who shot in my direction?”
“Whoever he was abandoned his rifle and took off through the trees. I’ll organise a search after I’ve taken you home. Can you walk, my dear?”
Experimentally she straightened. Her legs were no longer trembling, she would manage well enough. “I am perfectly well, Alexander. However, I fear my lovely new promenade gown has not been so fortunate.”
Chuckling at her attempt to break the tension he kneed the dogs aside and brushed off the worst of the leaf mould from her skirts. “That will have to do. We must get back, the sooner I get after the bastard the better.”
With his support she began the long trek to the house. They had not been travelling far when she realised he was carrying the rifle in his free hand. “Why did you bring that?”
“I didn’t wish to leave it behind in case it was used again. Being able to handle such a weapon isn’t common—whoever was in that tree was likely to have been an ex-serviceman. There’s a remote possibility this rifle might lead us to whoever was behind the attack.”
She was finding it increasingly difficult to keep up with his long strides; she must ask him to slow down. Before she could do so he tossed the gun aside and swept her up and continued to walk as fast as he had done before. With a sigh of resignation she relaxed and let him do what he did best—take command.
His arrival was greeted with cries of distress and much muttering from the footmen.
“Put me down, Alexander, I’m quite capable of walking now I’m not obliged to keep up with you.”
Reluctantly he placed his precious bundle on the parquet floor. “I do beg your pardon… “
“Oh, please don’t —I would much prefer you to say you’re sorry.” Her eyes were alight with laughter and his heart skipped a beat. This was how it should be - sharing intimate moments and not constantly at odds with each other.
“I
The housekeeper bustled up her homely face anxious. “My lady, are you unwell?”
“No, Mary, but there’s a poacher in the wood and he shot at my dogs.”
Her announcement caused further consternation. “Isobel, wait for me in your sitting room, I shall return as soon as I can.”
He watched her walk away, her back straight, her wonderful russet curls tumbling onto her neck. He felt himself harden and quickly pulled his coat tails across his embarrassment. No other woman had ever affected him in this way. He would desire her however advanced her pregnancy or her years. However, this was not the time to be thinking of carnal pleasures; he had a would-be murderer to apprehend.
With four stout men each carrying a cudgel he returned to the wood. His pistols were primed and ready in his pocket but he doubted he would find anyone to shoot. Their quarry would be long gone but they might discover evidence of his passage and be able to follow the trail.
He picked up the rifle he’d cast aside earlier and examined it as he jogged. The gun was in poor condition and in need of a good clean. “That oak tree is the one where the poacher sat. One of you climb up and tell me what you can see when you’re sitting on the large branch.”
The youngest and most agile of the group shinned up the trunk like a squirrel to sit astride it. “I can see clear to the lake, your grace, the break in the trees is right opposite. You’d not know anyone could get a clear view from so deep in the wood.”
It was as Alexander feared; this was no random event. Whoever had been in that tree had been waiting for the opportunity to shoot Isobel. All the staff were aware she walked her dogs in this part of the park every day. All he had to do was remain hidden; the range of the rifle meant he could have killed her from where he sat.
His eyes misted with rage. There could be only one perpetrator behind this attack, only one man who would benefit from Isobel’s death. Bentley—he was the one who stood to gain from her demise. But it didn’t make sense. Only an expert shot could have hoped to hit his target from that distance and Bentley was no rifleman. God’s teeth! His wits were wandering. Bentley was in London which made it even more unlikely he was involved.
This needed further thought. He would not draw a hasty conclusion as there might be a perfectly rational explanation for this atrocity. He needed to be certain before he confronted his erstwhile heir. If his conjectures were correct the man would not survive the meeting.
“Alexander, I can’t believe Bentley is behind these attacks. Remember, you plucked him from his miserable existence and gave him an allowance, a fine wardrobe and a home. He might be irritating—but I’m sure he’s not a villain.”
“Perhaps you’re right, sweetheart.” He rubbed his eyes. “But Bentley is the only one who stands to gain from your… who stands to gain.” He straightened and his eyes blazed. “I have it! Of course—it has to be something to do with those ruffians who accosted Bentley here the other day. If I find their master—I’ll find the perpetrator.”
“If that’s true, then poor Mr Bentley must be in the thrall of this monster. You must go to London and discover the truth. I fear that young man might be in as much danger as I am.”
“I shall, my love, as soon as I’m certain Newcomb is safe.”
She smiled. “Will you stay in Town for long?”
“No longer than I have to. If you recall, I decided my place is here, taking care of you.”
She waved away his arm as she pushed herself upright. She was satisfied with his answer. “Then I shall delay you no longer. Take care, and please come to say goodbye before you leave for Town.”
Isobel suffered Mary and Ellie’s fussing in silence and was relieved when they left her to read in front of the fire with a tray of freshly baked cakes and a large pot of coffee. The fright she had experienced from the unpleasant incident had faded and she reviewed the event more objectively.
She prayed Alexander was wrong and that no one was trying to kill her. The very idea was like something out of that silly novel,
A poacher with a rifle must be unusual. They were more likely to creep about with snares and cudgels than with such sophisticated weaponry. What possible reason could there be for a man with a valuable gun to be in Home Wood, apart from the sinister explanation that someone was trying to kill her?
Concentrating was difficult whilst the infant inside her was apparently dancing a jig. Smiling she placed her hands across her belly and could just feel the movement through her garments. Mary had told her she was likely to become twice the size she was at the moment—that beggared belief. Already she had lost sight of her toes and bending down to retrieve a dropped object was no longer an easy task.
Bill appeared at the open door. “Could you spare me a moment, my lady, there’s something I need to tell you. I thought you’d like to hear immediately.”
“Please come in—I’ve been puzzling over this morning events and come to no satisfactory conclusion. Have you got an answer for me?”
The young man grinned. “I reckon I might have. It’s like this, your grace. Jed went down to the village early this morning on an errand for Mrs Watkins. It seems they were all talking about a group of renegades who’ve been stealing and demanding money with menaces in neighbouring villages.”
“Thank God! That explains it; no doubt the villain intended to burgle the house but my dogs chased him up a tree. The militia must be sent for. His grace will know how to go about that. Do you know how many people have suffered at their hands?”
“A fair few, my lady.There’s been a couple of coaches held up and several farms attacked, but none of them on this estate so far. I reckon your dogs disturbed them and they took to their heels, apart from the one who ended up the tree.”
“Well, I can’t think why something has not already been done about it. I wonder why we did not hear of this before today.”
Bill bowed. “Shall I tell this to his grace when he returns?”
“Yes, no doubt the duke will wish to send word to the appropriate authorities. I intend to forget it ever happened.”
This was not an easy task. The men involved must be desperate to attack villages. Maybe if the government had been more generous with the soldiers dismissed from the army after Waterloo, had provided them with a
