More Than a Lover (14 page)

Gads, it was a bit. Oddly, this time, the stakes seemed higher. He clapped his old friend on the shoulder, jumped down and mounted up.

They turned out of the courtyard and took the road to York. As soon as they were clear of the residential streets, Ned whipped up the horses. Tonbridge's cattle were fine beasts. Even with a three-hour start, they might well catch up to their quarry before he reached York.

Fortunately, it wasn't raining, so while the evening was chill, he and Ned would not have to endure a soaking. And that was a good thing.

* * *

Their luck did not hold. A quick enquiry at the Crossed Keys and they learned Butterworth had also made good time and was still more than three hours ahead of them. Mrs Lane, bless her heart, handed over a batch of freshly made sandwiches and a flask of brandy, which she had prepared while Caro made use of the facilities. Caro refused the brandy, but did swallow a hot cup of tea.

Butterworth had not stopped.

But then, he had likely prepared for the journey.

‘There was no boy riding on the box as they went by,' Mrs Lane said to his enquiry. ‘I heard them coming and came outside to see if they would come in. They never spared us a glance as they passed. Looked to be in a hurry. The horses looked nigh worn to the bone.'

Perhaps the fool would end up in a ditch.

He scotched that thought the moment it formed. He didn't want Tommy coming to harm. The only hope now was that in fear of pursuit, he would spring his horses on the flat and be forced to walk them up hills. Blade would not make such a greenhorn mistake, for all that Caro urged Ned to go faster.

‘Thank you for your help,' he said, touching his hat as he closed the carriage door on Caro, and then they were off again. It was now pitch dark and the lanterns each side of the driver's box were not much help.

‘Take care, Ned,' Blade called out. ‘Tonbridge won't be pleased by another accident to his coach.' And he certainly didn't want any harm coming to Caro.

Chapter Eleven

B
y dusk the next evening, they were miles along the road to London, with no sign of their quarry. They'd changed horses at one of York's livery stables in the middle of the night and were now travelling from one posting house to the next. Their hopes of catching the fugitives quickly had been cut to ribbons in York. It had taken more than an hour to find where Butterworth had left the first carriage and to discover that he was definitely continuing on to London by post-chaise. The delay put them more than four hours behind the fugitives, forcing them to be content with following in his footsteps rather than trying to cut him off.

Caro's eyes burned from lack of sleep and worry, but she continued to stare out of the window at the passing countryside while willing the carriage to greater speed.

Wedged into the far corner of the carriage, Blade dozed. His horse had been tethered to the back of the carriage. Seeing his exhaustion at one of their recent stops, she had encouraged him to rest his horse, which meant he could also rest himself. She could not resist the occasional glance at his face, though soon the darkness would make it impossible to see much at all. At rest, he seemed a great deal younger and less stern than he did when ordering people about and worrying over their safety.

The Carothers family had a town house in London. It was where she had gone to beg for help. They also had a couple of country estates, though. Wherever they were going, once they had Tommy behind their walls, she would have little chance of getting him back.

She leaned back against the squabs and closed her eyes. Opened them again. Shifted on the seat. She could not rest, not until she had Tommy safe. Panic hit hard. There would be no fighting Carothers's parents. Not once they had her child. Possession was always nine-tenths of the law. Especially if the possessors were noble and moneyed.

‘We'll find him.'

Blade's voice was little more than a comforting murmur and his eyes remained closed. He must have sensed her anxiety.

‘I am sorry if I disturbed you.'

He opened his eyes. ‘Not at all. A soldier snatches his rest when and where he can.'

‘Tommy will be terrified.'

‘He's a brave little man. And he knows you will come for him.'

Yes. He would know. But if she did not succeed? What then?

The horses slowed.

Blade sat up and leaned so he could see ahead. ‘A posting inn. We will get news of them here. They will have changed horses here, but we have been making excellent time. We will stop to eat.'

‘No.'

‘He must also stop to eat,' Blade said gravely. ‘And while I am prepared to travel through the night, I need my sustenance. And so do you or we will be stopping because you are ill.'

She heaved a sigh. But in truth she was grateful for his thoughtfulness. The fact that he was willing to accompany her on this wild chase was something of a miracle.

The carriage swung into the coach yard and there, having its team changed, was a yellow bounder. A post-chaise very much like the one they were following.

‘It can't be,' she said, her heart racing so hard she thought it might leap from her chest.

Their carriage had barely drawn to a halt when Blade jumped down and ran for the other coach. He yanked open the door.

Hiking up her skirts to make the leap, Caro followed him out of the door and across the cobbles. The chaise was empty.

‘This way,' Blade said. He strode into the inn and there in the parlour sat Butterworth with a substantial dinner set before him, and no sign of Tommy or his female accomplice.

‘Where's Tommy?' she practically shrieked across the room.

Butterworth looked up. ‘Madam, are you addressing me?'

‘Leave this to me.' Blade stalked up to Butterworth much in the way Caro might imagine a tiger stalking up to its prey. He yanked the table clear of the fat man, grabbed him by the front of his shirt and stroked Butterworth's cheek with the point of the hook on his left wrist. ‘No games, Butterworth. You were seen leaving Skepton with the lad.'

Gasping and coughing, Butterworth shrank back from the wicked implement so close to his eye. ‘All right. No need for violence.'

Blade shoved him backwards so hard the chair rocked on its legs. ‘Where is the boy?'

Butterworth fussily brushed at the front of his coats. ‘I left him in York.' He looked over at Caro. ‘With his doting grandparents.'

They were too late. Legs trembling, Caro sank into the nearest chair.

‘Where were they headed?' Blade asked. ‘If you lie to me, I will come and find you.'

Butterworth shrugged. ‘I have no idea. I am not party to their plans. I met the old gentleman in London, but it didn't seem as if they planned to go any great distance.'

‘They have a house near Lincoln,' Caro said, her heart plummeting to the soles of her shoes and perhaps lower.

‘Then we have overshot badly,' Blade said. He was looking at her with sympathy.

A dreadful weight descended upon her chest. She was going to have to tell Blade the truth. And Merry and Tonbridge. She felt ill. They would despise her as much as she despised herself.

Blade glared at Butterworth. ‘Bait and switch. Very clever.'

Butterworth grinned proudly. ‘My idea, that. I know how you feel, lad. I was tricked the same way more than once when I worked for Bow Street.'

‘You are a Runner?'

‘Was. I find private work for the nobs a deal more lucrative.'

‘Tonbridge's carriage? Was that you?' Blade asked.

Butterworth made a face of disgust. ‘I made out my horse was lame, expecting the carriage to stop. The blasted coachman whipped up the horses instead. Nigh on ran me down. Then he went off the road. All for naught.'

Caro gasped.

‘Idiot,' Blade said. ‘What did you expect in such troublesome times?'

The man blew out a breath. ‘I expected a bit of courtesy.'

‘The girl, Linette, was working for you?' Caro asked.

‘Linny? She'd been working at the brothel for weeks. Saw my offer as a way out.' He glanced over at Caro. ‘Seems you made some enemies in Skepton with your do-gooding ways.'

‘The madam at the brothel was also in on your plan,' Blade said, sounding disgusted.

Caro cringed inside. She knew she'd made enemies, but never imagined they would harm her child. But people were cruel. They did not care whom they hurt.

‘For a generous payment. The lad's family are anxious to get him back.'

‘Back?' Caro almost spat the word. ‘They never wanted him.'

Blade gave her a sharp look and she bit her lip. If she wasn't careful, he would guess everything and she still hadn't decided what was best for Tommy.

‘Where is Linette now?' Blade asked.

Butterworth made a face. ‘By the time we got to York, the little lad was clinging to her like a life raft. The old gentry mort offered her a position as nursemaid. Seems as how Linette preferred that to her former occupation. Naturally, I didn't tell them what that was.'

‘I should have guessed there was something not right about that girl,' Blade said, clearly blaming himself.

‘If she's giving Tommy comfort, then I am glad of it,' Caro said. But inside she felt as if her heart was breaking. Worse was the sense, the almost certain knowledge, that perhaps her son really would be better off without her. These past few weeks had proved her father right. She wasn't fit to bring up a child.
Slut. Wanton.
The words echoed in her ears. If she had not been so easily seduced, so driven by her passions, Tommy would not have gone alone to the green with Linette, would he?

All these years she had tried so hard to be good, to be a respectable woman, to be what she should have been from the first, but the moment temptation had come her way, she'd succumbed.

* * *

Blade took one look at Caro's face, read defeat in her expression and the slump of her shoulders, and he wanted to commit murder.

‘Leave,' he said, leaning down to glare into Butterworth's face.

‘Now see here,' the man said. ‘I've as much right to my dinner as the next man.'

‘If you don't go now,' Blade said, lowering his voice to little more than a murmur, pressing the point of his hook between the rolls of fat below Butterworth's jaw, ‘you will not have a gullet to take the food from your mouth to your belly.'

The fat man raised his hands in surrender and Blade stepped back.

Butterworth snatched the napkin from around his neck and flung it down. He lumbered to his feet. ‘I'll leave you to settle my shot, then.'

Blade nodded. ‘It is a bargain, just to be rid of your company, but one thing you will not do is run to your employer.'

‘Why would I? I've kept my part of the bargain and been paid. Besides—' he gave Blade a rather triumphant grin ‘—you will discover you are expected. Good day to you, sir.'

He stomped out with a venomous glance at Caro and a few minutes later could be heard shouting for the postilion so he could be on his way.

To Blade's consternation, Caro didn't move. She simply remained staring at her hands in her lap.

He stuck his head outside the door and found a waiter hanging about in the hallway looking confused. He stepped out to speak to him. ‘Do you have two chambers with a private parlour?'

The man nodded.

‘The lady and I will take them if you will be so good as to show us the way. Please arrange for dinner to be sent up as soon as possible.'

The landlord came along right at that moment. ‘Is something wrong?'

‘This gentleman is asking to bespeak rooms for him and the lady. A parlour and two chambers for the night.'

The landlord gave him a suspicious look. ‘The gentleman who just left told my stableman you was to pay his shot.'

Blade nodded. ‘I will.'

His expression looked a little less sour. ‘Whom do I have the pleasure of entertaining in my humble establishment, sir?'

‘Mr Bladen Read and Mrs Falkner.'

The frown reappeared. ‘This is a respectable house—'

Of all the self-righteous... ‘Mrs Falkner is my sister. My widowed sister.'

The man's face relaxed into something resembling a smile. ‘Then welcome to the Blue Anchor, sir. I will have dinner sent up to the private parlour directly. If you would care to freshen up beforehand, William here will show you to your rooms. The two rooms at the front of the house, William, with the parlour between. Our best rooms, sir.'

And his most expensive, no doubt. But that was the price one paid for dissembling.

He returned to the dining room and found Caro sitting where he'd left her, her face white and set. Her eyes were cold as she looked at him.

Inwardly he winced. He shouldn't have been quite so brutal with Butterworth. Not in front of a lady. Shame filled him at the realisation that he'd exposed her to the real him. The guttersnipe who hid beneath the guise of civility. Barely. Any gently bred woman would be horrified by what she had witnessed. ‘I apologise for shocking you. I would not have done what I threatened.'

She stared at him and said nothing. Damn it all, she thought him the worst of curs. He straightened his shoulders. Let her think what she would. ‘We will stay here tonight and turn back in the morning. I have booked rooms and a meal.'

At the widening of her eyes, the lips parting to object, he wanted to hit something. ‘Separate rooms. I told them you were my sister.'

The nod she gave him was of the numb variety. She heard him, clearly comprehended the words, but she had withdrawn into herself.

‘Let us freshen up, have dinner and then talk about our next steps,' he said gently.

The footman escorted her upstairs while Blade went off to arrange for her bag to be brought up, as well as request the services of a maid. He also stopped by the stables to let Ned know what was going on and have the carriage put up for the night.

As he sat in his bath in his chamber, he pondered their next steps while carefully forcing his thoughts away from the expression of disgust he had seen in Caro's eyes.

* * *

Apart from the normal requirements of eating a meal, Blade had left Caro alone with her thoughts until they had finished dining. Not that she was hungry. The heavy lump in the centre of her chest was not conducive to the consumption of food.

At the start of the meal she had refused Blade's offer of a glass of wine, despite his suggestion that it might help her sleep.

No matter which way she viewed what had happened, she could not see any way for things to return to the way they had been. It seemed very likely Tommy was lost to her. Under normal circumstances, the courts might favour a mother's claim to a child over that of the grandparents, but in her case there really was no hope. Everyone at the Haven would have known about her and Blade. A clever lawyer would be quick to exploit any further fall from grace in order to shore up the bad character she'd already demonstrated by having a son in the first place. No doubt Butterworth had passed all he knew along to his employer. The courts could easily deem her morally unfit to care for her child.

She knew all this because she had spent part of the precious hoard of coins she'd saved when she'd first started her employment with Merry to discover what rights she had under the law. She had been shocked at how easily the rich and powerful could override the rights of the rest of society. She had also known she must maintain a spotless reputation if she wanted to stand even a small chance of keeping Tommy if his grandparents ever ran them to earth.

She wanted to scream.

But most of all, she wanted to cry.

Crying got one nowhere. She had cried when her father threw her out and when Carothers's family refused their aid. It hadn't helped then and it would not help now. What was important was Tommy. For years, she'd denied her selfishness. Convinced herself Tommy was better with her. But what if she was wrong?