To Win the Lady (28 page)

Furiously she
picked up the plate of hot food, threw it in his face and made a dash for the
door. He yelled to warn his accomplice and sprang after her. The boy stood in
front of her and blocked her path. She tried to push past him, but Jem had her
by the arms and pulled her back into the room. He slapped her face hard with
the flat of his hand, first one way then the other, then he threw her on to the
bed. ‘Now, Miss Paget, you have cooked your own goose. Matt, bring me a rope;
we’ll have to tie her up.’

‘No,’ she
shrieked.

‘Yes. I have to
go out and I can’t be sure you’ll not find some way of hoaxing Matt, here, into
letting you go.’ He took the rope from the boy and tied her up very thoroughly,
finishing by knotting the end around the bed head. Then he and the boy left the
room and the door was bolted on the other side.

‘I’m off on to
the high road to meet your pa,’ she heard Jem say. ‘Just you make sure she don’t
get away. Don’t open the door to anyone but me or Charlie, do you hear?’ She
heard a door slam and after that there was silence.

Richard had
made good time, though he had often been hampered by the spectators who would
keep running out into the road to get a closer look and by young bloods on
horses trying to ride alongside him. The stewards were doing their best, but
they couldn’t be everywhere.

But there was
one big advantage to having the route lined with people; many of them carried
lamps and torches and the road in many places was well-illuminated. He could
see the lights of Baldock ahead and risked a look over his shoulder. There was
no sign of Lord Barbour, but he knew he was not far behind. He really ought to
increase his lead. He dug his spurs into the mare and raised her speed a
fraction. The next section would be done on Warrior and that should give him a
great advantage.

The Barley Mow
loomed up, emblazoned with light and as crowded as if it were broad day. He
pulled up and slid from his horse’s back. Already his thighs and buttocks were
crying out for a rest and he was hardly a third of the way. Someone ran forward
to take his horse, someone else thrust a tankard and a leg of chicken into his
hands. He drank the ale in one or two strong pulls and nibbled at the food.
‘Where’s my next mount?’

‘Not arrived
yet,’ an ostler told him. ‘We sent out to see if it was coming but there was no
sign of it.’

Richard swore
comprehensively and looked about him. His lordship’s next mount was already
saddled and was being walked slowly about the yard to keep it warm. It seemed
to be the only animal in the yard except for the one Richard had just brought
in. ‘Have you got a spare mount?’ he asked.

‘No, sir.’

‘Anything will
do. An old hack, a carriage horse...’

‘Not a one,
sir. Everything that can take a saddle and some what can’t have been let out.
People want to see the race from the best vantage point, you know.’

Richard strode
out to the crossroads and looked along the lane in the direction of Rowan Park.
The moonlight flooded down on to trees and bushes and the ruts in the road,
making them look deeper than they really were, but of Warrior and his groom
there was no sign.

He could not
believe that Georgie would let him down like that. She must have mistaken the
time or misinterpreted his instructions, or the groom had. He tried to remember
which man had been given the task of bringing the horse. It was that new chap -
Jem, he thought his name was. Wasn’t he the one who had found Bright Star
injured in her stall? It was no good standing about in the road; the horse was
not there and there was nothing else he could do.

He hurried back
to the inn and ordered his previous mount to be re-saddled. He was waiting for
it to be brought out when Lord Barbour rode up and dismounted. Ignoring
Richard, he called for ale, limping about the yard to ease his stiff limbs.
‘Blister me, but it’s saddle-sore I am.’ Then, seeing his adversary, he smiled.
‘Well, well, no mount, Major?’

‘Of course I
have a mount.’

‘But not the
one you were expecting, eh? I wonder what can have become of it? Let you down,
did she? I could have told you she would.’

‘What do you
mean by that?’

‘Why, that
stiff-rumped, horse-dealing ape-leader, she promises one thing, does another.’
He was grinning from ear to ear, but Richard, conscious that everyone within
earshot was listening, would not allow himself to be goaded, though it took all
his self-control.

‘I expect there
has been a delay; the horse will be here directly.’

‘But too late,
eh?’ He took a look at the mare being led forward for Richard; someone had made
a start on rubbing her down, but had not finished, and her coat still gleamed
with sweat. ‘That one is spent. Are you ready to concede defeat? I must admit I
should be glad of it, for I can hardly stand upright.’

‘No, my lord, I
ride on.’

‘Pity,’ his
lordship said, handing back his ale pot and taking the reins of his new mount
from a groom, motioning the man to hold his hands for him to mount, for he was
in no condition to spring into the saddle. ‘I wonder how many other problems
you will have to encounter before the night is out? I am persuaded Lady Luck is
not with you.’

Richard watched
him ride out of the yard, reluctant to follow if there was any chance of
Warrior turning up. His lordship was right; those last few yards of hard
galloping had as good as finished the mare and he was reminded of his promise
to Georgie that he would not ruin any of the horses. But what else could he do?
Give up?

One of the
official referees appointed for each stage approached him. ‘You must go on,
Major, or concede defeat.’

Reluctantly he
got back in the saddle and walked his horse slowly out of the yard. He would
have to nurse her carefully for the next stage and he didn’t see how he could
ever overtake his opponent, unless he too had a stroke of bad luck. The lights
of Baldock faded behind him and the road became darker than ever as he entered
a wood. There were a few spectators on this particular stretch and he was alone
with his thoughts.

As far as
Richard could remember, no one had told Lord Barbour that Warrior had not
arrived, so how had he known? And he had been gleeful about it. Had he been
responsible? Had the stallion never left Rowan Park? It was a logical step from
there to wonder if anything had happened to Georgie. He remembered all the
so-called accidents that had happened at the stables and how distressed and
exhausted she had been.

Walking his
horse steadily along the Great North Road in the dark, he could not shake off
the feeling that Georgie was in danger. He was reminded of Maria, who had died
because she had tried to help him. He had always blamed himself for that and if
anything had happened to Georgie he would feel ten times worse. His passion for
Maria had faded to nothing but a fond memory, but Georgie was here and alive
and he loved her. Maria had known the dangers, but Georgie... She was more
important to him than anything else in the world, including a race. He reined
in and turned back.

Corporal Daniel
Batson was patrolling the stretch of road alongside the wood, eyes and ears
alert, just as he had done many and many a time in the Peninsula, musing on the
turn his life had taken and looking forward to a pot of ale and a good meal in
the Barley Mow when he had finished, when Lord Barbour rode towards him, not
galloping as he had expected, not even cantering. He was walking his horse as
if he had all the time in the world. Daniel could have sworn the Major would
reach him first, so where was he?

His service had
made him a cautious man; he darted nimbly behind a tree and watched. Not fifty
yards away, a man stepped out from the bushes and approached the rider, who
dismounted to speak to him. There was definitely something smoky going on. The
watcher moved, silent as the grave, from tree to tree, and was soon within
listening range.

`Well, man?’
Lord Barbour stood slapping his crop against his boot, impatient to be off
again. ‘Why d’you stop me? You got it, didn’t you?’

‘Yes, my lord,
though it didn’t go exactly according to plan.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I didn’t have
the bringing of the animal. Had to set up a bit of a diversion, so to speak.’

‘Who did bring
it and what have you done with him?’

‘It ain’t a
him, it’s the long meg herself. She’s our guest. I took her to the woodman’s
cottage; she’s tied up right and tight with your boy on guard.’

‘Where’s your
partner?’

‘Charlie? He’s
keepin’ watch up the road aways. What do you want me to do with the article?’

His lordship
did not speak again for a minute and Daniel, who could see very little, thought
he might have gone away. He was about to risk a look, when Lord Barbour went
on. ‘It’s no tragedy. We’ll just have to change our plans, that’s all.’

‘Well, I tell
you now, I ain’t in the business of topping women.’

‘You don’t have
to, but she’ll make capital bait; he’ll take it hook, line and sinker. Just
arrange one of your little diversions for him. Stop him, tell him she’s had an
accident, you know the sort of thing.’

‘Where is he?’

‘Back at the
Barley Mow, but if I know him he’ll find himself a new mount or ride the old
one; either way he’ll be along directly. If he isn’t, you’ll find him at the
inn.’ He paused. ‘Where’s the old fellow?’

‘Tucked up in
his bed. He’s out of it.’

‘Good.’ There
was another slight pause. ‘I’m glad about that, you know; didn’t fancy putting
his light out; we used to be friends in our younger days.’

‘You could ha’
fooled me.’

‘Needs must
when the devil drives, but the son is another matter. I shall enjoy that. Now,
I’ve got a race to win.’

The man
laughed. ‘Race with only one runner?’

‘I’m not to
know that the other contestant has met with an unfortunate accident, am I? Now,
get back and do as you’re told if you want the blunt at the end of it.’

‘And the
woman?’

‘Bring her on
to Melton Mowbray with you.’

‘How? We can’t
put her on a stage trussed up like a chicken and she won’t go no other way.’

‘You can
persuade her, can’t you? Tell her the Major’s had a fall and needs her; she’ll
come easy enough then.’

Daniel waited
until the sound of the horse’s hooves faded and cautiously peered out from his
hiding place. Lord Barbour had gone, as he’d expected, but he could just make
out the outline of the other man walking away from him in the other direction.
But there was a third man and he didn’t know exactly where he was. Apart from the
soughing of the wind in the trees and the distant call of an owl, there was no
sound, and no light either. But the Corporal was used to moving about
stealthily in the dark, as many a French bluecoat had learned to his cost, and
he was not going to wait until the Major rode into the ambush.

Darting
silently from tree to tree along the edge of the road, he made his way back in
the direction of Baldock, two miles distant. Once clear of the wood, he stepped
out into the road and walked smartly along it, expecting to meet Richard at
every turn.

But there was
no sign of the Major and he arrived back at the inn without having set eyes on
him, only to find him in the yard, impatiently questioning the ostlers and
anyone else who might be able to throw some light on the stallion’s
disappearance. The Corporal lost no time in recounting his tale. ‘They’re lying
in wait for you about two miles up the road,’ he finished.

`Are they, by
God? Then I think we’ll have to turn the tables on them.’ He turned back to the
ostler. ‘Find me another mount. I don’t care where you get it from, just get
one.’ And as the man went to obey, muttering to himself that he weren’t no
magician, Richard turned again to Daniel. ‘If he’s hurt a hair of her head, by
God, he’ll pay.’

‘What are you going
to do? Walk into the trap?’

‘No, let them
sweat a bit. I mean to find Miss Paget first.’ Then to the ostler who was
leading a very small cob with a well-worn saddle, ‘I want to find the woodman’s
cottage; do you know where it is?’

‘In the wood,’ the
man said, making Richard fume with impatience.

‘I know that,
man. How can I find it?’

‘Go down the
back road; it’s easier to find from there, and quicker. There’s a track, just
wide enough for his cart. It leads straight to it.’

Richard looked
at the cob and could hardly suppress a smile. ‘Is that all you could find?’

‘Yes, it
belongs to the landlord’s daughter.’

‘I can’t ride
that; I’ll break it’s back. Corporal, you ride him; you’re a deal lighter than
me. I’ll take my mare again.’ And so the mare was once more pressed into
service and the two men rode out of the yard.

Richard was
silent as they rode. There was something very sinister going on; this was no
simple race to win a wager; the stakes were higher than that. Someone had
wanted him dead. Why? And why involve Georgie, brave, resourceful, vulnerable
Georgie? Just what was going on?