She let go his hand and they were once more riding down the road. Philip let her go the last stretch alone, watching from the road until he saw her turn into the stable yard and slide down from her horse. Then he turned and rode back toward the mill.
The weight in his pockets reminded Philip of the things he carried on Sir Thomas Levenger’s advice. False papers. False maps. And a pistol. Philip cursed the weight of all three in his pockets.
He could still hear Sir Thomas’s voice telling him, “You don’t know what you shall find. Canfield may be passing on more than uniforms. Maps or battle plans. Carry false ones to place in their stead. And remember that he may be on his guard and you may find the need to defend yourself. Carry a pistol, m’boy!”
Never mind that Philip hated pistols. Never mind that he could not recall when last he had fired one. Yes, yes, that was one more charge of ungentlemanly conduct to be held against him by George, but he hated the blasted things and he could feel this one slapping against his thigh, in the pocket of his coat, as he rode.
Well, if it went off by accident, it would be Sir Thomas’s fault. And he would curse him not only now, as he rode, but to his face as well. Still, Sir Thomas had been right just often enough, in the strangest of circumstances, for Philip to be willing to ignore his advice.
Philip only hoped it would prove wise tonight.
* * * *
Canfield took the papers out of their temporary hiding place, wrapped them carefully in sharkskin, and then finally rolled them tight within one of the uniforms. He paused as he thought he heard a sound, but it did not come again and he decided he had been mistaken. It was beginning to get foggy outside and that always distorted sounds. Or perhaps it was a rat. There were certainly enough of them running around this place at night.
He had more important matters to worry about. The men would be here soon. Everything had to be ready. They did not like to be kept waiting and Canfield was not about to cross men who looked as these did. He never saw the shadow that followed him as he took the bundled uniforms outside. Or moved closer when a group of very unsavory looking men appeared.
Canfield and the men moved a short distance away, to discuss payment and a few other matters. None of them noticed the shadow stealing up to the uniforms or the exchange that took place. Or saw it slip away again before the men moved to collect the bundle of uniforms and place it at the bottom of their farmer’s cart.
Canfield did think he overheard the sound of an extra set of horse’s hooves following the wagon carrying the uniforms and the men who meant to deliver them. But he shrugged it off as a trick of the fog that had descended such a short time before. Besides, the sound was moving away. If there was a problem, let the men in the wagon deal with it. He had no doubt they could do so. In any event, it was cold and late and he wanted to return home to his nice, warm bed.
* * * *
It was later, many hours later before a very weary Philip could rest. He rode into the yard of the inn, where he knew Harry to be staying, awaiting word from him, as exhausted as the horse he sat on. And he slid from the horse’s back as eager for food as the loyal creature who had carried him so many miles in the night.
Inside, the innkeeper, already rising for the day’s work, readily agreed to provide him with a private parlor but looked much taken aback when asked to wake a guest at this ungodly hour. But there was no need. A soft step on the stairs and Philip turned to see his brother Harry coming down in his stocking feet, boots in hand.
They clasped hands in silence then followed the innkeeper to the promised private parlor. Harry ordered a hearty breakfast for both of them and silenced the innkeeper’s protest at the earliness of the hour by tossing him a gold coin.
“You look much in need of something to restore you,” Harry said when the man was gone.
“I’ve ridden far tonight,” Philip agreed, grimly. “I’m sorry, Harry, but I lost the men before they reached the coast. Lost them in a little village called Halingdale. I’d forgotten it was market day and by the time we reached there, probably around four o’clock in the morning, the blasted place was already full of wagons coming to market. I got cut off and by the time I managed to make my way to the center of town, the men and the cart had disappeared. I asked after them and tried to look about but it was useless, I’m sorry.”
Harry nodded. “Clever of them. But in any event, at least we know for certain now that he is sending uniforms to the French.”
“Uniforms and something else,” Philip added.
From his pocket, Philip pulled the papers he had abstracted and replaced with the false set he and Sir Thomas had concocted between them. He gave these papers to Harry who whistled softly.
“You’d best tell me the whole story,” Harry said.
Philip did so, leaving nothing out, including Levenger’s advice and the news of his own betrothal. Harry’s eyes lit up at the description of how the uniforms had been marked—cunningly so that no one was likely to notice, but easy enough to spot if warned.
By the time his recital was done, interrupted only when the food was brought in, Harry’s eyes were dancing and he was grinning with patent approval.
“Excellent, Philip! I could not have done better myself. Are you certain you would not wish for a post with the ministry? We could use a man with talent such as yours.”
Philip smiled at his brother sardonically. “I thank you, no. Tonight’s excitement was more than enough for me. I am quite content with my law books and cases in court.”
Harry shrugged. “A pity.”
For several moments they ate in companionable silence. Then Harry said, “Tell me about this Miss Ashbourne. I have heard James’s opinion and George’s and even Athenia’s. But from what you have told me tonight, she sounds a remarkably resourceful woman and one I should like. Tell me more about her.”
With a wry smile, Philip did so. And by the time he was done, Harry was grinning. “She sounds just the wife for you, Philip, whatever George may say. I look forward to meeting her. But now I must be on my way back to London.”
Both men rose to their feet. “What will you do?” Harry asked. “Sleep? Return to London with me? I must get these papers to the ministry without delay.”
Philip shook his head. “I must return to Miss Ashbourne’s home and hope that she has somehow managed to conceal my absence. That or account for it in some plausible way. We were to start for London this morning but that, patently, is impossible now. I must hope, presuming her father does not withdraw his consent to our marriage, that we will start for London tomorrow. Will you still be there when I get back?”
Harry nodded slowly. “Yes, and your public pronouncement of your betrothal will be my signal to wash my hands of you and return to the fighting in Spain. It will answer very well, I think.”
“I am so glad that my betrothal suits your plans,” Philip replied with heavy irony.
Harry only laughed. “I hope she will lead you a merry dance, brother. From everything you have said, it seems inevitable that she will do so and it will do you good.”
Philip hesitated then asked, “You do not mind that I have broken our pact? You and James and I, never to marry?”
Harry merely made a rude sound in reply.
Another brief silence then Philip said, “What will happen to Canfield?”
“Nothing. At least not for some time. Probably six months at the very least. By then the French will have begun to realize that the uniforms are a liability, not an asset. And that the papers they received were false. If they do not do something about Canfield, then the ministry will. Why?”
Philip hesitated. Then, slowly he said, “I think that I may find myself buying a mill. In about six months or so.”
Harry gave a shout of laughter. “That will please George, it will! Miss Ashbourne’s influence, I presume?”
“Go to the devil!” was Philip’s sour reply.
Harry laughed again. He did, however, have one last piece of advice and he spok
e it soberly. “I should avoid Canfield, if I were you,” he said. “You would appear to have successfully fooled him as to your purpose. But you do not wish him to connect you to what has happened, should he discover that something has gone wrong.”
“Believe me, I mean to stay as far away from Canfield as possible,” Philip replied in the same serious tone. “Although I should think his mind would be on his grievance with me in the matter of Miss Ashbourne, No more than you do I wish to see him warned as to what we have done. And I fear I should find it hard to pretend to knowing nothing after what I saw and did tonight.”
“Good.”
Harry nodded curtly. It was time for the two men to go their separate ways. They exchanged a few more words, then Harry tucked the papers into his own pocket and headed for his room to pack. Though in truth he had, as always, traveled very lightly.
Philip went out to the stables and called for his horse. He was sorry to have to push the creature any farther, but there was no help for it. This was Ashbourne’s horse and while his own absence could perhaps be explained away, the disappearance of a horse, to be replaced with another, would not be so easily done.
So Philip rode, hoping that Emily had been as clever with her tongue on his behalf as she so often was on her own.
When he finally rode into the Ashbourne stable yard, he found Emily’s father cursing out the stable hands for letting him take a horse and be gone all night.
“There you are! Out drinking and sowing the last of your wild oats, I’ve no doubt!” Ashbourne exclaimed.
Philip managed to stagger a bit and speak in a voice that seemed a trifle unsteady. “About to be married. Can’t do so afterwards.”
Ashbourne snorted. “Of course you can! Just need to be discreet. Well, well, no harm done, I suppose, so long as my Emily doesn’t catch sight of you like this. Come, I’ll show you the back way into the house. We’ll nip up the servant’s stairs and I’ll have your man sent up to you. Sleep for a few hours and you’ll be right as a trivet and none the wiser. But tomorrow you leave for London. I’ll not take the chance of my Emily changing her mind yet again. The sooner I see the pair of you buckled together, the better I shall feel.”
Meekly Philip allowed himself to be led inside.
Chapter 24
It was late by the time Philip had seen Miss Jarrod and Emily settled back into their hired house in London.
Philip’s first task the next morning, however, was to call upon Sir Thomas and thank him for his assistance. He was welcomed warmly. And then they got down to business.
“Right, was I?” Sir Thomas asked.
Philip nodded. “About Canfield passing on battle plans with the uniforms, yes. Here, by the by, are the maps we did.”
He started to hand them back to Sir Thomas who held up a hand to forestall him. “Keep them. You may need them at some point in the future if my reading of Harry’s character is correct. And I suspect it is.”
He paused then looked at Philip and said shrewdly, “Well, have you decided? Are you going to marry Miss Ashbourne, after all?”
“Yes.”
“No need to color up, m’boy, I think it’s an excellent notion.”
Philip leaned forward, a smile on his own face that Sir Thomas Levenger profoundly distrusted. He was quite right to do so.
“You approve of matrimony, then, do you, sir?”
The older barrister nodded warily, not willing to commit himself with actual words.
It was, nevertheless, enough for Philip. His voice was soft, but with an edge that betrayed his springing of the trap. “If you approve, sir, then why don’t you get married yourself?” he said.
For once Sir Thomas found himself without words to reply. He gaped at Philip. He started to stammer. He started to cough. Finally he glared and said, “You are an impertinent puppy, Philip!”
The younger man leaned back in his chair and smiled at Sir Thomas, not in the least abashed. “Am I? But if the institution of marriage is such a worthy one, why do you avoid it, sir? Particularly when there is a lady who would be very happy to become your wife.”
For a moment, Philip thought his mentor was going to have fit of apoplexy, so dark did his complexion become.
“You do not know what you are talking about!” Sir Thomas thundered.
Philip merely smiled. “No? Perhaps not, but I’ll wager Miss Jarrod does.”
Sir Thomas began to fiddle with some papers on his desk. He avoided Philip’s eyes. “Miss Jarrod has been kind enough to dance with me, I’ll grant you that, but it is a far cry from considering someone an eligible dance partner to being willing to consider marrying that person.”
“Not so far for her,” Philip answered softly. “She speaks of you with great affection and I know that she has told Miss Ashbourne that were you to offer for her, she would not refuse.”
Sir Thomas’s head snapped up and his eyes met Philip’s sternly. “If this is some sort of jest—”
“It is not, sir, I assure you.”
Something that Philip could only believe was hope seemed to fill Sir Thomas’s face. Still the older man stammered and blustered a bit, but in the end he merely said quietly, “I suppose Miss Jarrod and Miss Ashbourne are on the Ashbourne estate?”
“No, sir, they came back to London with me.”
“Where are they staying?” Sir Thomas asked diffidently.
“The same place as before. It seems Miss Ashbourne hired the house for the entire Season.”
Philip gave him their direction, just in case he did not already have it. Then, without haste, he rose to his feet and said, “I know you will excuse me, sir. I know you must have things to do this morning and so do I.”
“Yes, yes,” Sir Thomas said, somewhat absently.
Philip left his mentor’s office feeling very satisfied with his morning’s efforts.
A short time later he was meeting with his man of business. “Yes, a mill,” he said gently but firmly. “It is not yet for sale but I have reason to believe it will be. At that time I wish you to purchase it.”
“And, er, when do you believe it might become available for purchase?” the harassed fellow asked.
“Perhaps in five to seven months,” Philip replied.
The man made an attempt to bring Philip to his senses. “You have, sir, a reasonable competence, but I am not at all certain it will extend to purchasing a mill!” he said severely.
“I have reason to believe this one will come very cheap.”
The man pressed his thumb and forefinger against the bridge of his nose. “And if it does not?”
Philip shrugged. “I am certain I can find others who will back me in this.”
The man spread his hands. “But why?” he asked, almost pleading.
Philip smiled to himself. “It’s to be a belated wedding present to my wife,” he replied.
The man gaped at Philip. “A wedding present?” he echoed, his voice squeaking in disbelief.
Philip’s smile broadened. “Yes, a wedding present. I am certain I can leave the details to you. Simply inform me when the matter is done.”
“Yes, sir. I most certainly shall,” the man of business said, speaking in precisely the sort of tone one might use to humor a madman which his expression left no doubt he thought Philip was.
Undaunted, Philip rose to his feet and went on to his next rendezvous. He found his brother James still in bed and insisted that his valet rouse him.
By the time James came into the breakfast room, belting a robe angrily about his waist, Philip was tucking into a generous portion of ham with which the valet had kindly provided him.
“What the devil is the meaning of calling at this ungodly hour?” James demanded.
Philip looked at him and gestured toward a chair. “There is no need to shout. Have some ham, it will improve your temper greatly.”
“I don’t want to improve my temper,” James grumbled, but he sat nevertheless and allowed himself to be given some of the ham.
&
nbsp; After Philip was certain his brother had calmed a bit, he said, lightly, “I came for two reasons. One was to tell you that the news of my betrothal to Miss Ashbourne should be in the papers tomorrow.”
“Good. I like the girl. Sensible creature, unlike most of them,” James said, mildly enough.
Thus encouraged, Philip went on, “And the second reason is that I have a request for you. I should like you to design safer equipment for a mill I expect to be buying within the year.”
James looked up, understandably more surprised by this than by the other bit of information. Still, he merely lifted his eyebrows and said, “Intend to set up George’s back, do you?”
Philip shrugged. “It cannot be helped. But I do not mean for him, or anyone else, to know, if possible.”
James nodded. Philip waited and when his brother did not speak, he began to drum his fingers on the tabletop. When even that did not provoke a response he finally said, with pardonable exasperation, “Well? Do you mean to help me or not? I should have thought you would enjoy the challenge of designing such machinery.”
James ate, without any apparent hurry, the piece of ham on his fork then said, “Already am.” At Philip’s look of surprise, James added, “Your Miss Ashbourne asked me, the night of Lady Jersey’s ball. Happy to oblige.”
“But how did she know you do such things? No, never mind,” Philip said, holding up a hand. “I suppose she ferreted it out of you.”
He started to chuckle and then it turned into a full fledged laugh. James joined him, the corners of his eyes crinkling in amusement.
“You are the most complete hand!” Philip exclaimed, getting to his feet. “I ought to have known that Miss Ashbourne would already have managed to corrupt you. Very well, I shan’t press you for details. Time enough for that when and if I do possess the mill. For now I shall leave you to your breakfast. I have a great deal to do this morning.”
James merely smiled and watched his brother leave.
The Reckless Barrister Page 19