“In-cog-neezo?” The lad looked a tad more impressed.
“In disguise,” she explained. “So they don’t know they’re being followed.” Her next words were a whisper. “My Hero has got some very special weapons in his possession and he knows how to use them. But first we must pick up my evil uncle’s trail.”
The lad looked around before answering. “Yer on the right track. I saw them here. The big, dark cove ye described paid the ostler a pair of sovereign te keep quiet about their stop.”
“How long ago?”
“Late last night. Near dusk.”
“Damnation,” swore Olivia. There was still a daunting gap between them. And if the coach had continued on all night…
“But I overheard them saying they were planning te stop in Weyhill fer a meal and lodging. The dark cove said that he knew the owner of the King’s Arms.”
“Thank you, er…”
“Will. My name’s Will.”
“I’m grateful, Will.” She began fumbling in her cloak for the coins John had given her.
“That’s not all I heard,” added Will, his eyes narrowing. “They hit yer nephew when he tried to open the coach door. And then the dark cove’s two friends started arguing with him.”
Three captors—Wrexham will find that useful.
“The two others wanted to stay on the toll road leading te Exeter. But the dark cove said they will turn at Sparkford and take the back roads, on account of his knowing inns that will keep mum about what they see.”
“Bless you,” murmured Olivi
a as she tucked all the coins she had into his pocket. “That’s all I can give you right now. But I shall see that you get a pair of gold sovereigns for your help.”
“Oiy!”
“But for now, it’s best be quiet about this, Will,” she counseled. “I’d rather not trust anyone, especially your ostler, until we free Scottie.”
The lad nodded his understanding. “Is yer hero husband gonna thump the stuffing out of yer evil uncle?”
“Oh, yes. Be assured that the dark cove is going to be sorry that he ever declared war on the Perfect Hero.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Three hours,” announced John with savage satisfaction as he climbed back up to the driver’s bench. A discreet bribe to one of the inn’s stableboys had elicited the welcome news about their quarry. “Our breakneck efforts have paid off. Lumley is only three hours ahead of us.”
“Then we should be in a position to confront them come tomorrow morning,” said Olivia.
“Yes. If young Will’s information remains correct, the viscount will be stopping for the night at The Hanged Man.” He flexed his sore shoulders and took up the reins. They had traveled a day and night with only a brief respite since Olivia’s fortuitous encounter with the postboy, and so far everything the lad told her had proved accurate.
“An apt name,” went on John, “seeing as the bastard will wish he were already dead when I catch up to him.”
“I’m assuming that you are not planning to stay at the same inn,” said Olivia. “Given that lodgings are somewhat sparse along these back roads, it will likely mean we will snatch a few hours of sleep under the stars, so as to be ready to take them by surprise.”
“Correct.” He glanced at her profile. The poke of her bonnet cast her eyes in shadow, but the darkness couldn’t quite hide the fact that her face was gray with fatigue. “I’m sorry. I know that I’ve pushed hard—”
“Don’t be sorry. I have rather missed the madcap adventures of my youth, so this is an exhilarating change from my sedate London life,” interrupted Olivia. “Remind me to tell you the details of the trek my father and I made in Crete,” she added dryly. “One of his assistants had offended the tribal leader and we had to make a rather hasty departure from the mountains of Iraklio and journey to the port city of Zakros. And as the fellow was related to half the island, we had to avoid a good many of the villages.”
“Most ladies would not think of that trip or this one as remotely exhilarating.”
“True,” she replied. “But by now, you know my way of thinking is vastly different from that of most ladies.”
“True,” echoed John. For which I am profoundly grateful, he added to himself.