At Last the Rogue Returns (Avenging Lords 1)

“Lord Randall said …” Gilligan paused but then sighed and began again. “We were supposed to borrow your horse. The grey one. The one everyone knows belongs to you. But when we got to the stables, none of the horses were chained in the stalls. The black stallion reared and charged at the open door.”

Trust Drake’s horse to be the one to fight back.

“The other horses followed … and …” Gilligan grimaced and struggled to continue.

“And what?” Miles grabbed the steward by his mud-stained cravat and shook him. “Tell me.”

“W-we were trying to round them up when Mr Guthrie stumbled sleepy-eyed out of the coach house.”

Miles tightened his grip on the steward’s cravat. “You thought to punish me by borrowing my horse?” The idea was preposterous. Was there no end to Rudolph Randall’s pathetic plots?

At least Lord Lovell had the backbone to call Miles out.

“No, my lord.” The man gave a strangled cry and Miles released him. “Your horse was … was to be used in a highway robbery.”

A highway robbery?

A bloody highway robbery!

While Miles found the whole idea ludicrous—the cowardly schemes of a craven ponce—anger drove him to punch Mr Gilligan so hard in the stomach the bastard landed on his arse.

“You’re lucky to be alive, Mr Gilligan,” he said, dragging the fellow to his feet only to put him on his arse again. “Perhaps love has made me weak. Or perhaps I’m eager for Lord Randall to feel the full force of my wrath. Were I not already engaged to meet Lord Lovell on the common, gentleman or not, I might be inclined to put a lead ball in your chest.” Miles hauled the steward to his feet again.

Gilligan cowered and tried to cover his body with his hands.

“What do you say?” Miles turned to Dariell and flexed his fingers. “Shall I give him one more for the road?”

“But of course.” Dariell inclined his head. “A man must take all punishment due.”

“Wait, my lord, there’s something else.” Gilligan raised his hands in surrender. “Lord Lovell isn’t the one who … who issued the challenge,” he stuttered.

Miles arched a brow though it hardly came as a surprise. “No, I don’t imagine he was.”

“It’s a ploy to force Miss Lovell to return to Dunnam Park.”

“Of course it is.”

The letter said as much. Lydia understood that, too. Didn’t she? A sudden sense of foreboding gripped him. Surely Lydia knew to remain with Mr Guthrie as instructed.

“But Lord Lovell isn’t at Dunnam Park,” Gilligan replied. “He left for Burgess Hill this morning to meet with his solicitor and won’t be back until tomorrow. By then it will be too late.”

Panic brought a lump to Miles’ throat. “Too late for what?”

“Too late to save Miss Lovell.”

Chapter Nineteen

Despite the cuts and bruises on Lydia’s feet, the ten-minute walk to Dunnam Park was easier when wearing soft flowing trousers. Never had she felt so free and unconstrained. She was tempted to ask Dariell if she could keep a pair to wear at her leisure—if only to annoy Arabella.

A smile touched her lips when she imagined the crow’s horrified expression, imagined hearing her cries of “Oh, what a scandal.”

Any amusement gleaned from the thought dissolved the moment Lydia reached the mansion’s imposing gates. The sudden heaviness in her chest, coupled with the prickling hairs on her nape, prevented her from taking another step.

Arabella often forced Cecil to do her bidding.

But to fight a duel? It was a ridiculous notion.

Perhaps Arabella hoped Greystone would put a lead ball between Cecil’s brows so she might continue her dalliance with Lord Randall.