Blade’s gut knotted. ‘His doxy?’
‘Well, she weren’t his wife. Proper slut she was, pretending to be all innocent like. Proper took me in till my missus figured out her game.’
Blade swallowed a curse. The landlord was not the only one who had been gulled.
He released the man. ‘So they rented your carriage. Where were they going?’
‘York.’
Caro’s face blanched. And yet for once she said nothing. She was simply staring, her expression one of pure terror.
‘You didn’t object to him taking your carriage such a distance?’ Blade asked.
‘The landlord at the Bull will send it back with his driver and a few bottles I ordered,’ he said sullenly. ‘Do it all the time, I does.’
‘And where did they say they were going once they reached York?’
The man shrugged. ‘He paid me well enough not to ask questions.’
‘Ned,’ Blade said.
‘On my way, sir.’
Ned would ask all the people who worked at the inn and anyone else who might possibly have information.
‘I must go to York,’ Caro said, already making for the door. ‘I must catch up with them before they—’ She stopped herself.
He caught her arm to slow her down. ‘First we return to the Haven.’
She nodded. ‘Of course. I need a conveyance. Merry’s phaeton would be the fastest, but I have never driven such a vehicle. I will take the gig.’
His jaw dropped. ‘You don’t think you are going alone.’
Her shoulders straightened. ‘This is none of your concern, Mr Read.’
Of course it wasn’t. And naturally they were back to the formalities.
* * *
Her worst nightmare had happened. All because she had let down her guard. Let her desire for this man, her wantonness, scramble her wits.
She hurried along the street, Blade easily keeping pace with her, though thankfully not insisting she take his arm. The slightest kindness from him and she might burst into tears. She did not have time for tears. She must find Tommy. Get him back. It had been late in the afternoon when Tommy got into the carriage, so surely this Butterworth would be forced to stop somewhere on the road. But what would she do then? Most likely he’d want money. And heaven help her, what a fool she’d been, she’d used almost every penny she had to pay the madam at the brothel.
She broke into a run.
Blade grabbed her arm and swung her around. ‘Stop!’ he said in a low harsh voice. ‘What the devil is going on here?’
She tugged at her arm, but he did not let her go. She glared at him. ‘You know perfectly well what is going on.’ She turned her glare on a couple who had stopped to watch them. They hurried away. She lowered her voice. ‘Tommy has been abducted and I have to get him back.’
‘I know that,’ he said bitterly. ‘Here I was worrying about radicals out to do Tonbridge harm and all the time this was about you and Tommy. You should have told me you were in trouble.’
‘I wasn’t in trouble until you came along,’ she muttered. ‘And what do you mean by this?’
He flinched, but didn’t let her go. ‘I believe it was Butterworth you heard open the door to the carriage up on the moors.’
Her stomach fell away. ‘You think he caused the accident?’ A shudder went through her. ‘He killed Mr Garge?’
‘I doubt if that was deliberate, but I think he intended to stop the carriage. Had you planned to take Tommy with you to York?’
It was beginning to come clear to her, too, now. ‘Yes. At the last moment, he had a touch of gripe and I decided to leave him behind with Beth.’
‘Somehow Butterworth learned he was to go with you. It must have come as a shock to discover you alone in the carriage. Why does he want the child? You are hardly a wealthy woman.’
He would despise her if he knew the truth. ‘I don’t know.’
He cursed softly. ‘I’m not letting you take another step until you tell me what is going on.’ He edged her against the wall of a building to allow other people to pass by them. He frowned at her. ‘Is your husband still alive? Have you run to keep Tommy from him?’
The disgust in his voice cut like a whip. The truth formed on her tongue. She couldn’t tell him. She just couldn’t. All these years she’d managed to keep the facade intact. If they reached Tommy in time there would be no need for him or anyone else to know. Tears welled up and almost choked her, but she had to tell him something. ‘Tommy’s father is dead. I swear it. Now, can we please go after him?’
Relief showed on his face, but he shook his head. ‘Tell me, Caro. When you learned he had been abducted, you were not surprised. You were shocked. You were frightened. But not in the least surprised. Why?’
She sagged against the wall. The man was not going to let her go until she told him. ‘Tommy’s father died before Tommy was born. I don’t know for certain, but I am guessing Tommy’s grandparents have employed Butterworth to take him from me.’
‘His grandparents?’ To her relief, he tucked her hand in the crook of his elbow and started walking. ‘You can tell me the rest as we go.’
She quickened her pace to keep up with his long stride. ‘There is nothing else to tell. They want Tommy.’
‘Is it such a bad thing?’
‘They want him, but not me.’
‘I see.’ His tone was as grim. ‘Who are they?’
If he hadn’t figured it out, she saw no reason to tell him. ‘It doesn’t matter. I will not see my son brought up without me. I cannot do it.’
‘I agree. All children need their mothers.’
She looked up at him, at the hard look on his face, and wanted to hug him for that small bit of comfort, but right then he looked far from huggable. He was glaring at the pavement.
‘Surely the settlements should have dealt with this issue,’ he finally said. ‘Or your father can convince them it would be better for all if you stayed with Tommy...’ His voice trailed off. ‘There is something you aren’t telling me.’
Bile rose in her throat. ‘All that matters is that I find Tommy. Then we will move on. Find somewhere to live where they will not find us. I should never have stayed here this long.’
‘Who is Tommy’s father?’
Dare she trust him? If he took sides with Carothers’s parents, she would likely never see her son again.
‘If you don’t tell me, I will find out. Butterworth will tell me.’
Since he would not allow her to search for Tommy by herself. What was it that she had thought about him? That he was the knight in shining armour she had dreamed of as a girl? And hadn’t she once thought the same about Carothers? But Blade was different. Like a knight of old, he would not let a woman go on a quest alone. If at all.
‘Let him tell you, then.’ Once she had Tommy back, she did not care what Butterworth said, because she’d run. Start again. The thought of it made her feel weak at the knees. Made the back of her nose burn with angry tears.
He let go a sigh. When he spoke again his voice was weary, pained. ‘Fine. Keep your secrets. It really is none of my business, but I will help you get Tommy back.’
She had hurt him. She hadn’t wanted to, but she had. And that made something inside her ache. But her feelings did not matter. What mattered was her son. He would be wondering where she was. Why she had not come to fetch him. Why, oh, why had she ever let him out of her sight? She knew why and the knowledge was bitter.
At the Haven’s front door he stopped her with a hand on her sleeve. ‘I promise you, we will find him.’
The determination in his eyes lifted her spirits. He was a man who would always do his best to keep his promises. She trusted him, when she trusted so very few people any more.
But she did not dare trus
t him with her heart.
‘Then we need to hurry,’ she said briskly.
* * *
Heartsick for Caro and for her son, Blade watched her disappear through the front door. The woman was blaming herself for what had happened. Blaming herself for indulging in a few moments of stolen pleasure and leaving her son unguarded.
But usually a child did not need to be guarded, not an ordinary child of an ordinary woman. He wished she would trust him with her secrets. It might make the task of finding her son a great deal easier. Did Charlie know? Or Merry? There was no time to ask.
Tommy was alone with strangers and likely terrified. Blade could remember like yesterday the anguish of abandonment. The sheer terror of being alone with people he did not know.
Who were these grandparents who wanted the child? He believed her when she said it was not the father... Then whose parents? Her parents? The father’s? And why did she not want to tell him? Well, there would be no hiding it once they caught up to the boy. Hopefully, they would be in time to stop Butterworth from handing the child over before some agreement was worked out.
Blade couldn’t help feeling sympathy for the grandparents’ predicament if Caro was refusing to grant them any access to their grandson. It wasn’t right that the child should not know other members of his family, but it was the wrong way to solve the problem, as he knew only too well.
He entered the stables and found Ned readying Tonbridge’s now-repaired carriage.
‘What did you learn from the stable lads at the Green Man?’
‘Not much. The carriage was hired to go to York. Butterworth rented it to visit friends on his way to York, where he planned to hire a post-chaise for London.’
And they were at least three hours ahead. ‘When you are done there, saddle Apollo for me, would you?’ Mrs Falkner wouldn’t want to be seen closed up in the carriage with a single gentleman. She guarded her reputation very carefully and rightly so. And he’d been a blackguard to take advantage of her loneliness. No doubt part of her reluctance to trust him.
Leaving Ned to finish up, he ran up to his room and packed a valise.
* * *
When he returned downstairs, the coach was already waiting in the courtyard with Ned on the box and Caro ensconced inside—alone. He frowned. That he had not expected. ‘Where is Beth?’
‘I cannot leave the Haven unattended,’ she said calmly. ‘Our door is always open to women in need.’ She took a deep breath. ‘And the fewer people who know about this the better.’
A woman had her pride, in other words. And he was not about to rob her of that.
‘Will you dither about all day or will you get in?’ she said.
‘I’m riding.’
She looked surprised and relieved. He tried not to feel hurt. She was, after all, a lady and he was not really a gentleman. He never had been.
He got up on the box and had Ned help him on with his riding coat while he issued instructions. ‘My guess is he will drive through the night. He is supposed to go to the Bull, but I’m not banking on it. The man is as slippery as a bucket full of eels.’
This Butterworth chap had done this sort of thing before. He’d hidden his intentions well or Blade might have tumbled to what he was about more quickly. The man hadn’t fitted any of Blade’s theories about the radical element in Skepton because he wasn’t part of it.
Blade should have realised that his interest was not Tonbridge, but Mrs Falkner. He only appeared when she was about. Not surprisingly, it had never occurred to him that such a respectable woman would have enemies.
Ned grinned at him. ‘Like old times, Captain. Glad of it, too. I was getting right bored.’
Gads, it was a bit. Oddly, this time, the stakes seemed higher. He clapped his old friend on the shoulder, jumped down and mounted up.
They turned out of the courtyard and took the road to York. As soon as they were clear of the residential streets, Ned whipped up the horses. Tonbridge’s cattle were fine beasts. Even with a three-hour start, they might well catch up to their quarry before he reached York.
Fortunately, it wasn’t raining, so while the evening was chill, he and Ned would not have to endure a soaking. And that was a good thing.
* * *
Their luck did not hold. A quick enquiry at the Crossed Keys and they learned Butterworth had also made good time and was still more than three hours ahead of them. Mrs Lane, bless her heart, handed over a batch of freshly made sandwiches and a flask of brandy, which she had prepared while Caro made use of the facilities. Caro refused the brandy, but did swallow a hot cup of tea.
Butterworth had not stopped.
But then, he had likely prepared for the journey.
‘There was no boy riding on the box as they went by,’ Mrs Lane said to his enquiry. ‘I heard them coming and came outside to see if they would come in. They never spared us a glance as they passed. Looked to be in a hurry. The horses looked nigh worn to the bone.’
Perhaps the fool would end up in a ditch.
He scotched that thought the moment it formed. He didn’t want Tommy coming to harm. The only hope now was that in fear of pursuit, he would spring his horses on the flat and be forced to walk them up hills. Blade would not make such a greenhorn mistake, for all that Caro urged Ned to go faster.
‘Thank you for your help,’ he said, touching his hat as he closed the carriage door on Caro, and then they were off again. It was now pitch dark and the lanterns each side of the driver’s box were not much help.
‘Take care, Ned,’ Blade called out. ‘Tonbridge won’t be pleased by another accident to his coach.’ And he certainly didn’t want any harm coming to Caro.
Chapter Eleven
By dusk the next evening, they were miles along the road to London, with no sign of their quarry. They’d changed horses at one of York’s livery stables in the middle of the night and were now travelling from one posting house to the next. Their hopes of catching the fugitives quickly had been cut to ribbons in York. It had taken more than an hour to find where Butterworth had left the first carriage and to discover that he was definitely continuing on to London by post-chaise. The delay put them more than four hours behind the fugitives, forcing them to be content with following in his footsteps rather than trying to cut him off.
Caro’s eyes burned from lack of sleep and worry, but she continued to stare out of the window at the passing countryside while willing the carriage to greater speed.
Wedged into the far corner of the carriage, Blade dozed. His horse had been tethered to the back of the carriage. Seeing his exhaustion at one of their recent stops, she had encouraged him to rest his horse, which meant he could also rest himself. She could not resist the occasional glance at his face, though soon the darkness would make it impossible to see much at all. At rest, he seemed a great deal younger and less stern than he did when ordering people about and worrying over their safety.
The Carothers family had a town house in London. It was where she had gone to beg for help. They also had a couple of country estates, though. Wherever they were going, once they had Tommy behind their walls, she would have little chance of getting him back.
She leaned back against the squabs and closed her eyes. Opened them again. Shifted on the seat. She could not rest, not until she had Tommy safe. Panic hit hard. There would be no fighting Carothers’s parents. Not once they had her child. Possession was always nine-tenths of the law. Especially if the possessors were noble and moneyed.
‘We’ll find him.’
Blade’s voice was little more than a comforting murmur and his eyes remained closed. He must have sensed her anxiety.
‘I am sorry if I disturbed you.’
He opened his eyes. ‘Not at all. A soldier snatches his rest when and where he can.’
‘Tommy will be terrifie
d.’
‘He’s a brave little man. And he knows you will come for him.’
Yes. He would know. But if she did not succeed? What then?
The horses slowed.
Blade sat up and leaned so he could see ahead. ‘A posting inn. We will get news of them here. They will have changed horses here, but we have been making excellent time. We will stop to eat.’
‘No.’
‘He must also stop to eat,’ Blade said gravely. ‘And while I am prepared to travel through the night, I need my sustenance. And so do you or we will be stopping because you are ill.’
She heaved a sigh. But in truth she was grateful for his thoughtfulness. The fact that he was willing to accompany her on this wild chase was something of a miracle.
The carriage swung into the coach yard and there, having its team changed, was a yellow bounder. A post-chaise very much like the one they were following.
‘It can’t be,’ she said, her heart racing so hard she thought it might leap from her chest.
Their carriage had barely drawn to a halt when Blade jumped down and ran for the other coach. He yanked open the door.
Hiking up her skirts to make the leap, Caro followed him out of the door and across the cobbles. The chaise was empty.
‘This way,’ Blade said. He strode into the inn and there in the parlour sat Butterworth with a substantial dinner set before him, and no sign of Tommy or his female accomplice.
‘Where’s Tommy?’ she practically shrieked across the room.
Butterworth looked up. ‘Madam, are you addressing me?’
‘Leave this to me.’ Blade stalked up to Butterworth much in the way Caro might imagine a tiger stalking up to its prey. He yanked the table clear of the fat man, grabbed him by the front of his shirt and stroked Butterworth’s cheek with the point of the hook on his left wrist. ‘No games, Butterworth. You were seen leaving Skepton with the lad.’
Gasping and coughing, Butterworth shrank back from the wicked implement so close to his eye. ‘All right. No need for violence.’
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