Page 10

He turned, his eyes now focusing on my pistol.

He paled. “You wouldn’t hurt a fly. Not your type.

” He bowed a clumsy bow. “You being a gentlewoman and all. I’ll be on my way and won’t be botherin’ ye none.

I was just here to fetch my belongings—what I left behind on accident. I been locked in, ye see.”

He backed away, eyes on my weapon.

“I said you are not to move.”

His chin jerked. “I bet ye never fired that afore.”

I smiled. “A bet you’d lose, sorry to say.” I tried a new tack. “I shot a man last week. Exactly in the shoulder. I daresay you wouldn’t enjoy the same injury…”

He sneered. “You wouldn’t!”

Tobias rounded the corner, his own pistol ready. I thought he’d left for the village. Thank God, he hadn’t startled me into firing. “If I were you, I’d do as she says.”

Tobias stepped closer. “Heard a ruckus in my study and fetched my pistol. Why were you in my study, Cummins?”

“I left something. Tis all. Don’t know what this ridiculous bother is about.”

“As I recall, your things were cleared out days ago. Under my watchful care.”

His teeth clicked. “My mistake. Pardon.”

Tobias tossed me a glance. “What shall we do with him, Tessa?”

“Does Burtins have a dungeon?”

A ghost of a look passed over Cummin’s face.

“It’s quite a cavernous place beneath. Tight in places. He might enjoy staying in the wine cellar. Which is mysteriously empty, by the way.”

“Is it now?”

“Quite empty. Not a problem, since I’m only drinking tea or ale these days. But still. I believe a certain someone has been draining my stores.”

Cummins stared blankly. No doubt the contents of the wine cellar had been beneficial to the gentlemen who had come to gamble the nights away.

I kept my focus on the scoundrel. I was sure he’d taken something. Else why upend a desk? “You might search him. See what he took from your office.”

Cummin’s face turned red. Ah. I was onto something.

Tobias kept his pistol pointed. “What did you take, Cummins?”

“Alright, alright.” He swallowed as he reached into his vest.

“Slowly, man.”

He pulled a folded stack of papers and let them fall to the ground.

“Interesting.”

Cummins didn’t say a word.

“Tell me what those papers contain that is so important you’d break into my study and steal them?”

He still didn’t answer.

I cleared my throat. “Do you think he has more hidden on his person, Tobias?”

The man jolted. “I ain’t disrobing in front of the lady.”

Tobias smirked. “Let’s have it then. All of it.”

More was retrieved and tossed to the ground, including pound notes.

“Have a little hidey-hole in my study, did you?”

The man shrugged. “Every man has his secrets.” His eyelids lowered to a squint. “I bet you do too, Tobias Chinworth. I’ve heard stories, mind ye.”

Tobias was unfazed by the threat. “Redemption has a way of setting a man straight.”

“You sound like a vicar.”

“I hope that I do.”

“Gone religious. That’s for women, man.”

Mr. Mulls came limping slowly around the corner. “I thought you might need some string. To tie him.” The rope that hung from his grip was no kite string but strong hemp.

“Good thinking, Uncle.” He nodded to me. “Keep your aim, Tessa. I will tie him.” He handed his pistol to Mr. Mulls, whose hold was a bit shaky.

My arm began to ache even as relief coursed through me. Thank God, I’d not had to deal with the situation alone.

“Don’t tell me that woman can shoot?”

Tobias laughed. “She wasn’t lying.”

Cummins offered me a cold stare and a curse. “Bluestocking,” he spat.

I aimed at his foot as a retort fell from my lips. “Call me that again, and I will put a hole in your stocking.”

Tobias jerked the man’s vest open. “I rather like bluestockings. Ones that shoot, at any rate.”

“Humph.” Dried blood caked around his hairline and he sported a bright purple eye; his breathing was tight and hitched. Broken ribs, mayhap. Why had he tried to break in when he obviously needed convalescing?

“What have we here? More that belongs to Burtins I believe.” Tobias tossed a salad fork and three sugar spoons to the pile. “You could be hung for this.”

Cummins was quiet and immobile.

A few thoughts ran through my mind. Tobias’s own father awaited trial. This might also be his fate. The next thought was—for one so poor and petty as Cummins, the trial would be far too swift. His execution would silence any information that might be of import to Tobias.

“You did say you had an adequate wine cellar to keep him?”

He offered me a slow nod, trying to guess my thoughts.

“Free room and board—” I took a risk. Would Tobias be angry? “And perhaps your troubles will not be as…final as expected.”

He swallowed. “She in charge of Burtins?”

Tobias’ brows rose. “Take the offer or swing from a noose.”

He jerked a nod. “Alright.”

Mr. Mulls wasn’t entirely in tune with my idea. “What? Are you going to keep him here? You’ll naught get a thing out of him, Tobias. You’ll be a goose sitting on a rotten egg.”

“You may be right. If he goes rotten, the constable can have him. For now, we’ll give him a chance to make the right choice.”

Tobias piled up the stolen items and handed them to Mr. Mulls. Then, we took him, with Tobias leading and my pistol ready.

Minutes later, Cummins under lock and key, Tobias gathered the staff to explain.

“The constable will be informed in due time. You have no need to worry, Cummins isn’t armed, but he is under lock and key.

Do not talk to him, or you will lose your position.

Am I clear?” A chorus of yeses and agreements sounded.

But I knew the way of things, a word whispered here and there, gossip could wend its way into the village and beyond. But to whose detriment?

After the small staff was dismissed, Tobias took the stolen bundle from Mr. Mulls to the dining room and spread it out.

“Burtins is grossly understaffed. I cannot be everywhere at once.” He took a handkerchief from his pocket and swiped his brow. “I still need to ride to the village and—”

I laid my hand on his arm. “First things first.”

“You are right. I will get everything done—one thing at a time. Now—I must know. What were you doing in my study?”

A stone sank into my stomach. Was that a sliver of mistrust? “The secretary was empty of letter-writing paper supplies. I’d hoped to write to Emma…”

He shifted and took a breath. I looked away from him, through the window that let the sun brighten the room so thoroughly. I’d warned myself countless times of becoming too attached. My feelings were a nuisance. An outright disruption to any use I might be to him.

He placed a hand on each of my shoulders and turned me back to him. “Tessa. Did you think I questioned your honesty?”

He stood so close to me, my heart thrummed. “I—” I couldn’t answer him. Didn’t he?

“You must understand,” his tone urged, “I was terrified when I realized that you had him cornered—and would attempt to capture him alone. Please never try to hold a man single-handedly. If something ever happened to you, I’d never forgive myself.”

I swallowed and eked out a singular fact. “I only thought of Cecily and…” You. I thought of you. He’d endured too much. A lump formed in my throat. The depths of his brown eyes pulled me in. The genuine care. The warmth. Dare I hope?

He blinked slowly. “While I depend on your skills and must utilize them at times, I will be honest. When that man attacked me in my chamber at Mayfield, I had to watch you bring him to his knees, without my help. You were brilliant but I was undone. I trust your ability, yet I fear harm to your person.”

Same as I. His eyes begged me to believe his words, not just the truth of them but something more.

What would it be like? To be loved by such a man?

I wanted to lean into it, this aura that hung between us.

Give in to it. Fear snaked in. If I did, everything would change.

I would have to leave and never show my face at Mayfield or Burtins again.

Mayhap he realized what he was doing. We shouldn’t—he shouldn’t stand so close…

Tobias released his gentle but firm hold, his hands hanging limp at his side.

But he did not release his eyes from mine.

They captured me, held me as I’d never been held before.

My heart, my heart was a captive, and I didn’t want to be set free.

My breath hitched as he stepped closer. Warmth spread across my chest that had nothing to do with the warmth of the day.

His hand came beneath my elbow and stalled. He sought to calm me. That was all…

Laughter—someone was laughing. I blinked, aware.

Was it Cecily? In the kitchen. We both shifted at the joyful sound.

I moved a few steps back while he glanced at the stolen papers on the table.

I knew we must not pursue what I felt—I must not pursue what I felt.

It was not my occupation. Wasn’t it? Questions and self-doubt began to plague me.

He cleared his throat, rummaging through the papers. “What did Cummins need from my study—let’s take a look. Mostly pound notes. I did not bring them, they aren’t mine. Ah, what’s this?”

What we discovered plunged me into a deeper conundrum that had naught to do with my heart.

“A list of names. Samuel’s is here.” He stilled, glanced at me with concern. “As is this gentleman, six years gone.” He pointed and looked at me. There, in black and white, was my dead husband’s name. Patrick Audlington.

A black spot was placed beside it. Samuel’s and Zachary’s names were there too, but had been crossed out in a nasty slash.

Seeing Patrick listed among the others made it all the stranger!

The room grew hot. My palms broke out in a sweat.

Tobias’s name was also listed. Underlined, little ink taps at the place.

As though the scribe had been thinking. Thinking about something with Tobias. To live or die? Or… pay?

If markings were any indicator, whoever made this list intended death. I needed air. I pulled my handkerchief from my pocket and began to pat away perspiration. I was going to be sick.