She was certain of it when suddenly the bay horse plunged off the lane and disappeared into the woods.
Arden slowed the curricle when they reached the path the rider had taken, but the opening in the trees was too narrow for the curricle to negotiate. Having no way to follow, he drew his panting grays to a halt. They could hear the dull echo of hoofbeats growing ever more distant.
“Blast, blast, blast!” Roslyn sputtered, banging her fist on her knee in frustration.
“So explain to me why we were chasing him,” Arden said when she finally fell silent. “You believe he was the highwayman who held you up last week?”
“Yes, didn’t you see his right arm? He wore it in a sling.”
“And you found him in Lady Freemantle’s house?”
“Yes. At first I thought he was one of her footmen, but I caught him in her dressing room, in the act of rifling through her jewel case. I don’t think he had time to steal anything-he ran from me as soon he saw me-” Roslyn broke off suddenly to point at the lane in front of them. “Why are we just wasting time sitting here? We need to hunt for the thief,” she said urgently.
“Just what do you propose we do?” Drew asked, lifting an eyebrow.
“He was headed in the direction of Chiswick. We should at least inquire in the village if anyone has seen him.”
She reached for the reins, but Drew held them away. “No you don’t. I still haven’t recovered from the shock of you absconding with my rig. And I’m damned if I want you risking my horses’ lives again, or our own.”
He set his pair into a brisk, ground-eating trot, heading toward Chiswick, which calmed Roslyn enough for him to question her about the highwayman.
“Why did you think him to be a footman?” Drew asked as they drove.
Her brow furrowed. “I just assumed so because he was dressed in livery.”
Drew shook his head. “He wore a different color livery than the Freemantle servants. His coat was dark blue with gold trim. Her ladyship’s colors are burgundy and silver.”
“I didn’t think of that,” she said.
“So why was he in disguise?”
“I’m not certain. Perhaps he thought he could more easily sneak into the house if he could be mistaken for a servant.”
“But why take such a risk?”
“Because,” Roslyn mused aloud, “Winifred was too well guarded after last night’s ball?”
“I suppose that’s possible,” Drew conceded.
“He must have wanted her brooch. He didn’t seem interested in her diamonds this time, just like the last.”
“What the devil is so special about that brooch?”
“I have no idea,” she answered. “Its value is mostly sentimental since it contains a portrait of Winifred’s late husband inside. But I wouldn’t think Sir Rupert’s likeness would be of any interest to anyone but her.”
“Was the brooch in her jewel case?”
“No. After the holdup, she decided to keep it in a safer place, thank heavens. She would be devastated if it were stolen.”
“You realize that searching the village will likely be futile? I doubt he will have let himself be seen there-or anywhere else near here for that matter. Not with every farmer and tradesman in the district on the lookout for him.”
“I know, but I must do something.”
“What you should do,” Drew muttered under his breath, “is allow me to take you home.”
“Don’t you want to catch him?”
“Of course. But I dislike the way you keep putting yourself in dangerous, possibly life-threatening situations.”