began to climb up towards the hotel, his muscles screaming if he put a foot wrong. And he wished that he had been less hasty in dismissing Miss Milton.
‘Ravensworth? Is that you crashing through the borders?’ a well-bred masculine voice called out. ‘My God, you are alive.’
Adam started. The last time he had heard those drawling nasal tones was over a hand of cards at White’s in London a month ago, just before he had set off for his business in Scotland. He straightened his shoulders, arranged his face into his more normal arrogance. ‘Heritage, what are you doing here? A bit far from your usual haunts of St James’s and Piccadilly.’
‘Looking for you.’ Heritage rounded a boulder and stood. His black frock coat was impeccably tailored and his stock was just that fraction higher than was physically comfortable. He took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his pale forehead, pushing a white blonde lock to one side.
‘Why?’ Adam’s body tensed, ready to spring. Heritage should be far from here. ‘Surely you have not come from London expressly for that purpose?’
‘I have been taking the waters, here in Gilsland.’ Heritage waved a vague hand. ‘I have a great-uncle who might be persuaded to name me as his heir. It seemed worth a trip, and anyway, London has been duller than dull ever since the king became ill. And now that he is dead, everyone must observe the correct mourning period. No balls, no opera and the gaming tables are distinctly on the thin side.’
Adam forced his hands to stay at his side as the pain in his head grew. Heritage’s words explained everything and nothing.
‘I was speaking about you the other night at table. India came up and I remembered your fabled luck. What did go on at the hill station? We all thought you were a goner when you insisted on going back up with such a small company to root out that nest of thieves. They were operating under the very nose of his Majesty’s officers. And I remembered how they said their treasure was cursed as was anyone who touched it; they ended up dead and you had that necklace as proof. But you came back victorious. Made myself a pretty packet. Never bet against a Ravensworth, I said that day, and I stand by it. Still, here you are alive.’
‘That is ancient history, Heritage.’ Adam’s head pounded. He thought he had left the thuggee and their curses behind seven years ago. The necklace was cursed, but not in the way it was whispered. It reminded him of the heart he had lost. But the thuggee were no more. All of them had been brought to justice. Heritage had been in charge of ensuring the hanging of the surviving thuggee was carried out. ‘Why were you searching for me?’
Heritage hesitated for a fraction too long. ‘Your carriage was discovered earlier. We feared the worse.’
‘I will survive.’ Adam gave a careful shrug, despite his muscles screaming in protest. ‘My clothes have seen better days and my boots are gone. My valet will be ready to commit murder about the boots. He had just perfected his blacking technique of that particular pair. And having survived one attempt on my life, I have no wish to risk another.’
‘That’s the spirit.’ Heritage clapped him on the shoulder. ‘What happened? How did you end up here? Your carriage was found abandoned a few miles from here.’
‘We were attacked after we left Brampton. After my time in India, I can sleep anywhere, and I wanted to return to Newcastle. The carriage was stopped and surrounded. I escaped, rather than submitting.’
‘The carriage was found abandoned on the Brampton road. Someone had set about it, but a farmer spotted the wreckage when he was taking his cows to pasture. He came to the hotel while I happened to be speaking to the innkeeper. I went along to help and recognised the carriage straight off. The one body was far too portly to be you and so we have been searching. The whole village turned out.’
Adam regarded Heritage. Perhaps the story was true. The men on the riverbank could have been innocent searchers, but somehow he doubted it. However, he would content himself with surviving and plotting his revenge. ‘How was my coachman killed?’
‘Strangled.’ Heritage paused. His face turned grave. ‘Strangled with a yellow scarf, knotted in one corner with a coin. They found it wrapped around his neck.’
Adam stilled, ice creeping down his spine. He had hoped the memory was caused by the drugged beer, but apparently not. The group of thuggee that he had routed had favoured strangulation with a vivid yellow scarf. They had had their sacred grove, dedicated to their demon goddess. There were times when he was playing cards in White’s or drinking at Brooks’s that he considered the whole episode to be some sort of fantastic fable out of the Arabian Nights. Unfortunately, it would appear that his enemy also knew of the tale.
‘That is not possible, Heritage. This is England. All of them were brought to justice. The ones who were alive after the attack swung for murder.’
‘The scarf was there. I saw it with my own eyes. Bright yellow, you know that peculiar nasty shade that sends chills down your spine. It made me wonder if somehow I had conjured them up what with my story about your exploits to my great-uncle.’
Pain seared through Adam’s head. Heritage looked positively shaken by the scarf. ‘Coincidence.’
‘You may be right, but it made a shiver run down my spine all the same.’ Heritage pulled at his cuffs. ‘How many besides you are left from the battle? I can think of nary a single man.’
‘Curses are for the superstitious, weak minded and gullible.’ Adam shut out the memory of Kamala’s soft voice telling him to be careful as he pocketed the necklace. He had laughed at her fears and had gently kissed her neck. Later, after the battle when she had told him that she was leaving, he had wondered. But the necklace was a symbol of his folly, nothing more. ‘I put my faith in reason. But I will grant you that the entire operation was planned, down to the smallest detail. Somebody wants me to think of India and the events there.’
Heritage rocked back on his heels. ‘Was there anyone else with you?’
‘With me?’ Adam’s vision swam as wave after wave of tiredness and pain hit him. His body needed rest and food. ‘I travelled alone. I wanted to get back to the delights of London.’
‘I thought I heard voices earlier. A woman’s voice.’
Adam put a hand to his head. The pulsating headache grew to a crescendo and his vision turned dark at the edges, driving all the thoughts from his brain. But he struggled to focus. Miss Milton had a good reputation. He did not need Heritage to destroy it through misplaced gossip and innuendo. ‘I met a woman who had been picnicking with her charge. She helped me out of the river. She took a tremendous risk, but she left me to continue on.’
‘And her name is? Who is this paragon of virtue? We go back a long way, Ravensworth.’ Heritage’s face took on a foxlike expression as it slid in and out of focus.
Adam redoubled his efforts. What had happened to Kamala all those years ago was not going to happen to Miss Milton. He would protect her. He would save her life.
‘It really does not matter, Heritage. She was a governess of the most exasperating sort. A nobody of little consequence. Leave it there.’
* * *
‘Miss Milton, Miss Milton, you are back!’ Nella’s tear-stained face greeted Daisy when she reached the schoolroom at the Blandishes’ rented house.
‘Of course I returned, Prunella.’
