interloper just enough hope the lure of money might tempt him.
‘Indeed. A handsome one. A hundred pounds to anyone who aids in her safe return.’
Jamie let out a slow, impressed whistle. ‘A hundred pounds—that’s a lot of money. Why so much?’ He glanced casually at Jack, his lips curved in a disbelieving half-smile before he turned back to their visitor. ‘Is she wanted by the Crown?’
‘No. Nothing like that... She has gone missing.’
‘We are on the road to Gretna Green. Hundreds of young girls go missing along this road every single year. If yours doesn’t want to be found...’ Jamie shrugged again, allowing the implication to ferment.
‘Unfortunately, we believe the young lady in question was kidnapped rather than eloped. Her family are extremely keen to have her back. They fear for her safety.’
‘If she’s been kidnapped, why not wait for the ransom demand and simply pay it?’ Jamie was back to being bored again. His amused eyes met Jack’s. ‘We are not the sort of men to take on a gang of kidnappers. Not even for a hundred pounds. We value our own lives too much.’
The man smiled and nodded. ‘I understand, gentlemen—but the lady in question is rather...resourceful. If...she managed to escape their clutches, it might explain why no ransom demands have been made yet.’ It all sounded so reasonable—yet alarm bells were ringing in Jack’s mind. ‘All I would ask is that you keep a watchful eye out for her. She is gently bred, unfamiliar with the area and there are so many places she could get lost here. If you did come across any information as to her whereabouts, her family would be very grateful... And it might prove to be very lucrative for you gentlemen also. Everyone wins, as it were.’
Jack had had enough of playing the mute sidekick. ‘If we did see her, what does she look like?’ He ignored his brother’s warning glare.
‘Very pretty. Blonde hair. Green eyes. Only twenty. She’s quite a striking little thing. A bit prone to fancy though, as so many young women are, and after such an ordeal there’s no telling what sort of state her poor mind will be in...’ The man shook his head as if he were genuinely concerned and it raised the hackles on Jack’s neck further. ‘Her family are hoping to get her back quietly. You understand. The poor girl would be ruined if the world knew what had happened to her. If you see or hear anything, you can find me here at the inn.’
‘And your name is?’
‘Smith. Mr John Smith.’
‘And the girl’s? Is she a Smith too?’
‘No, sir. I merely work for the family. Her name is Violet.’
‘No surname?’
The man smiled again, but it lacked any sincerity. ‘That’s right, sir. The family would prefer not to create a scandal...the young lady would be quite ruined if news of her abduction leaked. Therefore, I am certain you can see now why the family are keen to get her safely returned into their loving arms as swiftly as possible.’
Jamie pierced the stranger with his steely glare. ‘If the reward is one hundred pounds, then I am assuming the family is important. That is a large amount of money for a lady of little consequence. Therefore, it stands to reason they can spare more than a paltry hundred pounds for her safe return, don’t you think?’
The other man stood, his face a frozen mask. ‘May I enquire as to your names, sirs?’ There was suspicion in his cold eyes now as they flicked between them.
Jack stared back, all smug arrogance. ‘Warriner. I am Jack and this is my younger brother Jamie.’
For a second he saw Jamie silently querying the logic behind giving this fellow their real names, then realising it was sensible. If they aroused this man’s suspicions he would likely check on their story and a great many of their neighbours would happily sell the ‘Wild’ Warriners down the river.
‘Well, Mr Warriner, I am sure the family would be open to negotiations. Should you have anything of...interest to them.’
Jack laughed and slapped his brother heartily on the back. ‘I think me and you should go heiress hunting, Jamie. What do you say? What could we do with at least a hundred pounds, aye?’ Never a truer word was spoken although it was a drop in the ocean compared to what he actually needed to stop the rot in their ailing fortunes.
Jack smiled enthusiastically back at the still-loitering man, ignoring the bad taste in his mouth which came from coveting the reward and for hoping the scarred, creepy fellow was, indeed, telling the truth, despite his gut feeling that he wasn’t. The Warriners could do with one hundred pounds. It might be enough to send Joe to medical school for a while and ease his guilt at failing to get his brother there sooner.
Then again, wanting that money already felt disloyal to Letty, although he had no idea where his overriding loyalty to her had come from. Unless it was just the crushing burden of yet more responsibility he did not need. Jack apparently had a soft spot for damsels in distress. ‘Where did you last see her, Mr Smith?’
The man’s expression instantly changed to one of friendliness again, believing he had won them over. ‘We suspect she might have been taken along this section of the Great North Road.’
‘You suspect?’ Jack shook his head at his brother and laughed derisively. ‘So we would not be chasing a fact—merely a suspicion? Only about ten villages and a hundred square miles of Sherwood Forest to search then!’ He stared back at the man with pity. ‘I think my brother and I can find better things to do with our time than searching for a needle in a haystack—but I wish you well with your search. If, by some miracle, we do hear something, rest assured, Mr Smith, you will be the first to know.’ For good measure, he toasted him with his own empty mug.
Still just one month to go...
Her attentive physician tied the last of her clean bandages, then sat back on the mattress to smile at her. ‘It is indeed a miracle you are this hale and hearty. I was convinced you would die when Jack brought you home, yet now there are just a few sprains and cuts left to heal. You obviously have a strong constitution indeed. A day or two of rest and I dare say you will be as good as new.’
Letty certainly felt better. And cleaner. The youngest Warriner, Jacob, had brought her a bucket of hot water, some soap and towels at her request, so she had managed to rinse the mud and grit from her hair. She was sat up in bed, her belly pleasantly filled with food and dressed in a freshly laundered gentleman’s shirt. She bestowed her healer with one of Violet’s best smiles—the one which had been fêted in society as the most stunning of the Season—and hoped her swollen lip would not spoil its impact. ‘Thank you, Doctor. I am grateful for all you have done.’
‘I am no doctor yet,’ he said a little wistfully, ‘but perhaps one day.’
This surprised her. ‘I was certain you were a proper physician. Your medical knowledge is excellent. Without your help, I do not doubt I would have died. Why do you not get a proper licence to practise medicine?’
He stood and busied himself with tidying away the soiled bandages. ‘I study and read extensively, and I am sure that one day I will qualify. However, it is not just my efforts that saved your life. The majority of your thanks should
