THE SIGN ON the middle-class tavern swung gently in the light wind, the words “Kings Arms” spelled out in bright new paint. Colin stepped inside.
The clientele were seated in convivial bunches at long, clean-scrubbed wooden tables with matching benches. They were by and large a well-off group, although not of the aristocracy—merchants and solicitors, architects and publishers, gathered to share the news and some companionship at the end of a busy day. Many drank coffee, well known as a means of overcoming drowsiness and stimulating the wits, and the cheerful room was filled with the buzz of animated conversation and the faint scent of tobacco smoke. Colin could well imagine that a titled peer or two stopped by this warm, friendly establishment when they fancied slumming with the common people.
From behind a serving counter, the proprietor looked up then bustled over. Noting Colin’s sword and spurs, and the fine fabric and cut of his surcoat, he immediately took him for exactly what he was.
“May I be of service, my lord…?”
“Greystone. I’m looking for a man said to frequent this establishment, a Robert Stanley.”
The proprietor’s dark, intelligent eyes scanned the room. “Your information is correct. However, Mr. Stanley is not here now.”
“Perhaps someone here may know of his whereabouts?”
“That’s a possibility. He usually sits over there—men are creatures of habit, you know.”
The man indicated a table in the center of the room, crowded with jovial young men with tankards of ale before them. Their conversation ceased as Colin approached.
He did his best to put a smile in his voice as well as on his face. “I’m looking for Robert Stanley.”
Silence reigned for a moment, the faces around the table cautious and suspicious. “Is he in some sort of trouble?” one man asked slowly. “Lately, he’s been—”
His words were cut off when the man beside him dealt him a sharp elbow in the ribs.
The smile left Colin’s face. He surveyed the table, focusing on each of Robert’s friends in turn. “This is a matter of some urgency. It seems Mr. Stanley has abducted a lady of our mutual acquaintance. I’ll pay for information.”
Friendship apparently went only so far. Whether it was the severity of the charge or the offer of money, Colin didn’t know, but the men suddenly came alive.
“He’s been searching for his betrothed for weeks. Is it her? She may have gone willingly.”
“He paid someone to show him the Marquess of Cainewood’s house.”
“Yesterday, he asked where to find a privileged church. I told him St. Trinity, in the Minories.”
“I told him m’sister was wed at St. James.”
A privileged church. Colin wanted to kick himself for not thinking of the necessity—where else could a forced marriage take place? He could have saved hours by simply enquiring as to where such churches were located and riding straight there.
Well, at least Ford’s hunch had been confirmed.
He was on the right track.
“Might anyone know where Mr. Stanley is now?”
The men shook their heads. “He hasn’t been here since yesterday,” one of them volunteered.
“Where is St. James?”
“In Duke’s Place.”
“Thank you, gentlemen.” Colin dug in his pouch and threw a handful of silver coins on the table. He left without another word, at a run.
The two churches in question were just outside the City walls, and Amy had been taken last night. If Robert Stanley had timed it early enough, she might be a wife already.