Scandal And Miss Markham

It is just vanity. Who cares what you look like?

Unbidden, Vernon’s face arose in her thoughts.

Hmmph. She thrust his image aside. He is a means to an end: finding Daniel. Nothing more.

It was time to go. Malky would have Star ready by now. Thea cast a last look around her bedchamber, sucked in a deep breath to quell her nerves and picked up her saddlebag. A quick visit to the gunroom for pistols, powder and shot and then she would be gone. As she crept down the back stairs she prayed none of the servants would see her. Her stomach roiled all the way to the gunroom and for the entire time it took her to load the smaller pistol she had decided to take with her.

She slipped out of the side door and hurried along the path to the kitchen garden, following the outer stone wall around until she reached the far corner. Then she breathed a sigh of relief, knowing she was no longer visible from the house. She stood still, leaning back against the wall, feeling the sun’s warmth, stored in the stones, radiating through her twill jacket, and waited for her nerves to settle. They did not. Her stomach continued to churn until she felt sick and she realised, with a jolt, that it was not the adventure to come that frightened her so very much but the thought of Lord Vernon Beauchamp’s reaction when he discovered she had followed him. Contrarily, that thought irritated her, which then had the effect of finally grounding those butterflies fluttering around inside her stomach.

It was not his place to dictate her movements and it was not incumbent upon her to obey him. She was her own woman. Seven-and-twenty years of age. Intelligent. She had no reputation to sully—it simply was not important to her. She would never marry and she was long past the days when she worried about how many partners she might attract at the assembly room in Bewdley. Come to think of it, she could not remember the last time she had visited the assembly room. Losing everything, including a fiancé and, very nearly, her father had effectively put an end to all such frivolity. They had—both she and Daniel—put their heads down and worked, with no thought other than to pull the family back from the precipice of bankruptcy. They had teetered upon the brink of that chilling state for a very long time.

Those years... That lump ached once more in Thea’s throat. She and Daniel had worked in partnership and they had not given up until the manufactory was safe. They had worked with Charles Leyton and the other men to develop new products that were now eagerly sought after by customers keen to decorate their homes and to display their wealth.

And now, when it seemed they could finally begin to breathe again, Daniel had vanished.

Thea pushed away from the wall. She could see Malky waiting, with Star and another horse, at the top of the opposite bank of the stream, on the edge of the trees. Gratefulness hummed through her. Malky clearly intended to accompany her and she saw now that was the best solution, at least until she caught up with Vernon. Her guise as a lad would protect her a little on the ride between Stourwell Court and Stourbridge, but not completely—a solitary youth might prove fair game for any manner of rogues on the road. She would believe that was what had befallen Daniel, but for the fact his horse had not returned: Bullet would always return to Stourwell Court. He had been foaled here.

She ran down the bank, jumped the narrow channel of water and hurried up the slope to Malky.

‘Afore you say aught, miss, I’m coming with you and there’s an end to it.’

Malky...he had taught her to ride. Solid. Dependable. Unflappable.

‘Thank you, Malky.’ Thea turned to Star, put her foot in the stirrup and was soon settled astride the spirited black mare. ‘Just until we catch up with his lordship, mind.’ Or, actually, before. Or his lordship would merely order her to return home with Malky. That would not suit her purpose at all. ‘Let’s go.’

They rode across country, taking the shortest route to Stourbridge, and Thea began to breathe a little easier at the knowledge they had made up time. Finally, they arrived at the outskirts of the town and they halted.

‘I will be safe enough now,’ she said to Malky. ‘You should return home. No!’ She held up one hand as Malky started to protest. ‘You cannot come further. You are needed at Stourwell Court. I shall be quite safe... I intend to let myself be known to his lordship before nightfall. It will be too late by then for him to send me home.’

‘And what do you intend to do while his lordship is inside the Nag’s Head?’

‘I shall go inside, too. It is a respectable enough inn. It will be an opportunity to find out if my disguise will stand casual scrutiny. You cannot deny it is better I begin here—in full daylight—than enter some low alehouse after dark when it is like to be filled with men in their cups.’

Malky sighed. ‘I don’t like you going inside such places, Miss Thea.’

‘Theo, Malky. I told you, I am now Theo. And I must go inside or how shall I discover—?’

‘I’ve bin in and out of such places all me life, mi—’ He clamped his lips together with a scowl. ‘You told me you were going to follow his lordship. You never said you’d be risking your reputation and worse besides by going inside such places.’

She touched his arm. ‘You cannot stop me, Malky. You know me. You know how stubborn I can be.’

‘Never a truer word,’ he muttered.

‘Must I order you home, Malky? You and I cannot ride into town together, or someone will recognise you and wonder who I am. Trust me... I will stay safe. I shall follow his lordship and, as I said, I shall make myself known to him before nightfall. He is a gentleman. He will protect me.’

‘And that’s another thing to worry about,’ Malky muttered. ‘His sort...they think nothing of debauchery and such like and you an innocent and all.’

‘I am well able to protect my virtue, Malky,’ she said grimly. ‘You need have no fear on that score.’

After several more grumbles, Malky finally left her and Thea rode Star up New Street towards High Street and the Nag’s Head, her stomach twisting with nerves at what she was about to do and at the thought of Vernon’s likely reaction when he discovered she had followed him. But then she thought of Daniel. She was doing this for him. And her nerves steadied as she left Star with an ostler and approached the door of the inn. She hadn’t planned much further than simply catching up with Vernon and then tailing him, but she had faith everything would work out all right. She patted her pocket, feeling the reassuring shape of the pistol. She could take care of herself and, whatever might have happened to Daniel, she would make certain she, at least, returned home to her parents.

She followed a man in through the door and turned left, as did he, into a taproom. A sweeping glance took in the dingy walls and ring-marked tables. She watched carefully how the man she had followed in behaved. He slid on to a settle and caught the attention of a serving woman by the simple expedient of raising one finger. The girl brought him a tankard, presumably of ale or porter.

Thea took a seat in an empty corner, where she could take in the whole room and see the door at the same time. As the woman turned from the other customer, Thea raised her hand. The woman acknowledged her and soon delivered a tankard, setting it on the table with a bang that sloshed its contents over the rim. She scooped up the coins Thea had tossed on to the table with a brief grin that made Thea suspect her tip had been overly generous. Nevertheless, she breathed a little easier. The woman had barely looked at her and neither had the other customers.

She sipped her ale—wrinkling her nose at the bitter taste—and allowed her gaze to slide around the room, examining each occupant in turn. The taproom was not full, with around eight customers, including Thea and the other newcomer, and a man behind the bar whom she assumed was Perrins, the publican—she knew his name from occasional comments Daniel had made about the place. But there was no sign of Vernon.

Where is he?

On the heels of that thought, the door opened and in strolled Lord Vernon Beauchamp.

Chapter Five

There was a lull in the conversation as the men in the taproom eyed up this newcomer. There had been no such reaction when the other man and Thea had entered and she took heart that the other customers had taken her appearance at face value. One single glance confirmed the newcomer was Vernon, but his appearance, far from offering relief, wound Thea’s tension a notch tighter as she kept her head bent and her attention on her drink. In her head, as she had planned her first venture into this alien world, she had entered the taproom and Vernon was already seated. She had not reckoned on him following her in. What if he sat at her table?

From the corner of her eye, she watched as he paused inside the door and swept the room, his gaze lingering on each man in turn before moving on to the next. She clenched her teeth as he scrutinised her, wrapping her fingers tightly around her tankard as she fought the urge to check that her hair was still tucked up inside her cap. The colour, surely, would give her away in an instant. After what seemed an age, Vernon’s gaze moved on and Thea released her held breath as he sauntered deeper into the room, and selected a seat at a table with three other men. He looked every inch the gentleman he was, despite Daniel’s clothing, and Thea sensed the sudden unease of the men he had joined. Even Perrins watched Vernon with suspicion.

‘Good afternoon,’ Vernon said.

His voice, well-modulated and...well...superior, carried around the room, prompting another pause in the various conversations. Now the immediate danger of him recognising her had passed, Thea began to enjoy herself. Vernon might be a lord, and the brother of a high and mighty duke, but he was out of his depth in this world. She fully expected the three men he had joined to finish up their ale and to leave, but they did not. Vernon reached into his pocket and extracted a pack of cards, looking around the table with his brows lifted in invitation. The men exchanged glances and nodded, and Vernon dealt the cards.

Perrins called across the bar, ‘Mind you keep them stakes low, gents. I don’t want no trouble in here.’

Vernon laughed. ‘I have no choice but to keep them low, landlord. My luck has been out for too long, I fear. But I harbour hopes it is about to change.’

His smile encompassed his three companions, who appeared to perk up, exchanging eager looks.

* * *

They played cards for nigh on an hour, while Thea nursed her drink in the corner, growing steadily more indignant. She could hear their banter. Not once had Vernon mentioned Daniel. Or Henry Mannington. Instead, he fed them scraps of information about himself—none of it true, from what Thea knew of him—as he steadily lost, hand after hand. Then, he won a hand and, jubilant, he ordered a bottle of gin and four glasses. Thea could not fathom his strategy. Time was wasting. They needed clues. Why did he not just get on with it instead of throwing his money around? If he had experienced the dread of ending up in debtors’ prison, he would not be so careless of his money.

Then, with the gin bottle half-empty—the level in Vernon’s glass, she noted, had barely dropped—he said, ‘That’s it. I’m done, lads. You’ve cleaned me out. Landlord...what time do you have?’

‘Half-past four,’ Perrins called in reply.

‘Half-past four, you say!’

His words slurred a little, but Thea did not believe he was in the slightest bit foxed. Vernon swore an oath that made Thea blush, then pushed himself unsteadily to his feet.

‘Have I the wrong place, I wonder? I made sure he said to meet here at four.’

‘Who’re you meeting, then? Anyone we know?’

‘Friend of mine. Daniel Markham. Business matter, don’t y’know?’

He tapped one long forefinger against the side of his nose and winked at his companions, who promptly vied with each other to suggest other places Vernon might conceivably have arranged to meet Daniel. Thea found herself revising her opinion of his lordship and a grudging respect crept through her. Even the customers who had not played cards proffered suggestions. It seemed they all knew Daniel, but none of them appeared aware he was missing.

‘No, no,’ Vernon said, in response to each suggestion. ‘They do not sound familiar. I’ll know the name when you say it, I am sure. Perhaps...’ He paused, staring at the table, frowning. He shook his head. Looked around at his companions. ‘Maybe it was not in Stourbridge at all? Was it somewhere near Birmingham? Or in Birmingham itself?’

‘It could well be,’ Perrins said—the first time he had ventured a suggestion. ‘He hasn’t been in here for the last few nights—I dare say we’m not grand enough for him, now he’s consorting with them nobs at the Royal Hotel.’

Royal Hotel! R.H!

Thea gripped the edge of the table to stop herself leaping from her chair, as Vernon pumped Perrins by the hand.

‘The Royal! I remember! He did speak of the Royal—that must be the place. Now, how could I have got it so wrong? But he definitely spoke of the Nag’s Head as well—I must have confused the two.’

‘He’ll be long gone by the time you get to Birmingham,’ one of the other men said. ‘You might as well play another hand. He might call in on his way home tonight—it’ll save you a long ride.’

‘No...how far is it? Ten, twelve miles?’

‘Nearer thirteen.’

‘We had plans to meet up and spend the evening together. I cannot believe he will give up on me so easily. My horse is fresh. I can cover that in less than two hours. Now, I must make haste...only, before I go, does anyone know a place called Willingdale?’

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.

‘How far is Birmingham? I need a bed for the night.’

Thea pointed ahead. ‘Two or three miles.’

He grunted. ‘I’ll stop at the next inn. There must be another between here and the town.

* * *

Vernon rubbed his hand across his jaw, the rasp of whiskers against his palm reminding him of the long, weary day behind him. He shoved his foot into the stirrup and hauled himself up to the saddle. He was knackered even before those two had jumped him, but now... He pressed his hand to his side and winced. That bastard had caught him with his stake, but he was sure it hadn’t punctured anything vital. When he had first become aware of the two figures lurking in the undergrowth, energy had flooded him, banishing his weariness and helping him to fight them off. But now that unnatural surge had dissipated and all he wished for was a hot meal and a comfortable bed. He hoped the next inn would be a decent place. Some of the places he had stopped at since leaving Stourbridge had left much to be desired.

Vernon glanced round at the lad, riding a little behind, out of Vernon’s direct line of sight. He was not the talkative type and that suited Vernon very well, but he was aware how fortunate it was that the lad had seen what was happening and come to Vernon’s aid. He wondered idly if the boy was local...that was a very fine mare he was riding. Vernon frowned, staring at the road ahead as suspicions stirred. Such a quality, fine-boned animal was an unusual choice for a country lad. He glanced back again. The combination of the dim light and the lad’s cap pulled low over his eyes rendered his face all but invisible.

They had ridden into a village and around a curve in the road. There before them was a small inn, the Bell, set between a churchyard and a row of neat cottages. Vernon could just make out the church itself, set back from the other buildings, its square tower silhouetted against the night sky.

‘Do you know anything about this place?’

The lad shook his head.

‘No matter,’ Vernon said. ‘Go in and see if it looks respectable, will you, lad? I’ll hold the horses. Oh, and enquire for the local constable, while you’re there, will you?’ Once he left the saddle he feared it would be more than he could manage to remount. ‘I must report that attack—I was informed earlier there has been a spate of such incidences in the area. I make no doubt the constable will be interested in the information, especially as one of those men looks unlikely to go far.’

The boy merely grunted by way of reply and did as he was bid as Vernon clenched his teeth against the pain in his side and battled the urge to slump in the saddle.