Page 112 of Marry in Secret
“Then who did?”
“Ambrose.”
“Ambrose?”She stared at him in shock. “Are you sure?”
He nodded.
“But why?”
“That, I can’t even guess at, but I’m going to confront him about it now.”
“Shall I come with you?”
“No.” He kissed her. “This is one thing I must do on my own.”
He went to Ambrose’s house and knocked on the door, but there was no answer. He peered in the windows, but it seemed deserted. He tried the door, just out of frustration, but to his surprise it opened.
“Ambrose?” he called out. It seemed wrong to intrude upon the man’s home, even when it belonged to him. Even when the man had—it seemed: his heart still struggledagainst it—tried to murder him several times. And didn’t apparently mind if he got Rose by mistake.
The door to the estate office was closed. Thomas opened it and looked in. All neat as usual. But a folded note sat on the desk, on top of a pile of ledgers. It bore his name. He opened it.
I’m sorry, Thomas, more than I could ever say. But these books, dull as they are, will tell the tale.
Ambrose
Thomas glanced at the pile of books. Account books. Was that what it was all about? Money?
Where was Ambrose? He was starting to worry. Thoughts of suicide were loitering at the edge of his mind. He refused to entertain them.
He returned to the main house and questioned the servants. The Holdens hadn’t seen him for a few hours. “He went out just before you did this afternoon, m’lord. I haven’t seen him since.” Went out, no doubt to pull down a great branch on Thomas’s head.
Thomas went to the stables, half expecting to see his cousin dangling from the rafters. “Mr. Ambrose, m’lord?” one of the grooms said in answer to his question. “He took the good carriage and four out, mebbe about an hour ago. Took a portmanteau and a little trunk as well. Saw him pack it.”
“Any idea where he was going?”
“Don’t know, m’lord, but old Mr. Newling at the gatehouse would know whether he turned right or left.”
“Good man,” Thomas said. Ambrose had taken the traveling chaise and four horses, which meant that he’d be traveling at speed. “Saddle my horse and bring it up to the house, as quick as you can.”
He raced back to the house. “He’s gone, taken the good carriage,” he told Rose. “I’m going to follow him.”
“But it’ll be dark soon. It’s dangerous to travel at night.”
“If I don’t go now, I’ll never find him. I’m only an hourbehind him.” He glanced at the sky. “It’s a few hours yet to sunset and there’s twilight for thirty or forty minutes after that.”
“But you don’t even know where he’s gone.”
“Old Mr. Newling will know which way he turned. If it’s left, he’s making for Cheltenham and possibly London after that. If he turned right, he’s heading for Bristol.”
“Bristol? You mean the port?”
He nodded. “My guess is he’s planning to leave the country, and the quickest way to do that from here is to catch a ship from Bristol. Leaving at high tide tonight, unless I miss my guess.”
“I’ll come with you.”
“No, you can’t ride to Bristol in that flimsy—though admittedly very fetching—dress, and I don’t have time to wait for you to change. Ambrose could leave the country in a matter of hours, and if nothing else, I have to know why he’s done these terrible things.” As he spoke, the groom ran up with his saddled horse. “Here’s my horse now. I’m off. Don’t worry.” He kissed her, a hard, swift possessive kiss.
“But what if he has a gun?”
