Janice Preston - Scandal And Miss Markham

His question met with shaking heads.

‘A man called Henry Mannington?’

As further denials rang around the room, Thea became aware she was now the only customer not taking an active role in the discussion. She stood quietly and, when Vernon’s attention was on Perrins, she slipped quickly and quietly from the bar. She did not wish to attract Vernon’s curiosity, convinced she would not pass too close a scrutiny from those astute green eyes of his. She retrieved Star from the yard behind the inn, mounted and then waited around a corner for Vernon to emerge. He strolled into the street, still looking every inch the nobleman, surrounded by his customary aura of assurance and entitlement. The ostler must have been watching, for he soon appeared, leading Warrior, and Vernon mounted with a fluid grace that made Thea’s mouth go dry. He was so very...male. She licked her lips to moisten them, irritated by her involuntary reaction. What was it about this man that touched her in ways no one else had ever done? Even Jasper. The man she had been going to wed, before he had left her standing at the altar.

She tore her thoughts away from that wretch. It had happened long ago. She was older and wiser now, and Jasper was dead—killed in a fire at a wayside inn—and buried. She would never...never...put her trust in another man, no matter how handsome his face and no matter what feelings he had aroused as he’d wrapped her in his arms and comforted her, his strong embrace reassuring, his heartbeat steady in her ear.

Thea gave Vernon a head start and then she followed.

* * *

By the time dusk began to fall, Thea was beginning to regret her foolhardy decision to follow Vernon. She was bored and she was saddle sore. Vernon appeared in no hurry to reach Birmingham and that irritated Thea beyond measure. Surely the sooner they reached the Royal Hotel the sooner they might discover what had happened to Daniel? She’d made the connection immediately, but had Vernon linked the Royal Hotel with R.H? Certainly he appeared unaffected by the sense of urgency that snapped at Thea’s heels—he paused at every wayside inn they passed.

After following him into the second such inn—where, again, he quietly questioned the publican about Daniel, Willingdale and Henry Mannington—Thea realised that unless he was totally oblivious to his surroundings Vernon would soon notice a young lad shadowing his every move. So, of necessity, she’d remained out of sight as he had visited further public houses. She supposed she must be grateful he did not waste as much time as he had at the Nag’s Head.

Now, as she rode Star at a discreet distance behind him, she was also hungry and thirsty and—

Thea straightened in the saddle, drawing Star quickly to one side of the lane they rode along. Vernon’s form was indistinct in the distance as the light faded, but Thea could just make out two shadows—humped, awkward-looking creatures—moving swiftly parallel with the lane, on the far side of group of bushes from Vernon and his horse. Thea pushed Star into a trot, trusting that her mare’s black coat and Thea’s own dull clothing would render them invisible to any backward glance. The two—and she could now make out they were men, crouching as they ran—had overtaken Vernon, who appeared not to have noticed he had company.

She recalled all the recent reports of footpads in the area and she realised how reckless she had been in following Vernon in this way. Suppose it had been her they had spotted and now stalked? She had been blind to everything other than finding her brother. The gap between her and Vernon had closed. Without taking her eyes from the two men, she eased Star back to a walk and fumbled with the buckle on her saddlebag. She withdrew the duelling pistol, thanking God she’d thought to prime it in advance. She pulled the hammer to full cock and pointed it skywards. Even though she was a fair shot, she could not risk hitting either Vernon or Warrior.

There was a break in the bushes a few yards ahead of Vernon and the two men paused at that point, still hunched over. Thea could just make out they both held weapons—one short and thick, like a club, the other longer and very slim—and Thea prayed it was not a blade of some sort.

Vernon rode on at an easy walk.

It happened very fast. The two men erupted from the bushes. One grabbed at Warrior’s reins as the other, thick club upraised, went for the rider.

Thea dug her heels into Star but, even as she yelled a warning, she saw Vernon’s leg jerk sideways. His boot collided with his assailant’s head and a scream of pain rent the air as the man staggered back, clutching his face, his club discarded. Vernon shot a swift glance behind him, in Thea’s direction, before launching himself from the saddle at the second man, who had come alongside Warrior, still clutching his reins. Vernon cursed viciously as the man jabbed his stick at him. Thea hauled Star to a halt, leapt from the saddle, and ran towards the struggling men, pistol in hand. She stopped a few yards away, pistol still pointing into the air.

Vernon threw a punch, catching his attacker on the jaw with satisfying crack. As the man staggered back, Vernon shot another glance at Thea.

‘Don’t stand gawping, lad. Guard the other one.’

Thea gulped and pointed the pistol with a shaky hand in the general direction of the first assailant, still moaning on the ground, blood pouring from his nose. Vernon stalked after the second attacker, who was stumbling backwards, his eyes riveted to the menacing figure that followed. He gripped his stick—which Thea could now see had been sharpened at one end—with both hands, pointing it at Vernon. A movement from the man on the ground then secured Thea’s attention and she saw no more, but the cries and the curses coming from two men behind her suggested they now grappled and finally, unable to bear the suspense, she glanced round. Vernon, his hand clutched to his side, was bent over, but there was no sign of his assailant.

Vernon’s head lifted and she felt the force of his gaze upon her. ‘Look out!’

Desperation leant an edge to his shout, but his warning was too late. A solid mass thumped into Thea from behind, knocking her aside. She stumbled, desperately trying to stay on her feet and to keep hold of the pistol, her stomach clenching tight as bile rose to choke her throat.

By the time she steadied herself, the two assailants were disappearing amongst the bushes by the side of the road, one man’s arm draped across the other’s shoulders as he was dragged along. She aimed her pistol at the bushes, following the rustling sounds, using her left hand to steady her shaking right one.

‘Leave it!’ That voice brooked no disobedience.

Thea lowered her arm, gulping with relief that she would not have to use the firearm, although she would have fired had she been forced to. What if those ruffians had not run away? What if Vernon had been incapacitated? The enormity of her decision to follow him in this way suddenly hit her. And now...she realised how likely it was Vernon would see through her disguise and her relief seeped away to be replaced by fear at the thought of facing him. He would not be happy. She sucked in a breath.

‘Thank you.’ Vernon’s attention was still on the spot where the two men had disappeared into the bushes. ‘I am in your debt.’

In the spot where they stood, where trees overhung the road, the light had all but gone. Thea kept her face averted from Vernon and muttered, ‘Glad to help.’

Vernon crossed slowly to Warrior and reached into his saddlebag, keeping a wary eye on the surrounding bushes. All sounds of the men’s retreat had faded away, but Thea still breathed a thankful sigh when Vernon withdrew his own pistol. At least they were both now armed and ready for anything.