Page 95 of Exile's Return

She licked her dry lips. ‘I found him after you left me in London. His last employer had left England and he needed work. I could hardly ride through England as an unescorted woman. He was a good worker and he saw to my needs. I will be quite safe with him. Now, if you will excuse me, Tobias.’

She turned for the door but Turner stepped in front of her, barring her way.

‘You’ll not leave until the men who stole my gold are apprehended,’ Tobias said.

Agnes turned back to face him. ‘Your gold? It is not your gold.’

He narrowed his eyes, an avaricious gleam in their depths. ‘It was on my property, therefore it is my gold.’

Agnes stared at him. ‘If you extend that logic then it is Henry’s, not yours. This is not your property and it never will be, Tobias Ashby. Everything on this land is yours only by dint of Henry’s guardianship.’

Tobias’s gaze flicked to the little boy with a look in his eyes that made her blood run cold.

‘Turner. Escort Mistress Fletcher to her bedchamber and ensure she is locked in.’

Agnes stiffened as Turner took her arm. ‘You found what you were looking for, Tobias. My obligation to you is relieved. Let me go.’

Ashby shook his head. ‘Oh no. There is far more to this tale than I am hearing and I am not convinced by your pretty little tale. Take her away, Turner, and ensure that servant of hers is suitably detained as well.’

Chapter 41

Chafing with impatience, Daniel paced the kitchen, provoking uncharitable comments from the cook. Sarah had taken Agnes’s breakfast up to her but had not returned.

Something was wrong.

When the girl finally appeared at the door, breathless and her cap askew, he knew his instinct was right. She ran to him and grasped his arm, pulling him outside into the yard.

‘You’ve got to go,’ she said. ‘Turner will be here any minute to lock you up just as they’ve done Mistress Agnes. Ye’re more use to her out there than ye are here. I’ll tell her.’

Everything in Daniel’s being protested at abandoning Agnes again, but his head won over his heart and he barely had time to collect his few belongings before he heard the sound of heavy feet on the kitchen stairs.

Sarah waited for him in the courtyard.

‘Go to my aunt’s,’ she said. ‘I’ll come as soon as I can.’

‘My horses —’

She shook her head. ‘No time. Go, Daniel.’

He took to his heels, making his escape out through the kitchen garden and the woods to Peg Truscott’s cottage. At every footstep, he cursed himself for not carrying Agnes away last night when they had the chance. How did they ever think they could carry through the charade? Now she was truly a prisoner, and he had abandoned her not once but twice.

He found the cottage more by luck than good judgment and forced himself to pause, watching the little building for what seemed an age. In the grey half-light, smoke curled from the chimney but he saw nothing and nobody that gave him cause for alarm.

He circled to the back of the house, knocking on the low door. Peg answered it, her eyes widening when she saw him. She stood aside and he all but fell into the gloomy space.

Strong fingers circled his arm and the muzzle of a pistol pressed into the back of his neck.

Daniel swore and whoever had seized him relaxed his grip, the pistol dropping away.

Turning on his heel Daniel found himself face to face with a tall, all-too-familiar man — and he groaned aloud.

Jonathan Thornton should have been well on the road to Worcestershire.

‘What in God’s name are you still doing here?’ he demanded.

Jonathan shook his head. ‘Lost my horse. I could ask the same of you. Where’s Agnes?’

‘Ashby’s locked her up and would have done the same to me, but I got away.’