Vane heard the words, but his mind struggled to process the information. So Estelle had left with Mr Hungerford.
“Did she tell you where they were going?”
Mr Erstwhile frowned. “For a stroll, I think. Why? What has you in such a fluster?”
Anger flared. If Estelle had taken him for a fool again, the entire world would feel the Devil’s wrath. The lady was more than capable of deceit. So why did his pained heart scream for him to trust her? Perhaps because he was a lovesick fool.
“Mr Hungerford has hired a post-chaise,” Vane said bluntly. “He is to take receipt of the vehicle at three o’clock today. I’m told he’s going to Bath, that the coach was hired to ferry two passengers.”
Mr Erstwhile glanced at the wall clock. “Then I must assume he will return with Miss Darcy promptly if he wishes to be at the yard in time to satisfy the contract.”
“Indeed,” Mrs Erstwhile began. “Miss Darcy promised to be no more than an hour.”
Were they naive, too trusting, or was he suffering from an overactive imagination?
“You’re both missing the point. What if Miss Darcy decided to leave with him?”
“Leave with Mr Hungerford?” Mrs Erstwhile shook her head and looked at him as if he’d said the sky was falling. “No, my lord. She told me this morning that she cares nothing for the man. I imagine the other passenger is his valet.”
No valet worth his weight in gold would dress a man so tastelessly. Well, Pierre might, which was why Vane kept him on a tight leash.
Vane removed his hat and thrust his hand through his hair. “Then I shall head to Compton Street to discern the truth for myself.”
“Then you must come back and let us know all is well.” Mrs Erstwhile hastened around the counter to open the door. “There is every chance Miss Darcy will be here when you return.”
Mr Erstwhile met his gaze. “A man must reserve judgement until he has determined the facts.”
Vane nodded, but it was far easier to spout wise words than to live by them.
Deciding that navigating conveyances and carts would only hinder his progress, Vane opted to walk. He instructed Wickett to meet him outside Mr Drummond’s yard on Compton Street. After a few long strides, a sudden sense of urgency took hold. It niggled away in his chest forcing him to break into a run.
People stopped and stared as he barged past, confusion marring their brows. They scanned the length and breadth of the street. Was there a fire or robbery? Was a drunken lord running amok to avoid a constable?
When he reached Princes Stree
t, the compulsion to hurry developed into a mild panic and then into an intense fear that consumed him mind and body. He had lost Estelle once. Twice if he counted the shipwreck. A deep sorrow had lived in his heart ever since, and he wasn’t sure what he would do if he lost her again.
As predicted, Vane reached Mr Drummond’s yard before Wickett.
The large wooden gates were wide open. Stable hands were out in the courtyard, taking receipt of hired horses. Boys as young as ten led fresh horses from the stables to those gentlemen waiting for an exchange. Other boys had the sorry task of sweeping up after the muscled beasts.
A row of yellow bounders lined the back wall. One man was securing the harness on a post-chaise. Two coachmen, both dressed in boxcoats and gripping whips in their hand, stood conversing next to the vehicles.
There was no sign of Mr Hungerford or Estelle.
Another man, with a thick neck and flat nose, appeared from a small wooden building to Vane’s left. He scanned Vane’s attire as he approached. “Can I help you, sir? I’m Drummond, the proprietor. Do you need a horse or a bounder?”
“Neither. I’m looking for someone,” Vane said, his tone conveying his impatience. “A gentleman by the name of Hungerford, and I believe he hired a coach to take him and his … his passenger to Bath.” It would not do to assume anything at this point. “Are they here, or have they left the yard?”
Perhaps sensing a dangerous undertone in Vane’s voice, Mr Drummond jerked his head to a coachman. The burly fellow sauntered over to stand behind his employer.
“I’m afraid it’s bad business to discuss a client’s plans with a stranger. Now either you want to hire a coach or you don’t.”
No doubt he preferred to sell the information. The man had already taken two sovereigns from Mr Joseph and could quit with his holier than though attitude.
Vane gritted his teeth, flexed his fingers and stared down his nose. “You will tell me what I want to know. And you will tell me now.”
The coachman made a point of firming his grip on the whip.