Roslyn turned her head to stare at him. “You can’t honestly fault me for trying to prevent him from stealing my friend’s prize possession?”
“In fact I do. I admire your determination, but you could have been seriously hurt just now, not to mention that you could have lamed my horses.”
“I’m sorry, but I was desperate.”
“Have you ever even driven a pair before?”
“No,” Roslyn replied a trifle guiltily, “but I am quite proficient at driving one horse since I take out our gig frequently.”
“It isn’t the same thing. I shall have to teach you how
to handle a pair.”
“No, you will not! I have had more than enough lessons from you, your grace, thank you all the same.”
“Stop addressing me as ‘your grace’ in that stately tone. We have gone far beyond such formalities. My name is Drew.”
“I know what your name is. But that doesn’t mean I care to use it.”
“Why not?”
“It would signify too much intimacy between us.”
He didn’t point out that they had already been a great deal more intimate than merely using their given names, since he didn’t wish to remind Roslyn of their acrimonious parting last evening. Instead, Drew cast her a sideways glance, surveying her. She had to be chilled. Her afternoon dress of gray twilled silk was not meant to withstand a windy drive on such a stormy day.
He drew the horses to a halt and handed her the reins. “Don’t you dare drive. Just hold them for a moment.” Taking off his coat, he slid it around her shoulders.
“You don’t have much sense, chasing after him without so much as a shawl.”
“I don’t care about my comfort. I just want to find the thief so he will stop terrorizing Winifred.”
Drew bit back the sharp remark that was on the tip of his tongue. It exasperated him that Roslyn would chase after the thief with no thought to her own safety, even though he had to admire her courage and her determination to get to the bottom of the mystery and protect her friend, Lady Freemantle. But he knew she wouldn’t rest until she had her way.
In a few moments they arrived in the small village of Chiswick, which boasted a market, a posting inn and tavern, a blacksmith, and a church, in addition to several shops. Drew escorted Roslyn into each one and took over the questioning. But the result was just as he’d expected. No one had seen any sign of the thieving footman; his trail had gone completely cold just like before.
Roslyn was not happy to admit defeat. “This is so frustrating,” she exclaimed as Drew handed her up into his curricle. “He has escaped twice now.”
“I know, but we’ve done all we can do this afternoon.” Hearing a distant roll of thunder, he glanced up at the darkening sky. “I need to return you to Freemantle Park. There’s a storm brewing, and we don’t want to be caught in it.”
“We can’t simply give up,” Roslyn protested. “I doubt he will stop trying until we apprehend him.”
“I’m not giving up,” Drew assured her as he turned his horses back toward the Park. “But there are smarter ways to conduct a search than chasing about in this haphazard fashion.”
“What ways?”
“We start by identifying the livery he was wearing.”
“How can you possibly identify his livery?”
Drew delayed answering momentarily while he urged the grays to a brisker pace. The wind was blustering now and the scent of rain was rife in the air, and he wanted Roslyn safely back before the storm hit.
“I’ll hire a Bow Street Runner to investigate,” Drew said then. “Think about it. He had to have acquired his attire somewhere. He may very well be employed as a footman in some noble household. And if not, it will still put us closer to discovering his identity if we can learn where his costume came from.”
She frowned thoughtfully. “That might indeed work. But I want to speak to Bow Street myself. You have done more than enough already.”
“I don’t mind in the least.”
“Perhaps not, but this is not your problem.”