Chapter 28 #2
“Ah, McBain.” Ballantine raised his voice to cover her last words as the butler entered the room.
“Please take Miss Carruthers to the blue parlor and bring her some refreshment. Tell the maid to prepare a room. She’ll be staying with us.
” With that, he disappeared into the library again, leaving Charlotte to follow McBain and stew over her options.
She soon found herself in a pastel parlor with delicate watercolors on the walls and impossibly ornate furniture.
A lady’s room. Charlotte perched on a fragile upholstered chair, her foot tapping as McBain served her tea and biscuits.
A terrible urgency flowed through her veins, making her gulp the tea and burn her tongue.
Ballantine didn’t have a moment to spare for her brother’s future, or hers.
It was left to her to save them both.
“Rest up, my good man.” Back at Edenbrook, Charlotte settled Tuck into his stall with a scratch behind the ears. “We’ll be off again before you know it.”
The gelding tossed his head, none the worse for wear after his trip to Ballantine’s. He could handle another ride today. Managing Fulton was a different matter.
“Your father would never have permitted it, Miss Charlotte.” Fulton tried to rise from his bed, but Charlotte stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “It’s dangerous.”
“I’ll be careful.” She busied herself straightening his blankets to avoid blurting out the words she wanted to say. Papa isn’t here anymore. I’m on my own and we’d better get used to it. Besides, she’d already made one trip north. She’d returned in one piece, hadn’t she?
Almost, her heart reminded her. A piece of her was lost to Joshua Robertson. There was nothing she could do to change that now.
“I don’t feel right about it. Your mother . . .”
Usually, any mention of her mother was enough to make Charlotte stop and reflect. But not today. “I’m not my mother.” She raised her eyebrows at Fulton. “You told me so yourself.” She clasped Fulton’s shoulder. “I have to do this. I have to try one more time.”
Fulton gave an abrupt nod. “Then don’t go alone.” He looked away. “That fellow Robertson . . .”
Her heart lurched at the mention of Joshua’s name. “Yes? What about him?”
Fulton cleared his throat. “He said he’d be close by if you should need him. We have only to send word to Cooper’s Inn.”
For a moment, she imagined the comfort of having Joshua at her side.
Then doubt crept in. Could she trust him?
She’d trusted Papa to look out for her best interests.
She’d trusted Simon to help her guard Edenbrook.
She’d learned her lesson and she wasn’t going to depend on a man to save the day this time.
“I’ll be fine without him,” she said briskly, refusing to meet Fulton’s searching gaze.
A half hour later, dressed in Simon’s trousers once again, she swung a leg over the gelding’s wide back and dug her heels into the horse’s sides.
The route was familiar, though her first trip north felt like months ago now instead of only a week. She’d changed so much since then. She’d met Joshua. Her hands clenched the reins. She had to stop thinking of him.
Tuck stumbled, and she forced her attention back to the road. “Easy, boy,” she murmured, slowing to a trot and reaching forward to pat the gelding’s thick neck. The horse snorted and tossed his head as though he were letting her know she wasn’t in control.
The thought made her smile. “I know. I couldn’t do it without you, my brave steed.”
Soon they were flying up the north road, Charlotte planning her arrival all the while.
The sun had set, and she welcomed the growing darkness to hide her approach.
Last time she’d passed Montgomery’s Tavern, she’d been taken unawares by the men on watch.
This time she couldn’t afford to be so careless.
Too much depended on her success to even contemplate failure.
After Ogden retired, Joshua sought a spot at the bar where he could nurse a mug of ale and listen to the conversations floating around him. Some thought the rebels would sack the city. Others doubted the rebels were even a threat.
Cole’s men seemed to have forgotten him in their gusto for their meal. Joshua bided his time. His suspicions were proven a quarter hour later, when Deacon Cole entered the room. Joshua hunched over his pint, but the man paid him no mind, striding to the table and taking his seat at the head.
“Well?” he said, his patience clearly taxed.
“No sign of him, boss.”
“You went all the way to the homestead?”
“We did. And a right nasty stretch of road that was, too. If you want my opinion—”
“I don’t.” Cole’s voice was like ice. “If he’s not at his homestead, then he must have joined the rebels. Why would you come back without proof?”
Joshua wished he could turn around and witness the expressions on the men’s faces. Then he heard words that stole the breath from his throat.
“What about the girl?”
Joshua’s hand tightened around his mug of ale.
“No sign of her, either. We found an old man in the barn is all. Gave him a few lumps just to prove we were serious.”