Chapter Thirty

Kaitlyn rode her horse over the field, the sprightly mare she’d been given for their trip into the village happily keeping abreast with the large stallion Marcus was riding beside her.

After she’d told him what Lady Brighthope had said, they’d both agreed that the information warranted following up, though as far as trusting the woman, well, that was another story entirely.

They’d rounded up Etta and Lucas, with Etta agreeing to keep watch on Lady Brighthope’s movements, while Lucas would look out for Lord Newtown, which would then allow Kat and Marcus to ride covertly into the village to see if they could find this Charles Tremont fellow.

The ride into Bramsfield village wouldn’t take them more than thirty minutes and would hopefully be quick and uneventful. They cantered through the dense forest bordering Newtown’s lands, passing an abandoned hunting lodge before coming out onto an open field.

Marcus reined his horse to a halt and Kat did the same.

“The road to the village lies beyond the field over that crest.” Marcus pointed to the end of the stretch of grass. “Shall we race there?”

Kat peered across at him. “You want to race our horses? Like children do?”

He grinned broadly across at her. “Scared you can’t win against me? Bearing in mind you’re using a regular saddle and can’t claim you were hampered by a side saddle.”

She mimicked the duchess’s deft arch of her brow and stared at the man. “This doesn’t sound like the normally sensible Earl of Westwood. Who are you and what have you done with him?”

“Very funny,” he drawled. “So, are you up for a race to the village or not?”

“Surely, by now, Marcus Black, you know I’m up for anything.” She couldn’t help but wink at him before she kicked back her heels on her horse’s flanks and urged the horse into a gallop.

“You little cheat!” Marcus grumbled from behind her as she dashed ahead of him, the wind whipping her hair and a sense of freedom unlike anything she’d experienced in some time washing over her, filling her with joy and happiness.

She peered over her shoulder and laughed. He was trying to catch her, but she had a good head start. For the first time in a very long time, all of Kat’s worries and fears disappeared, as she and Marcus raced. She stopped thinking about catching the Chameleon and began to simply enjoy racing through the fresh country air, an extremely determined Marcus trying to catch up.

Cooped up in London, as much as she loved the energy and how alive the very city itself was, she had missed the exhilaration of riding hell for leather. And racing Marcus was the icing on the cake. She’d never raced anyone before. Nor had she ever enjoyed anything as much before, either.

She glanced behind her and saw he was nearly upon her. “Come on, darling girl,” she yelled to her horse. “Fly for me.”

“I will catch you, Kaitlyn Montrose,” Marcus yelled from behind. “I will always catch you!”

“You can try, Marcus Black,” she yelled over her shoulder with a smile. “But I don’t like your chances.”

She could see the town’s name sign up ahead only a hundred feet away, just as she saw the head of Marcus’s horse edging up next to her from the corner of her eye.

“Come on, girl,” she hollered. “We can beat them!”

A few seconds later, with the head of her horse passing the name sign a second before Marcus’s, Kat won her first ever horse race.

She reined her horse to a halt and grinned at Marcus. “That was simply marvelous! We have to do it again another time.”

Marcus pulled his horse next to hers. “You are marvelous.” And then his lips pressed down against her own, and he kissed her with such desire that Kat thought she might fall from her saddle, such was the delicious sensation shooting down her body from his touch. “I want you so badly,” he murmured when he finally pulled his lips from hers. “Can you feel how I burn for you?”

He took her hand and placed it on his manhood, which was hot and hard as it strained against his pants.

Kat groaned. “I’m burning for you, too.”

But then the reality of their situation hit when a farmer’s cart lumbered past them, with the farmer driving the thing looking at them as if they were lunatics escaped from an asylum. Which she supposed wasn’t too far from the truth, given what they were doing on a country road. She laughed aloud and Marcus grinned.

“This is the most fun I’ve had in a long time,” she said, realizing just how true that was. “Thank you for giving me this. It’s what I needed.” She smiled slowly at him, and the most overwhelming feeling of caring for him came over her. Not only was she attracted to the man, she really liked him, too. “And thank you for letting me win. I’ve never won a horse race before.”

“Let you win?” He arched his eyebrow. “You forget you gave yourself a decent head start, my dear, which was the only reason you did win. Come on, we need to head into town and find this Tremont fellow.”

He was right, and as they trotted down the country laneway leading into the village, they began to focus again on their purpose.

As they neared the main street, Kat pulled her cloak over her head, wishing to maintain her anonymity. It would not help if she were to be recognized, especially as she was unmarried and accompanying Marcus with no chaperone.

The inn itself was located in the heart of the village, which was a surprising hive of activity for a relatively small town. The villagers bustled in and out of the stores, cheerful expressions on their faces as they went about their business. In the center square was a cobblestone building, with a wooden sign hanging above the door, declaring it to be the Bramsfield Inn.

The inn was wedged between two other buildings, and even though it looked old, the windows sparkled and there was a new coat of paint along their sills and the wooden door. Some pots of flowers adorned both sides of the entrance, giving it an inviting feel.

Reining their horses to a halt in front of the inn, Marcus whistled to a stable boy from across the road and motioned him over. The young boy dashed across the street and took the stallion’s reins as Marcus deftly dismounted, his boots landing lightly on the dirty street.

He walked over and helped Kat dismount. His hands reached up and circled her waist as he effortlessly picked her up from the saddle. His touch seemed to electrify her senses and he held onto her for a moment longer than was necessary, before setting her feet down on the street.

There was a burning heat in his gaze as he stared down hungrily at her. She gulped at the intensity and wicked promises in his stare, her heart starting to thunder in her chest.

Reluctantly, he moved his hands from her waist and cleared his throat. Kat was grateful he seemed physically as affected as she was from the contact, for the pulse in his throat throbbed.

He tossed the mare’s reins over to the boy before throwing him a guinea, with instructions to look after the horses and keep them ready to be brought around.

The boy’s face lit up as he caught the coin thrown to him. “They’ll be the best looked after horses in the village! And don’t worry, I’ll keep ’em close,” the boy said before turning and leading the horses back across the road to the stable house.

Marcus looked down at Kat. “Did that woman say anything about what to expect with this Tremont fellow?”

She shook her head. “Not a thing.”

“Bloody Brighthope and her sense of the theatrical,” Marcus said. “The woman is a menace. I don’t trust her as far as I can throw her.”

Kat shrugged a shoulder. “True, but think of all of the information she’s privy to. She’d be a tremendous informant for the Gazette.”

Marcus scoffed. “You’ve got to be joking.”

Kat pursed her lips. “That was essentially Etta’s reaction, too.”

“Etta’s a lot smarter than anyone gives her credit for.”

“I know,” Kat said. “But the information Brighthope is privileged to, is unparalleled.”

Marcus narrowed his eyes at her. “You have enough informants as it is that you don’t need to bother getting immersed in Brighthope’s world of intrigue and debauchery.”

“I don’t know… A little debauchery might be fun.” She grinned at him. “Perhaps we can experience more of it ourselves together this weekend…”

“You’re incorrigible, Kaitlyn Montrose. But I’m sure we can,” he said, his voice nearly a growl. “But back to what I was saying, I’m serious, Brighthope has no morals. You should stay away from her.”

“I’m well aware of her nature,” Kat said. “But in capturing the Chameleon her purpose has aligned with ours, it would seem.”

Marcus merely grunted as he began walking toward the entrance of the inn.

“I do admire her ability to captivate others,” Kat continued, as she followed him to the door, “and you have to admit, she is beautiful.”

He stopped with a hand on the handle and looked back at her. “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. And trust me, that woman’s beauty is all external, with no substance underneath. You’re a thousand times more beautiful than she could ever wish to be.”

For a moment, his words stopped her in her tracks. He thought she was more beautiful than the Siren? Her heart melted with the knowledge, and she couldn’t help but grin.

Marcus turned the handle and pushed open the door. “Come along, let us see what surprise we may be walking into.”

“Ye of little faith,” Kat admonished as her grin turned into a cringe when she caught sight of a group of ladies and gentlemen walking toward them. She pulled up the hood of her cloak and all but pushed Marcus through the entrance of the inn. She closed the door shut and peeked out the window, watching as the group passed by, none the wiser.

“What was that about?” he asked.

She continued to watch as the group wandered down the street. “Some of the guests from Newtown’s house party look to be partaking in a day trip. Oh goodness, Bertie and Brighthope are amongst them. So is the undersecretary. What is Sir Albert doing here?”

Marcus peered carefully out of the window. “He’s trying to convince Bertie to leave. We don’t want to have the heir to the throne anywhere near the vicinity of an assassination. Once he does convince him, Sir Albert will return to London with the prince. In the meantime, he’s completely safe in amongst all of the prince’s guards.”

“Doesn’t look like he’s having much luck convincing Bertie, does it?” Kat remarked as she saw the undersecretary whisper something to the prince, only for the prince to vehemently shake his head.

Marcus shrugged. “Sir Albert can be highly persuasive, trust me.”

They turned back to the interior of the inn. It was as well-kept as the exterior, with the floors spotless, and not a hint of dust to be seen on the furniture. There was a lovely little vase of flowers on the inn keeper’s desk area to the right of the entry.

Marcus walked over to the alcove where a portly man with spectacles was issuing instructions to a maid. He looked up as they approached and smiled jovially.

“Welcome to the Bramsfield Inn,” he said. “I’m Mr. Heffron, the proprietor of this establishment. How may I be of assistance?”

“A friend of mine, Charles Tremont, is a guest here.” The lie slipped off Marcus’s tongue with smooth grace.

“I didn’t know he was expecting more guests, my lord!” Mr. Heffron exclaimed. Then he looked uncomfortably over at them both. “He mentioned only one guest, I’m afraid, so I only prepared the private dining room with two settings. But not to worry.” He hit the desk with enthusiasm. “Something that’s easily remedied.”

Kat looked across at Marcus and saw her own expression of consternation mirrored in his eyes. Tremont was meeting with somebody?

“If you both wish to follow me, I shall take you to the private dining area on the first floor where Mr. Tremont and his friend are luncheoning,” Mr. Heffron continued. “Then I’ll fetch an extra place setting for you both.” He walked around his desk and motioned them to follow him up the stairs.

Marcus gave her an imperceptible shrug and they followed the innkeeper up the stairs to the first-floor landing and then down a corridor to the private dining room at the end of the hallway.

Mr. Heffron stopped outside of a door and rapped on the wood, but without waiting for a response, he opened the door wide and stepped into the room, with Kat and Marcus following behind.

Kat gasped. A gentleman wearing a blue day suit, with tousled blond hair and baby blue eyes was holding a dagger dripping with blood. He stood behind a man who sat in a chair, slumped face down on the dining table, a pool of crimson pulsing from his neck and staining the tablecloth beneath.

Mr. Heffron shrieked aloud.

The man with the knife smiled at them all before drawing his arm back and launching the dagger directly at them. Kat dove to the side, while Marcus pushed Mr. Heffron to the floor. The assailant’s knife whizzed past where they’d been standing, landing with a loud thud in the corridor wall outside the door.

Glancing up, she saw the man launch himself through the open window. She scrambled up and over to the window, catching sight of the man landing in the shrubs beneath. “He’s getting away!”

“Move!” Marcus yelled as he vaulted over the window sill and dropped down into the shrubbery below, then straightened and ran after the assailant.

Kat raced back to the man slumped over the table and checked for a pulse. Nothing. He was dead. She wiped the blood coating her fingers on her skirts before striding over to the innkeeper, who was still on the floor where Marcus had pushed him, staring dazedly at the body of the dead man on the table.

Bending down in front of him, she blocked his view from the sight. “Who was that man with the blond hair?”

Mr. Heffron peered up at her, his eyes completely blank for a moment. “Um… That was… Why that was Mr. Tremont’s guest… I don’t remember his name though…” Mr. Heffron wailed a moment before fainting.

A scream tore through the room. She glanced over to the doorway to see two maids standing there, one in hysterics and the other looking stricken. Kat stalked over to the women. She ignored the one screaming, instead focusing on the other.

The maid looked up at her, fear plastered over her face.

“Run and fetch the constable,” Kat said in a loud and clear tone of voice. “Now!”

She watched as the maid scampered down the corridor, passing many nosey faces peeking out the doors of their own private dining rooms to see what all the fuss was about.

“A man has been murdered,” Kat’s voice rang out clearly down the corridor. “Stay in your rooms.”

She hurried down the hallway toward the stairs, only to see Marcus striding up them. “He got away?”

He nodded tersely as he came to the top of the stairs. “He had a horse waiting for him and rode off before I could catch him.” He angled his head down the corridor. “Is the man dead?”

“Yes. It was Mr. Tremont apparently.”

“Damn it! Another senseless death.” Marcus narrowed his eyes. “Well, let us go and see what the late Mr. Tremont and his room can reveal, and perhaps we can obtain justice for him.”