Page 73 of The Gift of Patience
Once they were back in the curricle on their way home, Westwood drove in silence until they reached the main road. They had found nothing of consequence in Rupert’s room.
“How did you know, Patience? You seem to have a keen mind for this. I’d appreciate your thoughts.”
“I think it is unfortunate that Rupert is dead. He would have been the key to unlocking this. He was not good at subterfuge and liked to boast. I think if Sir Horace had not killed him, then someone would have. He had become a liability.”
“Why do you think he was desperate to accompany the prisoner that day?”
“That is an oddity. One would think he’d be relieved that Devil was gone. Perhaps he wanted to make certain. Or the attack by the gang was ordered, but went very wrong.”
“I hope Major Stuart and Major Manners are having more luck than us since our biggest lead is dead.”
“There has to be a connection with Layton and Beckett. I’m certain of it, but will we be able to catch them?”
“Let us hope they take the bait. Is Layton’s father aware of the trap?”
“To my knowledge, only Lord Upton is aware. Let us hope the bait winds up in the right hands.”
A cart pulled over to let them pass, and Westwood waved his thanks.
“I confess. I never expected something of this magnitude when I first brought Ashley into it. Who could have guessed there would be an arms smuggling ring somehow connected to our small village?”
Indeed. They were approaching the gates of Taywards and Patience thought she saw something in the hedge again. Perhaps it was her imagination since her horse had spooked earlier, but she placed a hand on Westwood’s arm to alert him and angled her head.
He nodded acknowledgment and drew back on the reins to bring the horses to a walk. “What did you see?” he asked quietly.
“Someone is in the hedge.”
“Do you think it’s the same person?”
“It would be a great coincidence to have two people lurking in the hedge on your land in one day.”
Westwood pulled the conveyance to a stop. “Who’s there?”
They were met with silence, but Patience thought she detected a dark outline crouch down behind the foliage.
“Show yourself. We mean you no harm.”
“Do you need help?” Patience called out.
There was a bit of rustling before a face emerged through the leaves.
He looked to be around fourteen years of age. Not a boy, not yet a man. This could have been who spooked Midnight.
“Do you need help?” she asked again.
“I’m looking for the soldier man. The one with the light ’air.” The boy’s voice shook with fear.
“He is my brother,” Westwood said cautiously. “He is currently in London. Can I help you?”
The boy looked as though he were about to bolt. He was rightfully nervous, his eyes darting back and forth.
“What is your name?”
He hesitated a moment as if it were a trick question.
“Billy.”
“Are you Devil’s son?” Westwood asked.
