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The girl nodded.
“Mind you don’t run off again. When we leave, you’ll be coming with us.”
Meredith tried to catch Rhys’s eye, but he refused to meet her gaze. “Rhys,” she said, grabbing his arm. “Look at me. Are you hurt?”
“Why do you care?”
“Of course I care.”
“Don’t. I don’t want you to.” He shrugged off her touch. “I can’t be near you right now.”
As the men left, the hounds trotted after them. Meredith stayed behind. She looked around at the wreckage and wondered to herself, which was in more pieces: her tavern, or her heart?
Cora rushed to Gideon’s side. Within seconds, he was moaning curses and writhing atop the bar, proving that Rhys hadn’t quite done him in.
For a long, fuming minute, Meredith contemplated finishing Gideon off herself. Then her practical nature prevailed. She didn’t want that sort of mess in her tavern, or that sort of guilt on her soul. Gideon simply wasn’t worth it. She did, however, want to keep him from bleeding all over the bar. She went for her kit of bandages and medicines, but when she carried the small box out from the kitchen, Cora took it from her hands.
“I’ll take care of him,” she said firmly. There was no girlish lilt in her voice now, only a woman’s resolve. Harold and Laurence stood behind her, rolling up their sleeves. “We’ll take him up to one of the guest rooms,” she said.
Meredith nodded numbly. “I’ll clean up down here.”
After chasing everyone from the room, she latched the door. Alone, she swept up every sliver of broken glass and each piece of splintered wood. She mopped the blood from the countertop and scoured the flagstones with sand. She righted the remaining furniture and returned the brass candlestick to its place on the mantel.
When noontime came, she went upstairs to wash and change her frock, and then she prepared a simple family meal. Bread, cheese, sausages. She called Father and Darryl in from the horse barn. Mr. Bellamy’s team and carriage were still there, but there was no sign of the gentleman. Or Rhys.
After the men had taken their meal, Meredith prepared a tray and carried it upstairs.
“I’ve brought up some tea and broth,” she said, pushing the door open with her foot. “And solid food for you, Cora.”
Gideon was supine on the bed, still wearing his boots and trousers, but stripped to the waist. Cora sat in a chair beside him, holding a poultice to one side of his face.
“He’s sleeping,” she said. “I dosed him with laudanum for the pain.”
Meredith set the tray on a nearby table. Then she crossed to stand over Cora’s shoulder and reached to lift the poultice from his face. Lord. The man’s jaw, cheek, and brow were all one giant, swollen bruise. He wouldn’t be seeing daylight through that eye for a week.
“Well, Gideon,” she said quietly, even though she knew he couldn’t hear, “you deserved that.”
“It wasn’t how you’re thinking,” Cora said. She smoothed the hair from Gideon’s brow. “The two of us, last night.”
“Even so. He’s had this coming to him.” Ever since that night Rhys stumbled in from the moor with a gash in his scalp.
Meredith took her turn watching over the wounded man while Cora had a rest, then prepared an evening meal. And after all was swept and washed and put away, she sat down at her scratched and dented bar and poured herself a generous glass of wine. Then a second. A folded newspaper lay on the counter. She left it untouched. It couldn’t tell her what she wanted to know today.
Near midnight, there came a knock at her bedchamber door. Meredith gathered a shawl about her shoulders, went to the door, and slid back the latch to open it a crack.
Rhys was there, dressed in a clean shirt and breeches. The small cuts on his brow had been tended and cleaned.
“I leave at dawn,” he said.
She could only blink at him.
“It’s the murderer. Bellamy thinks he’s found the man who was with Leo the night he was attacked. Name of Faraday. Been hiding out in Cornwall. Bellamy’s speaking with Cora now. She’ll come along to confirm his identity.”
“Why do you need to go?”
His eyebrow quirked. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m the muscle. In case of reluctance, I’m to pound the truth out of him. Then mete out justice, if it’s warranted.”
“I see.”
