Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
It was a bad idea. All of it. Greer couldn’t even put his finger on what, precisely, he didn’t like about the situation he and Penny set out to get stuck in the following morning. It likely had something to do with the fact that they’d argued that morning.
“The best thing for it is to walk straight up to the castle and ask the questions that need asking,” Penny had said as they’d enjoyed a tasteless porridge and weak coffee for breakfast in the inn’s common room.
Greer had scoffed wordlessly, believing his companion to be joking.
“I mean it,” Penny had insisted. “No one learns anything in this life without asking directly.”
Greer had frowned, wondering if Penny’s dangerously carefree approach had anything to do with his mother’s wealthy patron who had appeased him with books.
He’d thought that was a lucky twist of fate for Penny when the story had first been told, but now he wondered if it had given Penny a false sense of confidence.
“I agree we need to find a way into the castle’s grounds so that we might assess the place,” he’d said, grimacing as he tasted a burnt bit in his porridge.
“The best thing for that is to discover whether any deliveries are to be made to the castle kitchens, for example, and to volunteer to help those workmen.”
Penny had eyed him suspiciously. “You really believe a pack of grocers or farmers would let you go along with them to make a delivery into the castle?” he’d asked.
Greer had stared at him just as flatly across the remnants of their breakfast. “You truly think the castle’s staff will not bat an eye as you walk up and start asking questions?”
Penny had sat back in his chair with a cheeky smile. “They’ll welcome me with open arms,” he’d said with foolish confidence.
Greer had huffed and downed the rest of his horrible coffee.
The argument had continued through the rest of their meal, neither one of them budging.
If Greer had been tempted to find their competitive banter amusing at the time, all hints of that amusement vanished when they packed up their things and left the inn, walking to the edge of the village, where the road leading to the castle set off.
“So we’re agreed,” Greer had said, not even questioning that he would win the argument. “We’ll walk on, find a wagon of goods on its way to the castle, and offer our assistance in exchange for tuppence, or some other small payment.”
“We are not agreed at all,” Penny laughed. “You’re just stubborn and set in your ways.”
“I’m experienced and know the way of these things,” Greer had argued.
Penny had smirked and shook his head. “I think the best course of action is if we each test out own theory about what might gain us entrance into the castle and win us the information we need.”
Greer’s brow had shot straight up in shock. “You’re saying you wish to continue on with this mission on your own?”
What shocked him more than Penny’s brash independence was the slightly nauseating feeling that he’d fully intended to do exactly the same and leave Penny behind. Greer did not like the sensations of the table turning.
“Think of it as a competition,” Penny said, adjusting his hold on his case and looking around, as if developing his plan. He’d met Greer’s eyes again and said, “I know you like a good competition. Especially with me.”
There hadn’t been anything Greer could say to dissuade Penny from his mischief.
The only sliver of a bright spot was that Penny had turned back into the village instead of continuing on down the road when Greer began his walk.
There was a chance that the man would distract himself so much with his mischief that Greer could accomplish the task without him, the way he’d intended.
Two hours later, as Greer approached a farm less than a mile from the castle and spotted a wagon that was being loaded with sacks and crates of produce, the only thing Greer felt was miserable.
It was a terrible idea. He and Penny should never have parted ways.
He was a fool to think that Penny would use his freedom to keep himself safe.
The ginger rascal was as likely as not to land himself in even greater danger, and Greer wouldn’t be there to pull him out of it.
He didn’t know what he would do if some kind of harm came to Penny.
Those feelings were awkward and uncomfortable, like putting on clothes that were still damp from the line on a day that was overly hot and humid.
Penny shouldn’t have meant anything to him.
But he’d already cried on the younger man’s shoulder and come all over his sweet, pale skin.
He’d told Penny things he hadn’t whispered to another living soul.
He cared about him. He had for ages, possibly since the first time he’d seen Penny’s ginger head bobbing in and out of foot traffic as he plied his trade and robbed men blind.
He was intrigued by the bastard, and after the night they’d spent in his bed, he wanted more instead of less.
Penny was exactly like his namesake, a shiny bit of something he’d noticed on the street, picked up, and that had added value to his life.
The idea of losing him was so horrific that it made Greer’s knees weak. And if one part of him was weak, all of him would be weak. He’d never be able to run from the things that terrified him again.
“Hello, there,” he called out to the farmers loading the wagon with a smile he didn’t feel.
The tanned, burly farmers straightened from their work to look at him. “Dydh da,” one of them said with a polite nod of his head.
Greer took the unfamiliar greeting as a good sign. “I was wondering if you might have half a day’s work for a traveler in need,” he said, extending a hand to shake that of the older of the two men. He nodded to the wagon. “Perhaps help with a delivery?”
The farmer shook his hand, then wiped his sweating brow with the back of his sleeve. “I wouldn’t say no to a spare pair of hands,” he said. “I’ve no coin to spare for the help, though.”
Greer thought fast. He nodded to the large barn behind the wagon. “Permission to pass tonight in your hayloft, then?” he asked.
The older farmer glanced to the younger one, who shrugged and nodded.
“I’d say that’s a fair trade,” the farmer said.
Greer was surprised at the speed with which the man had agreed to the deal. Londoners wouldn’t have been as kind or quick to help a stranger.
It remained to be seen whether it truly was help, though. The farmer let Greer store his case inside the barn, and right away, Greer rolled up his sleeves to get to work loading the wagon.
It was backbreaking work to bring crates and bundles from the barn, and some straight from the fields, to fill the wagon. Once it was filled, they set out in the opposite direction from the castle, back toward the village. Greer’s heart sank, and he worried he’d gone about things all wrong.
“Do you ever deliver your crops to the castle?” he asked, hoping he sounded casual, as he helped the farmers unload their wagon at a market in the village.
“Oh, aye,” the younger farmer said. “Once we finish with this lot, we’ll head back for another load and take that to Trebarral’s kitchens.”
Greer nearly shouted in relief. His labors wouldn’t be in vain after all.
The only thing that marred his sense of renewed confidence in his plan was that he did not see Penny anywhere in the village as he worked with the farmers at the market.
He didn’t see the red-headed menace anywhere along the road as they made their way back to the farm either.
The only thought more disturbing than Penny reaching the castle before him and finding out what they needed to know was the awful idea that his sweet thief had changed his mind about everything and abandoned Greer entirely.
That fear only grew as they loaded up the wagon again. By the time they approached the ancient walls of Trebarral Castle around mid-afternoon, those worries were the only thing Greer could think about.
“Afternoon, Mistress Anne,” the older farmer, Bob, greeted a middle-aged woman who must have been Trebarral’s housekeeper, with a flirty wink. “You’re looking lovely in this summer light.”
“Robert, you old fool,” the woman chuckled, slapping Bob on the arm.
Ironically, the flirtation was exactly what Greer needed as he assisted Michael, the younger farmer, in unloading the wagon and carrying stores into the castle’s kitchen.
Not a soul questioned whether he should be there.
He was able to stare up at the castle wall from the kitchen courtyard, pretending to be in awe, but really gauging how difficult the walls would be to climb.
The answer was that it would not be difficult at all, as they had enough age to them that he would be able to gain purchase between the stones.
He contemplated how exposed he might be as he whisked Lord Fabian from his prison—fairly exposed, since there was very little around the castle in all directions for a mile—and how many servants the castle employed.
The answer to that was too many for his liking.
He was even happier to have an excuse to step inside the castle’s kitchen with a sack of potatoes so that he might learn how alert and numerous the castle’s servants were.
He did not expect to hear Penny’s voice coming from the servants’ dining hall.
“What you see here is the finest cotton, all the way from Egypt,” he was in the middle of saying, much to Greer’s confusion. “And here’s a silk handkerchief. It would look right pretty held against your nose when you sneeze.”
A pair of feminine giggles answered that ridiculous statement.
Greer stepped into the servants’ dining room only to see Penny standing at the end of the long table, which was spread with an array of trinkets and nonsense.
Two maids in dull black uniforms stood to one side, alternately gazing at the things on the table and Penny with coquettish eyes.