Chapter 10
By the time the two women had vanished into the stygian grove that bordered the manor, Damien spotted several couples strolling along the path, presumably in search of a private spot for a tryst. All, he assumed, had been cautioned by Lord Fletcher against attempting to use the tower for romantic purposes.
He noticed a tall man striding toward him, clearly unmindful of the guests he brushed to the side of the walk. It was Michael, and his grim expression did not bode well for a furtive encounter.
“What happened to my sister and Iris?” he asked without preamble.
Damien did not stop or give any indication that he recognized Michael. He had seen Ardbury standing in the tower window. It would be difficult for Damien to explain how he had become well enough acquainted with a Rom to pause for a chat during a crisis.
“In the woods,” he said without breaking his stride. “We are being watched. Your sister’s life is in jeopardy. Find her before someone else does. We should not be seen together.”
? ? ?
Michael disappeared with a swiftness that Damien admired. He heard Weltry clumping up in the path in his heavy boots, eager to be the one to find the gypsies detested by farmers for unlawful poaching. He glanced once at Damien before slowing to approach the path to the woods.
“What is it?” Damien shouted, appearing to join the pursuit. “Did you see anyone?”
The farmer looked back at him in suspicion. “You did not? There were two women, as far as I could tell.”
“I doubt that a pair of females at a party are a threat to our cause.”
“Everyone is a threat. A careless word could brand us all as traitors.”
“True,” Damien said, his muscles tensing beneath the weight of his disguise. The jacket felt as if it had been filled with stones. The longer he delayed Weltry, the better chance that Michael’s sister and her companion could escape. Were they well acquainted with the woods? It seemed likely that young women who tricked others for a living would know where to hide in the event of trouble.
“I’m going after them,” Weltry said.
“Don’t be a fool. In those old breeches and boots you look neither like a guest nor a servant. I say we return to the tower and organize a discreet search. You must remember that there is a party in progress and we can’t afford to attract attention.”
The farmer turned with a final look into the trees. Damien did not deceive himself into thinking that the two women would be safe from discovery because of his decree. But he had bought a little time for them to escape.
“Sir! Sir!” a male voice shouted in his direction.
The figure hurtling toward Damien wore the frocked coat of a footman.
“Have you seen them?”
“What is the matter?” Damien asked.
“Lady Fletcher and her daughter have just discovered that the house has been robbed by gypsies. Several valuable pieces of jewelry are missing from their rooms, including the sapphire necklace that belonged to Lady Fletcher’s mother. Have you noticed any vagabonds, sir?”
Damien frowned. “I visited the fortune-telling tent earlier. I would start by searching there before running willy-nilly in the night.”
“The tent is gone, sir.”
“Gone?” He suppressed a grin of admiration for what was no doubt Michael’s handiwork.
“Vanished as if it never were. There’s not a trace that it ever existed.”
If Michael could make an entire tent disappear, he could certainly find a way to hide his sister.
The footman muttered an apology for his abruptness before he excused himself. Damien was no longer paying attention. A rectangular white-edged object with an intriguing design had caught his notice. He placed his boot over the card and waited for Farmer Weltry to look away before picking it up and slipping inside his thickly padded shirt.
Urania had left another calling card—Mariage. He shook his head and turned to walk back to the tower to report to Lord Ardbury. She wasn’t going to survive long enough to predict anyone’s wedding if she left a trail like this to follow.
? ? ?
Emily and Iris knew every bridle path and secret route through the woods, having traversed them with Michael for years. However, neither Emily nor her maid wished to escape without Michael’s company as protection. The dense thicket would serve as a hiding place for only so long.
“I want to go home,” Iris whispered. “I hate the dark. I hate the rustling I just heard behind me. And right now I even hate—”
“Iris, please. We have to wait for Michael.”
“All night?”
“He will not be all night. You know we can depend on Michael.”
“And the Scotsman? He acted as if he knew you, miss. Is he a man to be trusted? How could you have met him and I not hear of it?”
Emily wavered. “I hope we never see him again. From what I can gather, his only valid credentials are that he and Michael are known to each other from their military days.”
“Mr. Rowland is a good judge of character,” Iris said after a moment.
Emily heaved a sigh. “Yes. But I’m not. I made a mortifying misjudgment tonight, and it has brought me nothing but disaster.”
Iris stared at her in sympathy. “It didn’t go well with Mr. Jackson?”
“He’s in love with the new schoolmistress.”
“Her with the face that could curdle mother’s milk?” Iris said in shock.
Emily laughed reluctantly. “I think he might want a woman to take care of him.”
“Well, that would not be you, miss,” Iris said pragmatically. “You can’t even take care of yourself.”