The Return of Lord Conistone by Lucy Ashford Read Free Book Online Page B

toll road to Chichester. The lights of Wycherley Hall twinkled a quarter of a mile away, through the darkness.
    His horse was growing restless, and so was he. He constantly scanned the long driveway back to Wycherley Hall, until he saw that someone was coming at last, trotting up the drive from the house on a stocky bay cob.
    ‘My God, Bentinck,’ said Lucas, urging his horse forwards to meet him, ‘you took your damned time!’
    Bentinck, who had once been a prize fighter, ran his hand through his spiky black hair and grunted. He had been Lucas’s aide and valet for many years; now he looked mildly aggrieved at Lucas’s comment.
    ‘Done just as you asked, milord, all right and proper! I took a good look round all the books and desks and so forth that were up for sale—did pretty well until I almost got caught!’
    Lucas’s face tightened. ‘Who by?’
    ‘The young lady of the house. The pretty one, withchestnut hair and proud eyes, and, ahem, luscious figure…. She saw me opening drawers and havin’ a good poke around and started coming over to take me to task, but I was too quick for her! A tasty armful, I’d reckon, in spite of them drab clothes—’
    Lucas broke in, ‘Did you find anything?’
    ‘Nothing to our immediate purpose, milord. But I did find something of interest, you might say. I got into the study and took a good long look at the window that we’d heard on our way here was the one that was used to get in to burgle the place…’. He paused weightily.
    ‘And?’
    ‘Some villain did indeed ‘ave a go at that window, milord, to make it look like it had been forced. But he was doin’ it from the inside. Get my meaning?’
    ‘From the inside. Thank you, Bentinck,’ breathed Lord Lucas Conistone softly. ‘Thank you very much’.
    ‘One thing more, milord’. Bentinck frowned. ‘As I was leavin’ just now, all quiet-like, to find my nag, I heard a bit of an argument between the girl—the beauty—and a servant. Seems as if there’s trouble down at the beach, Ragg’s Cove they call it, between the militia and some fishermen. And the girl’s gone hurrying down there to investigate’.
    ‘Not—on her own?’ Lucas’s voice was harsh. Incredulous.
    ‘Sounds like it, milord. Weren’t nothing I could—’
    ‘I know Ragg’s Cove’. Lucas looked grim. ‘There’s a path down to it from where the Wycherley gardens end at the top of the cliffs…’. He was making rapid decisions. ‘We’ll both ride quietly back towards the house, then you must keep yourself and the horses hidden. If I’m not back in half an hour—come after me’.
    ‘But—’
    ‘That’s an order. Understand?’
    Bentinck sighed. ‘Understood, milord’. And followed.
    * * *
    As Verena hurried down the last few yards to the shingle beach, a hoarse cry of welcome rose from the half-dozen or so figures who cowered from the militia men’s pointed muskets. ‘Miss Verena! It’s Miss Verena!’
    Drawing nearer, she recognised them: old Tom Sawrey, Billy Dixon, Ned Goodhew, and two others. Wycherley tenants, they farmed smallholdings and fished to supplement their income.
    She also knew the officer in charge of the militia. ‘Colonel Harrap! Yes, it’s me, Verena Sheldon! I have no idea what you and your soldiers think you’re doing! French spies indeed!’
    Colonel Harrap puffed himself out like a peacock. ‘I’m afraid you aren’t acquainted with the full facts, Miss Sheldon! Are you aware, for instance, that these scoundrels—’ he pointed at the Wycherley men ‘—made a signal—a fire, up on the cliff—to lure the enemy into land? And as a servant of his Majesty, it’s my duty to arrest them!’
    Her heart lurched sickly.
A fire
. She looked sharply at the villagers again.
    Fish weren’t the only haul they landed at night. Occasionally she and her family had received good French brandy, and sometimes even a bale of silk. Tonight—yes, tonight it was all too possible that they’d lit a fire to