Warner took Margery by the hand, and pulled her to the door. When he put his head out to look, there was a great deal of commotion down the hall by the Duke’s rooms. Smythe and Wilson were nowhere to be seen. He pulled Margery down the servants’ stair, which was strangely deserted. Where were all the servants? Not even the cook or the potboy were anywhere to be seen.
Steam billowed up out of the laundry room as they passed, but there were no sounds of washing.
Once they were outside, Warner slowed to a provocative saunter. “Roddy!” Margery whispered, “What are you doing? I thought we had to hurry.”
“We do,” he hissed back. “But if we run here, we will attract attention. Just pretend I’m your groom.”
“All right,” Margery said, drawing herself into the haughty stance she always assumed when walking ahead of the groom. “Is my horse ready?” she demanded, in her most imperious voice.
“Yes, Your Grace,” Warner replied. “I have our mounts ready for your morning ride.”
“Oh, good,” Margery remarked, “You saddled my dapple gray. Did you pack a lunch?”
“We’ll pick up something on the way.”
“Very well. That is acceptable. Now, help me up.”
Warner obligingly tossed her up into the side saddle that she favored, then got aboard his own horse. He led them out of the paddock at a sedate pace, down the trail and across the bridge by the sluice.
As soon as they were past the big willow, he put his heels to his bay and called back, “Come on, Margery. Race you to the top!”
Chapter 50
As they hurried down the hall behind the two strong footmen, Celeste glanced out the window and gasped. “The Duchess! She went out riding. Could she also be in danger?”
“I’ll tell the stableman,” Gran’ther Tim said from behind her, turning to make his way back through the crowd that had collected in the hall that approached the servant’s stair.
“My man will go also,” said Inspector Ravensgard. “We’ll have no more mishaps due to mistaken identities or covert actions.” The second, tall young man, who had stood back while the doctors did their work, quickly moved up to do the Inspector’s bidding.
At a nod from the Inspector, Gran’ther Tim and the Inspector’s man hastened away.
In the servants’ dining hall, a stretcher had been braced across four chairs, making a serviceable bed. The footmen gently placed the Duke on the waiting sheets, and Mr. McAhmladhson drew up the coverings, trying to preserve his friend’s modesty and the shreds of his dignity.
Heedless of both, Celeste knelt on the floor beside the Duke’s shoulder. “Your Grace,” she said.
The Duke looked up at Mr. McAhmladhson. “I thought I kept her safe.” They were the first clear words the Duke had said since the poisoning.
“You did, Jonathan,” Mr. McAhmladhson said. “You did, she is safe now.”
The Inspector cleared his throat. “Well, then. I shall leave the Duke in your capable hands, and see if I can go apprehend the criminal responsible for his condition.” With that, he turned on his heel and went out into the corridor.
Mr. Hammonds pointed to the stairs leading down into the kitchen. “That way, Inspector. Go through the kitchen, and there is a back door that opens out into the stable yard. Take any horse you need.”
“I’ll run,” said the Inspector. “Getting a horse will take too longer. When Jemmie gets back, have him saddle up two horses and follow me.” Then Inspector Ravensgard sped down the narrow steps into the kitchen and nearly ran into Gran’ther Tim and the lanky young man who had gone with him.
The young man spoke. “Stableman says the Duke’s valet is riding with her, and that they took his bay and her dapple gray. They went out by the old willow. Does that mean anything to you?”
“The bay belongs to Warner,” Gran’ther Tim said. “An’ the dapple gray was a birthday gift from the Duke to the Duchess. So that means that if they ride off and just keep goin’ it mostly means they aren’t horse thieves.”
“Just murdering frauds,” the Inspector ground out between his teeth. “When I catch up to them…”
“No need to run, Sir. I took the liberty of bespeaking horses. The stableman is saddling up for us now. If we hurry, we might catch them. He says that the dapple gray is pretty, but isn’t a stayer, if you know what I mean.”
“Understood.” The Inspector strode out into the stable yard just as the groom brought up the horses. Without a moment’s pause, he swung up on one of them while the lanky young man took the other.
Gran’ther Tim watched for a moment as they started down the trail. “Good luck and Godspeed!” he said softly, almost as if it were a prayer.
Chapter 51
