A Question for the Ages (Questions for a Highlander Book 7)

by Angeline Fortin

  “No mistake. Gave me his card, he did.” Wilkes patted down his pockets and came up empty, reminding Piper of the possibility that his claim was nothing more than a ruse.

  “Ye said yer piece,” Hughes puffed. “Be off wi’ ye!”

  Wilkes shook his head and fished a meager amount of currency from his pocket. Selecting a pair of coins, he tossed them on the table, muttering something under his breath. He turned toward the door.

  Somehow the idea of him simply walking away troubled Piper even more. If his story were true, it seemed a shame for him to leave empty-handed.

  If it wasn’t, though…

  Suspicion was a horrible burden. She jumped at shadows without reason. And there was no discernable reason to suspect Wilkes of any ill intent. Large as he may be, he hardly bore the demeanor of a thug for hire, not like some of the others she’d heard about who came through Aylesbury searching for her. Blacksmiths and farriers, by trade, were generally muscular in build.

  Moreover, if he sought Piper, why invent this sham to involve Jane? Neither her mother nor Rutledge had ever confronted Jane regarding her disappearance before. There was a fair chance Celeste wasn’t even aware of their friendship, devoid of maternal interest as she was. There was no reason Rutledge should know.

  No, the only one who’d ever thought to ask Jane about her was Harry…and that only recently.

  A curl of dread knotted her stomach.

  Recently and publicly. At a ball, Jane had said. Not any ball. Lady Onslow’s. Where everyone who was anyone would be. Including Rutledge? No. Although any number of his acquaintances might have attended.

  “Mr. Wilkes,” Piper called, and he paused by the door. He’d have to duck his head to exit. She swallowed hard. “How many children do you have?”

  “Three, mum,” he admitted. “Another on the way this winter.”

  The answer rang with honesty and he seemed entirely in earnest. Sympathy washed over her.

  Jane must have sensed it as well. “How much did my father owe you?”

  Hope flared in the man’s eyes and a twinge of shame poked at Piper for having doubted his tale.

  “Six pounds, miss.”

  A reasonable amount for four horses.

  “And you work for a farrier in Amersham?”

  He squared his shoulders. “Own the shop, miss. There’s but one in town, if you’re meaning to check on it.”

  “It is not my father’s habit to leave a debt unpaid, Mr. Wilkes. I’d like to reassure you of that.” Jane shook her head and opened her beaded reticule. “I’ve no more than four pounds with me at present. I beg you to take it and I will see that my father forwards the balance as soon as I return to London.”

  “Thank you, miss.”

  He stepped forward and this time, Mrs. Hughes held out a hand for him to stop. She took the money from Jane, transferred it to her spouse, and motioned for him to meet Wilkes. “Don’t you dare think to accost another person in my establishment, Mr. Wilkes. I’ve a mind to call the constable on you.”

  “My apologies, mum.” Wilkes nodded at Jane. “My apologies, miss, for my unseemly behavior. I’m normally a decent sort of bloke, I assure you.”

  He dipped his head and disappeared through the door. A surge of relief weakened Piper’s knees. However benign his mission in coming to Aylesbury, she was glad to see him go. The flood of paranoia his approach stirred merely served to remind her of how precarious her position in Aylesbury and at Dinton Grange truly was. Disguise or not, she’d become too comfortable here when she most assuredly ought not perceive any measure of safety. This was the single place in England other than her mother’s townhouse in Victoria Square where each step should always be taken with caution. She’d gotten sloppy in her efforts. Did she truly believe she could have lived the remainder of her life here without discovery? Without a misstep to reveal her? Without a slip of the tongue from someone at the Grange to betray her?

  She was safe at the moment, but Connor was right. If she didn’t want to show herself to Harry, she needed to leave Dinton Grange, her home.

  For good.

  The couple also rose from their table, paid, and departed with the comment that they’d had enough excitement for one day.

  Piper couldn’t agree more.

  “We should leave,” she whispered in Jane’s ear.

  “We haven’t had our tea,” Jane protested. “And don’t forget the pound cake.”

  Piper relented. A while longer in a closed parlor wouldn’t hurt. Besides, she could use some tea to calm her nerves. Perhaps, as she’d joked before, a wee dram of something more in it would be even better.

  “I must apologize for the upset, Miss Langston. For a young lady to be accosted like that? And in my establishment!” Mrs. Hughes gestured to the adjacent hall. “Come. I’ve your parlor ready and a plate of cakes awaiting you.”

  Jane smiled, the tension in her posture relaxing. “Thank you, Mrs. Hughes.”

  “Miss Jane Langston.”

  They turned to the sole remaining occupant of the pub. The narrow man in his tidy suit drew a neatly folded handkerchief from his pocket and removed his spectacles. Polishing each lens, he smiled at them benignly.

  “You seem a popular young lady, Miss Langston.”

  While he dressed like a gentleman and spoke with an educated accent of perhaps Manchester or Liverpool, the hard light in his myopic gaze gave Piper a chill.

  This is what staying had garnered her. A ludicrous obsession of every stranger she met. It was equally absurd to live each day of the rest of her life in such a manner when a new start could relieve her of the burden.

  It was, as Connor said, no life at all.

  “Perhaps you might welcome my invitation to join me instead?” the man asked. “You see, I should also enjoy a brief word with you.”

  “You’re welcome to leave as well, sir,” Hughes growled.

  “You see, I too have been sent away from Meadowcroft’s door time and again,” the man continued as if the barkeep hadn’t spoken. “Don’t fret over your empty purse. It isn’t money I want from you, rather a brief word.”

  Hughes stepped forward. “Good day to you, I say.”

  “You were right,” Jane murmured under her breath. “We should go.”

  “My apologies, Miss Langston. I’ve no idea what’s come over people this day,” Mrs. Hughes cried, while Mr. Hughes crossed his arms over his broad chest and glowered at the man.

  The stranger rose to his feet and slipped his glasses back on with a sorrowful shake of his head. “It is not well done of me to speak to the young lady with such familiarity, is it? Quite right. I’ll be on my way then.”

  Everyone in the room expressed surprise at his easy capitulation. Their eyes widened further when he pulled a palm-sized pistol from his pocket and leveled it at them. “After Miss Langston introduces me to her friend, that is. I’m afraid I must insist.”

  Pain shot through Piper’s icy fingers. Whether it was because she clutched Jane’s too hard or Jane gripped hers, she wasn’t certain. Regardless, it was the only thing grounding her to the reality of the moment.

  Her suspicion hadn’t been wrong. It had been directed at the wrong man. Staring down the dark hole in the barrel of the gun, she swayed where she stood. Her pulse raced and a droning buzz filled her mind. Gad, she hated having her worst fears become reality.

  “Perhaps we should all adjourn to your parlor?” he suggested politely enough. “You have cake, you said?”

  “Now see here,” Hughes huffed.

  “No, you see here,” the stranger countered, lifting the pistol expressively. “Right here, you see?”

  “Och, what do ye expect to accomplish wi’ such a wee toy?”

  Piper’s heart raced harder and faster at the sight of Connor silhouetted in the open door. Hands braced on the top of the door frame, he leaned forward nonchalantly to peer within.

  “There is naught here to concern you,” the gunman snapped. “Move along.”

/>   “There’s everything here to concern me.” Connor rocked down and forward as if swinging from a tree branch, ducking under the short door to step inside. He was even taller than Wilkes. “Ye’ve a friend of mine at the other end of that wee croaker, ye see? I dinnae care a whit for the sight of it.”

  He took a few audacious steps into the tavern toward the man, hands casually tucked into his trouser pockets. Eyes trained on the threat. From her position, Piper could see the muscle twitching in his tense jaw, but not the rest of his face.

  The stranger’s face, she could. And well enough to read his wariness and see a bead of sweat trail down his brow. Connor was much taller than both Hughes and the gunman. Hughes was far more brawny, yet it was clearly Connor who the man considered the greater threat. As Connor hardly came across as the fearsome sort, Piper wondered at his response. The gun wavered, arcing ever so slightly toward Connor before returning to Jane.

  “Miss Langston,” Connor inquired without turning his head. “Are ye quite all right?”

  That he didn’t ask her hurt Piper’s feelings for a moment, before she realized he inquired about them both without speaking her name.

  Hughes took a sidestep to the right, placing himself more fully between the barrel of the gun and Jane. “She’s well enough.”

  Connor’s jaw shifted and Piper got the impression that he was smiling. Or perhaps not. Why ever would he smile at a time like this?

  The stranger’s severe expression sagged and his hand began to tremble. “You find this amusing?” he spat, proving her initial theory right.

  “After a fashion, aye. I’ve nine brothers, most larger than I, yet I’ve never taken up a weapon to even the odds.” Connor’s shoulder hunched then fell. “Turning a gun on helpless females? Shameful, but then ye’re a wee fellow wi’ a desperate need to compensate for it, aye?”

  The gunman’s face mottled then grew as red as a newly harvested apple. With a vile curse, he swung the pistol to Connor and held it there.

  “Ah, there’s a good fellow.” Connor held his arms wide as if welcoming the threat. “Now I’m amused.”

  Quick as a wolf setting upon his prey, Connor leapt forward. Feinting left, he dropped as a gunshot rang out. A cry of alarm escaped Piper, as one did from both Jane and Mrs. Hughes. Connor crouched and launched himself in the opposite direction, as the man fired again. This time, Connor rolled onto one shoulder and sprang up with a bounce not two feet away from the gunman. His hand shot out like a viper strike, grabbing the pistol around the barrel and dragging it—and the stranger’s arm—to the side.

  “Ye should have brought a bigger gun,” Connor growled into the man’s face before drawing back his hand and ramming his fist, gun and all, into the man’s nose.

  His bellow of pain drowned out the ladies’ vocal distress. Hands to her lips, Piper stared as Connor punched the stranger repeatedly until he fell to his knees, palms cupped over his bloodied nose.

  Rough hands caught her shoulders, and she flung up a defensive arm knocking Albert in the jaw. The groom rolled his eyes as if he’d been bothered by a pesky bug. “Come, m’lady,” he commanded in a low voice. “Through the back.”

  Over his shoulder, she could see Jane and Mrs. Hughes flee down the hall with Jenny. Toward safety. Regardless, she was safe now, wasn’t she? Not only because Albert had long seen to it. She was safe because Connor had been there to keep her that way.

  He stood over the stranger’s prone body, dusting his hands off in a negligent motion similar to the one she’d seen him perform when he was done with a bit of work in the fields.

  As if it had all been nothing of import.

  To her it was, however.

  To her, it was everything.

  “Connor!” His name was wrenched from deep within. Without thought, she ran to him and flung her arms around his shoulders, burying her face, veil and all, in the crook of his neck.

  * * *

  Connor looked down at the bundle of black Chantilly plastered along his length, fighting the temptation to wrap his arms around her and hold her tight. To comfort her.

  His heart had been in his throat when the clerkish fellow drew his derringer on her. His instinct had been to charge in with the warrior’s cry of his ancestors. He’d refrained, as he’d initially waited before entering the pub to assess what was happening within. Held himself back from leaping into the onset of danger to make sure he didn’t startle the man into firing upon the women.

  All through the ridiculously short-lived scuffle, fury had held him in its grip. The few punches it had taken to trounce the man hadn’t been sufficient to assuage that rage. It burned in him still, for the attacker who threatened unarmed women.

  And a fair share for Piper for putting herself in a vulnerable position.

  To be fair, from what he could make out from the conversation he’d overheard, the man had been interested in Jane alone. Most assuredly to question her, and perhaps threaten her into answering. Why else bully her with a gun?

  No, it made no sense to set upon Miss Langston with deadly intent. Unless she hid a variety of mysterious secrets beneath her façade of genteel ingénue—and he doubted it—the man had to have been intent on quite literally unveiling the most obvious secret in the room.

  Which meant every fear Piper bore regarding discovery was not unfounded. And they were now likewise Connor’s fears.

  He had every intention of determining the man’s purpose to ascertain the truth. Though, it would probably be best for him not to engage in this interrogation immediately. In his current temper, the fellow might not be able to talk for quite some time.

  Peeling Piper’s arms from around his neck, he took her by the wrists and turned to Albert. He was glad he’d brought the groom along, otherwise he might not have located the tavern in a timely manner. And timeliness had been required.

  “See Miss Langston and Mrs. Milbourne safely home,” he commanded.

  He felt Piper’s eyes upon him, even if he could hardly see her face through that ridiculous veil.

  “Connor?”

  Ignoring her, he released her with a restrained nudge toward the groom, who nodded. Connor addressed the barkeep. “Hughes, is it?”

  “Aye, m’lord.”

  Connor’s eyes rolled skyward of their own will. “I’d like ye to accompany me when I take this man to the constable,” he explained. “I’d like to make certain he kens the gravity of the matter.”

  Hughes scratched his head. “The gravity?”

  From the corner of his eye, Connor could see Albert trying to convince Piper to leave. She stood firm, her focus pinned on him.

  He knew she was hurt by his brisk dismissal but refused to allow himself to be swayed by it. If that were the smallest hurt she suffered this day, so be it.

  “Aye, I ken the word of one stranger contrary to another in this town may no’ hold much weight. I’d like some assurance that this man will be detained until I can question him—”

  His words were interrupted by Piper’s startled shriek. He spun around to see the gunman had roused from his stupor and climbed to his knees, steady enough to have caught hold of her arm. Stepping forward to save her from the madman once again, he was taken aback when Piper fisted her free hand and popped the fellow in his already broken nose. For good measure, she kicked him between the legs with enough force that it was felt by every male in the room. Especially the one who keeled over at her feet.

  With a scowl for both her attacker and another for Connor, she stalked out of the room with Albert at her heels. He could have sworn he heard her mutter something about “helpless females.”

  Surely, he was mistaken.

  Chapter 14

  Dearest brother, I implore you this one last time. Please do not consign me to such a despicable fate. It has been months since I last heard from you and the deepest despondency has become rooted in my heart. I am so very alone.

  ~ from the correspondence of Piper Brudenall, January 1893

  When
Connor returned to the stable yard an hour later, all the grooms, stable hands, and trainers stopped what they were doing to watch him. For the first time, he couldn’t discern an ounce of judgment or suspicion from the lot. Even young Bram, shifting from foot to foot, granted him a respectful salute.

  Bloody lot of good their respect did now after Piper might have been hurt.

  Dismounting, he found Albert among them—at least it seemed his sweetheart had the sense to return to Meadowcroft with her mistress—and handed him his horse’s reins. “See to him wi’ an extra helping of oats. He didn’t appreciate that villain’s dripping blood on his shanks.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  “And ye’ll be telling me where the lass lives now.” It was not a question. Connor had about enough of asking those to last the rest of his life. They would stymie his pursuit no longer.

  “I can tell you where she is now, sir,” Albert responded, loyal to the end.

  “So help me…”

  “She’s in the tack room,” the groom rushed to add, pointing to the far end of the stable. “Waiting for you. Apologies. She insisted.”

  And God help any of them if they argued with the stubborn lass. Even if it was for her own good.

  Running his hands through his hair, he gave it a hard tug to vent his frustration before he laid it out upon her. No doubt she’d had a good scare and would be atremble with persistent fear. She’d be needing comfort, a shoulder to cry on. Connor strode into the stables and down the adjacent aisle toward the tack room at a swift pace. On the other hand, it might be beneficial if she got a modicum of common sense drilled into her.

  He threw open the door with a lecture on his lips. “What on earth were ye thinking, going about in town when ye suspect someone is searching for ye?”

  A sharp ping bounced off the wall next to him and Connor ogled the iron bit rocking at his feet.

  “What the hell?”

  A dull pain shot through his shoulder. This time he caught a stirrup before it fell. He stared from it to Piper incredulously as she hefted another, ready to hurl it his way.