Chapter 27

The inn was not of a caliber Olivia considered reputable, but given the sheeting rain and the way their carriage had nearly become stuck in the mud several times, she’d agreed when Thel had said it would have to do.

They left their conveyance with the stableboy and dashed across the courtyard and into the small building to be met by the sound of clinking beer glasses and fiddle music. The savory smell of mutton and roasting onion and garlic tickled her senses, making her mouth water. She had not taken a proper afternoon tea before they had set out.

A plump woman wearing a stained apron approached them. “What can I do for you?” She wiped her hands with a thin cloth.

“Do you have a room for…” Olivia started, before realizing her conundrum. She glanced at Thel, who shrugged, then looked back at the proprietress. “My husband and I?”

Saying the words gave her a thrill.

“Aye, we have one,” the woman said. “Connor, take them up to the room above the kitchen.” She winked at them. “Always warm that one, no fear of drafts. We don’t get many toffs.”

They followed a lanky boy to a dusty room that had a bed that would barely fit them both but was better than spending the night in their carriage.

Thel sat down on the bed, and it made an ominous creaking noise.

She sat beside him. “Worried about Constance?”

“I didn’t… I should have prepared her more.”

She put her arm around his shoulders and squeezed. “You did the best you could. No one could have predicted that he would suddenly abscond with her.”

When he shot her an incredulous look, she sighed. “I suppose it was not all that unlikely, but that does not mean it is your fault. If you are to blame anyone, blame Mr. Dawson.”

The tips of his fingers were turning white. “They might already be at Gretna Green. What do we do if we get there too late?”

She could not answer that because she shared similar concerns. She had tried to express them to Thel in the carriage, but he had not listened, or perhaps had not heard. He was so focused on recovering his daughter that he had not been receptive to her words.

“We will achieve nothing by sitting here,” she said. “Let us find out what that remarkable smell was. It has been an age since I have had simple fare. My cook is rather fond of elaborate dishes.”

This at least got a chuckle out of him, which was an improvement. She squeezed him once more before following him downstairs.

The noise in the main room was overwhelming, but she focused on the smell of the mutton pie and fresh bread the proprietress placed in front of her when she sat down. It was better than adequate, which explained why it was so busy, when they were far from the nearest town.

Thel consumed his meal in such regular bites that she wondered if he was even tasting it. When he finished, he slid his empty plate away and put his elbows on the table.

“Do you think they came through here?” she whispered. It was not a main road, but it was the most direct route to their destination.

Thel narrowed his eyes. “Perhaps.”

When he did not elaborate, she tried again. “I’ll ask if anyone has seen them.” She began to rise, but Thel put a hand on her thigh and pushed her back down.

“Being so direct won’t do us good,” he said. “Look around. Every single person here is aware of us.”

She searched the room and was dismayed to find that he was right. At least half of the room was blatantly staring at them, and the other half was alternating between sly glances and carefully averting their gazes.

“Are we safe?” she asked. She had very little experience outside of London. Had they made a mistake by stopping? Traveling at night risked them being accosted by highwaymen.

Suddenly, a man in a robe crossed the room and sat down at their table. “Lookin’ for something, guv?”

“A young girl with golden curls. Accompanied by one or more men,” Thel said.

The man shoved his arm across the table, palm up.

Thel somehow retrieved several coins from his pocket without making it obvious where he had stashed them. He dropped four shillings in the man’s hand. The coins vanished, and the man leaned forward, lowering his voice to a hush.

“I ain’t seen the gel, but a toff like you asked the same question, an hour past.”

“Is he here?” Thel asked.

The man shook his head. “Upstairs. Fourth door.” He grinned, showing several missing teeth. “Planned to rustle him. He looked quite the prize.”

Thel slid three more shillings across the table. “Leave him to us.”

The man snatched the coins, then rushed out of the inn as fast as he had appeared at their table.

“Who do you think it is?” Olivia asked. “One of your brothers?” She couldn’t think of anyone else who could’ve learned what had happened and followed them so quickly. Although, given Felix’s involvement in Constance’s predicament, she hoped it was not him.

“Let’s find out,” Thel said.

They climbed the steps and rapped on the door the man mentioned. Olivia stayed close behind Thel, for fear they would be greeted with a revolver. But when the door creaked open, it wasn’t either of Thel’s brothers who looked at them with bags under his eyes.

“Mr. Ringwell, what are you doing here?” she asked. Then she laughed. “Oh, I see. You were coming to stop Constance, weren’t you?”

Mr. Ringwell rubbed his face with his hands. “I told her Dawson was no good, but she wouldn’t listen to me. I couldn’t let him take advantage of her anymore. I was on the way to the house, preparing to knock and ask Connie to marry me, when I passed her and Dawson in a carriage.” He slumped against the doorframe. “She looked so unhappy. If I had been ten minutes earlier…” He shook his head. “Come inside. Let’s talk.”

Ten minutes later, with all of them cramped inside the room, Mr. Ringwell gave the rest of his story. He’d followed the carriage on horseback from a distance until they’d stopped at a house.

“I saw inside,” Mr. Ringwell said. “It is a shambling place but filled with all manner of valuable items. Dawson locked Constance in a room.”

“How was she?” Thel asked. His hands were clenched in the sheets of the bed he sat on, his knees coming up to his chest because the bed was so low to the ground. He tapped his toes on the ground in a rhythm before flushing and stopping. Olivia had no such restraint. Her knees bounced up and down as she listened to Mr. Ringwell’s story, his words painting a vivid picture in her mind.

She was acutely aware that if her parents had not given in, she might have ended up in a similar position. She knew that had she been in Constance’s place years ago, the earl wouldn’t have needed to convince her to abscond.

“Though she was frowning, she appeared well,” Mr. Ringwell said. “I couldn’t tell if she was staying with him willingly or if he kidnapped her.”

“It won’t take long for them to reach Gretna Green and marry,” Olivia said.

“Then we have to stop him before that happens,” Mr. Ringwell said. “But how? There are others nearby. Highwaymen. He doesn’t allow any of them in the house, as if they are an army surrounding the princess in her castle.”

“Then we bring our own army,” Thel said. “You return and watch Constance. If you get a chance to rescue her without revealing yourself, do it. Otherwise, wait for us to return, and we’ll confront him together. Dawson won’t get away with this.”

###

Olivia slammed her hands down on the desk. “What do you mean, he’s not available?”

Her hair fell into her face. She blew it away from her lips with a puff of air. She could only imagine how awful she looked. They had expected it to be much easier to find someone to come with them to arrest Mr. Dawson for kidnapping, but the first two places they had checked had laughed at their request. When pressed, it became clear that Mr. Dawson had bribed the local law enforcement to ignore his activities.

The man was always one step ahead.

They had split up and taken horses to the outlying communities, hoping to find someone who was not on Mr. Dawson’s payroll.

This small hamlet was her best bet, as it was insulated from the nearby towns by a river that made it difficult to sneak in without being seen by the entire town. She had counted upon that, and on her appearance ensuring she would be received without incident. Unfortunately, the sheriff she had been assured was here was not.

They were running out of time. The sun was high in the sky. Dawson would continue to Gretna Green without delay. They might already be—No. That was foolish. She was only digging herself into despair, thinking such things. She had to trust in Mr. Ringwell, watching the house. If something awful happened, he would act.

“We haven’t had a sheriff since the last one died,” the young man in front of her said. “But if it’s a lawman you’re after, Mrs. Jeffries, the baker, was saying a constable from the city came to speak to her last night. Maybe he’s still about.”

“Where would he go next?” Olivia asked. She didn’t care how or why a London policeman was about, as long as he was willing to help them.

The boy scratched his chin. “The blacksmith, perhaps? He’s got the only other big house hereabouts.”

“Thank you,” Olivia said before rushing out and mounting her horse. The animal was stubborn as a mule and refused to move faster than a canter but was the only creature she trusted herself to ride in her state of agitation. Breaking her neck would help nothing. Her only other options for mounts had been their carriage horses, which were too large for her to ride safely. She’d been lucky the owner of the inn had been willing to lend her the animal.

She exited the town through the same bridge she had entered and found Thel waiting for her at their rendezvous point. The heavy furrowing of his brow told her everything she needed to know about his success.

“Nothing?” he asked.

She told him what she’d learned, and together, they rode up the hill until a house became visible. As they approached, the door burst open, and a uniformed man stepped out. To Olivia’s shock, it was the same constable who had interrogated her at Thel’s house.

“You,” Thel said.

The constable came up short, his eyes wide. “Lord Lowell. What are you doing here?”

“We should ask you the same question,” Olivia said.

The man’s eyes widened further as he took her in. “Lady Allen.” Then he scowled. “Are you two involved as well?”

“Involved with what?” Olivia asked.

“Burglaries,” he said. “I’ve tracked a gang of thieves to this area, but they’ve vanished.”

Olivia glanced at Thel. “Could it be…?”

Thel nodded. “Most likely. Constable, I believe we can help each other.”

“Thel!” came a new voice. It was Mr. Ringwell, riding up the path on a black mare. He came to a stop next to Thel, and she could tell from the grim look on his face that he did not have good news, either.

“I’ve been searching for you for hours,” Mr. Ringwell said. “Dawson has locked her in the house and left. I tried to approach but was nearly spotted by the guards Dawson set. We must act now! This might be our only chance to get to her before it’s too late.”

Mr. Smith walked forward. “What’s this, then?”

Olivia quickly filled the man in, watching his face grow more tense with every word. When she finished, he cursed and ran for his own horse, tied to the fence.

She could tell Thel wanted to dash off, but there was a flaw in that plan.

One she was certain he would not be happy to hear.

She put her hand on Thel’s shoulder. “We have to let Mr. Ringwell rescue her.” His scowl prompted her to continue, softer. “If Dawson still has her in his thrall, she’s more likely to see you as an intruder than a savior.” That was how she’d seen her parents, barriers to her happiness. Their interventions in her courtship had only elicited anger and frustration.

“She won’t listen to you,” Olivia said. “But she might listen to Mr. Ringwell.”