Читать книгу A Warriner To Protect Her - Virginia Heath - Страница 12

Chapter Four

Exactly one month left...

Jack eagerly swapped his nursemaid duties with Joe well before dawn. The hard floor had not been conducive to sleeping on for any longer, not that he ever had time to sleep in, but still, even by his standards the hour was early. The mystery woman had been in his care for a few days now. However, last night had been the first time she had been in any state to speak for herself and her cagey responses to the questions he had asked her did not quite ring true. In fairness, the poor girl had been bound and gagged and horrifically abused beforehand, so it was hardly surprising she was reluctant to trust him, but as she was now his responsibility, he reasoned he did have the right to know what sort of trouble he had brought to his own door.

And she was going to be trouble.

He knew that with the same certainty he knew the sun would rise every morning. Trouble had been Jack’s constant companion for a decade; he knew the scent of it too well to ignore.

He wasn’t surprised when he found Jamie already up and dressed in the kitchen. Since his brother’s return from the Peninsula, he apparently did not sleep. And he smiled even less than Jack did. Both states worried him, yet he had no idea how to fix them. Jamie had always been a closed book. Any loose pages he once had were now glued together firmly and no amount of cajoling would pry them free again.

‘I thought I would head to the village and see what I can find out about our guest.’ After cradling the woman in his arms for hours and sleeping alongside her for two nights, much as he did not want to, he already felt responsible for the chit. And strangely protective. Clearly he was going soft in his old age.

Jamie handed him a steaming mug of tea and an assessing stare. ‘Good idea. I’ve been thinking much the same myself. It is fairly safe to assume the girl is in danger, but if you go there asking questions, you could stir up a hornets’ nest.’

‘I am not a fool.’

‘I never said you were; however, you are not known for your subtlety. I’ll come with you and show you how it’s done.’

Without thinking, Jack allowed his gaze to wander to his brother’s wounded leg and regretted it instantly when he saw his face cloud with fury. ‘I am not a blasted cripple, Jack! I can still ride a horse.’

He was in no mood to try to reason with him today. Jack had barely slept properly in three nights so his temper was closer to the surface than usual and he would likely say something which couldn’t be undone. Since Jamie had come home, he was still so angry at the world and convinced he was good for nothing. Any attempts at brotherly concern about him over-extending himself and putting back his recovery would only aggravate him further.

‘I shall saddle the horses then.’

* * *

It was market day in Retford and by the time they arrived the square was already bustling with activity. At his brother’s suggestion, they went directly to the inn in search of breakfast and information. It made sense. If strangers were in the area, they would be staying at the inn. Jack would not have thought of that first, so perhaps having Jamie in tow would prove to be beneficial.

‘Just eat your food and listen. The trick to good recognisance is to appear disinterested. If we hear anything vaguely interesting, leave it to me to do the probing.’

Jack grunted in response, a little put out by his brother’s lack of faith in his abilities. Jamie selected a table in the centre of the dining room and they ordered food, then his brother disappeared to do some quiet digging and left him to his own devices. For want of something useful to do, he scanned the patrons to see if he could see anything suspicious and conceded that perhaps his brother was right. He knew nothing about gathering information subtly. In fact, his relationship with subtlety of any sort could best be described as tenuous. Jack was a doer and acknowledged his usually straightforward methods of getting to the truth might not be what was needed today. Because it was market day, almost every face was new to him—and therefore, by default, instantly suspicious to his untrained eyes. His first instinct was to go and thoroughly question them all, which was exactly what his military-trained brother had feared he would do. ‘You cannot help yourself, Big Brother,’ he had said as they had ridden over, ‘you are too used to being in charge.’ Acknowledging his own character flaws always made Jack wince; having them pointed out correctly by a sibling was galling.

At the bar, Jamie had sidled up to the innkeeper. Being a recently returned war hero from the infamous family who lived near the forest made him of significant interest to the innkeeper. The locals did love to gossip and the Warriners had given them plenty to feast on over the years. Jack watched the man ask his brother question after question with barely contained curiosity and, as usual, Jamie dealt with them with his customary surliness, staring into his drink and never meeting his interrogator’s eyes. To all intents and purposes he appeared exactly like a man who wanted nothing more than to be left alone rather than one on a quest for information. Jack had to admire that talent, even if he was still slightly sulking and did so begrudgingly.

A few minutes later, Jamie limped back to the table and spoke in a voice so low, Jack had to strain his ears to hear it.

‘There are a group of men from London staying here. A pushy lot, by all accounts, who the innkeeper would be glad to see the back of. They have been here since the morning after you found your damsel in distress. Came in soaked to the skin, despite the two fancy carriages they arrived with. The carriages and half the men left the next day, leaving three of them behind. The rooms were all booked under the name Smith. The innkeeper says they’ve been asking questions about a girl. An heiress, by all accounts.’ Jack raised his eyebrows at this news. ‘They are claiming she has been kidnapped and they are searching for her. They haven’t surfaced yet this morning, but he expects them presently on account of it being market day and filled with new people to talk to. So far, each morning they have done the same thing. They ask questions, eat and disappear for the day. He has no idea where they go to—but they come back very frustrated. As if they are in a great hurry to get the job done.’

Jamie shot him a warning glance as their breakfasts were brought over. How he noticed the impending arrival of the food was also impressive, Jack mused, seeing as Jamie was not facing the kitchen and would have needed eyes in the back of his head to have seen anyone behind him. The innkeeper’s wife plonked them down unceremoniously in front of them, her hostility towards not one, but two Warriners so early in the morning written all over her face.

‘Have you paid for these?’

Their father’s legacy still blighted them. The bastard had been dead seven years and still the locals believed a Warriner equalled nothing but bad debt and aggravation. Jamie shot the woman an evil look and was about to put her in her place when Jack intervened. ‘I paid up front, Nelly. As I always do.’ He was trying to build the broken bridges, had been trying for years to mend them, and as much as the slights still wounded he understood them. For centuries the Warriner family had always been a bad lot and it would take a darn sight longer than seven years for the brothers to repair the damage their ancestors had wrought. It was only in the last eighteen months that Jack had been able to lure a few rag-tag tenants back to his land and even they were not originally from around these parts. Nelly sniffed and stalked off.

‘Perhaps they are Letty’s family searching for her? Maybe she was kidnapped.’ Conjuring the image of her terrified and running away from him made Jack feel a strange combination of protectiveness and fury all over again.

Jamie shrugged. ‘Or that is exactly what they want us to think. They could hardly tell people they are the kidnappers and they would like their hostage back now, can they?’ That argument made a lot of sense too. ‘Besides, if they are above board, why the name Smith? It’s too convenient, Jack. My gut tells me it’s not right.’

As Jamie’s guts had saved his soldiering bacon on more than one occasion, Jack decided to go along with them. They ate in virtual silence in order to overhear the tangled conversations around them. In the main, they were all tradesmen here to make some coin. One or two piqued their interest, but nobody mentioned a bound and gagged girl in the woods.

Their food was long finished and they were about to leave when three burly men walked in and scanned the room like hawks seeking prey. Jamie picked up his empty mug and pretended to drink. ‘Here we go. This is them, I reckon.’

The three men instantly split up and began approaching the other patrons jovially, moving from group to group after friendly handshakes were exchanged and ever closer to their table.

‘Remember. Act bored. And keep your mouth shut.’

Jack gave his brother a sarcastic look. ‘I appreciate your confidence in me, Jamie.’

‘Hello, gentlemen—might I trouble you for a few moments?’ The man who pulled up a chair next to them was all politeness. Jamie flicked him a detached look and shrugged. Jack copied.

‘Do you live locally?’

‘What’s it to you?’ Jamie replied suspiciously.

‘Merely a friendly enquiry, sir.’ The man’s diction was crisp, but his appearance belied it. Underneath the fine clothes and the oily smile, he was not from the gentry, Jack was certain of that. He might lack Jamie’s skills as a spy but he knew a wrong ’un when he saw one. This man had fists like hams, for a start, and a nose which had been often broken. The bridge had collapsed beneath his forehead before jutting out at an odd angle, making him appear more like a bare-knuckle fighter from a travelling carnival than a discerning gentleman of taste passing along the Great North Road. A fine, white jagged scar bisected one cheek. Its presence spoke volumes. This man was a close acquaintance of violence.

‘My friends and I are looking for someone. A young lady.’ The man gave them a knowing smile. ‘There’s a reward.’

Jamie stared down into his empty mug as though he was only interested in how soon he could fill it up again. ‘A reward, you say?’ It was quite a masterly performance. Casual disinterest which gave the interloper just enough hope the lure of money might tempt him.

‘Indeed. A handsome one. A hundred pounds to anyone who aids in her safe return.’

Jamie let out a slow, impressed whistle. ‘A hundred pounds—that’s a lot of money. Why so much?’ He glanced casually at Jack, his lips curved in a disbelieving half-smile before he turned back to their visitor. ‘Is she wanted by the Crown?’

‘No. Nothing like that... She has gone missing.’

‘We are on the road to Gretna Green. Hundreds of young girls go missing along this road every single year. If yours doesn’t want to be found...’ Jamie shrugged again, allowing the implication to ferment.

‘Unfortunately, we believe the young lady in question was kidnapped rather than eloped. Her family are extremely keen to have her back. They fear for her safety.’

‘If she’s been kidnapped, why not wait for the ransom demand and simply pay it?’ Jamie was back to being bored again. His amused eyes met Jack’s. ‘We are not the sort of men to take on a gang of kidnappers. Not even for a hundred pounds. We value our own lives too much.’

The man smiled and nodded. ‘I understand, gentlemen—but the lady in question is rather...resourceful. If...she managed to escape their clutches, it might explain why no ransom demands have been made yet.’ It all sounded so reasonable—yet alarm bells were ringing in Jack’s mind. ‘All I would ask is that you keep a watchful eye out for her. She is gently bred, unfamiliar with the area and there are so many places she could get lost here. If you did come across any information as to her whereabouts, her family would be very grateful... And it might prove to be very lucrative for you gentlemen also. Everyone wins, as it were.’

Jack had had enough of playing the mute sidekick. ‘If we did see her, what does she look like?’ He ignored his brother’s warning glare.

‘Very pretty. Blonde hair. Green eyes. Only twenty. She’s quite a striking little thing. A bit prone to fancy though, as so many young women are, and after such an ordeal there’s no telling what sort of state her poor mind will be in...’ The man shook his head as if he were genuinely concerned and it raised the hackles on Jack’s neck further. ‘Her family are hoping to get her back quietly. You understand. The poor girl would be ruined if the world knew what had happened to her. If you see or hear anything, you can find me here at the inn.’

‘And your name is?’

‘Smith. Mr John Smith.’

‘And the girl’s? Is she a Smith too?’

‘No, sir. I merely work for the family. Her name is Violet.’

‘No surname?’

The man smiled again, but it lacked any sincerity. ‘That’s right, sir. The family would prefer not to create a scandal...the young lady would be quite ruined if news of her abduction leaked. Therefore, I am certain you can see now why the family are keen to get her safely returned into their loving arms as swiftly as possible.’

Jamie pierced the stranger with his steely glare. ‘If the reward is one hundred pounds, then I am assuming the family is important. That is a large amount of money for a lady of little consequence. Therefore, it stands to reason they can spare more than a paltry hundred pounds for her safe return, don’t you think?’

The other man stood, his face a frozen mask. ‘May I enquire as to your names, sirs?’ There was suspicion in his cold eyes now as they flicked between them.

Jack stared back, all smug arrogance. ‘Warriner. I am Jack and this is my younger brother Jamie.’

For a second he saw Jamie silently querying the logic behind giving this fellow their real names, then realising it was sensible. If they aroused this man’s suspicions he would likely check on their story and a great many of their neighbours would happily sell the ‘Wild’ Warriners down the river.

‘Well, Mr Warriner, I am sure the family would be open to negotiations. Should you have anything of...interest to them.’

Jack laughed and slapped his brother heartily on the back. ‘I think me and you should go heiress hunting, Jamie. What do you say? What could we do with at least a hundred pounds, aye?’ Never a truer word was spoken although it was a drop in the ocean compared to what he actually needed to stop the rot in their ailing fortunes.

Jack smiled enthusiastically back at the still-loitering man, ignoring the bad taste in his mouth which came from coveting the reward and for hoping the scarred, creepy fellow was, indeed, telling the truth, despite his gut feeling that he wasn’t. The Warriners could do with one hundred pounds. It might be enough to send Joe to medical school for a while and ease his guilt at failing to get his brother there sooner.

Then again, wanting that money already felt disloyal to Letty, although he had no idea where his overriding loyalty to her had come from. Unless it was just the crushing burden of yet more responsibility he did not need. Jack apparently had a soft spot for damsels in distress. ‘Where did you last see her, Mr Smith?’

The man’s expression instantly changed to one of friendliness again, believing he had won them over. ‘We suspect she might have been taken along this section of the Great North Road.’

‘You suspect?’ Jack shook his head at his brother and laughed derisively. ‘So we would not be chasing a fact—merely a suspicion? Only about ten villages and a hundred square miles of Sherwood Forest to search then!’ He stared back at the man with pity. ‘I think my brother and I can find better things to do with our time than searching for a needle in a haystack—but I wish you well with your search. If, by some miracle, we do hear something, rest assured, Mr Smith, you will be the first to know.’ For good measure, he toasted him with his own empty mug.