Page 76 of The Noble Smuggler

Mr. Cummings started backing away, but Lord Langton reached out and grasped his upper arm. “Perhaps you misunderstood,” he said. “The earl was not issuing an invitation; rather, it was a directive.” He pointed to the few remaining bloodstains on the wall. “As you see, Doyle didn’t quite grasp the difference either.” He shrugged. “But as you are probably aware, the innkeeper is not the most intelligent of men.”

Mr. Cummings paled. “You shot Doyle?”

“No,” Lord Langton said. “Lord Bloxley did.”

The earl gave a gratified smile, and the magistrate seemed to shrink. The blustering façade dissolved, revealing the quivering coward beneath. “I’ll go,” he said. “There’s no need for the gun.”

“A wise choice,” Lord Bloxley said. “But I’ll keep it handy—just in case, you understand.”

Mr. Cummings nodded frantically, and with a rough tug, Lord Langton pulled him out of the room, with Lord Bloxley and his pistol following close behind.

Slowly, Elizabeth emerged from under the counter. Grasping one of the stools, she pulled herself onto her feet and took a few uneven breaths. She dropped the rag into the pail and turned her back on the remaining stains, then started toward the table where she’d left her bonnet and gloves. She had just reached it when Lord Langton burst through the door again. He was out of breath. His gaze went directly to her hiding spot beneath the counter before scouring the room until it landed on her.

“Did he hurt you?” he asked tensely.

“No, my lord.”

He gave a sigh of relief and sagged against the counter. “We must get you away from here. Can you ride?”

Finding her ribbons impossible to tie with trembling fingers, Elizabeth dropped her hands to her sides. “I am not accomplished by any means,” she said, “but I have ridden before.”

“Do you think you could make it as far as Langton Manor?” he asked.

She’d never gone so far—other than when she’d ridden with Reynard—but she knew the road well. “I believe so, my lord.”

He nodded, but worry still etched his brow. “It would be safer to send you by carriage. If I can reach Lydden Green before it’s fully dark, there might still be time to bring it back for you before Forwood arrives.”

“It’s not worth the risk, my lord. The baron could meet the carriage anywhere along the route, and if he were to recognize it, a man as shrewd as the Midnight Master would instantly be set on his guard. All advantage you may have gained by surprising him would be gone. And besides, until the runners arrive, neither you nor Lord Bloxley should remain here alone.” He knew she was right; she could see it in his face as easily as she saw his reluctance to send her off without escort. “I will find my way, my lord,” she said. “The task ahead of you at the inn is far more challenging.”

He shook his head in reluctant acceptance. “Miss Allerton, your fortitude continually amazes me,” he said. “Come. We must find you a suitable mount right away.”

Chapter 26

The half moon was doing its utmost to light Elizabeth’s way, but had she not known the landmarks since childhood, she would have been lost long ago. She followed the road toward the village, turning before she reached the church to take the lesser-traveled lane that avoided the coastline. She wanted to stay as far from the beach, the smugglers, and the incoming Preventative Men as possible.

Her horse was mercifully old and mild mannered and seemed content to move at a slow walk. Already, saddle soreness was manifesting itself, and Elizabeth could only anticipate how stiff she would be by the time she finished the five-mile journey to the manor. In the distance, the gently shushing rhythm of the sea was pierced by the cry of a black-crowned night heron, but although she listened for it, the wind brought no sound of voices from the beach. Indeed, it was as though she were completely alone in the world—until the echo of cantering hooves reached her.

Listening more intently, she tried to ascertain the direction of the rider, finally deciding he was coming toward her from the north. Wondering if she could remain concealed if she pulled the brown mare off to the side of the road and allowed the other traveler to pass by without extending a greeting, Elizabeth began scouring the nearby hedgerows for a place to stop. It appeared that the grassy verge widened slightly up ahead. Steering her horse to the right, she reined it to a halt as the other rider drew close.

Elizabeth’s heart seemed to race in time with the oncoming horse’s hooves. A dark shadow rounded the bend up ahead. The rider, dressed all in black, melded with his black horse, making him almost invisible in the faint moonlight. Her horse snorted. Instantly, the rider checked his mount’s momentum. As the other horse’s hooves slowed, Elizabeth’s grip upon her reins tightened. At last, they were close enough that she could see the tall stallion’s eyes glowing in the night. The man in the saddle, however, remained concealed by the hood of his cloak.

It was suddenly hard to breathe. Beneath her, the mare shifted nervously, tossing her head as the stallion approached.

“Good evening,” the Midnight Master said. “I had not thought I would pass another rider on this lonely road this late at night.”

Berating herself for thinking she was better off away from the main thoroughfare, Elizabeth cleared her throat and attempted to speak casually. “True. It is most unusual.”

The man inched his horse closer so their animals were virtually touching. There was no doubt her mare could sense Elizabeth’s fear; she prayed the man would not.

He peered at her, taking in whatever he could see of her hair, her face, and her clothing. “May I inquire where you are headed?”

In a matter of seconds, Elizabeth considered and then rejected at least half a dozen possible locations. She could not use Langton Manor without connecting herself to the viscount; she was traveling the wrong direction to be involved with the smuggling on the beach or traveling to visit anyone in the village. “I have relatives up north,” she said, desperately hoping he would not push for more details.

“Really?” Did she imagine the skepticism in his voice? “Cyrus Doyle has never mentioned them before, and we have done business together for many years. Perhaps it is someone on your late mother’s side, Miss Doyle?”

“Yes,” she said. Heaven help her, he knew who she was. But perhaps he had yet to connect her with the Duchess of Kelbrook’s garden party and the Langtons.

“They wouldn’t, by any chance, work for the Langtons, would they?”