Chapter Fifteen
Trentchester ignored his initial reaction to the man’s face and stared at the man sitting across from him in the back corner of the tavern. “What have you discovered?”
The man with the slashing scar from forehead to chin waited a beat before answering, “The man you hired has been taken into custody.”
Trentchester checked his impulse to pound on the table and demand to know what in the bloody hell had happened. “I see.” He knew from their previous meeting that he would have to pay for additional information. “Do you have anything else for me?”
The dark-haired man sitting across from him stared until Trentchester felt the urge to shift on his seat.
Digging deep to ignore the involuntary reaction, which he considered a sign of weakness, he reached into his waistcoat pocket and withdrew a small leather bag of coin.
He placed it in the middle of the table between them, but did not let go of it.
“I want to find out how closely watched Millicent Trentchester and Phillipa Stanhope are.” He thought about the new information he’d gleaned, extremely pleased that what he’d learned had led to the arrest of his informant—cousin to one of his footmen—who’d apparently stabbed the irritating Phillipa Stanhope.
“The duke’s guard has a reputation for closing ranks when necessary.
There must be some point during the day when she is left unguarded at the baron’s estate. ”
“Rest assured, I shall find out and relay the information.”
The rough edge to the scarred man’s voice pleased Trentchester. Here was a man who would find out what he needed to know. The price was less than he thought he’d have to pay.
He frowned. From the looks of the man opposite him, there was the worry that he may escape being caught and talk. Nevertheless, Trentchester let go of the concern and the bag, shoving it toward the man. “How soon will you have the information?”
“Three days.” The man rose to his full height and left without a backward glance.
“Bloody bugger had best get the information I need,” Trentchester muttered.
*
Captain Coventry was waiting in an alleyway, a fifteen-minute walk from the seedy tavern. “Well?” he demanded of Tremayne.
“Trentchester hasn’t a clue who I am. He can’t seem to stomach or get past my scar.”
The captain shrugged. “There are those who will only ever see the scars that mar us, Tremayne. Never the heroic actions, nor orders followed serving king and country to have earned these scars.”
Tremayne sighed. “There are times when it gets beneath my skin, like a sliver of wood, and stays there—a constant reminder. You seem to have conquered that. I have come to the conclusion that it is because you have found a treasure of a woman, Coventry. You have a strong son, whom you’ve helped to raise, since you kept your promise to your friend to watch over his family should he give his life for the Crown.
A strong lad who is following in your footsteps and enlisted in the navy.
A beautiful wife and daughter. Mayhap I shall be able to do the same if, and when, I ever meet someone who can see past my scar.
The only women, aside from your wife, who are able to see past the reminder of the cavalry sword that nearly ended my life have been the wives of the men in the duke’s guard.
Are there no others capable of such a feat? ”
Coventry smiled. “Miranda is a gem among women. Each and every one of the women who have married one of the O’Malleys, Garahans, and Flahertys is cut from the same cloth.
It may be the adversity and hardship that have helped to form their character—some with visible flaws, some hidden.
My gut tells me it is the mutual love and trust of the men they married that have completed their transformation into the diamonds of the first water they have all become. ”
Tremayne grinned. “You’re waxing poetic, Coventry. The only other time I’ve heard you do so was when Miranda…” He paused and stared at the captain, who broke into a wide smile. “Am I to congratulate you?”
Coventry chuckled. “Aye. Miranda is pregnant again.”
Tremayne shook his head. “You are a bloody lucky son of a bitch.”
“I could not agree more. Unfortunately, right now, Miranda is in no mood to share in my delight. Though as soon as these first few months of sickness pass, I expect she’ll be glowing.”
“Ah, instead of the green complexion she had for the first few months when she was carrying Emma.”
“Aye.” The captain’s expression changed to one of neutrality. “How soon can you reach Summerfield Chase?”
“Making use of one of the duke’s stallions that he keeps stabled nearby, and at inns dotting the way north, I will arrive by early afternoon.” He patted his waistcoat pocket. “I have the note from His Grace granting permission to utilize his horses.”
“Excellent. The missive I received from Summerfield indicates that Lord Haybrook’s daughter Millicent Trentchester and his infant grandson, and Lord Stanhope’s daughter Phillipa, have been rescued from an incident with their carriage and been brought to safety at Summerfield Chase.”
“Who found them?”
“Flaherty—he was on patrol to the village.” Coventry’s lips twitched as he fought to contain a smile. “Word is that he was accidently shot for his trouble.”
“By a sharpshooter?”
Coventry was quick to answer, “Nay. It was an accident, and before you ask, yes, it was Stanhope’s daughter. Summerfield advises that she was protecting Haybrook’s daughter and grandson.”
Tremayne snorted. “Are you predicting what I think you are?”
The captain’s expression remained neutral. “It is too early to tell.”
Tremayne chuckled. “Knowing Flaherty, his head’s been turned by the woman who shot him.”
Coventry did not disagree, though a hint of laughter lingered in his eye.
“Has he returned to duty yet?”
“Aye, and apparently Summerfield has applied for a special license for Flaherty.”
“The men in the duke’s guard are both honorable and predictable to a fault,” Tremayne said. “Just because you rescue a woman, does not mean that you have to marry her before your heart is engaged—especially one who misinterpreted your intentions and thought you were the enemy!”
Coventry did not comment on that. Instead, he returned to the topic at hand. “Be certain to send word as soon as you arrive, and confirm that the two women currently ensconced at Summerfield Chase are indeed Mrs. Trentchester and her son, and Miss Stanhope—and not imposters.”
“Is there reason to believe that someone would impersonate them?”
“Given the request I received from my connection in the War Office to see to the protection of the two women, and the fact that Mrs. Trentchester has recently given birth?” Coventry said.
“Aye. It is inconceivable that she would be in any shape to travel, let alone travel as far as the Borderlands.”
Tremayne asked, “Do you have a miniature of either woman?”
Coventry sighed. “Unfortunately, no. Mrs. Trentchester has dark hair and amber eyes, is of medium height and on the slender side—before pregnancy. Miss Stanhope has light-blonde hair and blue-gray eyes, and is a bit shorter and curvier.”
“It could well describe any number of women. But I will have to be enough to go on. Do you have any other information or pertinent facts that I could use to confirm their identities?”
“Both of their mothers are deceased. Mrs. Trentchester is the earl’s only child. Miss Stanhope is the youngest of five by a decade, and the only female. That is all I have at present.”
“You did not mention Lord Stanhope’s title.”
“Baron. His four sons are each nearly a year apart. His eldest son, and namesake, George is currently working closely with the baron’s estate manager, as is to be expected as the heir.
Next in line is Winston, Colonel Stanhope.
He has recently returned to London and the War Office and has not been with his regiment for some time.
” Coventry paused and locked gazes with Tremayne before adding, “His current assignment is unknown.”
“A spy,” Tremayne remarked. “Interesting.”
“Stanhope’s third son, Randolph, is a captain in the navy.
Lastly, Miles, the youngest son, is a lieutenant in the marines.
Confirmation has been requested by his lordship, as I have it on good authority that Miss Stanhope’s brothers currently serving in the military are being granted special leave to aid in finding their missing sister and her infant son.
Captain Stanhope will be on shore leave in a matter of days, as will Lieutenant Stanhope. They serve on different vessels.”
“What about his older brother?”
Coventry lifted his chin. “Colonel Stanhope’s whereabouts are not openly acknowledged or discussed by the War Office. Although I have heard scuttlebutt that he has been on a mission to locate Captain Trentchester. Apparently they have been friends for years.”
“I thought Trentchester was reportedly killed?”
“Rumors of his death have been greatly exaggerated,” Coventry said.
“Does his family know?”
“For the sake of all those involved, I do not believe so.”
Tremayne nodded. “Then the captain’s wife Millicent and her very good friend Miss Stanhope are completely in the dark.”
“Aye, given the matters the elder Stanhope is involved in, and information from the War Office being leaked, it is for their protection that they do not know. How soon can you leave?” Coventry asked.
“At once,” Tremayne replied.
“Watch your back, Tremayne.”
“Aye, captain. Watch yours.”
Hours—and hard miles—later, Tremayne stopped to change horses at another of the inns on North Road. He was making excellent time, thanks to the note he carried.
With a slightly longer stop to fill the empty hole in his belly—and more than a pot of tea to add a fire to it without muddling his head—Tremayne set out for the last leg of his journey.
It was just past eleven o’clock the following morning when he rode up the winding drive to his destination—Summerfield Chase.