The Reluctant Escort. Mary Nichols

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      ‘Yes, being held up by highwaymen. Do you suppose they stole a kiss from the ladies? But I collect the man said they took nothing from the ladies, only from Sir John Partridge.’

      ‘What man?’ Duncan tried not to let his real interest show.

      ‘The man who saw it all. I think he must be a little nervous and not at all heroic, for he said he hid and only rode on when it was all over.’

      ‘What else did he say?’

      ‘There were two of them, heavily armed, and afterwards they rode towards the coast. Everyone seems to think they had a boat waiting for them and are long gone.’

      ‘Very likely,’ he said, allowing himself to relax. ‘Now, what are we to do about you?’

      ‘The landlord says the next Cromer coach is not until tomorrow. We shall have to ride back.’

      ‘We, Miss Martineau? I cannot spare the time escorting a chit about the countryside; I should have been on my way long ago…’

      Before he could go on, they were interrupted by the arrival of the local constable, who had come to take charge of the investigation into the robbery. He began by questioning the witness whose tale lost nothing in repetition. In fact, it gained a detail or two. The chief of the highwaymen was of a dark countenance, dressed all in black, and he rode a big black horse with a white flash on its nose. His accomplice was older and smaller by six inches and had a scar near his left eye, though it could not all be seen on account of the mask he wore.

      Molly had pricked up her ears when she’d heard the description of the horse. She had ridden on the back of such a one not five hours since but, she told herself severely, there must be many black horses with white noses and many men with dark looks. She glanced across at the Captain who was placidly eating and told herself she was imagining things. To have arrived back in the inn so soon after the hold-up, he would, like the man who had witnessed it, have had to ride hard, but he was completely unruffled and showed every evidence of a leisurely toilette.

      She noticed Duncan lift his head as another man came in. Did she imagine he nodded towards Duncan before passing through the room and out of the door towards the stairs? What was unmistakable was the scar on his face.

      ‘Captain,’ she whispered, reaching across and touching his hand to attract his attention. ‘That man who just went out. He had a scar…’

      ‘So have a great many men, I should think,’ he said, without even bothering to look up from his meal.

      ‘But one of the robbers…’

      ‘Miss Martineau, you must learn to curb your imagination, you know, or you will land yourself in more trouble than a little.’

      ‘You know him, don’t you?’

      ‘Miss Mar…’ He stopped short when the bulk of the constable loomed over them.

      ‘Sir, may I ask what you know of this matter?’ he asked. ‘I am told you have recently arrived and from a northerly direction.’

      ‘If by recent you mean five hours or thereabouts,’ Duncan said laconically, ‘then I suppose you could say I have.’

      ‘Hours, you say? I was told you entered the room but fifteen minutes ago.’

      ‘So I did. From my bedroom. My man will vouch for me. He is even now packing for our departure.’

      ‘It is quite true,’ Molly said, turning her ingenuous smile upon the constable. ‘I, too, can vouch for the Captain’s whereabouts, though I own he did leave me for twenty minutes or so. He had to arrange transport for us.’

      ‘Twenty minutes? No more?’

      ‘Oh, no more, I do assure you.’

      ‘And who are you, miss, if I might ask?’

      ‘Why, I am Captain Stacey’s wife,’ she said, favouring the man with a dazzling smile and ignoring the sound of Duncan choking on his food. ‘Who else would I be?’

      The constable inclined his head towards Molly. ‘I beg your pardon, ma’am, but I must leave no stone unturned.’

      ‘And while you waste time turning over stones the thieves will have gone to ground.’ Duncan, who had quickly regained his scattered wits, decided he could not embarrass her by contradicting her, but it put him in a devil of a coil. He could hardly put her on a coach to Cromer and ride off in the opposite direction if they were supposed to be husband and wife travelling together. ‘Get out to the scene of the crime,’ he said in his most commanding voice. ‘Surely that is where you should begin?’

      The man bowed again and left them and Duncan called the waiter to bring a pudding; he was still hungry, he said.

      ‘Don’t you think we should go?’ Molly asked. ‘If the constable sees your horse—or the man with the scar…’

      ‘I see you have added two and two and made five,’ he said, making inroads into the plum duff which had just been set before him. ‘Have some of this; it is delicious.’

      ‘No, thank you. I am no longer hungry. And I don’t know how you can sit there and eat so calmly when you know…’

      He smiled at her. Her blue eyes were looking troubled; surely she was not worried on his account? He felt an unaccountable frisson of pleasure at the thought. ‘What do I know?’

      ‘More than you are saying. If you were not on the road this morning, you know very well who was.’

      ‘But you gave me an alibi. Surely you do not condone highway robbery?’

      ‘I know nothing of it. If you were to tell me…’

      ‘There is nothing to tell. And I wish you would not refine upon it. What I do is none of your business.’

      ‘I think it is,’ she said promptly. ‘If you had not panicked my horse, I would not have been thrown and you would not have had to bring me here. That was your fault. And now, because there is no coach going to Cromer until tomorrow, we must stay here like sitting ducks. Besides, you have already said your man—and I doubt not he is the robber with the scar—is packing to leave and I have confirmed you have been out to arrange transport, so leave we must.’

      ‘Of course we must; you made sure of that,’ he said. ‘We shall have to find another way of returning you to Stacey Manor.’ He stood up unhurriedly and beckoned the landlord for the reckoning. ‘Wait for me in the yard. I will be out directly.’

      She went outside and, while waiting for him, wandered round to the stables. There was no sign of his horse, nor Jenny either; they had been spirited away. By the man with the scar? She turned as Duncan joined her. ‘Where are the horses?’

      ‘I did not like the stabling here; I have had them moved elsewhere where the fodder is better and the accommodation more to their liking.’

      There was definitely something have-cavey going on and she was more intrigued than ever. ‘Then how do we go on?’

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