Page 37 of Eight for Losing, One for Loving

“Mick, could you deal with that man? If you take him on his own, it might be easier and…” Vi didn’t get to finish the sentence as Mick was already moving.

“It’s Edgar,” Jenny hissed, which explained why the sound of knuckles cracking accompanied Mick’s soft footsteps as he followed the man in the darkness.

Vi nodded, almost feeling sorry for Edgar, as she turned back to the house to see a dark shadow moving to the front door. Whoever it was kicked the door open and strode inside.

“Leo!” Vi squeaked, and picked up her skirts, hurrying towards the building.

She did not know if Jenny followed her, and didn’t blame the girl if she stayed put. There was no need for her to put herself in harm’s way if she didn’t have to. Hurrying to the side of the building, Vi muttered silent curses as brambles caught at her skirts. The side of the building was overgrown, and it was difficult to get close, but she ignored the prickle of thorns as she pressed herself against the wall and peered in through a grimy window.

“I know you. Where do I know you from?” Leo’s voice reached her, but she could only see the edge of his sleeve. She wondered who the man was that Leo recognised. The Reverend Harbottle was sitting quietly in the corner of the room, but his eyes were alert as he watched the two men.

“You know, Mr Hunt. It occurs to me the ransom we can get for you will be a good deal fatter than the one I was going to ask for your cat. If you had only acted with a bit of sense, you’d have had your wretched pet back and I would have gained a couple of hundred quid you could easily do without. Where’s the harm in that? But I see now I was thinking too small. That amount of money won’t see me comfortably through all my days, now will it? But when I had the notion of ransoming the horrid creature, I had no idea his master would fall into my hands like a ripe plum.”

There was a snort from Leo, who shifted a little, moving out of her eye line completely. “Don’t count your chickens, sir. I’m in no mood to be held hostage.”

“Is that so?”

Vi smothered a gasp, her hand covering her mouth as she saw another figure move to stand before the window, a pistol clearly visible in his hand.

A crash from the shed and a bellow of rage caught her attention, and the attention of those inside the building.

“Stay there,” the man holding the pistol said, gesturing with it for Leo to move farther into the building.

He moved past the window to the door and Vi gasped as she too recognised the man, except she knew exactly who he was. That was Pembury, their new footman at Albany, the London house.

“Edgar! Burt!” the man shouted. “What the devil are you two idiots up to now?”

A wail sounded from the shed before the rickety building wobbled madly, then Mick smashed Edgar through a wall that disintegrated on impact, causing the entire structure to collapse in a heap. A smaller, stockier man belted away from the scene as fast as his short legs would carry him.

“Burt!” Edgar wailed, but Burt was moving with astonishing speed.

“Come back ’ere!” Mick bellowed at Edgar as he tried to crawl away on his hands and knees.

“’Elp!” Edgar shrieked, as Mick took hold of his ankles and began dragging him towards the woods. “Pembury, ’elp me!”

“Bloody hell,” Pembury muttered in fury. “Right, a change of plan. Mr Hunt, if you would be so good as to come along, we are going to relocate.”

“I don’t think so,” Leo said calmly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Must I shoot you?” Pembury demanded, the question making Vi’s stomach clench with terror. What was Leo doing, arguing with the man when he had a pistol?

“If you do, you won’t get your ransom, now, will you?” Leo replied conversationally.

“Oh, I wasn’t thinking of aiming for your heart,” Pembury replied with a chuckle. “Perhaps I shall just ruin your chances for an heir.”

“I doubt that thing is even loaded. It looks ancient,” Leo said with a sneer of derision. “Is that the best you could do? Still, the state of the curricle outside answers that question, I suppose. I dread to think what kind of cattle were pulling it. Are they up to taking both our weights? Come to think of it, I’m not sure the curricle will make it over those ruts on the lane with both of us in it.”

Leo, shut up!Vi shrieked mentally, wondering what he was playing at, for he seemed to be deliberately goading the man.

“The pistol is loaded,” the man replied, though he sounded less sanguine now, and rather like he was gritting his teeth. “And once I have the ransom money, I’ll be able to buy myself a new tilbury, or perhaps I’ll just take yours.”

“Oh, I shouldn’t do that, sir,” the vicar said cheerfully, apparently joining the conversation. “A tilbury takes a good deal of skill. Needs a bigger horse, you see, one with a bit of spirit. Not the kind of thing an amateur should attempt.”

Good Lord!Vi thought in exasperation. Did they both want to get shot?

“Shut up, priest,” Pembury said, swinging the pistol towards Harbottle.

“I am rather concerned about your immortal soul,” Harbottle went on, apparently unperturbed by the gun pointing at his face. “You are not doing it a great deal of good, young man. Worldly goods are really not worth—”