Sin With a Scoundrel (The Husband Hunters Club 4)

He nodded and turning his face kissed her hand. “I will bring her back, Maria.”

Maria sighed and stepped away, but she was smiling.

And so was Archie.

They took horses, Richard and Will and Archie, with the poacher—a lad rather than a man—riding behind the latter. Soon they’d reached the small town some miles beyond the Eversham estate and found themselves riding through darkened streets, with not even a lamp to show them the way. Everyone was in bed, or so it seemed.

When they reached the timber merchant’s establishment they found it was closed, but his wagon was standing outside a cottage on the opposite side of the road, the horse still in harness and cropping grass. After knocking on the door of the cottage and receiving no answer, Richard tried not to lose hope.

He wouldn’t give up on her. He refused to give up on her.

“Look!” Archie pointed to the dwelling next door. It was a derelict building that barely appeared capable of sheltering anyone, but there was a flicker of candlelight in the thinly covered window.

An old crone answered their pounding on her door. She was wrapped in a patched shawl with rags tied about her feet instead of shoes, and behind her the room told a story of poverty.

“Aye, gents?” she said, her mouth full of blackened teeth. “I was ’aving a little rest but always available to gents like you.” The smile left her face, and she peered at Richard. “I know you. Squire Eversham isn’t it? I knew you from when you were a babby. Your mother, she was a wonderful woman, sir.” She peered at him again. “You haven’t come about the workhouse? I don’t need the workhouse, I can support meself.”

Richard tried not to show his impatience. “Ma’am, I have nothing to do with the workhouse. We’re looking for some men who were in the cottage next to yours and left this wagon here. Did you see them?”

“I know when to close my curtains, squire,” she said, tapping her nose in the sign for minding her own business. She wrapped her scrap of a shawl tightly around her scrawny body and made to shut the door, but Archie already had his foot planted firmly in the way.

Richard dug some coins from his pocket and held them out. “Please, ma’am—it’s very important—you could be saving the life of a beautiful young lady.”

“Oh, aye,” she said without any particular interest.

“My betrothed,” Richard added desperately. “The soon to be Mrs. Eversham. You are certainly invited to the wedding.”

“Steady on, old chap,” muttered Will.

But the old woman’s eyes brightened although whether because of the wedding invitation or the coins in his palm, he wasn’t certain. “Aye, well, if that’s the case that’s different. I seen those men, one of them was dressed like a gent, the other was a real ruffian—funny he looked like someone I used to know, that one. And then there was a third one, with som’it over the head, like a prisoner goin’ to the gallows. That couldn’t ’ave been no beautiful lady, could it, squire?”

“When did they leave? Where did they go? Speak up, woman!” Will had lost his patience.

The crone put a hand to her head. “Don’t shout at me. Now I need to sit down and rest a bit. I don’t get enough to eat, see. Perhaps a few more pieces o’ silver, sir?” She gave Richard a plaintive look.

Richard held out another handful of coins, accompanied by Will’s humph of disgust. “She’s just going to spend it on gin, Richard.”

“I don’t give a damn,” Richard retorted through gritted teeth. “I want Tina back.”

The crone smiled her horrible black smile. “They woke me up an hour ago, they was headin’ off in a real hurry in a big black coach, they was, with four horses. I think they was black, too. Gave me a fright, I can tell you, rushin’ down the street in the dead of night. I was afeared the grim reaper was comin’ for me. It’s a wonder I didn’t die of fright.”

“You recognized them as the same men who’d been in the cottage?”

“Aye. I recognized one of them. He looked up at me window, and he had the coldest eyes I’ve ever seen.” She shivered. “Dead man eyes.”

“Where were they going?”

“Ain’t a mind reader! But they was goin’ that way along ’ere, that’s all I can say.” She indicated the direction with a long, gnarled finger.

“They’re going toward the coast,” said Will, as they walked away. “They might have a boat. We should get after them straightaway. Richard?”

Richard had swayed and for a moment seemed about to collapse, but he held himself up with a hand on his horse’s saddle. “Yes, there’s no time to lose,” he agreed.

“Hey, you there! Squire Eversham!” It was the old woman again; she’d followed them out. “I remembered som’it. The one with the cold eyes. I do know him. His name is Ben Sutton, and he has a sister, in Faversham, on the coast. I remember the two of ’em as kiddies, they lived right here in that cottage—their mother wasn’t much use, and they was always in trouble. Your father, the old squire, had Ben up before the magistrate a few times for stealin’. Still, he must ’ave done well for hisself, because he bought that cottage for his mother to spend her last years in. He’s been home last few months, since his mother died, but I thought the cottage had been sold. He musta hung on to it.”

Richard tipped all that remained of his coins into her hand.

“Do you know the sister’s name?” Will said, with a frown of disapproval at Richard.