Page 30 of Eight for Losing, One for Loving

Chapter 8

PS.

Cara, I cannot ask this of Mama for she will just sigh and go all dewy eyed and say how wonderful it is, so please tell me truthfully, what is it like to be married?

―Excerpt of a letter from the Hon’ble Miss Violetta Spencer (cousin and adopted sister to Lady Aisling, Lady Cara and Conor Baxter – Viscount Harleston) to The Right Hon’ble Cara De Vere, Viscountess Latimer.

24th June 1850, The Queen’s Head, Wrestlingworth, the Bedfordshire, Cambridgeshire border.

Leo took the stairs two at a time, apologising as he rounded the corner and almost knocked down an indignant-looking rotund man. Fate was having a laugh at his expense, he thought with a sigh. Giving on one hand and taking on the other, for the interruption had been dreadfully frustrating. Still, he felt more optimistic about his relationship with Vi than he ever had before. The realisation that she wanted him, and did not despise him half so much as he feared, was immensely cheering. If the vicar had good news about Mau, so much the better.

Upon seeing Jenny, he asked her if it might be possible to have Vi’s gown ready for her tonight in case they had to go out again. Jenny looked dismayed until Leo held out more coin that she’d usually earn in a month, upon which she bobbed a curtsey and told him it was no bother at all. She directed him to a private parlour where he was told the reverend was awaiting him.

“Ah, Mr Huntington,” the reverend said as Leo entered the room. “I do apologise for disturbing you, but in the circumstances, I thought it best to contact you at once.”

“If you have news about Mau, I can only thank you, sir,” Leo said, sitting down at the table across from the reverend.

“It’s my pleasure, for I do think I may be of help,” the reverend said with a grin, pouring himself a glass of port from the decanter on the table before pushing it towards Leo. “My sister always keeps the good stuff for me, the kindly soul. Do have a drop yourself. Warm the cockles of your heart, eh?” he added with a good-natured chuckle.

Leo accepted, wishing the reverend would get to the point, but he was such a nice old gentleman he didn’t like to rush him.

“Now, then, after you left, I got to thinking about the kind of person who might do such a hare-brained thing as kidnap a cat,” the reverend said, leaning across the table and lowering his voice as if he feared they’d be overheard by spies or ne’er-do-wells. “And it suddenly occurred to me that the Hatt brothers fitted the bill rather splendidly. So, I took myself on a little reconnaissance mission,” he whispered, looking inordinately pleased with himself.

Leo stared at him. “Sir, that is terribly decent of you, but surely that was a little reckless. We don’t know what these men are capable of.”

The reverend grunted. “The Hatt brothers are capable of nothing but a bit of minor mischief, so I believed myself in no danger. They are a foolish pair, idle rather than wicked, but I’m afraid you are in the right all the same, for if I have not missed my guess, they were not the origin of this plot, only the means of carrying it out.”

“You’re certain they’re the kidnappers?” Leo asked, his hopes for getting Mau back rising.

“Not certain, but they are the most likely pair to be involved in such a scheme, and when I went to their property—a ramshackle place down past Mud Pightle—my suspicion grew.”

“How so?” Leo asked, taking a drink from the glass of port he’d been nursing, for the reverend had finished his and was pouring another.

“Well, it was all lit up, candles burning, which is most peculiar for the two never spend money on such luxuries, and there was an old curricle outside. A battered thing it is, nothing so fine and fancy as your tilbury, Mr Huntington, but still far above the Hatt brothers’ touch. It seemed to me they had guests, so I dared to go a little closer and…”

The reverend paused for dramatic effect, clearly enjoying himself enormously.

“And?” Leo said, as it appeared what the reverend wished for him to say.

“AndI heard raised voices, shouting,” Harbottle said, sounding triumphant. “Whoever the villain that came up with the idea is, he’s there at the house, and he’s not a happy man.”

“Well, neither am I,” Leo said, getting to his feet. “Would you be able to give me directions to this Mud Pightle? I feel in need of an urgent conversation with the blackguard.”

“I’ll take you there myself, Mr Huntington,” the reverend said, grinning and looking pleased as he gave Leo a critical look up and down. “I reckon a fellow like yourself ought to know howto ‘handle one’s fists,’ eh?” he asked, such a hopeful glint in his eyes that Leo laughed at both his enthusiasm and the fact he knew such a cant expression

“As it happens, I do.”

“Excellent,” the reverend said, chortling merrily to himself and rubbing his hands together.

Leo opened his mouth to enquire if it was entirely godly to be hoping to see a proper turn up but closed it again. He liked the reverend and, if he was anticipating a good mill, Leo was only too keen to accommodate his wishes. The bastards who had taken Mau, or had come up with the dastardly scheme, or all three of them, were going to get a proper hiding if he had anything to do with it. The idea that someone had been watching him, perhaps watching him and Vi, as they’d been together when it happened, made him feel ill. How long had it been going on, with the devils plotting and waiting their chance to steal Mau away? Fury ran through his blood at the desire to take his revenge. Still, three against one was not such good odds.

“These Hatt brothers,” he began, only for the reverend to shake his head.

“Not in your class, sir, I suspect. The taller one, Edgar, fancies himself as something of a pugilist, but I reckon you’ll deal with him tidily enough. His younger brother, Burt, is a coward, simply put, and won’t stand. The new fellow, however, I can’t tell you.” The reverend frowned. “I caught a glimpse of him through the window, and he looked as tall as Edgar, but more than that, I’m afraid I don’t know.”

Leo nodded. Well, provided none of them did anything idiotic like produce a pistol, he should be fine. However, he was not about to take Violetta into such a situation. He sighed with regret, not liking to leave her out of the adventure, for he suspected she would handle herself well in a tight spot, but the terror he felt at the idea of her getting hurt far outweighed any satisfaction he would gain from proving to her how brave and capable she really was. She would not like it though, he thought with regret, and just as he was getting into her good books, too.

“Would you wait for me, I shan’t be above a moment, but I must tell Mis—my wife that I’m going out,” he said, hurriedly covering up his slip. Lord, but he needed to be more careful.