He seemed to be considering her request. “We’re going to the blacksmithy,” he said finally.
“Hal?” She was surprised. “Is it Hal you want to see?”
“Francesca, please don’t ask questions.”
But she wasn’t a servant, to be told when to be quiet. She was Francesca Greentree, and she had been brought up to speak her mind. “It’s a strange sort of business that brings you out in the middle of the night to visit the village blacksmith. Is it legal business, or are you a smuggler? The tax on tobacco is very high, and I have heard that there are men who seek to profit from contraband. Are you one of them?”
“Ah, you have me there,” he said, sounding like an actor in a bad play.
“Rubbish,” she retorted. “I don’t believe it. What are you up to?”
He sighed. “No, I am not a smuggler, but that’s all I can say. Now, please, can we find Hal before dawn breaks? Do you want to be discovered?”
Without another word she led him down through the village. There was a lantern outside the inn, put there to guide late-night travelers. The blacksmithy was down a narrow lane. Small dark windows stared at them from the upper rooms.
“Hal lives over his shop,” she explained. “He’s probably asleep.”
“His son?”
“Jed left years ago. Why are you—”
“He has no wife or…or mother?”
“No one. He lives alone.” He was so serious, so intent, that she was beginning to get more and more anxious. “You’re not going to hurt Hal, are you? I can’t allow that,” she added firmly.
Sebastian dismounted, and when he looked up at her she couldn’t read his face very well in the shadows and the starlight, no matter how she tried. “Stay here and wait with the horses.”
Suddenly Francesca knew she shouldn’t have come. She didn’t trust him. This was a mistake, and she would live to regret it.
He hadn’t waited for her reply, and was making his way toward the dark bulk of the building. Soon Francesca lost sight of him. Above her head the stars wheeled in the dome of the sky. Such a beautiful night, a night made for the sort of adventure that wasn’t in a book. She told herself that she should be savoring every moment of it instead of worrying about what would happen next. Tomorrow he’d be gone and she’d never see him again.
She heard a cry.
Francesca froze, listening intently, but there was nothing more. Could it have been Sebastian? Was he hurt? She’d never thought of Hal as being a violent man, but perhaps she was mistaken.
Francesca urged her horse forward, hooves clipping on the cobbled lane, Sebastian’s mount following behind.
The upstairs windows had been dark a moment before, but now a low light flickered. She became aware of loud voices.
“But bugger me, you’re dead!” Hal yelped.
“And I’ve come back for my revenge!” declared Sebastian.
There was a thump, the sound of someone falling, and then nothing.
Chapter 7
Upstairs, Sebastian stood over Hal, breathing quickly and looking as menacing as possible. It wasn’t difficult. He’d come upon Hal, asleep, slumped in a chair. Just as he’d moved to shake him awake, Hal had lurched to his feet, swinging his fists and roaring like a bull. Sebastian had enjoyed stopping him. Now, with Hal subdued and a candle lit, he was looking for answers.
“Who told you and your son to deal with me?” he demanded.
Hal, wiping the blood from his nose with the back of his hand, muttered thickly, “You don’t understand—”
“How can I understand if you won’t tell me?”
“These’re dangerous people, Mr. Thorne.”
“Damn it, tell me your master’s name!” Sebastian shouted, losing patience.