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Chapter Five
Since the party from Gillingham Hall had taken the barouche, Lord Kirby lent all the gentlemen several of his best Thoroughbreds. Jasper rode through the darkness, with Lord Kirby at his side. Reuben and Stephen had taken the northern road, toward the town of Willow Run.
“I don’t see any sign of them,” he remarked. The horse that he was riding was much lighter than Pilot, who was of a more muscular build. He sat all the way back.
“They likely went into the woods,” Lord Kirby said. “They wouldn’t chance being seen at the inn. The innkeeper’s a good sort. Doesn’t suffer any blackguards.”
They sat on their horses, scanning the woods for any sign of a campfire. There was none—just pitch blackness. It was lightly drizzling, the heavy rain that had so captivated Lady Selina having sloughed off.
“This is true. They’d certainly stand out at his establishment,” he said. “It worries me, that they’re being seen here, though.” There were few dangerous folks in this county—for the most part, it was well-meaning and hard-working people. They didn’t stand for drunkards or ruffians in their midst. It was just simple country folk, and the lords and ladies on their estates.
“Is it possible that they’re deserters, Your Grace?” Lord Kirby asked. After all, there’s a regiment being housed in Brookville, just to the south of here.”
“I’ll stop by tomorrow,” Jasper replied. “I know the Colonel well.”
“Very good, Your Grace,” Lord Kirby said. “Let’s go and see how the ladies are faring. Perhaps your brother and Lord Sandbourne have news.”
“Yes,” he replied, touching his heels gently to his mount’s sides. The hot-tempered Thoroughbred sped off.
* * *
The ladies, meanwhile, sat in tense silence. Selina wondered what the gentlemen were doing just then—were they locked in battle with the thieves, even then? Were they on a wild chase across the countryside, in pursuit?
“I do hope Lady Morton is all right,” Leah was saying. “She’s always been such a particular friend of ours.”
“Why do bad things happen to good people?” Aunt Georgiana wondered mournfully.
Selina remained quiet. She’d often encountered intrigue such as this. After all, the world was a wide place, with people in it who were not as well-meaning as one would like to believe. Her father and brother had fought off robbers, once or twice, while they were on the road. It didn’t make her question—she wasn’t the bad person, after all.
Her father’s estate, Staunton, was very near to London. The crime rate in the nearby environs wasn’t as low as it was all the way out by Kirby Hall. Many people were traveling through on their way in and out of London.
“You know, Aunt Georgiana,” she said. “It’s not a question of goodness. They were after money, and they meant to have it. It wasn’t against Lady Morton on purpose, I’m sure.”
Leah was glaring at her. “How could you say something like that?” she demanded, tearily.
“Lady Morton is a very demure and proper lady,” Selina replied.
“Of course, she is!”
“But it wasn’t to test her faith,” Selina explained, looking at the Dowager Duchess, who looked a tad surprised at Leah’s outburst. “They weren’t thinking of her—only themselves. That’s how bad men think.”
“And I suppose you think you’re so worldly,” Leah went on. “That you’ve been to all these exotic places, and learned so much about the world, while we’re all bumbling about the countryside.”
“That wasn’t at all what I was saying, cousin,” Selina said, gently. “I was simply saying that—”
“It doesn’t matter what you thought, Selina,” Leah hissed. Lord Kirby and the Duke arrived back. “Oh, Your Grace!” Leah flew across the room toward her fiancé. “Did you find them?”
“No. We found no trace,” he said. His eyes turned toward the others. “We’ll search a bit more in the morning. I doubt they’re staying in the area.”
Selina frowned, wondering how it was that they could have disappeared so quickly. Usually, thieves were discovered out on the road, trying to get away.
* * *
The next morning, Jasper rode to Brookville to visit the Colonel. The regiment was staying in several houses along the main street of town. Jasper approached the brick house where he knew Colonel Fitz was quartered, knocking on the green wooden door.
In a few moments, it swung open. A young lady gaped at him, wide-eyed. She was dressed in a simple gray frock, with a stained apron over it.
“Good morning, Miss,” he said, bowing. “Can you tell Colonel Fitz that the Duke of Gillingham is here?”
