“Jenson, pack our things,” she ordered. “We will be leaving soon. My niece shall pay dearly for causing me so much trouble,” she muttered as, with Jenson’s aid, she donned her traveling coats, hat, and gloves and left the room.
Jenson stared at the door for a minute. The woman intended to kill the baron’s daughter. Just how much more did the bitch want to make an innocent girl pay for that? And what had the young master ever done to hurt his aunt? Nothing, as far as Jenson knew, unless one counted never having a word to say to the woman or his clever avoidance of all her matchmaking plans for him.
He sat down on the edge of the bed and put his face in his hands. He so badly wanted out of the mess he was in. Yet the fate of his brother and his family rested in his hands. His darling baby daughter, one he had begot upon a kitchen maid who died in birthing the child and whom he had never had the common decency to marry, was also at stake. Augusta had threatened to destroy everyone who mattered to him and he fully believed the woman was capable of it.
He rose and moved to look out the window. There were an impressive number of people wandering somewhat aimlessly around the inn. All handsome people, mostly male and with black hair. He suspected those were the Wherlockes. The fact that they were not even trying to be very secretive in watching Augusta must annoy her and that made him smile.
A little girl with thick black curls looked up at the window and he could see the blue of her eyes even from there. She waved and he cautiously waved back. She stood and scowled toward Augusta when the woman appeared to direct the packing of her carriage. When the woman went back inside the inn the little girl skipped after her and Jenson became concerned. He was about to go downstairs to make sure the child stayed away from the woman when a soft rap came at the door.
He opened the door cautiously and then looked down. Those blue eyes stared at him and then she smiled. A beguiling child, he thought, and looked around to make sure Augusta was not approaching.
“She is in the kitchens telling the people there precisely how to pack a basket of food for her to take on her journey,” the little girl said. “You can tell me what you have to tell me now.”
“Why do you think I have anything to say?”
“Because it is chewing its way right out of you so best to get it said quick before she comes.”
“She is going to follow them.”
“We know.”
“And she knows where they are going. To their maternal uncle.”
“We know that, too. Has she hired more men?” she asked after a moment of obvious thought.
“I fear she has. Some scum she found in the public house or, rather Carl found for her.”
“Thank you, sir. You need to get away from her.”
“I cannot. She will hurt my family.”
“She is going to kill you. Best if you run. No need to worry about your family. She is done. We just want to”—she hesitated and frowned a little—“make certain she does not take the ones we need to save down with her. There. That was all.” She shook a tiny finger at him. “Now do as you are told and run then hide until you hear she is gone for all time but not until the morrow.”
“Why not until the morrow?”
“Because you have to help save our Bened.”
“Me? You must be mistaken, child.”
“No. Delmar told me to tell you that. He said it would help give you some spine. He saw it so it is true, too. You best be believing it. Save Bened then run and hide.”
Before he could ask any more she was gone. He listened carefully but could not even hear the patter of her feet as she ran down the stairs. It was odd that the Wherlockes would send a child with such a warning although, if he judged right, she did very well at recalling any specific message she was to give. And, now that he considered it, who would notice a child or care what she had to say to anyone?
A tiny spark of hope flickered to weak life in his heart. Perhaps, for once, Augusta had chosen the wrong people to anger. And it appeared there might be some truth about the rumors concerning the Wherlockes. He took a deep breath and returned to preparations for the never-ending journey they appeared to be on.
It would help give him some spine, a child had said. It did not matter that she had just been repeating someone’s message, which was undoubtedly just from another child. He had seen the judgment of his cowardice in her startlingly beautiful eyes and that was enough. That stung and he could almost feel his back straighten. He would do it. If his fate was headed his way, he would greet it like a man and just, maybe, ruin Augusta’s grand plans for her glorious future of reigning like a queen over society. Even better, he would be the one who saved a good man who was only trying to do what was right.
Chapter Twelve