Melissa had been told of the event—something of a pagan ritual, it involved a mock hunt chasing not a fox but a runner dressed as the god Herne, all in pursuit of a good harvest. “Your mother said guests might start arriving from late this afternoon.”
Julian nodded. “From this afternoon to Saturday morning. Most will arrive just before the hunt.”
“We never know when Gordon will show,” Damian said, “but he’ll definitely be here. We’ve all ridden the hunt since we were children—he won’t miss it.”
A scarifying thought occurred to Melissa, and she caught Julian’s gaze. “We’re hosting the Midsummer Ball next Thursday. Will Gordon and the others who come for the hunt expect to stay until then?”
Julian smiled, but it was Felix who answered. “No. The Ride is held on the Saturday before the solstice, and generally, those who come leave later in the day or, if they stay over, on the following morning.”
“The ball,” Julian added, “is strictly local. Our family and the other families who live in the area. It’s the one annual event we reserve solely for the gentry from around about.”
“Ah. I see.” Relieved, she sat back.
Looking enthused, Damian clapped his hands. “Regardless, whenever Gordon gets here, once the hunt starts, we can cut him from the pack and pin him in place long enough to put our questions to him.”
“And,” Felix added, “wring the answers from him as well.”
Rising certainty gripped them all.
Julian summed it up. “At last, we have a clear pathway that will lead us to X.”
Chapter 16
By Saturday morning, all four of them were in a state of high alert.
With those who had arrived on Thursday and Friday to stay at the castle as well as the locals who had ridden in over the past hour congregating in the forecourt, Julian, with Melissa on his arm, both dressed to participate, walked out onto the front porch and, smiling affably, descended the steps to mingle with their guests.
While they moved through the crowd, fulfilling their roles as gracious hosts, Julian found it difficult not to overtly scan the throng. The previous evening, with Gordon yet to arrive, Julian, Melissa, Felix, and Damian had discussed the ride at length and made their plans. They’d agreed not to mention their intentions to anyone, not until they’d succeeded in extracting the critical name from Gordon. Although they felt confident that Gordon wasn’t X, they’d agreed that exercising a degree of circumspection would be wise. Gordon was a Delamere, and if there was an outside chance that he was an accomplice in any way, they owed it to the wider family to minimize the risk of a scandal engulfing the family name. Julian had no intention of allowing the family to be harmed in any way.
As he introduced Melissa to those she hadn’t previously met, he noted the appreciative glances she drew from many of the males as well as the approving looks she received from their spouses. His heart swelled with pride and also amusement as she glibly steered conversations and, in general, took control of their social interactions, saving him from having to deflect overly inquisitive queries. She was very skilled at that, something he recognized as a true gift in that arena.
Even over the few weeks since their wedding, he’d noted how much more passionate in her protectiveness of him and his family—their family now—she’d become. Of the household as a whole, in fact. She’d taken them all under her wing, and he felt rather humbled by her devotion to his cause.
As she smiled at a lady who would have claimed their attention for the next hour had she been able and deftly excused them and nudged him on, he squeezed her hand and, when she glanced up at him questioningly, smiled, raised her gloved fingers to his lips, and brushed a kiss over her knuckles.
She arched a warning brow at him. “Has Gordon arrived yet?”
He shook his head. “But he’ll be here soon. He won’t miss the Ride.”
Of that, he felt certain, although he was surprised Gordon hadn’t turned up the previous evening.
Melissa continued to smile welcomingly and engage with the visitors milling in the forecourt. Many had traveled from towns around about and from summer estates and great houses dotted about the district, while still others had come from as far afield as Lincoln and London. The Wirksworth Ride was considered an eccentric pastime, a convivial gathering purely for fun. Most of those present had participated many times before.
She seized the chance to ask Lord Keldale, another local landowner, “Has the hunt always started from the castle?”
A heavy man, his lordship stroked his luxuriant moustache and rumbled, “Certainly in living memory. I’ve heard it said that the castle has hosted the Ride since medieval times.” He looked at her earnestly. “The castle was here even then, you know.”
“I had heard.” Smiling, she patted his lordship’s arm and excused herself, then turned to extract Julian, who had been buttonholed by a rather pompous older gentleman from Derby. Seizing a fractional break in the conversation, she blithely declared, “My lord, we have some new arrivals who we should welcome. I’m sure Lord Abersythe will excuse us.”
His lordship was transparently partial to pretty females; he grew quite gallant in expressing his understanding.
As she drew Julian toward the steps where several new arrivals had, indeed, appeared, he dipped his head and murmured, “Thank you. I never know how to break away from him without giving offense.”
They duly welcomed the newcomers, ensuring they had everything they needed. The castle grooms and stablemen were helping riders check over their mounts and tack in preparation for getting under way.
As Julian and Melissa turned from handing the latest arrival into Hockey’s care, Damian materialized beside them. He cast them a puzzled look. “He’s still not here.”
They didn’t need to ask to whom he referred.
