winnings next day.’
Alex eyed his friend’s ingenuous expression. ‘Which would be Harry Fortune, I take it?’ he said drily.
‘Did I say so?’
‘As it happens, I could bear to know more about one of his riders and where else he works. I thought I had him this morning but he gave me the slip.’
‘Is that why you were so ill-tempered at breakfast? I thought it was the dreadful supper last night. Nothing simpler. Get one of the grooms to tail him.’
‘As I said before, I have no wish for anyone else to know our business. One loose word in the wrong ears and it will all be for naught.’
Giles shrugged. ‘Your obligation, your decision. I prefer to make life easy.’
‘This is easy. I shall simply get to Penfold Lodge earlier still tomorrow. See which direction he arrives from and work backwards from there if I lose him again.’
Giles looked frankly astonished. ‘Good Lord, Alex, I had no notion that life with a conscience entailed such sacrifices. I shall think of you on your vigil whilst I am cosily tucked up in bed.’
Friday. Caroline came awake in the near-darkness and listened to the patter of rain on her window. She had to shin very carefully indeed down the wet ivy, and then skirt around the paddocks so as not to leave betraying tracks in the grass. It was as well she was being circumspect. As she approached the back of the Penfold Lodge stable-block, her eyes took in an out-of-place shadow. There seemed to be something mounded against the wall. How peculiar. What could it be? As she crept forward warily, the mound stirred, making her heart race with alarm. The shadow took on form and shape: it was a man, slumped and doubled over, his clothes when she touched him gingerly soaked completely through with rain. It must be one of the hands, she supposed, passed out with too much liquor. Flood would have something to say about that! Yet, still she hesitated. Something was not quite right. The sodden jacket had felt as if it was made from superfine, not working-man’s cloth. And though Caroline was in no doubt that Harry had had his share of sleeping off excessive libations in ditches and other out-of-the-way places, there was enough definition in the shadows to see that this man had straight, dark hair, not close-curled red.
Then who was he? Caroline crouched and took a firmer grip to lift him clear of the rough stone wall. As she twisted him to peer at his face, her fingers met a thick stickiness. Blood! She recoiled instinctively. The man groaned. Caroline dropped him in panic and ran for Flood. She heard his head meet the cobbles as she skidded across the slippery yard.
Flood’s opinion when told of the injured man in a barely coherent stammer was that if the fellow didn’t have concussion before, he certainly would have now and all to the good if so. ‘Ifhe’s not one of ours, it’ll serve to keep him quiet until we get him to the roadside,’ he said. ‘Rogues falling out, I don’t doubt – and we don’t want that sort found on our land.’
Caroline heartily concurred. She grasped the shoulders of the man’s jacket ready to drag him towards the archway. The sudden motion, however, caused him to heave; she only just managed to turn his head away from her clothing before he cast up his accounts. ‘Devil take me for a lummox,’ he slurred. Caroline gave a small cry, her heart careering wildly, and dropped him again.
‘That’s it,’ approved Flood as the unfortunate chap’s head once more found the cobbles. ‘Keep the skulking varmint under.’
‘He isn’t a skulking varmint,’ hissed Caroline in alarm, all her nerves jumping from this new discovery. ‘It is Lord Rothwell! I recognized his voice. We cannot leave him in the gutter.’ No wonder the cloth of his jacket had been so fine. But what was he doing here?
Flood whistled, his face troubled in the shadows. ‘Happen you’re right, lass. Robbery, I suppose. Best put him in an empty stall. I’ll go for the doctor
Alex eyed his friend’s ingenuous expression. ‘Which would be Harry Fortune, I take it?’ he said drily.
‘Did I say so?’
‘As it happens, I could bear to know more about one of his riders and where else he works. I thought I had him this morning but he gave me the slip.’
‘Is that why you were so ill-tempered at breakfast? I thought it was the dreadful supper last night. Nothing simpler. Get one of the grooms to tail him.’
‘As I said before, I have no wish for anyone else to know our business. One loose word in the wrong ears and it will all be for naught.’
Giles shrugged. ‘Your obligation, your decision. I prefer to make life easy.’
‘This is easy. I shall simply get to Penfold Lodge earlier still tomorrow. See which direction he arrives from and work backwards from there if I lose him again.’
Giles looked frankly astonished. ‘Good Lord, Alex, I had no notion that life with a conscience entailed such sacrifices. I shall think of you on your vigil whilst I am cosily tucked up in bed.’
Friday. Caroline came awake in the near-darkness and listened to the patter of rain on her window. She had to shin very carefully indeed down the wet ivy, and then skirt around the paddocks so as not to leave betraying tracks in the grass. It was as well she was being circumspect. As she approached the back of the Penfold Lodge stable-block, her eyes took in an out-of-place shadow. There seemed to be something mounded against the wall. How peculiar. What could it be? As she crept forward warily, the mound stirred, making her heart race with alarm. The shadow took on form and shape: it was a man, slumped and doubled over, his clothes when she touched him gingerly soaked completely through with rain. It must be one of the hands, she supposed, passed out with too much liquor. Flood would have something to say about that! Yet, still she hesitated. Something was not quite right. The sodden jacket had felt as if it was made from superfine, not working-man’s cloth. And though Caroline was in no doubt that Harry had had his share of sleeping off excessive libations in ditches and other out-of-the-way places, there was enough definition in the shadows to see that this man had straight, dark hair, not close-curled red.
Then who was he? Caroline crouched and took a firmer grip to lift him clear of the rough stone wall. As she twisted him to peer at his face, her fingers met a thick stickiness. Blood! She recoiled instinctively. The man groaned. Caroline dropped him in panic and ran for Flood. She heard his head meet the cobbles as she skidded across the slippery yard.
Flood’s opinion when told of the injured man in a barely coherent stammer was that if the fellow didn’t have concussion before, he certainly would have now and all to the good if so. ‘Ifhe’s not one of ours, it’ll serve to keep him quiet until we get him to the roadside,’ he said. ‘Rogues falling out, I don’t doubt – and we don’t want that sort found on our land.’
Caroline heartily concurred. She grasped the shoulders of the man’s jacket ready to drag him towards the archway. The sudden motion, however, caused him to heave; she only just managed to turn his head away from her clothing before he cast up his accounts. ‘Devil take me for a lummox,’ he slurred. Caroline gave a small cry, her heart careering wildly, and dropped him again.
‘That’s it,’ approved Flood as the unfortunate chap’s head once more found the cobbles. ‘Keep the skulking varmint under.’
‘He isn’t a skulking varmint,’ hissed Caroline in alarm, all her nerves jumping from this new discovery. ‘It is Lord Rothwell! I recognized his voice. We cannot leave him in the gutter.’ No wonder the cloth of his jacket had been so fine. But what was he doing here?
Flood whistled, his face troubled in the shadows. ‘Happen you’re right, lass. Robbery, I suppose. Best put him in an empty stall. I’ll go for the doctor
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