“Why would she do that?” I asked, surprised. Nora was her daughter. I was just the friend.
Justine gave me a dry look. “Let’s see. Perhaps because her daughter ran off with a lunatic, soon to be followed by a young woman who was like another daughter. Rather unfortunate odds if you ask me.”
A lump formed in my throat. Had Lucy really thought of me so fondly? “Sophie is good to tend her.”
“She doesn’t mind. It’s part of her gift of hearth and home.” Justine smiled. “There’s no one in England more suited to comfort the weary of heart than my sister.” Her pride and love were evident in every word.
I understood from the bond I’d once shared with my one blooded sibling. Sean had been nearly five years my senior, and one month shy of his twentieth birthday when he fled to the West Indies after a serious falling-out with our father. I had not seen him again, nor would I in this world, as rumor had reached us of a drunken brawl that resulted in Sean’s death. The lump grew even bigger in my throat. I tried to swallow it away, along with the painful memories.
“Why didn’t Cate and Tom set out immediately after Deri?” I asked, as much from curiosity as to change the subject. “I expected them to be hard on her heels by now.”
Our heels, I silently groused. My departure had only added to their need for haste, and made the delay all the more puzzling.
“Nothing of great concern,” Justine said. “Tom was held up unexpectedly when the Duke of Norland had him arrested. He’d just returned home to prepare for the journey when the guards arrived.”
My mouth fell open in shock. “Henry’s father? Why would he want to arrest Tom?”
“Something to do with his asking too many questions about the duke’s Irish ancestry.”
“You can’t just arrest someone for making inquiries. Not even the duke has that sort of power.”
Justine laughed, a melodic sound that reminded me of Cate. “I believe the official charge was theft or misrepresentation of some kind, as the duke claimed to have paid for a commission that was never delivered. But the truth of the matter is that Tom dug a little too close to a family secret for the duke’s comfort. Until he discovers whether the inquiries stemmed from curiosity or a keen understanding of Irish lore, the arrest serves to warn Tom to keep from further prying.”
I twisted in the saddle to get a better look at my aunt. To be sure, she showed less concern for her father’s arrest than most women would show for a pair of soiled slippers. And though I hated the idea of being pursued, and perhaps sent back to London, never in my wildest dreams did I wish such calamity to befall my great-grandfather.
“This is awful news. How can you be so calm?”
Her expression turned solemn. “Don’t worry, Selah. Cate is already working for his release. She prefers to use the proper channels, but if those fail, she will have him out by other means. The trick for now is getting the right wheels in motion without alerting the king to her interest in Tom. George Hanover has had designs on Cate ever since she became a widow, when the alleged Lord Dinley passed away. There’s no telling what he would do if he suspected a romantic attachment with a blacksmith.”
These last words offered little solace. “What if they hurt him? Or tried to make him disappear?” Tom wouldn’t be the first man roughed up or killed by guards while in the king’s custody.
Justine laughed again. “Believe me, your great-grandfather can hold his own against a dozen men or more. He only consented to be taken at the smithy to avoid a scene that would have ultimately forced him to move away from London. It’s happened before, and Cate was rather perturbed at the disruption to her charitable works.”
The bulk of my anger turned back to Henry’s father. “Richard Fitzalan is a ruthless blackguard who will stop at nothing to get what he wants. One must wonder what he fears from Tom to warrant such underhanded behavior.”
Justine didn’t answer at once, but stared straight ahead, her face clouded with thought. “Yes, one must indeed wonder,” she said at last.
The breeze gained a burst of strength. Glancing at the sky, I glimpsed the same thin clouds and willed them not to change until we reached Bristol. Even better, until we reached Wexford.
Movement caught my eye ahead as Julian readjusted his seat in the saddle. Exhausted, the man had barely been able to mount the horse of his own volition back at the inn. He now drooped over the beast, and as the sun dropped farther in the sky, I began to doubt he possessed the strength to continue much longer.
“You mentioned another solution to the altar at All Hallows,” I said, while studying Julian for any more signs of weakness. “Perhaps we should stop sooner if there’s any way for Lord Stroud to replenish his power.”
Justine withdrew a hand into the folds of her cloak. “I’ve something that will work, but it would be unwise to stop just yet.”