Tom came in a few steps behind Cate. He didn’t say a word, but went to the perimeter of the room to lean against the wall, his arms crossed casually over his chest.
The duke eyed the blacksmith, taking in the whole of the man. A small frown settled on his mouth when he returned his attention to Cate. “That is precisely why I am here, my lady. Lord Fitzalan has gone in pursuit of Nora and this beggar child who is said to have used dark magic against my footmen. I sought out Miss Kilbrid to learn their destination.”
James cleared his throat. “Your Grace, I know where they’re going, and will follow after Lord Fitzalan forthwith. If you could supply some men, I am certain we can get Nora to safety and bring the girl to justice. Time though, is of the ess—”
The duke sliced a perturbed hand through the air. “The Quaker girl is not my concern.”
“But Your Grace—” James started.
I jumped from the sharp crack of the duke’s cane against the wood floor. “Lord Fitzalan is my only child and heir. I almost lost him once this past spring, and will not put him at risk again. If Nora has decided to run away with the devil, it is her people’s responsibility to see to her safety. Not mine and not Henry’s.”
James exhaled sharply. “Other than her mother and Miss Kilbrid, all of Nora’s people are in the Colonies at present. To wait could mean her death. Unless your grace proposes that two ladies go off unattended in search for her.”
The duke scowled at me. “I would hope that Miss Kilbrid has more sense. She is most valuable to my son, and should stay in London to await his return.”
I crossed my arms in a huff. “I will do no such thing. Nora is my dearest friend. To abandon her could be paramount to murder.”
“That is your choice Miss Kilbrid, but be certain, my son will have no part of it. Now tell me, where has he gone?”
Tom shifted his weight against the wall. “Beg your pardon,” he said, in a voice that defied the very concept of begging. “I’ve heard of late that the Fitzalans have some claim to Irish blood. From a grandmother if my memory serves right.”
The duke glared at me before turning a sharp eye on Tom. “What of it?”
Tom shrugged. “Nothing of it, your grace. I was just curious as to her surname.”
The ticking of the mantel clock punctuated the tense seconds. “Her name was Lundlam,” the duke said dismissively.
“That’s an English name.” Authority and challenge laced Tom’s words. “What was the family called before they left Ireland?”
The duke stood stone still with an expression as empty as the silence. “Her name was O’Lughnane,” he said after a long moment.
Cate’s gaze did not leave the duke’s face, though her eyes widened ever so slightly. “How very interesting,” she said. “Please forgive me, your grace, but perhaps we can continue this discussion in the morning. I must return to Lucy, and desire Miss Kilbrid to accompany me. With her daughter gone, I believe a face from home will provide the greatest comfort.”
“Of course, my lady,” the duke said, pulling his gaze from the blacksmith. “Just as soon as I know where my son has gone. Miss Kilbrid, the location if you please.”
My shoulders tightened stubbornly. The duke stared at me. I stared back, prepared for a full-scale contest if need be.
“Your Grace,” James said calmly. “Miss Kilbrid told me their destination.”
I shot James a look of warning. Don’t you dare tell him! As much as I wanted Henry home, at present he was all that stood between Nora and the wretch.
“Yes, James,” the duke prodded.
“To France, Your Grace. Nora and the beggar girl are riding toward Dover to secure passage across the channel.”
My mouth popped open in surprise. I snapped it shut just as quickly.
“Thank you, James,” the duke said. “And the location of the oak grove?”
A confused pause followed. How do you know about that?
“I don’t understand, Your Grace,” James said cautiously. “Lord Fitzalan said nothing of a grove.”
The duke gripped his cane until his knuckles turned white from fury. The letter crinkled in his other hand. “Perhaps a night at the Tower will help your memory—”
I blurted out the first place that came to mind. “It’s near Paris. On the bank of the Seine.”
The duke breathed a relieved sigh. “That wasn’t so hard, now was it, Miss Kilbrid?”
“Not at all,” I said truthfully.
A thin smile did little to soften his expression. “James, a party of men will leave at first light if you wish to accompany us. With luck we can cut Henry off before there is time to sail. Otherwise, we shall be for Paris.” He raked me with a look of stern disapproval. “Try to stay out of trouble while we’re gone, Miss Kilbrid. From what I’ve heard that beggar child has the devil about her, and should be avoided at all cost.”