The more Wiggo heaved on the rope, the more frenzied the horse became. Arthur’s temper was close to snapping when a voice he recognized only too well demanded, “What the devil’s going on here?”
“Father,” he replied, forcing a smile. “We’re having a spot of bother. Farnworth has loaned us this horse, but…”
To his surprise his father calmly approached the stallion, all the while cooing silly noises. Astonishingly, the horse soon quieted, even allowing his nose to be stroked.
His sire then took hold of the rope, led the now docile horse into a stall and tied him to a post.
Suddenly, the way ahead became clear to Arthur. His father now knew of Orion, and likely didn’t believe the tale of Farnworth making a loan of the horse. As his sire turned to confront him, Arthur nodded to Tripp. It took only one mighty blow of the thug’s cosh across the back of his head to fell Bertrand Coleman. With his father dead, Arthur could now claim the title. No will would deprive him of the right of inheritance.
Murderous Intent
After breakfast, Susanspent a tedious hour with the seamstresses hired by Emma. The two local women were skilled and the wedding gown was taking shape. It was bad luck for a groom to see his bride in her gown before the ceremony, but Susan wished Griff had returned so she could at least show him the material.
She decided to don her riding habit instead of the gray muslin she’d worn earlier to the morning room, though she didn’t plan to go for a ride until after luncheon. It wasn’t her favorite pastime, but a good canter would fill a lonely afternoon and take her mind off Griff.
She and Rebecca were waiting for luncheon to be served when a red-faced Jenkinson ushered in the earl’s valet.
Susan’s throat tightened as she rose. Bradley’s deep frown and his unexpected arrival were sure signs something was amiss.
“Orion,” he declared without preamble. “He’s been taken.”
“Taken?” she parroted, gripping the back of her chair, overwhelmed by the possibility she had lost her beloved horse.
“The earl and Lady Farnworth intended to take a leisurely ride to Preston today to arrange for musicians for the ball. Upon arrival at the stables, they discovered Orion’s stall was empty, save for a stable lad who’d been knocked out cold. My lord thought you should know.”
“Could he have struck the boy and bolted?” Rebecca asked.
Bradley shook his head. “The door to the stall had been unlatched, but wasn’t damaged.”
“Jenkinson,” Susan said. “Get my horse saddled and brought round. I’ll accompany Bradley back to the manor house. And send a message post haste to Lord Pendlebury at Clifton Heights.”
Ten minutes later, she rushed into Thicketford Manor, almost bumping into Gabriel on his way out.
“Any news?” she asked, though Emma’s stricken face and the rifle suddenly in the valet’s hands indicated there wasn’t.
“Bradley and I followed Orion’s tracks,” Gabriel explained. “I hate to say it but they seem to lead across the fields to the Whiteside estate.”
“Since Griffith was so rudely turned away from Withins Hall, we’ve been worried Arthur Coleman may be back,” Emma added.
Susan seethed. This was all too reminiscent of Patsy’s kidnapping. “You think that twerp is responsible for stealing my horse? I’m coming with you.”
“No,” Gabriel said firmly. “This could be dangerous. You and Emma stay here and don’t let anyone enter the house. We’ll ride over to Withins Hall to investigate.”
“Come into the drawing room, Susan,” Emma coaxed. “I’ve rung for tea.”
“I need something stronger than tea,” she replied, wondering how on earth she was going to explain to Griff the loss of the thoroughbred on which he’d placed all his hopes for the future of Clifton Heights.
*
Satisfied Potts andGlazebrook would tend to the remaining tasks necessary to bring Clifton Heights up to snuff for Susan, and feeling somewhat superfluous, Griff had decided to leave early and surprise his fiancée by arriving a day earlier than planned.
Leaning back on the padded wall of the carriage, he closed his eyes, anticipating the smile that would blossom on her face.
He opened them again, puzzled when the carriage rolled to a halt on the outskirts of Chorley. He assumed the new driver hired by Potts had lost his bearings.
He hurriedly stepped out of the vehicle when a rider wearing the Farnworth livery came alongside the window. “My lord,” he panted. “I was on my way to Clifton Heights with a message when I recognized the carriage.”
His belly suddenly in knots, Griff feared something dire had happened to Susan. “What is so urgent?”