Phoebe ceased pacing and whirled when the door of the general store creaked open. The crowd that had gathered in the shop fell silent. Phoebe looked past them, past Androu, who sat in the front of the shop, gaze steady on the door, to see another villager enter the store. Androu didn't look back at her, but rose, and moved to the window. He leaned against the wall and stared outside.
Phoebe joined him. “Why haven’t they returned? It's been over an hour.”
He straightened from the wall. “Perhaps we’ll find out now.”
Phoebe looked out the window and recognized the man approaching as one of the men Androu had sent to help Kiernan.
“Don't leave this spot,” Androu ordered, and headed for the door.
Phoebe watched through the window as the man stepped up on to the boardwalk and began talking with Androu. The man waved his arms in heated conversation and Androu glanced back in her direction. The man grew still as Androu spoke. The man spoke again, and Androu cast a quick glance in her direction. A moment later, the man turned and hurried down the street, and Androu entered the shop.
“The bast—er, criminal has taken to the forest and MacGregor has gone for him," he said. "Murphy is gathering more men for the hunt.”
Phoebe cast an anxious glance at the darkening clouds.
“Your husband will be all right, lass.”
“Damn him,” she muttered. “And damn my father. Damn them both.”
“Your father?”
Phoebe shifted her gaze to him. “How many men have joined the search?"
“Enough," he replied. "MacGregor wants me to take you back to, er…”
“Madam Duvall?” Phoebe snorted. “Try that, sir, and I'll shoot off your bollocks."
Androu sighed. “Your husband was afraid you’d say something like that. Christine,” he called over his shoulder, “cut me several strips of material, lass.”
Aside from the drum of rain pelting the house, all had remained quiet since Phoebe returned to Madam Duvall's two hours ago. Arm draped across the back of the couch, both feet tucked beneath her skirts on the couch, she stared out the drawing room window into a private garden. The front door opened in the foyer and Phoebe checked a start of terror at the murmur of voices. Kiernan appeared first in the doorway. His raven lay hair matted against his forehead and neck, and his coat dripped water on the carpet, but it was the harsh look in his eyes that frightened Phoebe.
Lord Stoneleigh stepped into the room next.
“Lord Stonel—” His name died on her lips when he cleared the doorway and another figured entered the light of the room, his body half visible behind the large frame of her husband.
*****
Kiernan stepped aside, allowing Mason Wallington to enter the room. Phoebe remained as still as a statue, arm slung over the top of the couch, not a lock of golden hair askew from where the tresses were piled high atop her head. For an instant, Kiernan feared the shock might cause her to swoon, then she blinked, breaking the spell.
“Hello, sir,” she said.
“Sir?” Mason repeated.
He crossed the room and pulled her up and into a hug. Regan seated himself in a chair to Kiernan's right, and a long silence passed until Mason at last held Phoebe at arms length and stared into her eyes.
“Sir?” he repeated.
She shrugged. “Now that you’re here, I find I’m not sure what to do with you.”
He laughed and hugged her again, then released her and urged her back onto the couch, sitting beside her.
“What happened?” she asked, looking from him to Kiernan.
“We caught five of the men, but one escaped, perhaps two," Kiernan replied. "We have a dozen men on their trail. We'll find them."
Her gaze shifted onto Mason. “My guess is they were sent by Lord Harrington.”
“You know who he is?” he asked.
“Yes.”
He glanced at Kiernan, then Regan.
Phoebe frowned then turned toward Kiernan. “What—Oh. You think I'm connected with Lord Harrington, that I led him here.”
“Phoebe—” Mason began, but she cut him off.
“There's no need to apologize. You may not be far from the truth.”
He placed a hand over hers. "Being associated with Alistair Redgrave does not mean you are associated with Lord Harrington."
"But how—" she began, then understanding shone in her eyes. "Of course. Lord Redgrave has known all along where you were and apprised you of my…activities."
"I’m sorry, Phoebe. There was no other way. I wasn't willing to risk your life by telling you the truth."
She looked at Kiernan. "And you, sir, you weren't willing to risk your wife knowing too much about you?"
"I have been honest about my intentions, Phoebe. I didn't know you were a spy until yesterday—which—" he laughed, "—doesn't speak highly of my deductive abilities."
"How did you know that Redgrave knew of my whereabouts?" Mason asked her.
"I didn't, until recently. Do you remember John Stafford?"