her horse, the comfortable feeling of Captain Stacey’s strong arms around her, and his determination to send her back to Lady Connaught. She sighed heavily. It had been a kind of adventure, she supposed, but only a little one and nothing of any importance had happened. She still did not know his secret.
She rose and went to open the window. The yard outside was busy with horses being changed on a coach and the passengers were coming into the inn for refreshment. She guessed it was late in the morning, for the smell of roasting beef wafted up to her and reminded her she was hungry. Without a nightgown, she had slept in her underwear and it did not take her long to wash, using cold water from the jug on the wash-stand, and put on her riding habit again. It was crumpled and dirty, but that could not be helped. Having secured her hair as best she could, she went downstairs in search of Captain Stacey.
‘He and his friend left two hours since,’ the landlord told her. ‘He left a message that you were to wait here for him.’
She was puzzled. ‘He did not say to take the stage to Cromer?’
‘It left soon after the gentlemen, miss. If that was where you were bound, then you must needs wait until tomorrow.’
‘Oh, I see.’ She did not see at all. Unless the Captain had decided to take her to London, after all. But even she could see that was impractical; she had not thought of a long journey when she’d left Stacey Manor; it had been a spur-of-the-moment thing, coming to her as they rode together. She had no change of clothes, no baggage at all. No money either. In the unlikely event of him agreeing, they would have to return to Stacey Manor to make the proper arrangements for a journey.
Supposing the Captain had abandoned her? He was not at all a chivalrous man; he was the black sheep of the family; he had said so himself. He would have no conscience about leaving her to find her own way, especially if he had met up with a friend. ‘Did he say where they were going?’
‘No, miss.’
‘But he did say he would be back?’
‘Oh, yes, miss. Most particular he was as to that. And I was to see that you did not stir from the premises.’
‘In that case, please bring me something to eat. I am starving. I am sure…’ She paused. Was the Captain here under his real name? What was his real name? Would she upset some deep-laid plan by revealing the one she knew him by? ‘My friend will pay.’
The landlord’s smile did not reveal what he thought about young ladies arriving at his inn in the arms of gentlemen in the early hours; it was not his business, but if she had been a daughter of his he would have spanked her soundly. ‘Do you wish to have it sent to your room?’
‘No, I will eat in the dining room. And bring me paper and ink to write a letter, if you please.’
He conducted her to the dining room and offered her a table by the window where she could see everyone who came and went. Given the writing things she asked for, she sat down and scribbled a note to her godmother—telling her she was safe and well and under Captain Stacey’s protection—which she gave to the innkeeper to put on the next mail-coach, before beginning her meal.
She had hardly begun to eat when a rider galloped into the yard and dismounted. He was obviously in a great hurry and very agitated. Molly watched as a crowd gathered round him. From their shocked expressions, she gathered he was bringing news of some importance. He left the crowd outside and came into the dining room, where he announced to all and sundry that the Cromer stage had been waylaid by highwaymen on a quiet stretch of the road a dozen miles to the north.
‘Was anyone hurt?’ enquired the innkeeper while Molly reflected that if she had not overslept and if Captain Stacey had not decided to disappear she would have been on that coach. That really would have been an adventure and she was rather cross that she had missed it.
‘No. But they made everyone get out and they searched the coach very thorough,’ the man said. ‘They took Sir John Partridge’s gold and his watch and papers, but they let the ladies keep their jewellery.’
‘Where was the guard? Did he not try to stop them?’
‘The stage carried no guard. Sir John’s man had a pistol but he was so slow fetching it out, he was useless. The high toby took it from him as easy as you please.’
‘Then what happened?’
‘They made everyone return to their seats and told the coachman to drive on. Sir John demanded to know their names, as if they would be foolish enough to give them to him. One of them laughed and said he was called the Dark Knight.’
‘Where were you when all this was happening?’ demanded mine host.
‘I came upon the scene quite by chance, but there was nothing I could do. They had pistols and I was unarmed…’
‘How many of them?’
‘Two. Very big men, they were, and masked. I hid in the trees until it was safe to proceed.’
‘Which direction did the robbers take?’
‘To the coast, I think.’
The landlord sent a boy off to fetch a constable and there was talk of sending for the runners from London, but it was decided that by the time they arrived the highwaymen would be long gone. Doubtless Sir John would report the incident when the coach arrived in Cromer and constables sent from there to help search for the robbers.
In the middle of this discussion, Duncan strolled into the inn and sat down opposite Molly. He was dressed in soft buckskin breeches, a brown coat and a yellow and brown checked waistcoat. His boots and white neckcloth were pristine. She surmised that he could not have ridden very far, for the roads were dusty and there wasn’t a speck of it on him.
‘You have missed all the excitement,’ she told him. ‘The Cromer coach has been held up. They are even now sending for the watch.’
‘Is that so?’ He affected little interest. ‘I’m devilish hungry. Have you finished with that?’ He pointed to a tureen of vegetables and a platter containing pork chops.
‘Yes. Please help yourself. You will be paying for it, after all. I have no money.’
‘Dear me! Not even for the coach fare?’
‘No. I did not think I would need money. I was on horseback.’
‘And what would you have done if I had not returned?’ he asked, piling a plate with food. ‘I could simply have ridden off and left you. The landlord would not have been pleased when he discovered you could not pay for what you had eaten.’
‘He assured me you had said you would be back. I had no reason to doubt you.’
‘No reason not to doubt me either. You are too trusting, my dear.’
‘But you did come back, so I was right.’
‘Tell me,’ he said, tucking into the chops. ‘What did you intend when you followed me last night? Not a journey to London, I’ll wager, or you would have come better prepared.’
‘No, I saw you leave and was curious as to why you travelled by night, that was all. I wanted to see where you were going. And riding in the dark is something I never tried
