Raven (Gentlemen of the Order #2) - Adele Clee Page 0,23
“And this is where she met the man who gave her the incantation bowl.”
Dr Goodwin’s dismissive snort sent a burst of white mist into the chilly air. “No doubt it was a poacher spinning a yarn to make sure she stayed at home. The hounds are bound to scare away wild animals.” He gestured to the remains of the campfire. “Or perhaps a vagrant is living in the woods. Either way, talk of witches and magical bowls will only add to her confusion.”
“And if she was sleepwalking, how did she remember meeting the man?” Finlay said, surprised to find he agreed with the doctor. “She was clear about who she’d met.”
That said, she had described the man as an angel.
Sophia frowned. “What are you saying?”
“This place and its stories feeds a wild imagination. If Jessica was sleepwalking, she likely invented the part about the angel.”
Might the angel be a metaphor for salvation? he wondered.
Was it Jessica’s way of asking to be freed from her prison?
“Then how do you account for the bowl?”
Finlay shrugged. “Perhaps she found it here. Herbalists roam this area. The bowl could be nothing more than a decorative object used to carry their bounty.”
Either way, they needed to search the house. It wouldn’t surprise him to find Jessica asleep in bed. It was time he stopped acting like a wounded soul, behaved more like the man who tackled cases with strength, courage and unwavering resolve.
“We shall return to Blackborne.” Finlay captured Sophia’s hand. He did not want her traipsing through the woods with Dr Goodwin. And he wanted both men to know he cared for the woman shivering at his side.
“Shall I continue on with the hounds, sir?” Blent asked.
“Follow the path for half a mile. If you fail to find a scent return to the herb garden and begin again there. Dr Goodwin will accompany you.” Before the doctor could protest, Finlay turned on his heel and drew Sophia back towards the overgrown path.
“What makes you so certain Jessica isn’t roaming the woods?” Sophia said, clutching his hand as if she might crumple to the ground without his support.
“I’m not certain, but we darted out here without a second thought, leaving the house unattended.” It was a foolish mistake. A mistake he could not afford to make again. But deceivers manipulated the minds of the strongest men. “I made the obvious assumption.”
“A constable dealing with a missing person would start his search at the place of the last sighting. Neither of us thought to check Jessica’s bedchamber or follow the route down the servants’ stairs.”
“No.” His sigh mirrored his frustration. If he hoped to bring sense to the chaos, he had to master his emotions. “I don’t suppose Blent searched the stable block either.”
Were they being moved like pieces on a chessboard?
Had their opponent lured them into position?
The fiend was certainly playing a devious game.
They navigated the path back to the road, but the rattling of carriage wheels along the popular thoroughfare brought them to an abrupt halt ten yards from the stile.
Sophia pulled him behind the nearest tree trunk. “I suspect that’s the mail coach. In the dark, this road can be treacherous. Most people spend the night at The Wild Drake and tackle this stretch during daylight.”
It seemed like a reasonable explanation until the conveyance slowed and jerked to a stop. The carriage door flew open, and a gentleman vaulted to the ground. A mumbled conversation with the coachman ensued.
Finlay shuffled closer to Sophia, the nearness of her body rousing all the old memories. He pressed her back against the mossy tree trunk while peering at the carriage through the gloom.
“He’s approaching the gates to Blackborne,” Finlay whispered, his mouth an inch from Sophia’s ear. Oh, he was so achingly close the teasing scent of violets filled his head.
She touched her palm to his chest. “No one must know I own this house.”
Her misty white breath drew his gaze to her lips, lips tinged blue from the cold. One heated kiss would soon restore them to their pretty pink hue.
“What can he want?” she added.
Finlay shrugged.
When the inns were full, distinguished travellers often stopped at great houses looking for a bed for the night. The coachman might have pushed the horses too hard. An impending issue with a conveyance would be another valid reason for a person to stop at a private residence. Indeed, the well-dressed gent gripped the iron railings and shook the gates violently.
Were it not for Sophia’s need for secrecy, Finlay