cripple, Jack! I can still ride a horse.’
He was in no mood to try to reason with him today. Jack had barely slept properly in three nights so his temper was closer to the surface than usual and he would likely say something which couldn’t be undone. Since Jamie had come home, he was still so angry at the world and convinced he was good for nothing. Any attempts at brotherly concern about him over-extending himself and putting back his recovery would only aggravate him further.
‘I shall saddle the horses then.’
* * *
It was market day in Retford and by the time they arrived the square was already bustling with activity. At his brother’s suggestion, they went directly to the inn in search of breakfast and information. It made sense. If strangers were in the area, they would be staying at the inn. Jack would not have thought of that first, so perhaps having Jamie in tow would prove to be beneficial.
‘Just eat your food and listen. The trick to good recognisance is to appear disinterested. If we hear anything vaguely interesting, leave it to me to do the probing.’
Jack grunted in response, a little put out by his brother’s lack of faith in his abilities. Jamie selected a table in the centre of the dining room and they ordered food, then his brother disappeared to do some quiet digging and left him to his own devices. For want of something useful to do, he scanned the patrons to see if he could see anything suspicious and conceded that perhaps his brother was right. He knew nothing about gathering information subtly. In fact, his relationship with subtlety of any sort could best be described as tenuous. Jack was a doer and acknowledged his usually straightforward methods of getting to the truth might not be what was needed today. Because it was market day, almost every face was new to him—and therefore, by default, instantly suspicious to his untrained eyes. His first instinct was to go and thoroughly question them all, which was exactly what his military-trained brother had feared he would do. ‘You cannot help yourself, Big Brother,’ he had said as they had ridden over, ‘you are too used to being in charge.’ Acknowledging his own character flaws always made Jack wince; having them pointed out correctly by a sibling was galling.
At the bar, Jamie had sidled up to the innkeeper. Being a recently returned war hero from the infamous family who lived near the forest made him of significant interest to the innkeeper. The locals did love to gossip and the Warriners had given them plenty to feast on over the years. Jack watched the man ask his brother question after question with barely contained curiosity and, as usual, Jamie dealt with them with his customary surliness, staring into his drink and never meeting his interrogator’s eyes. To all intents and purposes he appeared exactly like a man who wanted nothing more than to be left alone rather than one on a quest for information. Jack had to admire that talent, even if he was still slightly sulking and did so begrudgingly.
A few minutes later, Jamie limped back to the table and spoke in a voice so low, Jack had to strain his ears to hear it.
‘There are a group of men from London staying here. A pushy lot, by all accounts, who the innkeeper would be glad to see the back of. They have been here since the morning after you found your damsel in distress. Came in soaked to the skin, despite the two fancy carriages they arrived with. The carriages and half the men left the next day, leaving three of them behind. The rooms were all booked under the name Smith. The innkeeper says they’ve been asking questions about a girl. An heiress, by all accounts.’ Jack raised his eyebrows at this news. ‘They are claiming she has been kidnapped and they are searching for her. They haven’t surfaced yet this morning, but he expects them presently on account of it being market day and filled with new people to talk to. So far, each morning they have done the same thing. They ask questions, eat and disappear for the day. He has no idea where they go to—but they come back very frustrated. As if they are in a great hurry to get the job done.’
Jamie shot him a warning glance as their breakfasts were brought over. How he noticed the impending arrival of the food was also impressive, Jack mused, seeing as Jamie was not facing the kitchen and would have needed eyes in the back of his head to have seen anyone behind him. The innkeeper’s wife plonked them down unceremoniously in front of them, her hostility towards not one, but two Warriners so early in the morning written all over her face.
‘Have you paid for these?’
Their father’s legacy still blighted them. The bastard had been dead seven years and still the locals believed a Warriner equalled nothing but bad debt and aggravation. Jamie shot the woman an evil look and was about to put her in her place when Jack intervened. ‘I paid up front, Nelly. As I always do.’ He was trying to build the broken bridges, had been trying for years to mend them, and as much as the slights still wounded he understood them. For centuries the Warriner family had always been a bad lot and it would take a darn sight longer than seven years for the brothers to repair the damage their ancestors had wrought. It was only in the last eighteen months that Jack had been able to lure a few rag-tag tenants back to his land and even they were not originally from around these parts. Nelly sniffed and stalked off.
‘Perhaps they are Letty’s family searching for her? Maybe she was kidnapped.’ Conjuring the image of her terrified and running away from him made Jack feel a strange combination of protectiveness and fury all over again.
Jamie shrugged. ‘Or that is exactly what they want us to think. They could hardly tell people they are the kidnappers and they would like their hostage back now, can they?’ That argument made a lot of sense too. ‘Besides, if they are above board, why the name Smith? It’s too convenient, Jack. My gut tells me it’s not right.’
As Jamie’s guts had saved his soldiering bacon on more than one occasion, Jack decided to go along with them. They ate in virtual silence in order to overhear the tangled conversations around them. In the main, they were all tradesmen here to make some coin. One or two piqued their interest, but nobody mentioned a bound and gagged girl in the woods.
Their food was long finished and they were about to leave when three burly men walked in and scanned the room like hawks seeking prey. Jamie picked up his empty mug and pretended to drink. ‘Here we go. This is them, I reckon.’
The three men instantly split up and began approaching the other patrons jovially, moving from group to group after friendly handshakes were exchanged and ever closer to their table.
‘Remember. Act bored. And keep your mouth shut.’
Jack gave his brother a sarcastic look. ‘I appreciate your confidence in me, Jamie.’
‘Hello, gentlemen—might I trouble you for a few moments?’ The man who pulled up a chair next to them was all politeness. Jamie flicked him a detached look and shrugged. Jack copied.
‘Do you live locally?’
‘What’s it to you?’ Jamie replied suspiciously.
‘Merely a friendly enquiry, sir.’ The man’s diction was crisp, but his appearance belied it. Underneath the fine clothes and the oily smile, he was not from the gentry, Jack was certain of that. He might lack Jamie’s skills as a spy but he knew a wrong ’un when he saw one. This man had fists like hams, for a start, and a nose which had been often broken. The bridge had collapsed beneath his forehead before jutting out at an odd angle, making him appear more like a bare-knuckle fighter from a travelling carnival than a discerning gentleman of taste passing along the Great North Road. A fine, white jagged scar bisected one cheek. Its presence spoke volumes. This man was a close acquaintance of violence.
‘My friends and I are looking for someone. A young lady.’ The man gave them a knowing smile. ‘There’s a reward.’
Jamie stared
