Читать книгу Marriage of Mercy - Carla Kelly - Страница 13

Why in heaven’s name did I ever agree to this parole? Grace asked herself as she quickly set down the purchases she had brought with her—choice dainties to tempt that wretched man’s appetite. The constable will shoot him on sight? Only if I don’t beat him to it, she thought grimly.

‘He can’t have just vanished, Emery,’ she stated, hands on her hips. ‘He could barely walk!’

‘Perhaps we are underestimating him,’ Emery offered.

‘Or he’s only trying to fool us so he can escape,’ Grace snapped back. ‘Where on earth would he go?’ She sat down on a rickety chair in the entrance hall. ‘Is there not a chair in this silly house that doesn’t list?’

She was silent then, listening to herself: querulous, testy and complaining. She sighed. ‘Emery, I wish you would smite me when I complain.’

He recoiled. ‘Never! That would go against every bit of butlering I can think of. Which ain’t much,’ he added philosophically.

She couldn’t help smiling, despite her worries. ‘Don’t you know you should humour a lunatic?’ she teased. ‘If I am not imposing, would you please even off these chair legs?’

‘Consider it done,’ the old retainer told her.

She stood outside for a long moment, wishing herself calm, even as she wanted to smack Lord Thomson and throttle Rob Inman. Where was he? She berated herself again for choosing Rob Inman, out of all the miserable American prisoners she could have selected. She walked to the modest circle drive in front of the dower house, totally at a loss. Emery had thought the parolee would have no trouble blending with the seamen that walked about Plymouth, but he would have to get there first. Plymouth was not close, especially for someone teetering just this side of starvation.

If you’re found, you will be shot, you wretched man, she thought, walking into the road, but not ready to pass the manor house again, not with Lord Thomson watching her. She rubbed her arms, chilled at what would happen to him if the marquis had even an inkling that the captain had left the house unaccompanied.

‘Where would I go, if I were you?’ she asked out loud. ‘You’ve said you like the wind on your face.’

And then she knew and realised she had better be right. Looking about to see if Lord Thomson was in sight, Grace hiked up her skirt and ran towards the highest point of land on his property. It wasn’t much of an elevation, but just enough of one to tempt someone homesick for the sea, who might think he could see Plymouth Sound from its height. She used to walk there occasionally with old Lord Thomson, when he’d had the strength, because he or one of his ancestors had put a bench at the top.

Sure of herself now, she hurried to the high point, rehearsing in her mind what she would say to Rob when she found him. To her amazement and growing fear, he was nowhere in sight. She even stood on top of the bench, the better to scan the countryside.

Defeat settled on her shoulders like a blanket. He hadn’t been in her charge for much more than a day and she had already lost him.