More Than A Lover. Ann LethbridgeЧитать онлайн книгу.
back, she gazed around wildly. ‘I have to go. Tell—’ She swallowed loudly. ‘Tell my family.’
She rushed past them and was gone.
Caro’s knees felt weak. ‘Oh, the poor woman.’
Mr Read took her arm and led her to the bench where Mrs Garge had been sitting. Caro sank onto the hard wood and leaned back against the plank wall. ‘I didn’t even think to tell her we would write to Tonbridge, to ask him to ensure she was cared for. I really meant to do that.’
He put a comforting arm around her shoulders.
‘Give her a bit of time,’ he murmured. ‘I will call round and tell her.’
The sensation of his strength at her side seemed to seep into her bones. She found herself wanting to lean against him. To confide. Terrified of her reaction, she rose to her feet. ‘Thank you, Mr Read.’
She hurried indoors.
Courtesy of Lord Tonbridge, the mourners fortified themselves after the funeral on ale, roast beef and meat pies in the taproom of the Lamb and Flag. Blade wasn’t surprised at the large turnout of people, despite the rain. The rumour of his lordship’s generosity had spread far and wide. The widow, flanked by her daughter and son, held court in one corner of the room, accepting condolences as each new guest arrived in front of the large wing-backed armchair the innkeeper had placed there for the purpose.
Duty done, the guests milled about, conversing and gossiping and tucking into the feast.
Blade did his best to blend in with the mostly working men and their womenfolk who had come to pay their last respects to a man who was clearly well liked in the community. These were good people and he might well have been one of them had his life turned out differently. As it was, they regarded him with suspicion from the corner of their eyes. The way his fellow officers and members of the ton had regarded him at their gatherings, him being neither fish nor fowl. Recognised, but not legitimate. He let go an exasperated sigh. He should be perfectly used to it by now and didn’t know why he let it bother him.
The thing that should cause him concern was the group of young men at the back of the room, beside the hearth. Young men were rash, easily roused. The dark glances they cast about them and the intensity of their conversation made him idly draw closer, while appearing to focus on the food laid out on the table running the length of the room.
‘We needs to act now,’ one of the lads was saying in a mutter as Blade came within earshot. ‘Let them know we ain’t sheep to the slaughter. Teach them a thing or two with the edge of a sword.’
Blade made sure not to look at the group, but had the impression that it was the tallest of them speaking. He seemed to be their leader. The lad had hair the colour of ripe wheat, a lantern jaw and pale-blue eyes.
‘Aye,’ a couple of the others chorused.
‘A few thousand Yorkshiremen riding through their barracks one dark night would make them think again,’ another said.
‘We need weapons for that.’
‘We could steal ’em from the soldiers.’
‘And keep ’em where, now they have the right to search our houses and barns whenever they feel like it? My ma is terrified for Pa because he was at Peterloo. They’ve already transported half-a-dozen fellows just for being there.’
‘I say we ought to pay a few of them nobs what runs Parliament a visit one dark night,’ their leader said. ‘Throw them out in the cold. Let them know what it’s like to be without a roof over their heads.’
A chill ran down Blade’s spine. This sort of talk would get these lads transported or hanged. This was the sort of thing Charlie had feared might happen after the mess in Manchester. The subsequent passing of the Six Acts last December, intended to make it impossible for large crowds to gather and take action or to train with weapons, had added fuel to the smouldering embers of resentment. One group of Yorkshiremen had already planned an attack on a barracks. Fortunately, planning was as far as it went. Blade didn’t blame them for their anger, but this sort of talk in a public place was dangerous in the extreme.
Was it possible that one of these men had thought to take some sort of action against Tonbridge’s carriage? It was an act of vengeance a person without power might contemplate. He moved away from them before they suspected he was listening in. First he needed to know their names. Then he would discover if any of them might have been involved in the accident. Someone whose boot print matched the one he’d seen in the mud beside the carriage door.
He added a pasty to his plate and almost collided with Mrs Falkner moving down the table in the opposite direction with Beth, one of the ladies from the Haven who served as a general maid of all work, nursemaid and sometimes helped the cook.
Even in her sombre gown and pelisse, with her heart-shaped face set in a stern expression, Caro looked lovely.
Blade realised with shock that despite his interest in the youths in the corner, she was the person whose arrival he’d been most interested in.
‘Good day, Mrs Falkner. Beth.’
The ladies curtsied politely ‘Mr Read, good afternoon,’ Mrs Falkner said.
Beth looked at her mistress. ‘Does you mind if I go and talk to Polly Garge, ma’am? She’s looking awful sad and her and me are good friends.’
‘Go,’ Mrs Falkner said, ‘give her what comfort you may.’ Her eyes looked worried as she watched the girl approach Mrs Garge’s daughter. The older woman glared daggers at Beth, but the younger one rose to her feet and the two girls went to the table where a non-alcoholic punch was being served. A moment later, two of the boys he had been watching earlier joined them. Interesting. Perhaps Beth could help him learn a bit more about these young men.
Blade raised a brow. ‘It seems all is not well between Beth and the Garges.’
Mrs Falkner sighed. ‘No. Mrs Garge knows all about Beth’s background, but of course there is little she can say to the friendship, being Tonbridge’s pensioner.’
It was an angle he had not thought about.
She glanced over at Beth again. ‘I really should go. I left Tommy with Cook and she gets impatient if she has him too long, but I hate to drag Beth away when we have been here such a short while. It is her afternoon off.’
‘Why don’t I escort you home when you are finished eating and come back for her later.’
‘That is an awful lot of trouble for you,’ she said. For once, her tone suggested she was not necessarily opposed to the idea.
‘No trouble at all. I know no one here and I have eaten my fill. Besides, I think Mrs Garge would be more comfortable with her friends than with representatives of her husband’s employer.’
Her smile held gratitude and it warmed him, in spite of knowing he had made the suggestion for his own purposes.
He became aware of a man watching them from across the room. He stared back and the man turned away. ‘Do you know that fellow?’ Blade asked.
Her glance scanned the room. ‘Which one?’
‘The man by the window. Middling height, middle-aged fellow with beard and a blue-and-cream-striped waistcoat pulled tight over his paunch.’
She gave a low chuckle that sounded so sensually flirtatious it caused his blood to heat, though he was sure it was quite unintentional. ‘Your description is masterful. I have no trouble picking him out, but, no, I have never seen him before. Why?’
Blade’s gaze swept the man’s person. He was shabbily genteel. A fraction down at heel, but not scruffy. Not the sort of man anyone would notice in a crowd, except for the matter of his gleaming, recently polished boots.