Chapter Twenty-Two

Garrett changed into traveling clothes, the ones he’d worn only a few days ago when he’d arrived. He allowed himself just a moment to glance around the chamber before closing the door behind him.

The room itself haunted him with her image. Too much had occurred in such a short time.

He placed his hat on his head and stared at his boots. He’d thought his attire would be proper for mingling with the aristocracy in the country. How wrong he had been.

He’d sent Marcus to make his apologies to Lady Ravensdale. He must attend to urgent business, he’d informed Marcus. They would be leaving presently.

Using the back stairs, he’d avoid making any explanations to other guests. This tactic worked until he reached the stables, but damned if it just wasn’t his day.

Another party readied for departure as well. The earl’s stable hands were busy, not only assisting Garrett’s men with his carriage and mount, but assisting Farley, Trident, Lockley, and Danbury.

Stone watched the activity warily. Most likely assuring himself of their departure.

He did not appear pleased with the world in general. “So it is true, then, you are cutting your holiday short?”

“I am.” Garrett pushed aside any resentment he held for the earl and grasped Stone’s outstretched hand. He’d always been a good friend. “Duty calls at Maple Hall.”

Danbury stepped forward to join them. “Hawthorne, good to see you,” he said, as though the meeting the previous night had never occurred. “I see you are taking advantage of the full moon as well.” He gestured toward the young marquis. “Lockley and I are returning to London.”

Garrett was more concerned with the other two’s destination. “What of Farley and Trident?”

“Farley mentioned a house party up north. From what I gather, they’ve a few days’ ride.”

“Danbury and Lockley are heading your direction, Hawthorne, “Stone interjected. “The three of you ought to travel together as far as Reading. Safer for the lot of you.”

“I’ll be riding alongside my baggage coach,” Garrett said. “They’d make better time without me.” He did not wish for company.

Danbury brightened, however. “We’ll hold back with you, Hawthorne. Spencer, here, is correct. Much safer.”

Danbury looked exhausted. Dark shadows encircled his eyes, and his mouth was pinched. Keeping company with villains had taken its toll.

“Very well,” Garrett acquiesced. Safety in numbers couldn’t hurt.

The various travelers mounted their horses while Garrett’s driver checked the harness on the baggage coach. Ravensdale had given Marcus a gelding of his own. It was a very generous going-away present.

Already mounted, Trident and Farley made particular nuisances of themselves. They allowed their horses to dance about recklessly, while they smiled and wished Danbury, Lockley, and even himself safe and happy travels. Feeling uneasy at their feigned graciousness, Garrett felt relief when they finally departed. They were annoying, but most likely harmless.

Other matters beleaguered his thoughts.

What was she doing now? Was she sitting beside Monfort? Perhaps locating a crack in his icy demeanor?

He warred with his imagination.

It would do him good to remove himself from Raven’s Park—even though it felt he was leaving something very important behind.

They had good light for travel, a full moon illuminating the sometimes rutted and gnarled road. Such conditions quickened the journey. Just before dawn, Garrett and his entourage turned south on a road near Reading while Danbury and Lockley continued to London. They’d ridden mostly in a comfortable silence, except for a few periods of spontaneous conversation.

Danbury had enlisted Garrett’s assistance in dissuading Lockley from associating with Trident and particularly Farley any longer. Garrett didn’t offer much but agreed on several points, especially when Lockley made it known that Farley expected him to pay off several of his own gambling debts.

The young Lockley had been too easily ensnared in the older gentlemen’s sophisticated lifestyle. Having just come of age, without his father in town as a calming influence, he’d allowed matters to get out of hand quickly.

Garrett hoped the younger man appreciated Danbury’s efforts to remove him from such unfortunate connections.

Once on the less travelled, unmaintained southbound road, their pace slowed significantly. Arriving long after sunup, the weary travelers were sleep deprived and fatigued when they finally drove into the park of the once-grand estate.

Ominous skies hovered, so Garrett instructed his driver to bring the baggage carriage around to the dower house. This way the artwork could be unloaded without delay and stored before the rain came.

In his care, the treasured artwork left by his mother would be protected. Thunder resounded in the distance, and black clouds gathered on the horizon.

The last family member to have dwelt in the dower house had been his grandmother, on his father’s side. She’d died before Garrett was born. The dower house, a two-story brick Tudor built a few hundred yards behind the charred manor, was the only habitable structure available.

Although the house suffered from considerable neglect, the current caretakers, Mr. and Mrs. Hampden, had managed to keep the main rooms in reasonable repair. Garrett had ordered the main suite to be put to rights when he’d been here earlier, one short week ago. He hoped to find progress well underway. Marcus would need a room as well. Although many of the servants had abandoned the estate following the fire, some old retainers remained, whether from loyalty or lack of accommodations elsewhere, Garrett did not know.

A few stable lads were on hand and took control of the tired horses while Marcus and the outriders unloaded the crates. Handing Rumble over for a good rubdown, Garrett himself walked over to unstrap the half-empty trunk from the back ledge of the carriage. Best get the lot of it inside. Feeling the wind gathering strength, he figured the storm would arrive within minutes.

Marcus oversaw the outriders as they carefully pulled one of the crates from the coach. He looked exhausted but was determined to please his new employer. Garrett appreciated the young man’s loyalty. He smiled to himself, thinking again of how he’d found himself in company with the eager valet. It seemed he could not go a moment without some thought or other of Lady Natalie Spencer coming to mind. He hoped this phenomenon would diminish with time.

As he went to loosen the strap, which he’d tied himself the previous afternoon, a twinge of foreboding crept over him. The knot was not the one he’d tied. And the trunk had since been locked as well.

When he’d loaded it, he’d purposely left it unlocked.

Garrett painstakingly unknotted the gnarled bundle of rope and then went to remove the trunk itself to the ground. Expecting it to be only slightly heavier than the container alone, as it had been when he’d loaded it, he grunted when it strained his muscles. What the devil?

“Marcus!” he shouted. What had been added to the trunk? Thoughts of Farley lurking about with a smug grin taunted Garret. It would be just like the louse to pilfer something from the Spencers and plant it on him. It was the sort of thing that little weasel would do.

Marcus rushed over and went to grab one of the handles of the trunk. “I thought there wasn’t much in this one, my lord,” he said as they both heaved the trunk off the platform.

“Careful, now,” Garrett said, in case the unknown contents were breakable. He could not for the life of him imagine anything of his own that would have added such weight to the trunk. “You did not store your belongings in here, by chance, did you, Marcus?” That would be an acceptable explanation. But he hoped not. He’d ordered none of these items be touched by anybody. Marcus would need to be admonished.

But Marcus shook his head vigorously. “No, my lord.”

They set the trunk on the ground, and Garrett regarded it skeptically. He did not possess any key that might unlock it, so the catch would have to be broken. Eyeballing the dark clouds nearly upon them, he reached back down to grasp one of the handles. “Let’s get everything inside for now. Then see if you can locate a crowbar or hammer—something to break the lock.”

As they hefted the trunk to carry it inside, Garrett was again perplexed by what the devil could be stored within. The damn thing must weigh ten stone more than it had when he’d carried it before.