Crispin was waiting in the lane at the bottom of the drive. He held Maid Marion on a leading rein and had a wicker hamper strapped to his saddle.
"Good morning," Chloe called as she ran through the gate. "Isn't it a lovely morning?"
Crispin dismounted. "Beautiful. No one knows you're here?"
"Not a soul," she said cheerfully, rubbing Maid Marion's nose. "But I left them a note so they won't worry." Crispin paled. "You left them a note?"
"Yes, of course… Will you help me mount? Without a mounting block, I find it difficult."
Crispin took her booted foot in his palm and tossed her up. She landed gracefully in the sidesaddle, hitched her right knee over the pommel, and adjusted her skirts, offering her companion a brilliant smile. "Where are we going?"
"It's a surprise." Crispin mounted his own horse. "What did you say in your note?"
"Oh, just that I was going for a ride with you and we would be back sometime this afternoon." She looked at him askance. "Is something troubling you?"
"No, why should there be?" But his mouth was tight and his eyes hard. "How soon before they find your note?"
"Oh, half an hour, I should think," Chloe said. "Why?"
Crispin shrugged and touched his spur to his mount's flanks. The horse broke into a canter and then into a gallop. Chloe, taken by surprise, followed suit, the roan's stride lengthening as she established her pace.
It was fifteen minutes before Crispin slowed, and by then Chloe was enjoying the ride so much, she thought no more about that sudden burst of speed. Crispin still refused to say where they were going, so she just relaxed into the pleasure of the bright morning and the feel of a powerful mount beneath her and the heady sense of a whole day of freedom ahead.
Oamuel saw the note as soon as he returned to the kitchen from the stables. He unfolded the sheet of paper and puzzled at the scrawled letters. His reading was severely limited and his writing nonexistent, but he could make out the signature and it filled him with foreboding. Further mental contortions yielded the fact that she'd gone somewhere.
On occasion Samuel could produce a string of profanity to impress His Majesty's entire navy. This was one of those occasions. Clearly, he had no choice but to wake Sir Hugo from the first decent sleep he'd had since God knew when.
Women were pesky creatures… never anything but trouble. He stomped upstairs and knocked at Hugo's door. There was no immediate response, and he lifted the latch.
"Beggin' your pardon, Sir 'Ugo-"
"What is it, Samuel?" Hugo was immediately wide awake although for a second disoriented, believing that he was back commanding a ship and Samuel was waking him in the night watch with urgent news.
"It's Miss," Samuel said, stepping up to the bed. "Left this on the kitchen table." He held out the paper.
Hugo snatched it from him. He took in the contents and closed his eyes briefly. "Why the hell would she go anywhere with Crispin? She said she couldn't stand him."
"That relative of 'ers?" Samuel asked with an uneasy frown. "The one what's been 'anging around the last few days?"
"What!"
"Well, she was down, like, Sir 'Ugo, and he seemed to cheer 'er up. They never went out of the courtyard, I swear it. An' I was watchin' all the time. Brought 'er the owl, I'll lay odds." A ruddy flush stained Samuel's weather-beaten cheeks as he gazed anxiously at his employer. "Did I do wrong?"
"It wasn't your responsibility, Samuel, it was mine." Hugo's lip curled in disgust. "I thought it could wait until I'd pulled myself together. Jasper said he was more than a match for a drunken sot… and by God he knew what he was talking about." He pushed aside the
sheet and stood up. "How long could she have been gone?"
" 'Alf an hour, p'raps."
"Could be worse." He pulled his shirt over his head and stepped into his britches. "I'm damn sure I told her she wasn't to leave the estate without permission… or is that another fond hope born out of my drunken imagination?"
"No, Sir 'Ugo, I was there when you telled 'er," Samuel said stolidly, handing him his boots.
"Ahh. In that case, Miss Gresham had better be prepared for some serious trouble when I get my hands on her." He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled on his boots. "Tell Billy to saddle the horses. There's only one road and they could only have gone one of two ways. I'll take the Manchester road to Shipton and you go toward Edgecombe. Someone along the road will have seen them and can put us right."
He stood up again and buckled on his belt. "I want my knife, Samuel, and my pistol."
Samuel handed them to him and hurried downstairs to give Billy his orders.
Hugo ran a finger down the blade of the knife before thrusting it into the sheath in his belt. He primed the pistol before dropping it into the deep pocket of his coat.
He hadn't confided his suspicions about the Greshams to Chloe, so perhaps she couldn't be held entirely to blame for accepting Crispin's company. He was a part of her childhood, and she had no reason to suspect him of perfidy. However, she had been told to stay close to the house, and by ignoring that instruction had walked straight into the lion's den and was causing him a great deal of trouble… not to mention waking him prematurely from the almost-unremembered luxury of a deep sleep and driving him out of the house, un-
shaven and breakfasdess. If he'd summoned the energy to rid himself of a week's beard before he'd gone to bed, he'd look less of a vagabond.
Hugo was in no charitable frame of mind as he strode downstairs. But neither was he in the least anxious about retrieving her. He never fretted about the outcome of a venture when in the midst of it.
Would they have taken her to Shipton? Or somewhere farther afield? He'd start at Shipton anyway. If Jasper wasn't there, the chances were fairly high that someone could be induced to impart some information. A knife and a pistol in the hands of a man unafraid to use them were potent persuaders.
He emerged into the sunny courtyard, drawing on his gloves. "If someone saw them pass on your section of the road, Samuel, stay on their tracks. If you draw a blank, then follow me as fast as you can. I'll do the same." He swung onto his horse.
"Right you are." Samuel mounted and followed him down the drive to the road, where they went their separate ways.
Cjrispin pressed his horse onward over the dry, rutted surface of the Manchester road. They were nearing the city now and the post-chaise would be waiting at the crossroads. He glanced impatiently behind him. Chloe was now dawdling, examining the hedgerows, stopping to look at a hovering hawk, and he didn't know how to hurry her up. If they only had half an hour's start, he had to get her into the chaise and across the city without delay.
Fuming, he reined in his horse and waited for her to come up with him. "You're so slow, Chloe." She looked surprised. "But we aren't in a hurry. We
have all morning… Don't you think there are a lot of people on the road?"
It was true. The Manchester road was getting busier by the moment, with carts and horsemen and pedestrians, whole families of them in some cases, straggling along the grassy verge, children darting and squealing in and out of the throng. There was an air of excitement but also a holiday atmosphere, as if they were going to a fete on this sultry Monday morning.
If Chloe resisted entering the chaise, it would create the devil of a scene on this public highway. Nothing was going right, and Crispin wished his stepfather hadn't put the success of this venture squarely on his shoulders. Control seemed to be slipping through his lingers, and he didn't know how to adapt the plan to changed circumstance.
"Come on," he said, looking around impatiently.
"I'm hungry," Chloe stated. "I only had an apple for breakfast. Why don't we turn off the road into the field and have some of our picnic? You did say we were going to have a picnic'"