Captain Jones's Temptation - Audrey Harrison Page 0,28

There it was again, the hint that there lay a lot behind that cool exterior she tried to maintain. He was certain that Miss Hardy had many secrets of her own.

“Whatever the reason, it might come in useful to us. The head groom is aware he is to keep the carriage and horses ready for departure day or night,” Matthew said.

“I suggest you fill a portmanteau and store it on the carriage,” Samuel said.

“You think we shall need to make a dash to escape?” Esther asked.

“Not necessarily, but it is always wise to prepare for every eventuality.”

Esther and Lydia filled a portmanteau with some of their clothing and Isabella’s. As the girl always remained with them through the holidays, she had not questioned anything going on around her. The only thing that had caused an outburst was the fact that she could not go on her daily rides.

Relatively speaking, it had been far quieter than the outpouring of feeling Lizzy had put them through, but Isabella’s tear-filled eyes and pitiful “Why not?” had torn at Matthew’s heartstrings.

“There is a lot more to owning a horse than riding on it every morning, Miss Isabella,” Matthew had said.

“Isn’t that what grooms are for?”

“She most certainly has aristocratic blood running through her veins,” Samuel whispered. “Expecting others to provide.”

Esther glared at him. “As you come from a similar origin, I would be careful about casting aspersions, if I were you.”

Samuel grinned unrepentantly. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Matthew ignored the pair and continued speaking to Isabella. “There certainly are grooms, but what if your groom is suddenly ill? Or if he is a bad groom? Won’t you want to be able to tend to your horse? Or are you one of those owners who neglect their beasts?”

“No! I love horses,” Isabella said.

“In that case, while we can’t ride them, we shall have lessons on how to tend to them,” Matthew said, volunteering to educate her.

Every morning the pair walked over to the stables and spent an enjoyable hour, Matthew teaching a willing student. It was the time when Esther and Lydia could get on with things that Isabella might have questioned or become unnerved by.

One such task had been packing the luggage. Closing the full trunk, Esther glanced at Lydia. “If we have to leave, Isabella won’t be allowed to return. This will not be seen as a safe place for her,” she said quietly.

“No. That was my assumption. It is a crime that she is the one who is going to suffer after all of this. She sees this as her home and she is happy here. It is most unfair.”

“Let’s hope that whoever is behind this will be caught before we have to leave.”

“I hope so.”

*

Matthew walked to and fro in front of the fireplace, drinking his port. It was three days after the conversation about the portmanteau, and although a routine had developed in the household, neither man was relaxed.

“When are the reinforcements going to arrive? It’s been nearly a week since you sent for them. We aren’t so far from London that it would take so long,” Matthew said. Esther and Lydia were waiting for them in the drawing room, but he was not ready to join them quite yet, for the four of them to pretend that all was well when it clearly was not.

“I am beginning to think they aren’t going to arrive,” Samuel admitted. He was more contained than his friend, but the heavy frown belied his attempt to appear nonchalant.

“Surely to God they would send reinforcements to support us? Or why send us in the first instance?”

“Because of our reputation and prowess in the battlefield?”

“Be serious!”

“I am being. The more people who know of what we are doing, the more likely the general populace will find out about it, and it won’t reflect well. I think we are here because of our loyal service and expendability, my friend. For they know we will put our lives down to save the child.”

“But then how do they explain a massacre here? For we won’t be the only two to suffer if we are overrun,” Matthew demanded.

“It is merely a robbery at a school that has gone wrong. Easily dismissed and soon forgotten about so far from London.”

Matthew emptied his glass of port. “Then this is no better than a forlorn hope,” he said of the almost suicidal raids that took place during wartime.

“That is the conclusion I have come to,” Samuel replied.

“It is typical for us to