A Warriner To Protect Her. Virginia HeathЧитать онлайн книгу.
hopes had become quite jaded. So far, she had not found one man who she was wholly convinced loved her, Letty the woman, rather than Violet the Tea Heiress. Her huge fortune, instead of giving her a reassuring sense of comfort, had become a massive weight on her shoulders. Did anyone of her acquaintance actually like her for herself? Or was it merely the piles of pound notes and all the luxury that came with her legendary generosity that drew people to her? She could never tell.
There was one promising candidate who was already close to proposing marriage—the Duke of Wentworth. However, Letty could not quite fathom him out either. Until she did, there was no way she was going to commit to something as permanent as marriage. She was still young; what was the rush? Besides, for a while now she had been distracted with other thoughts. Ideas of actually doing something with her fortune, something that mattered, something which gave her shallow, empty life some purpose. Perhaps create a home for foundlings? Other orphans who were all alone in the world, just as she was, but who did not have the benefit of a fortune to keep them safe, fed and warm. Unfortunately, while she had been lamenting the huge burden of her fortune and what to do with it, and putting off journeying on the path to find her one true love, she had neglected to consider her uncle’s personal ambitions for her money or the fact that she was bound by law to do his bidding until she reached the age of majority.
Which was only one month away now, give or take a few hours.
Exactly one month left...
Jack eagerly swapped his nursemaid duties with Joe well before dawn. The hard floor had not been conducive to sleeping on for any longer, not that he ever had time to sleep in, but still, even by his standards the hour was early. The mystery woman had been in his care for a few days now. However, last night had been the first time she had been in any state to speak for herself and her cagey responses to the questions he had asked her did not quite ring true. In fairness, the poor girl had been bound and gagged and horrifically abused beforehand, so it was hardly surprising she was reluctant to trust him, but as she was now his responsibility, he reasoned he did have the right to know what sort of trouble he had brought to his own door.
And she was going to be trouble.
He knew that with the same certainty he knew the sun would rise every morning. Trouble had been Jack’s constant companion for a decade; he knew the scent of it too well to ignore.
He wasn’t surprised when he found Jamie already up and dressed in the kitchen. Since his brother’s return from the Peninsula, he apparently did not sleep. And he smiled even less than Jack did. Both states worried him, yet he had no idea how to fix them. Jamie had always been a closed book. Any loose pages he once had were now glued together firmly and no amount of cajoling would pry them free again.
‘I thought I would head to the village and see what I can find out about our guest.’ After cradling the woman in his arms for hours and sleeping alongside her for two nights, much as he did not want to, he already felt responsible for the chit. And strangely protective. Clearly he was going soft in his old age.
Jamie handed him a steaming mug of tea and an assessing stare. ‘Good idea. I’ve been thinking much the same myself. It is fairly safe to assume the girl is in danger, but if you go there asking questions, you could stir up a hornets’ nest.’
‘I am not a fool.’
‘I never said you were; however, you are not known for your subtlety. I’ll come with you and show you how it’s done.’
Without thinking, Jack allowed his gaze to wander to his brother’s wounded leg and regretted it instantly when he saw his face cloud with fury. ‘I am not a blasted 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