Redeeming Jack (18 page)

“Mrs. Edwards had her daughter, Sian, baptized at the church. Mrs. Forester is listed as one of the child’s godmothers.”

Richard leaned over Jack’s shoulder. “And Mrs. Edwards’ address remains the same. I would say that confirms your theory of a connection between the two women.”

“I need to inform my patron about this.”

“Please, use my desk,” Richard said.

Jack searched for a quill pen and uncovered the ink pot. He copied out the entry onto a clean piece of parchment Richard provided for him. After blotting the ink, he folded the parchment in three.

Richard handed him a stub of red sealing wax. “I’ll send it on for you. I have a trustworthy man.”

Jack nodded his thanks and scrawled the Duke of Diable Delamere’s town address on the front.

Richard raised his eyebrows. “Forgive my earlier assumptions. I see you do, indeed, move in the highest of circles, despite your slovenly appearance.”

Jack melted the wax and watched a blood-red circle form drip by drip. He went to pull off his signet ring to seal the letter and remembered he’d pawned it for food. Before the wax could set, Richard produced a stamped seal and pressed it against the letter.

“The Duke of Diable Delamere is an influential man in the government. Have you asked him to investigate your case?”

Richard had always been persistent. Jack reflected on his answer as he studied the columns of names in front of him. “I believe the duke might aid me if I succeed at this task. I haven’t had time to discuss my personal difficulties with him yet.” Jack pictured the duke’s cynical face and wondered if he ever would. “He is not the most approachable of men.”

Richard took the letter and rang the bell. “So I’ve heard. I’ll have this on its way tonight.” He gestured at the door. “Perhaps you’d prefer to eat in the kitchen? I’ll send Gareth down to you when my mother’s finished with him.”

Jack held out his hand. “Thank you. I’ll endeavor to keep out of Rice’s way and I’ll bed down in the stables tonight. Your mother need never know I’ve been here.”

Richard shook Jack’s hand, his expression hunted. “No chance of that. She knows everything that goes on in this house. All I can hope is that by the time she comes to find you, you’ll be long gone.”

He directed Jack to the kitchens and headed upstairs to change for dinner. Jack watched him go, humbled by the efforts his old friend was prepared to go through for him. First Gareth and now Richard. It felt odd to have someone step up and defend him. He’d grown used to fending for himself over the past few years.

Jack paused at the entrance to the kitchen, his hand pressed to the door. He missed the sense of comradery he’d had in the arm. After his disgrace, he’d broken off all connections with his civilian friends, too. Perhaps he’d been hasty. It felt good to mend his fences. It gave him hope for the future.

Summoning a jovial smile, Jack opened the kitchen door and went in. The smell of roast lamb curled around his nostrils, and he breathed in. It would suit his purposes if Gareth were unable to get away from Mrs. Mansell. Jack intended to do a little reconnoiter of the village when everyone was abed.

* * *

A seagull landed close to Jack’s head and strutted over to inspect his gloved fingers. Warily, Jack watched the gull’s cruel, curved beak as it poked and stabbed at the ground close to his hand. He resisted an impulse to wiggle his fingers or make a grab for the bird. His current position was too precarious.

He lay on his stomach on a slight incline behind Rose Edwards’s cottage. The windows were lit from within. Jack counted at least three separate figures passing the unshuttered windows. Someone was obviously in residence, but was it Mrs. Edwards and Mrs. Forester?

Past experience had taught the need for caution, but some part of him longed to descend on the cottage like a pillaging Viking and drag Mrs. Forester out by her hair.

Jack spared a thought for the duke. Had he managed to keep his wife in ignorance of her mother’s escape? The duchess was an intelligent woman, but the duke was extremely close-mouthed. Jack put his money on the duke.

Gradually, the lights in the village dimmed. Candlelight and shadows danced up the stairs, and the houses became still and shuttered. Jack replaced his spyglass in his pocket and inched closer to the back of the cottage. He felt along the wall guarding the enclosed garden until he reached the wooden door.

To his surprise, the gate swung open without a sound. Without stopping to consider his good fortune, Jack slipped inside and crawled toward a collection of blackcurrant bushes edging the barren vegetable garden. Almost before he settled within the green darkness, quiet footsteps behind him made him freeze in place.

He could see little of the cloaked figure who passed him, only a pair of boots and the silver tip of an ornate walking stick. The man knocked on the back door of the cottage. When the door opened, a woman’s figure was briefly outlined against the soft glow of the candlelight.

Jack contemplated his options. He could attempt to get closer to the window and take a look at the people inside. Jack reluctantly decided to wait. He had no intention of allowing himself to be caught. At least he’d confirmed there was a female in the house.

It seemed an age before the man reappeared. Stifling a groan, Jack tried to untangle his stiff limbs from his crouched position. He saw no sign of a horse as he followed his prey through the outskirts of the village. Was the cloaked man a smuggler arrived from the beach or part of the local community?

The man made a sharp left turn off the road and began to climb the hill toward Oxwich Manor. Jack hung back to make sure he hadn’t been seen. If Mrs. Edwards’ visitor continued on his current path, he must have come from the manor. There were no other dwellings perched high on the cliff tops.

Ah, no, he was mistaken. Jack remembered the passageway, which led both down to the beach and up to Oxwich Manor. The mysterious stranger could go either way. Jack increased his pace as the moon slipped behind a cloud, bathing the barren landscape in an eerie glow.

By the time Jack reached the high wall encircling Oxwich Manor, the man had disappeared. Jack gulped in air after his rapid ascent and contemplated his next move. The walking stick the man carried reminded him of several he’d seen in Richard Mansell’s library. Any of the men who slept the night at the house could have borrowed the thing.

A slight disturbance in the shadows to Jack’s right alerted his senses. He caught a glimpse of the man’s black cloak as he climbed the exterior wall into the formal gardens. Jack kept low and hurried toward the same spot. He gained the top of the wall just in time to see the cloaked figure disappear into the stable yard.

Intent on his prey, Jack failed to see the booted foot that sent him sprawling face-first onto the damp grass. As he struggled to rise, a knee jammed into his back and a cold hint of steel caressed his throat. Jack lay still.

“That’s better, Llewelyn.”

Captain Fury’s soft voice came as no surprise. Jack had been expecting him since his threat to the captain’s bully boy.

“It’s a strange time for a stroll, Captain Fury.” Jack rolled onto his back and got to his feet, brushing at the grass on his chest.

Captain Fury’s thin-lipped smile barely registered within the shadows of his hooded cloak. “I might say the same to you.”

“I was merely attempting to solve the riddle of Mrs. Forester’s whereabouts. Your untimely arrival made me lose my man.”

Captain Fury indicated the moonlit manor house. “Are you talking about the fellow who rushed past me a few moments ago? You believe that someone who lives here is involved in the matter?”

Jack gave him a sarcastic grin. “Thanks to you, I might never know.”

Captain Fury led the way to the more protective shelter of the wall. “The Mansell family controls the village. Their influence is considerable. I doubt any stranger could come here without the family being aware of it.”

Jack had to agree. He’d had the same thought as he trudged up the hill and dismissed it out of loyalty to his friend. Perhaps Richard’s welcome had been designed to allay Jack’s suspicions. Jack stared into the darkness. He had to have faith. There were other men at the house. He could not assume Richard was guilty.

Jack considered mentioning Rice’s presence at Oxwich Manor. It would be interesting to see Captain Fury’s reaction to that piece of information. Unsettled, he pushed the insidious thought away. He had no proof that Rice was involved and thanks to Captain Fury, he was unlikely to find any tonight. “What can I do for you, Captain? Do you trust me so little that you feel the need to dog my footsteps?”

“I happened to be in the vicinity attending to other matters.” The blade of Captain Fury’s knife gleamed for an instant before he concealed it within the folds of his cloak. “I’ve learned to my cost that faithless men need a firm hand or else they are as likely to bolt as a riderless horse.”

When he’d first reluctantly agreed to work with Captain Fury, the dismissive words might have applied to him. As he matured, he’d realized that keeping faith with Marcus Stortford, even through his torturous partnership with Captain Fury, kept him sane and stopped him from despair. “I intend to remain until the job is completed.”

Captain Fury nodded. “Good. I was concerned that your wife was proving to be too much of a distraction.”

Any warm thoughts Jack harbored toward Captain Fury fled. “As I told your bloodthirsty lackey, sir, my wife has nothing to do with this matter.”

“I wish that were true. She lives near here, doesn’t she? Although not at Llewelyn Hall with your parents.”

Jack clenched his jaw. He refused to be drawn into a discussion about Carys. Captain Fury was like a spider throwing out a multitude of sticky strands to trap the unwary.

“I would be most displeased if Mrs. Forester managed to escape you,” Captain Fury murmured. “If that happened, I would surely be looking for people to blame. Your wife has a son, I believe.”

Jack stepped as close to Captain Fury as he dared and grabbed the front of his cloak. “If Mrs. Forester eludes me, the responsibility will be mine and mine alone. If you come after my wife, I’ll end our association and be damned to the consequences.”

“Brave words, Llewelyn. Words that confirm my fears of the distracting nature of your wife. Do you think to change your allegiances now that you’ve come to the notice of the Duke of Diable Delamere?”

Jack shoved him away. “I intend to protect what is mine. If I have to choose between Marcus and Carys, I’ll do it.”

Captain Fury shook out the folds of his cloak. “You’re too passionate, Jack. That’s what got you into trouble in the first place. I’ll be returning to London shortly and will await your reports with bated breath.”

Captain Fury bowed and melted back into the shadows. Jack waited until he’d overcome the urge to smash something and headed for the stable block. He doubted Captain Fury would bother with a third warning. Perhaps he should tell Carys to be on her guard…

A light shone in the downstairs window. Jack spied Jones, the Mansell’s aging coachman, sitting in front of the fire.

He knocked on the door and after being made welcome, pointed at the bottle. “Is there any left for me? I’ll buy you another.”

Jones, a retired army veteran, handed the bottle over without complaint. His keen old eyes gazed knowingly into Jack’s. “Bad night, boy-o? Are the dead after you again?”

Jack accepted the bottle and put it to his mouth. By the time he finished, he could only hope that the living would fade from his thoughts. For once, being hounded by the dead seemed a far better alternative.

CARYS STUMBLED OUT of the gig, her hair in disarray, and threw the reins at Robert Evans, the schoolmaster. She paused long enough to gasp, “Thank you for loaning me your gig, Mr. Evans.”

Leaving him with the horse and without the long conversation he’d probably anticipated, Carys picked up her skirts and ran down the path to her cottage. There was no sign of Martha or Owen in the back garden, although a line of washing flapped and snapped in the stiff breeze.

Pushing her way through the smothering white sheets, Carys paused at the open back door. Martha emerged from the pantry with an empty clothes basket.

“What’s the matter,
bach
? Did something happen at the Llewelyns?”

Carys dragged off her bonnet and threw her cloak over her arm. “Where’s Owen?”

“He’s down at the seashore, playing with the other children. Why?”

Carys kicked off her slippers and stockings and dumped everything in Martha’s empty basket. “I’ll go and fetch him.”

She followed the steep narrow path cut into the cliff down to the beach, listening intently for the sounds of children’s voices. To her far left, guarding the curve of the bay rose the serpentine promontory of Worms Head.

In her haste, she slipped on seaweed deposited by the high tide and grabbed the rock wall for support. She took a moment to steady her nerves and scan the fine white sand of Rhossili beach.

Her heart gave a peculiar thump when she spotted Owen up to his knees in the foaming waves. He grinned at his best friend, Rhys Roberts, as they splashed and kicked water at each other. A break in the clouds illuminated Owen’s thick blond hair, revealing the strands of pure gilt. Carys waved her handkerchief.

When Owen finally looked up, Carys tried not to show her relief. On her journey home, she’d almost convinced herself that the Duke of Carmarthen had already snatched him.

Her face must have betrayed more than she realized. With a word to his companions, Owen sprinted up the beach and clambered over the rocks to reach her. She wrapped her arms around him, inhaling the scent of the sea and his own puppy-like warmth beneath it.

“Is everything all right, Mama?”

Carys kissed the top of his head, wondering how long it would be before he began to fidget and pull away. She laughed shakily. “I’m fine,
bach
. I just wanted to save Martha a journey to come and find you.” Linking her arm through his, she allowed him to lead her up the path.