The Marquis and I (The Worthingtons #4)(91)

“Would you like me to enter first? From what Charlotte said, the innkeeper and his wife might attempt to attack you for spiriting her away.”

“If they plan on harming us,” Con said ruefully, “it will be because we tied their daughter to a bed and gagged her.”

“There is that. I definitely think I should go in first with a few of my servants. Yesterday I thought we had them all. I hope today proves me correct.” Merton called Jeffers to him. “I expect there might be trouble either from the innkeeper and his people or from the blackguards who worked for that woman. Please have some of the men go into the common room. I shall want three of them with me before Lord Kenilworth enters the inn.”

“Yes, my lord.”

The man started to leave, but Con stopped him. “I do not want Lady Charlotte to leave the coach until we know the inn is safe.”

“We’ll make sure both ladies are safe, my lords.” Jeffers touched his hat, and trotted off.

He and Merton slowed their horses and rode into the yard. They waited for the outriders to take their places before dismounting. “We shall soon know what we are dealing with.”

A few of the servants who were dressed in everyday clothing entered the inn. Three others who were in Merton’s livery stood to the side of the door. Merton entered and Con followed.

“Innkeeper!” Merton called.

Mr. Wick hurried out from a room on the right of the hall. “My lord.” He looked past Merton and the man’s eyes widened, then narrowed in anger. “We don’t want your kind here. Take yourself off right away.”

Ignoring the landlord, Con took out one of his cards. “We have not been properly introduced. I am the Marquis of Kenilworth. My companion is the Marquis of Merton. I was here the last time for the same purpose I am here today, to rescue the person who was brought here under the instruction of a woman called Miss Betsy.”

Mr. Wick’s mouth gaped. “Rescue?”

As the man did not continue, Con went on. “Indeed. The woman is a flesh-dealer. The lady I rescued was abducted for the purpose of selling her to the man who requested the kidnapping.”

“I don’t believe you.” The innkeeper’s chin pushed out belligerently. “What proof do you got?”

“I am proof,” Merton said. “My cousin, the lady’s guardian, and I destroyed Miss Betsy’s brothel. She forced the women there into prostitution.”

Wick stuck out his chin belligerently. “So you says.”

“Perhaps a letter would help.” Charlotte spoke from behind Con. “This is from Miss Betsy to the man who paid her to abduct me.” She held the missive out so that the landlord could read it. After a few moments she said, “Now do you believe us?”

“We know what she told you.” Dotty stood next to Charlotte. “She said the same thing to another innkeeper and his wife. I am sorry to have to tell you that you have been taken in by a villainess who sells women and children.”

Mr. Wick opened his mouth, then shook his head and handed Con a key. “She’s in the same room as the last time.”

“Where are her men and how many are there?” Con asked.

“The coachman is in the stable,” the landlord replied, his Adam’s apple working furiously. “One of them is in the taproom, and the other is two doors down from the lady. They’re expecting Miss Betsy anytime.”

“You do not have to worry about seeing her again,” Merton said before glancing at Jeffers. “Take care of the coachman.”

Con signaled for the other two outriders to remain in the hall. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

When he entered the taproom, one of Merton’s servants was talking to a medium-sized man dressed in dark brown clothing sitting at a table near the bar. The man looked at Con, obviously decided he was not a threat, and turned back to his ale.

Strolling up to the table, Con waived the servant away. “I hear you work for Miss Betsy?”

The miscreant glanced up from his mug and stared at him. “Name’s Smith. Be you wantin’ to get a message to her?”

“That would be a bit difficult.” He smiled humorlessly. “She is dead. As you will be if you do not tell me what I wish to know.”

Right on cue, the blackguard lunged at Con. He struck out, slamming his fist into Smith’s jaw. The cur fell back, then came at Con again. He rammed his fist into the man’s gut, grabbed him by the hair, and planted the blackguard a facer. Blood and spittle flew over the table.

Grabbing Smith by his scarf, Con lifted him and shook hard. “There’s more home brew where that came from if you wish to continue, or we can have a conversation.”

“I ain’t talkin’.”

“In that case, you shall hang.” Con motioned to the outriders. “Tie him up. I shall find out who the magistrate is for the area. If Mr. Smith is lucky, his case will be heard here; if not, he’ll be taken to Newgate.” Con slid a glance to the man. “That is what the magistrate in Richmond decided to do, as the abduction took place in London.”

At the mention of Newgate, the man paled. “I just pick ’em up. I don’t know nothin’ else.”

Con raised a brow. “That is a pity. If you had more knowledge, you might be sentenced to transportation instead of hanging.”