Chapter 22

22

When the carriage stopped,Richard descended first, then helped Jane get down, basket in hand.

Richard followed her stately figure as she walked into a small courtyard surrounded by crumbling brick houses. He watched for threats and dangers, even though he knew with his logical mind she was pretty much at home here. There were two women talking as they scrubbed laundry in a wooden tub. Two toddlers in old clothes with patches played in the dirt. Three men talked in the corner, and Jane headed straight to them, and Richard kept pace, Hercules bounding ahead.

“Do not say anything,” she said to Richard. “Let me do the talking.”

Hercules began his friendly woofing, but the toddlers got scared and opened their mouths, wailing. The three men scowled in their direction, but their faces transformed when they saw Jane.

“Janie,” said one of them, who looked forty or so years old, with graying, ginger hair and widely set blue eyes under a heavy forehead. He walked to her with a bright smile, his arms outstretched.

“Atticus,” she said with an even bigger smile. “How are you, John, and Ned?”

The other two men, both stout and well-built, both a little younger than Atticus, smiled to her broadly, as well.

“What are you doing here?” asked Atticus. “Brought us more stuff to read, have you? And some grub, I reckon?” His gaze lowered to the basket she clutched. Then his eyes caught on Richard, and he scowled. “Why’re you alone with Lord Richard? Rubes not with you?”

“Don’t worry about Lord Richard. He’s making sure I’m safe.”

“From what I’ve heard, he’s the one you need to be safe from,” Atticus grumbled, his face set in a heavy frown.

“He’s here to help, Atticus. I’m perfectly safe with him. I brought something tasty for the three of you,” she said as she gave them the linen-wrapped food from her basket. “Cold chicken sandwiches with mushroom ketchup.”

“Oh, tasty!” said John as he rubbed his palms together, looking at the bundle.

But Atticus wasn’t in a hurry to open it as he continued staring at Richard.

“I was looking for Reuben. Do you know if he’s home?” asked Jane.

“Reuben’s off in the south, running an errand for your brother,” said Atticus.

Richard’s stomach dropped.

“Oh no,” said Jane. “I heard he was going to leave tonight.”

“Nah, he’s scarpered already. Why? Something I can do for you?”

Jane hesitated. Richard tensed, watching her.

“Actually, you might be of help. Why don’t you give the lads their sandwiches? I need to ask you something.”

Atticus nodded, unwrapped the cloth, and handed the men their sandwiches. They eagerly started to devour them.

Atticus, Jane, and Richard took a few steps away while Hercules remained by John and Ned, sitting with his ears bent and looking into their mouths as though the very essence of the world’s happiness were contained in those sandwiches.

“Are you all right?” asked Atticus.

“You’ve known me since the moment Thorne brought me here. So I need you to trust me and to help me, too.”

“What is it?” Atticus pressed, an expression of concern on his face.

“It’s about the Duke of Grandhampton,” said Jane, and Atticus’s face darkened. “What exactly happened that night when you were supposed to beat him up?”

“How do you know about that?” growled Atticus, all friendliness gone.

“It doesn’t matter. What matters is, the duke’s family knows he may not be dead. That it was not his body that was buried. And they want to find him. If he’s in trouble, he needs help.”

Atticus glared at Richard. “You know I’m his brother, Atticus,” said Richard. “And I’m the one looking for him. Please, tell me.”

Richard’s heart drummed heavily in his chest. Atticus’s eyes softened for the briefest of a moments.

“I get it, it’s a tough spot,” said Atticus. “And I wish I could give you a hand, Janie, and you, Lord Richard. I really do. But I can’t break Thorne’s trust, and neither should you.”

Disappointment lashed at Richard. Jane sighed deeply. “Please, at least don’t tell him you saw us here…and that we asked about that. For my sake.”

Atticus shook his head slowly. “You’re playing with fire, girlie.”

“Perhaps. But a man’s life is at stake.”

Finally, Atticus nodded. “Fine. I won’t say nothing to him. But only if he don’t ask. If he does, I’ll have no choice but to tell him.”