Page 33 of The Ladies Road Guide to Utter Ruin (The Ill-Mannered Ladies #2)

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The stables were lit up with lamps and torches when we finally clattered tiredly across the cobbles. I did not wait for a groom but dismounted upon the mounting block, my back aching and my legs a little wobbly. I had not ridden for such an extended time in a long while. I stroked Callista’s warm muzzle, murmuring my thanks, then handed her reins to the groom who had emerged from the stables.

I stretched into a burning backward arch—both unladylike and mortifyingly stiff—finding brief relief for my muscles, then turned to see Evan and Mr. Kent also on the ground. Evan had handed over his horse for the stable, but Kent had given one of the grooms Caesar’s reins to walk him around the yard to keep warm.

“Augusta!”

I turned to see Charlotte and Julia emerging from the stables. Charlotte was in full dress for dinner with a hurried blue shawl around her shoulders that did not match her emerald green silk gown. My darling sister was in her heavy wool riding habit, gloves, and a firmly tied bonnet. Ready for the search.

I met them in the middle of the stable yard, the two men joining us. From the corner of my eye, I saw Julia clasp Mr. Kent’s hand and briefly raise herself upon her toes to whisper something in his ear. He turned his head into her words, his expression tender. And then my attention was claimed by Charlotte.

“Augusta, dear, I am having the phaeton harnessed for you and Julia,” she said. Her movements held the quick decision of battle and her cheeks were flushed. I suspected this trouble had brought a great deal of discord into her house. “It will give you a chance to catch up to Deele.”

“Thank you.” I touched her arm to press home my gratitude. “I hoped you would lend it to us.”

“It is a pretty pickle, indeed.” She covered my hand with her own. “We think Lady Hester and Miss Grant took one of the horses when the grooms were at their dinner. Then Deele and your brother arrived, demanding Hester be handed over. I’ve never seen Porty so disconcerted—Deele is one of his Eton cronies, you know. That is when we discovered they were gone.”

“So they do not know Deele is here and following?” I asked.

Charlotte shook her head. “We think they left at least an hour before Deele and your brother arrived.”

“They must have been planning it,” I mused aloud. “Not a spontaneous decision.”

Julia released Mr. Kent’s hand to stand at my side. “Probably prompted by the presence of Porty and the Ellis-Brants, and the imminent arrival of Brummell and Alvanley,” she said.

“Deele is following in his coach?” Evan asked.

“Yes, but he took the rested change horses and left his own spent team. Another horse is being saddled for you, Lord Evan,” Charlotte said. No more pretense of Mr. Talbot, then. “Where is that damn phaeton?” She turned to check on the harnessing. The equipage was out and one of the horses in the traps, the other being hitched. “My matched bays should give you some chance of catching up,” she added.

“Our brother is in the drawing room, Gus,” Julia said quietly to me. “He didn’t go after Hester with Lord Deele. Apparently Deele insisted Duffy come here with him to make us hand over Hester. As you can imagine, Duffy is in quite a mood. Shouted at me in front of Porty and the Ellis-Brants.”

My poor girl—facing Duffy’s rage without me. Our brother rarely shouted at her, and when he did it always upset her more than it should. Moreover, to receive a scolding in front of the Ermine: beyond humiliating.

“I can imagine,” I said, sliding my arm across her shoulders for a quick, consolatory hug. “However, his fury will have to wait.”

I waved over one of the young grooms. “Go find Mr. Weatherly and ask him to come here, ready for travel. As quick as you can,” I instructed. The boy ran off toward the house.

“Weatherly?” Julia asked. “You know he is not yet confident on a horse.”

It was true. Our butler had come to horse riding only a month ago and was not yet comfortable in the saddle. Of course, not many butlers, and even fewer Black butlers, knew how to ride—their station in life did not allow or require it. Even so, I had asked Weatherly to take lessons with John Driver, in case of…well, in case of situations exactly like this.

I pretended not to hear Julia’s comment—mainly because my plan did not involve Weatherly riding or Julia accompanying me—and turned to Charlotte again. “Do we know in which direction Lady Hester and Miss Grant have gone?”

“The gatekeeper thinks he heard a single horse head in the direction of Chester.”

“Thinks?” Mr. Kent echoed.

“It is the best we can do,” Charlotte said. “But he has manned the gate for twenty years and so knows the sounds of travel along the road.”

“We rode in from the other direction and came upon Captain Morland and his troop,” Evan said. “He and his men are looking for Luddites. I hope they do not mistake my sister and Miss Grant for rioters.”

“Luddites?” Charlotte said. “Is there trouble?”

“Not yet, but the captain said they have reason to believe there may be some activity,” I said.

“If Lady Hester and Miss Grant took only one horse, they will be riding double,” Mr. Kent said.

“They took Bruno, one of our steadiest horses,” Charlotte said. “They are riding with a bridle but no saddle, as far as we can tell.”

I knew Bruno: a big gelding with a small white diamond blaze and a big heart. They would be able to ride double on him for quite some way; Miss Grant was a small woman and Hester was well below normal weight.

“I assume Miss Grant will have control of the horse. Is she a good rider?” Mr. Kent asked.

Julia and I looked at each other. To our shame, we hardly knew anything about Miss Grant’s abilities. “We do not know,” Julia admitted.

“Hester is, or at least was, a good rider,” Evan said. “But she is so weak.” He drew his hand down his face. “What if she falls…”

I placed my hand upon his shoulder. The muscles under my palm were rigid with tension.

“Any idea where they might be heading?” Kent asked.

“None,” I said. “Hester has been talking of leaving the country, but I do not see where that might lead them.”

“Holyhead,” Charlotte said, with a decisive nod. “It is a long way but maybe they are trying to get to Ireland. They would be able to find passage at Holyhead.”

Evan considered Charlotte’s theory. “I agree leaving the country will be their goal. And if they did not go in the other direction to Liverpool, then Holyhead is, indeed, the rational choice.”

“That is something we do know about Miss Grant,” Julia said. “She is a rational woman.”

“Finally,” Charlotte said, motioning to the fully harnessed phaeton. “Augusta, it is ready.”

Charlotte’s perch phaeton was a sleek four-wheeled, two-horse affair, with only one nod to propriety: a groom’s seat set behind the two-person high-slung cabin. Not that Charlotte and I ever brought one of the grooms along with us on our jaunts. Frankly, the carriage was too light and too fast, and one had to corner carefully if one did not wish to upend the entire equipage. An adventure every time we took it out.

“You are going to drive that?” Mr. Kent asked.

“Indeed, she is,” Charlotte said. “Augusta is as good with the reins as I am.” Quite some endorsement, since Charlotte was an acclaimed driver.

I drew Julia to one side by her arm. “I do not think you should come. I’ll take Weatherly.”

“What?” She frowned under the stiffened curve of her bonnet visor. “Do not be ridiculous. Of course I am coming. I am to blame as much as you are for their flight—perhaps even more so after that stupid Weymouth business. We took on the responsibility of their safety and we have patently failed. We need to find them and then find somewhere truly safe for them.”

“Blame? Really, Julia, neither of us is to blame,” I said, then waved away my irritation; it was no time to argue that point. “Frankly, you are not well enough for the pursuit, dearheart. Lord Evan says that those blue mass tablets you are taking are poisoning you.”

Julia eyed me, her mouth pursed. “Poisoning me? Why would Dr. Thorgood give me something that would poison me?”

“Because he does not know it is poison. No one does.”

“Then how does Lord Evan know?”

A good question. It was, after all, just a hypothesis. “He read about it in a medical paper.” Clearly not enough evidence for my sister, for her jaw had shifted into Colebrook mulishness. “Do not give me that look, Julia. Even if it has just the smallest possibility of being true, you must stop taking them.”

“You are always telling me what to do,” my sister snapped. She shook off my hand and walked to the carriage. “What I must do is get into this phaeton and find Lady Hester. Are you going to drive or not?”

A few yards away, Lord Evan and Mr. Kent were already mounted, Lord Evan leaning down to receive a lamp and instructions from Charlotte. No doubt the direction to Holyhead. Both men had pistols in saddle holsters, and Mr. Kent had a rifle. A Baker, if I was not mistaken, which stood to reason since he had been a soldier.

“Well, are you coming?” Julia demanded as a groom handed her up into the phaeton.

It seemed Julia was adamant. Still, I wanted Weatherly with us. It would be a squeeze for him in the groom’s seat, but it would have to do.

“I am coming,” I said, taking the hand of the groom waiting for me.

Finally Weatherly, clad in his greatcoat and tricorn hat, jogged into the stable yard with our coachman’s blunderbuss in hand.

I waved him over, then climbed up onto the right step and swung into the driver’s seat, the well-slung cabin rocking into balance under my weight as I gathered the reins. The groom handed me the long whip and stepped back, making way for Weatherly to climb into his higher perch.

“My lady, John Driver insisted I bring Hades with me. Just in case,” he said, folding his long body into the small, raised seat and laying the blunderbuss across his thighs. The gun had accompanied us on many of our adventures and survived an unceremonious dumping in a horse trough. It had, to some degree, become a lucky talisman. The groom handed up a lamp to Weatherly, the yellow light catching upon the long metal barrel in a dark glint.

“Are you set?” I asked. He nodded. I looked across at my sister. One last attempt to get her to see reason. “I do not always tell you what to do, Julia. But if I do say something, it is because I am worried for your safety. Are you really sure you are up to this?”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Gus, just drive,” she said, staring ahead.

A good idea, since in the distance I could see a familiar figure stalking down the front steps of the hall. Our brother jabbed his flat hand high in the air, commanding us to wait. I had no idea why he thought I would obey.

“I’ll take care of it,” Charlotte called, her hand raised in farewell.

“Thank you. For everything,” I called back.

I signaled to the groom at the head of the eager offside horse to let go of the bridle. He jumped back, and with a flick and release of the reins, we clattered across the cobbles, then onto the gravel driveway, with Evan and Mr. Kent following on horseback. I could not see Duffy’s face as we passed—the distance too great and the light too dim—but I had felt his outrage many times over the years and had to admit, I felt rather shamefully pleased that this moment would probably top them all.

Our speed added to the chilled night breeze, the rush of cold air nipping at my nose and lips. I braced my feet more securely against the footboard and settled into managing Charlotte’s excellent pair of bays and the task at hand.

Somewhere out there were our runaways. Beside me, Julia clutched the gold cross around her neck, no doubt praying that we would retrieve Hester and Miss Grant before Lord Deele found them. Since I could not add a prayer, I briefly looked up at the cold, star-filled sky as we drove along the gravel drive. There might be no God, but there was a fast phaeton, five committed people, and a sense of true justice that burned through us all.