The Swordmaster's Mistress: Dangerous Deceptions Book Two(62)
‘Excuse me, sir, but may I stay and visit my old mother in the town?’ Thomas stood looking up at Jared, hat in hand. ‘I can catch a ride back with the carrier’s cart this evening.’
‘Why didn’t you ask before?’ He felt like snapping a negative – why not make everyone’s day as bad as his was? But there would still be five men left. ‘I suppose so – ask Lady Northam’s permission first.’
Without Thomas they trundled along the quayside and followed the River Esk to Aislaby and the bridge where they crossed. As they began to climb out of the valley on the Pickering road Jared made himself relax in the saddle, his eyes scanning before and behind them, watching for trouble even as his mind struggled with the fact that William was dead. And had left no sons.
A battered fingerpost pointed back the way they had come. Someone, aiming to save time or paint, had abbreviated the name to A’sl’by, the opposite arm read Pick’ring.
He let the surface of his mind drift over that as they traversed the flat moorland. What would a complete stranger make of A’sl’by, what might he construct from that? He had been unimaginative himself when he had adopted his new name and hardly abbreviated at all. He could have called himself Jack, for his first name, James, or Jamie, come to that.
Hell. Under him the horse snorted and sidled as his hand clenched on the reins. Abbreviations. He knew who Willoughby’s sister was.
In front of him the carriage jolted as the road dipped sharply at the beginning of the short drop to the Ellerbeck with its treacherous bend just above the stream bed. It was going too fast and that rear wheel was surely wavering – Jared spurred forward, shouting. ‘Stop! Now! Rein in, damn you.’
The coachman pulled up to a sliding stop, the horses backing and restless on the unstable road surface. ‘The brake’s not right, not holding, sir. Johnny, get down there with the shoe – now.’
The groom was already vaulting down, reaching to unhook the metal shoe from the side of the carriage and thrusting it under a rear wheel. Jared rode up to the carriage door. ‘Get out, all of you. Hurry.’
Faith tumbled out, then Dover, holding up his hands to help Guinevere. She took one look at the plunging team, the sliding coach and pulled Faith up the bank out of danger.
Paul, the large, stolid footman, ran to help the groom calm the horses as Jared swung out of the saddle and began to jam stones under the wheels. At last the horses steadied, the carriage settled against the makeshift blocks and the coachman got down to look at the wheel.
‘That’s been interfered with. The pin’s been sawn part through.’ He traced back the brake mechanism that acted from a lever by his hand to the sabotaged wheel. ‘And look here, sir. Some bugger’s slackened off half the joints then smeared dirty grease over to hide it. No wonder it wouldn’t hold.’
Guinevere slid down the bank and came to look. ‘Another attempt. On these roads, with these steep banks and endless becks, this could have been fatal.’
The coachman swore again. ‘Begging your pardon, my lady.’
‘Not at all. I quite agree.’
‘When has the carriage been unattended?’ Jared demanded.
‘At the house we called at, sir. We left it in their stableyard and went in to have a drink in the kitchens. Then in Whitby Thomas stayed with it while we went to buy pies and a jug of ale.’
Jared nodded and drew Guin aside. ‘And now we know who is behind this.’
‘Thomas?’
‘He has been the agent for all the attacks on you, I assume. Lord Northam’s murder, I am not so sure about. But I know who Willoughby’s sister is.’
‘Who? No, we cannot talk about it here. What do we do now? Will you ride for help?’
‘You and I will take my horse, with Dover and Faith on one of the carriage horses. We will send help back to the coach from the next village – Lockton, if I remember rightly. I want you home, Guinevere.’
‘I thought you would never call me that again.’ Her smile was a sudden flash of happiness before she was serious again.
The coachman, a practical man, agreed that the best thing to do was to get the women safely off the moor. ‘We’ll need a wheelwright, and a blacksmith to fix this brake, no point in all of us sitting around here, sir. We can drive back with just the three. I’ll try leading the horses down to the bottom now they’re calm, which’ll be safer than having the carriage on the slope. It should be all right with the weight out and just at a walk.’
They shortened the reins on the steadiest of the horses and Jared boosted Faith up behind Dover, then Paul helped Guinevere up behind him. ‘It’s the Quentens, isn’t it?’ she said as they set off. ‘Thomas has worked for them since he was a boy.’
‘Yes,’ Jared agreed. ‘Hold on tight, I want to get you home fast.’
It took them two hours, including the stop to despatch wheelwright and smith to the stricken coach. Guin was so stiff when they cantered up the drive at Allerton that she thought Jared would have to lift her down, bent into a sitting position.
As it was he threw his leg over the pommel, slid to the ground and held up his hands to her and she simply fell into his embrace and clung.
‘I am sorry to be such a feeble creature,’ she mumbled against his shirt front. ‘All I want is to curl up in a darkened room and put my fingers in my ears and hum loudly until this all goes away.’