The Riddle of the Reluctant Rake (10 page)

“Well now, sir,” he said, rubbing his hands briskly. “I regret having delayed you, but—”

“I can delay no longer,” said Adair. “A lady has been hurt, and you must go to her at once.”

“Go—where?” said the apothecary, his smile fading. “What lady?”

“I believe her name is Miss Hall, and—”

“By Jupiter, sir! Miss Cecily hurt, is she? Well, I don't wonder, the way she rides! If I've told her once, I've told her a hundred times—”

“You may tell her again. The sooner the better,” urged Adair.

“Yes, yes. Well, don't fly into a pucker. Not a case of life and death, I trust?”

“Probably not, but I'm not familiar with the neighbourhood and it took time for me to find you. The lady suffered a nasty cut and has had a long wait.”

“Well, I shall go with you, but first I must get my bag, and my hat and coat.” He rummaged about in a cupboard, moving aside various coats and searching among a collection of hats and umbrellas. “Dreadful cold snap we've had, eh?” He wound a thick scarf about his throat and put on a hat which he promptly tossed aside. “Now instead of scowling at me, young man, tell me where we are to go. Is Miss Hall at Singletree?” Another hat was tried on and discarded. “This won't do. I must not take cold, else—”

“
Will
you hasten?” growled Adair. “The lady is at a cottage, I believe owned by Mr. Rufus Prior. You know the way, I expect? I must be off.”

The apothecary leapt back from the cupboard. “What d'ye mean, you must be off? You brought your coach for me, I presume?”

“No, I did not bring my coach! I am a passer-by merely, and promised to send help. Heavens above, man! That hat looks very well.”

“The brim is bent,” argued the apothecary, peering at himself in a small wall mirror.

Seething, Adair snarled, “You're not going to a Carlton House ball!
Hurry up!
”

“You are rude, sir.” The apothecary put his hands on his hips and said with an injured air, “I do not scruple to tell you so! If you expect me to walk to Rufus Prior's cottage, sir, you had best—”

“Good Lord above! Find yourself a hat, and I'll go and pole up your hack to your gig, or cart, or whatever you jaunter about in!” Striding to the door, Adair wrenched it open.

Two shrieks and an oath rent the air.

Rufus Prior, one arm about Miss Hall, had taken hold of the door handle and was jerked inside, Miss Hall being pulled in willy-nilly.

“You!”
Abandoning his charge, Prior jumped at Adair, his fists flying.

From the corner of his eye, Adair saw the girl more or less flung into the nearest chair. He also saw that she looked pale, which troubled him. This was no time to reason with young Prior. He sidestepped the hothead's whizzing fist, decked him neatly, and turned to bend over Miss Hall.

“I am most dreadfully sorry,” he began, scanning her anxiously.

“Monster!” shrieked Lady Abigail, coming up to flail her reticule at his back. “You stole our horses! You are a very bad man!”

“No, but I left you a note and they were where your grandson could find them easily enough,” said Adair, fending her off as best he might. “I'd not have done it save that I simply had to have an uninterrupted hour or so in which to—”

“To do—what? Knock my cousin down again?” said Cecily Hall with disgust.

“Brute!” screamed Lady Abigail. “Bullying ruffian!”

“Ow!” said Adair as her small fist connected squarely with his ear. “If you will have done, ma'am, I'll—”

She kicked him hard, and losing patience, he picked her up and tucked her under his arm.

“Don't hurt her! Oh, don't hurt her!” cried Miss Hall, coming to her feet.

“He's not hurting me, dear,” said Lady Abigail, suspended, but ceasing to make swimming movements.

“You're the one who is hurt, Miss Cecily,” said Adair, thinking that she was even more beautiful than he remembered. “I've been trying to get this idiot to come and help you, but—”

“But this ‘idjut' is just about to blow your head off!” The apothecary, who had left the scene, now returned aiming a bell-mouthed blunderbuss at Adair. “Coming into my surgery with your hoity-toity airs! Throwing my clients about! Unhand Lady Abigail this minute! If ever I heard of such a thing!”

Her ladyship said shrilly, “Put that hideous weapon down at once, Jedidiah Bright! Miss Cecily and I are in the line of fire, you fool!”

“Gad!” muttered Adair, setting her down hurriedly and stepping aside.

“Now I gotcha!” said Apothecary Bright with a triumphant grin.

“Nonsense,” said Lady Abigail, her cheeks rather pink as she straightened her garments. “There is no need for gunfire.”

“You never wants me to let him go, marm?” asked the apothecary, bewildered. “He's liable to do for the lot of us!”

“Stop being so ridiculous and tend to Miss Hall.” Ignoring the wavering blunderbuss, Adair crossed to bend over Rufus Prior, who was beginning to sit up, holding his jaw and muttering to himself.

“If someone will help Miss Hall into my surgery, I'll be only too glad to tend to her.” The apothecary marched into an adjoining room, calling over his shoulder, “Nor I don't need to be ordered about by ill-tempered strangers what has no appreciation of the importance of a gentleman's hat!”

Adair reached down a hand. “Come on, Prior. Your cousin needs your help.”

Miss Hall gave him a caustic look. “You are all consideration, Colonel.”

Prior blinked at him stupidly.

Her ladyship said, “You're to blame for all this, Adair. You carry her.”

“I would sooner
crawl
than have him touch me,” declared Miss Hall with loathing.

“Well, I cannot carry you, child,” pointed out Lady Abigail reasonably. “And Rufus is—indisposed. Come along, Colonel.” She looked at him with an unexpected gleam in her eyes. “You've mauled two of us today, might as well try for a
trois.
”

“
No,
I tell you,” cried Miss Hall, coming shakily to her feet.

“Oh, be still,” said Adair, and with a deft and sudden movement had her in his arms. He caught a breath of a fresh sweet scent, then saw her boot fly out. Tightening his grip on her distinctly feminine form, he said sternly, “One kick, madam, and I might very well drop you, which would do that arm no good!”

The neat boot hesitated, then was lowered.

“That's a good girl,” said her grandmother. “He is very strong, as you see.”

Adair followed Apothecary Bright into the surgery and lowered his burden very gently onto an examination table. Miss Hall lay and glared at him. The apothecary went off muttering about getting some hot water. Adair said, “You'll want your grand-mama here, Miss Hall. I'll leave you now.”

“No, you don't,” said Lady Abigail, taking hold of his cloak. “I had thought you would have left at dawn, sir. You must know our menfolk are searching for us. Why did you stay in the area?”

“So as to search your house, ma'am.”

“Search Singletree?” exclaimed Miss Hall, taken aback. “Of all the brazen effrontery! I'll wager you got short shrift from my uncle!”

Lady Abigail said in an odd voice, “I cannot think you will still claim you were seeking poor Alice.”

“Believe it, ma'am. I was sure you had her hidden there.”

“Rubbish,” said Cecily. “Of all people,
you
know Alice is not at her home.”

“I know it now.” Adair detached her ladyship's clutch from his cloak, and on an impulse pressed a kiss on her small gloved hand. “But I'll find her and clear my name however you may try to stop me.”

He was gone, the swirl of his cloak and the jingle of spurs followed by a shout of protest from Rufus, and the rapid pound of hooves on the lane.

Lady Abigail looked after him thoughtfully. “Now, I wonder why he would take so desperate a risk as to show his face at Singletree if he really has my sweet little Alice hidden away somewhere.” She turned to the apothecary, who came back into the room carrying a steaming bowl. “Why was he here, Bright?”

“He said as how Miss Cecily had been hurt, marm, and sorry I was to hear it. But there was no cause for him to order me about the way he did.” The apothecary opened several drawers and investigated the contents apparently without success. “Now I've mislaid my scissors, drat it!” he muttered, and went out again.

Lady Abigail said musingly, “So Adair took another risk—and for your sake, child.”

“Better late than never!”

“True. But it was chancy. He must know that if your uncle had confronted him, he'd very likely have been shot.”

“What a very great pity Uncle Alfred missed his chance,” said Cecily in a fretful voice.

“But you will admit, my love, that it is strange.”

“I think it a deal more strange that you would give such a rogue the benefit of the doubt, Grandmama!”

Lady Abigail hurried to bend and kiss her. “That arm is paining you, and you are worn out, my poor lamb. But—I know men, Cecily. The Colonel may be a rascal, but he is a charming rascal, and—”

“And you rather enjoyed being swept up and held so ruthlessly, did you not, ma'am?”

“Now you are being saucy.” Lady Abigail added rather wistfully, “He was really very gentle with me.”

“And kissed your hand with such an air, no?”

“Don't sneer, my pet. It may be that he is indeed a calculating and conscienceless libertine. But—how dreadful it would be if he really is not the villain who has taken our dear Alice. He is quite ruined, you know, and I think—”

Apothecary Bright returned at that point, followed by Rufus Prior, who looked sheepish and untidy.

Cecily whispered, “And
I
think you are a naughty flirt, Grandmama!”

*   *   *

The snow was almost gone now, but Broderick's search around the cottage had yielded no sign of Adair's emerald pin. “Well, I tried, old boy,” he murmured, poking about the roots of a rosebush.

A hard jab in his back told him he had been overheard. He turned quickly and came nose-to-muzzle with a hunting rifle aimed by a ferocious-looking gentleman with bristling red eyebrows. “I say now,” protested Broderick. “No need for hostilities, sir! I'm only looking—”

“What you are is trespassing,” growled the ferocious gentleman. “Who in the devil are you? And what are you looking at on my son's property?”

There were six of them. Not fighting men, but well able to make things uncomfortable for him; noting which, Broderick said with his engaging smile, “Ah, then you will be Mr. Alfred Prior. I've heard of you, sir, and—”

“All England has heard of me since my child was stolen,” snapped Prior. “Why are you lurking about? If I thought you were involved in the business—”

“Not lurking, sir,” said Broderick earnestly. “Looking. At the birds, sir.”

Grins were exchanged by the members of the search party.

Prior said incredulously, “Looking—at the birds? Are you daft, man?”

“I am a Professor of Ornithology,” lied Broderick. “I am bird-watching, Mr. Prior. I'm dashed certain that is a fieldfare. Do you see the little chap in that tree?”

“He were lookin' down—not up, sir,” offered one of the men, with what Broderick judged a vindictive smirk.

“Just so. Thought I saw an egg. I know that sounds unlikely, at this time of the year, but the entire business is unlikely. That a pair of fieldfares should be here all alone, I mean. They usually travel in flocks, you see. Large flocks, which are very talkative. Shy little brutes around people, though, and why—”

“Why should I believe one word of that gibberish?” demanded Mr. Prior. “What's more, you don't look like a professor to me. Where are your notebooks, or your glass?”

“At my home. In Oxford. I did not come here to look for fieldfares, I do assure you, but when I spotted the little fellow, I was bound to—”

Prior's expression was extremely ominous and Broderick said hurriedly, “Actually, I had a theory about—about your daughter, sir. It occurred to me, you see, that if Colonel Adair spoke the truth and he did not abduct the lady, she might be still in the…” He began to back away uneasily. “… in the vicinity, or—or there might be some—er, sign … as it were.”

“What it is—you're one of those triple-curst busybody newspaper writers,” roared Mr. Prior, swinging up the rifle, which had sagged during this exchange. “Get him, men!”

Relying heavily on the unlikelihood that even so belligerent an individual would actually shoot a newspaper writer, Tobias Broderick took to his heels and ran like a deer. Coming in sight of his big bay horse, he could hear hoofbeats close behind him and he vaulted into the saddle. Quadrille had been named for what Broderick termed “his many fancy steps,” but his caperings were the product of temper rather than grace. To be sprung upon irked him so that he went into a spin, a buck, and several savage kicks. Luckily, his antics alarmed the mounts of Mr. Prior's retainers, and once he started to run, there was no coming up with him.

As the uproar faded behind him, Broderick bowed low in the saddle, muttering bitterly about heartless rascals who sent their friends into harm's way while they themselves lounged about Tenterden probably enjoying a satisfying breakfast.

When he reached the White Ram Inn, he lost no time in conveying these sentiments to Adair, whom he found at the desk, settling his account. “Since you almost caused me to be murdered,” he declared, “you owe me at the very least a hearty breakfast.”

The prospect appealed to Adair, but he proposed that they put some distance between themselves and Mr. Alfred Prior before satisfying their hunger.

They delayed only to collect Broderick's valise from the Woolpack before heading back towards London. Their progress was annoyingly slow, for snow still lingered on some of the country lanes, and to Broderick's chagrin they did not come upon another inn and were frequently obliged to detour, being halted at length by a large beech tree that had fallen across the road. A countryman with a cart drawn up and two small boys helping him was sawing branches for firewood. He was a cheerful individual and gladly imparted the information that there was a fine inn not more than a mile to the west. “Best cook in these parts, gents,” he said, “even if the owner be a foreign lady.”