A Warriner To Protect Her

‘I thought I would head to the village and see what I can find out about our guest.’ After cradling the woman in his arms for hours and sleeping alongside her for two nights, much as he did not want to, he already felt responsible for the chit. And strangely protective. Clearly he was going soft in his old age.

Jamie handed him a steaming mug of tea and an assessing stare. ‘Good idea. I’ve been thinking much the same myself. It is fairly safe to assume the girl is in danger, but if you go there asking questions, you could stir up a hornets’ nest.’

‘I am not a fool.’

‘I never said you were; however, you are not known for your subtlety. I’ll come with you and show you how it’s done.’

Without thinking, Jack allowed his gaze to wander to his brother’s wounded leg and regretted it instantly when he saw his face cloud with fury. ‘I am not a blasted cripple, Jack! I can still ride a horse.’

He was in no mood to try to reason with him today. Jack had barely slept properly in three nights so his temper was closer to the surface than usual and he would likely say something which couldn’t be undone. Since Jamie had come home, he was still so angry at the world and convinced he was good for nothing. Any attempts at brotherly concern about him over-extending himself and putting back his recovery would only aggravate him further.

‘I shall saddle the horses then.’

* * *

It was market day in Retford and by the time they arrived the square was already bustling with activity. At his brother’s suggestion, they went directly to the inn in search of breakfast and information. It made sense. If strangers were in the area, they would be staying at the inn. Jack would not have thought of that first, so perhaps having Jamie in tow would prove to be beneficial.

‘Just eat your food and listen. The trick to good recognisance is to appear disinterested. If we hear anything vaguely interesting, leave it to me to do the probing.’

Jack grunted in response, a little put out by his brother’s lack of faith in his abilities. Jamie selected a table in the centre of the dining room and they ordered food, then his brother disappeared to do some quiet digging and left him to his own devices. For want of something useful to do, he scanned the patrons to see if he could see anything suspicious and conceded that perhaps his brother was right. He knew nothing about gathering information subtly. In fact, his relationship with subtlety of any sort could best be described as tenuous. Jack was a doer and acknowledged his usually straightforward methods of getting to the truth might not be what was needed today. Because it was market day, almost every face was new to him—and therefore, by default, instantly suspicious to his untrained eyes. His first instinct was to go and thoroughly question them all, which was exactly what his military-trained brother had feared he would do. ‘You cannot help yourself, Big Brother,’ he had said as they had ridden over, ‘you are too used to being in charge.’ Acknowledging his own character flaws always made Jack wince; having them pointed out correctly by a sibling was galling.

At the bar, Jamie had sidled up to the innkeeper. Being a recently returned war hero from the infamous family who lived near the forest made him of significant interest to the innkeeper. The locals did love to gossip and the Warriners had given them plenty to feast on over the years. Jack watched the man ask his brother question after question with barely contained curiosity and, as usual, Jamie dealt with them with his customary surliness, staring into his drink and never meeting his interrogator’s eyes. To all intents and purposes he appeared exactly like a man who wanted nothing more than to be left alone rather than one on a quest for information. Jack had to admire that talent, even if he was still slightly sulking and did so begrudgingly.

A few minutes later, Jamie limped back to the table and spoke in a voice so low, Jack had to strain his ears to hear it.

‘There are a group of men from London staying here. A pushy lot, by all accounts, who the innkeeper would be glad to see the back of. They have been here since the morning after you found your damsel in distress. Came in soaked to the skin, despite the two fancy carriages they arrived with. The carriages and half the men left the next day, leaving three of them behind. The rooms were all booked under the name Smith. The innkeeper says they’ve been asking questions about a girl. An heiress, by all accounts.’ Jack raised his eyebrows at this news. ‘They are claiming she has been kidnapped and they are searching for her. They haven’t surfaced yet this morning, but he expects them presently on account of it being market day and filled with new people to talk to. So far, each morning they have done the same thing. They ask questions, eat and disappear for the day. He has no idea where they go to—but they come back very frustrated. As if they are in a great hurry to get the job done.’

Jamie shot him a warning glance as their breakfasts were brought over. How he noticed the impending arrival of the food was also impressive, Jack mused, seeing as Jamie was not facing the kitchen and would have needed eyes in the back of his head to have seen anyone behind him. The innkeeper’s wife plonked them down unceremoniously in front of them, her hostility towards not one, but two Warriners so early in the morning written all over her face.

‘Have you paid for these?’

Their father’s legacy still blighted them. The bastard had been dead seven years and still the locals believed a Warriner equalled nothing but bad debt and aggravation. Jamie shot the woman an evil look and was about to put her in her place when Jack intervened. ‘I paid up front, Nelly. As I always do.’ He was trying to build the broken bridges, had been trying for years to mend them, and as much as the slights still wounded he understood them. For centuries the Warriner family had always been a bad lot and it would take a darn sight longer than seven years for the brothers to repair the damage their ancestors had wrought. It was only in the last eighteen months that Jack had been able to lure a few rag-tag tenants back to his land and even they were not originally from around these parts. Nelly sniffed and stalked off.

‘Perhaps they are Letty’s family searching for her? Maybe she was kidnapped.’ Conjuring the image of her terrified and running away from him made Jack feel a strange combination of protectiveness and fury all over again.

Jamie shrugged. ‘Or that is exactly what they want us to think. They could hardly tell people they are the kidnappers and they would like their hostage back now, can they?’ That argument made a lot of sense too. ‘Besides, if they are above board, why the name Smith? It’s too convenient, Jack. My gut tells me it’s not right.’

As Jamie’s guts had saved his soldiering bacon on more than one occasion, Jack decided to go along with them. They ate in virtual silence in order to overhear the tangled conversations around them. In the main, they were all tradesmen here to make some coin. One or two piqued their interest, but nobody mentioned a bound and gagged girl in the woods.

Their food was long finished and they were about to leave when three burly men walked in and scanned the room like hawks seeking prey. Jamie picked up his empty mug and pretended to drink. ‘Here we go. This is them, I reckon.’

The three men instantly split up and began approaching the other patrons jovially, moving from group to group after friendly handshakes were exchanged and ever closer to their table.

‘Remember. Act bored. And keep your mouth shut.’

Jack gave his brother a sarcastic look. ‘I appreciate your confidence in me, Jamie.’

‘Hello, gentlemen—might I trouble you for a few moments?’ The man who pulled up a chair next to them was all politeness. Jamie flicked him a detached look and shrugged. Jack copied.

‘Do you live locally?’

‘What’s it to you?’ Jamie replied suspiciously.

‘Merely a friendly enquiry, sir.’ The man’s diction was crisp, but his appearance belied it. Underneath the fine clothes and the oily smile, he was not from the gentry, Jack was certain of that. He might lack Jamie’s skills as a spy but he knew a wrong ’un when he saw one. This man had fists like hams, for a start, and a nose which had been often broken. The bridge had collapsed beneath his forehead before jutting out at an odd angle, making him appear more like a bare-knuckle fighter from a travelling carnival than a discerning gentleman of taste passing along the Great North Road. A fine, white jagged scar bisected one cheek. Its presence spoke volumes. This man was a close acquaintance of violence.

‘My friends and I are looking for someone. A young lady.’ The man gave them a knowing smile. ‘There’s a reward.’

Jamie stared down into his empty mug as though he was only interested in how soon he could fill it up again. ‘A reward, you say?’ It was quite a masterly performance. Casual disinterest which gave the interloper just enough hope the lure of money might tempt him.

‘Indeed. A handsome one. A hundred pounds to anyone who aids in her safe return.’

Jamie let out a slow, impressed whistle. ‘A hundred pounds—that’s a lot of money. Why so much?’ He glanced casually at Jack, his lips curved in a disbelieving half-smile before he turned back to their visitor. ‘Is she wanted by the Crown?’

‘No. Nothing like that... She has gone missing.’

‘We are on the road to Gretna Green. Hundreds of young girls go missing along this road every single year. If yours doesn’t want to be found...’ Jamie shrugged again, allowing the implication to ferment.

‘Unfortunately, we believe the young lady in question was kidnapped rather than eloped. Her family are extremely keen to have her back. They fear for her safety.’

‘If she’s been kidnapped, why not wait for the ransom demand and simply pay it?’ Jamie was back to being bored again. His amused eyes met Jack’s. ‘We are not the sort of men to take on a gang of kidnappers. Not even for a hundred pounds. We value our own lives too much.’

The man smiled and nodded. ‘I understand, gentlemen—but the lady in question is rather...resourceful. If...she managed to escape their clutches, it might explain why no ransom demands have been made yet.’ It all sounded so reasonable—yet alarm bells were ringing in Jack’s mind. ‘All I would ask is that you keep a watchful eye out for her. She is gently bred, unfamiliar with the area and there are so many places she could get lost here. If you did come across any information as to her whereabouts, her family would be very grateful... And it might prove to be very lucrative for you gentlemen also. Everyone wins, as it were.’

Jack had had enough of playing the mute sidekick. ‘If we did see her, what does she look like?’ He ignored his brother’s warning glare.

‘Very pretty. Blonde hair. Green eyes. Only twenty. She’s quite a striking little thing. A bit prone to fancy though, as so many young women are, and after such an ordeal there’s no telling what sort of state her poor mind will be in...’ The man shook his head as if he were genuinely concerned and it raised the hackles on Jack’s neck further. ‘Her family are hoping to get her back quietly. You understand. The poor girl would be ruined if the world knew what had happened to her. If you see or hear anything, you can find me here at the inn.’

‘And your name is?’

‘Smith. Mr John Smith.’

‘And the girl’s? Is she a Smith too?’

‘No, sir. I merely work for the family. Her name is Violet.’

‘No surname?’

The man smiled again, but it lacked any sincerity. ‘That’s right, sir. The family would prefer not to create a scandal...the young lady would be quite ruined if news of her abduction leaked. Therefore, I am certain you can see now why the family are keen to get her safely returned into their loving arms as swiftly as possible.’

Jamie pierced the stranger with his steely glare. ‘If the reward is one hundred pounds, then I am assuming the family is important. That is a large amount of money for a lady of little consequence. Therefore, it stands to reason they can spare more than a paltry hundred pounds for her safe return, don’t you think?’

The other man stood, his face a frozen mask. ‘May I enquire as to your names, sirs?’ There was suspicion in his cold eyes now as they flicked between them.

Jack stared back, all smug arrogance. ‘Warriner. I am Jack and this is my younger brother Jamie.’

For a second he saw Jamie silently querying the logic behind giving this fellow their real names, then realising it was sensible. If they aroused this man’s suspicions he would likely check on their story and a great many of their neighbours would happily sell the ‘Wild’ Warriners down the river.

‘Well, Mr Warriner, I am sure the family would be open to negotiations. Should you have anything of...interest to them.’

Jack laughed and slapped his brother heartily on the back. ‘I think me and you should go heiress hunting, Jamie. What do you say? What could we do with at least a hundred pounds, aye?’ Never a truer word was spoken although it was a drop in the ocean compared to what he actually needed to stop the rot in their ailing fortunes.

Jack smiled enthusiastically back at the still-loitering man, ignoring the bad taste in his mouth which came from coveting the reward and for hoping the scarred, creepy fellow was, indeed, telling the truth, despite his gut feeling that he wasn’t. The Warriners could do with one hundred pounds. It might be enough to send Joe to medical school for a while and ease his guilt at failing to get his brother there sooner.

Then again, wanting that money already felt disloyal to Letty, although he had no idea where his overriding loyalty to her had come from. Unless it was just the crushing burden of yet more responsibility he did not need. Jack apparently had a soft spot for damsels in distress. ‘Where did you last see her, Mr Smith?’

The man’s expression instantly changed to one of friendliness again, believing he had won them over. ‘We suspect she might have been taken along this section of the Great North Road.’

‘You suspect?’ Jack shook his head at his brother and laughed derisively. ‘So we would not be chasing a fact—merely a suspicion? Only about ten villages and a hundred square miles of Sherwood Forest to search then!’ He stared back at the man with pity. ‘I think my brother and I can find better things to do with our time than searching for a needle in a haystack—but I wish you well with your search. If, by some miracle, we do hear something, rest assured, Mr Smith, you will be the first to know.’ For good measure, he toasted him with his own empty mug.

Chapter Five

Still just one month to go...

Her attentive physician tied the last of her clean bandages, then sat back on the mattress to smile at her. ‘It is indeed a miracle you are this hale and hearty. I was convinced you would die when Jack brought you home, yet now there are just a few sprains and cuts left to heal. You obviously have a strong constitution indeed. A day or two of rest and I dare say you will be as good as new.’

Letty certainly felt better. And cleaner. The youngest Warriner, Jacob, had brought her a bucket of hot water, some soap and towels at her request, so she had managed to rinse the mud and grit from her hair. She was sat up in bed, her belly pleasantly filled with food and dressed in a freshly laundered gentleman’s shirt. She bestowed her healer with one of Violet’s best smiles—the one which had been fêted in society as the most stunning of the Season—and hoped her swollen lip would not spoil its impact. ‘Thank you, Doctor. I am grateful for all you have done.’

‘I am no doctor yet,’ he said a little wistfully, ‘but perhaps one day.’

This surprised her. ‘I was certain you were a proper physician. Your medical knowledge is excellent. Without your help, I do not doubt I would have died. Why do you not get a proper licence to practise medicine?’

He stood and busied himself with tidying away the soiled bandages. ‘I study and read extensively, and I am sure that one day I will qualify. However, it is not just my efforts that saved your life. The majority of your thanks should be directed at my brother Jack. He was the one who brought you home and he has scarcely left your side since your arrival. He was the one who spent the nights tending to your fever and making sure you were kept warm.’

Letty recalled the eldest Warriner had slept on the floor beside her last night. Clearly, he had spent a few nights on that hard floor on her behalf—odd when he had appeared so suspicious and put upon, although, for reasons she could not fathom, his diligence did not surprise her. ‘Then I shall extend my gratitude to him also, Dr Joe, as soon as I see him next.’

He had not been there when she had awoken this morning, which at the time Letty had been relieved about. Jack Warriner saw too much. Whether or not he really was a good man, as both of his younger brothers had suggested, she would have to see. However, neither Jacob nor Joe Warriner had been guarded in their answers this morning when she had bombarded them with a stream of questions. Thanks to them, Letty now knew for certain she was not a prisoner in this house. Jack Warriner had found her on the road and brought her home, and by doing so, had saved her life.

Home was a four-hundred-year-old manor house surrounded by thirty acres of park and farmland. Mostly farmland. The Warriners grew wheat and raised sheep, and hardly moved in the sort of circles Bainbridge and her duplicitous uncle did. Apparently, only the second eldest, Jamie, had been to London and then only once on a fleeting visit, so they would have no idea who she was either.

They all worked on the land, with the exception of Jamie who had only recently arrived back from the war, and was still recovering from the damage Napoleon’s army had done to his body. The three younger brothers also had enormous respect for Jack. It shone out of their eyes whenever he was mentioned in a conversation and they clearly deferred to his leadership on all matters of importance.

The Warriners were fiercely loyal and hugely protective of one another, the sort of tight family bond Letty had never experienced, yet always yearned for. They loved one another. It was plainly obvious and she could not help envying them for that. It must be nice to know there was always somebody there for you, ready to support you or simply to commiserate with when times were tough. To always have someone to turn to. Letty had not had such support since the untimely death of her parents at seventeen. She had ostensibly been all alone in the world—yet nobody had really pitied her because she was the Tea Heiress after all, as if her money could somehow fix her broken heart, or banish her loneliness and make everything bright in the world again.

If something happened to one of the brothers, the others would move heaven and earth to rectify things or would support each other in their grief. She had been missing from Mayfair for days—and sincerely doubted anybody had missed her at all. Not really. Her swathes of friends might comment on her absence at a ball or afternoon tea, but Letty was not convinced any of them genuinely cared enough to investigate the true cause of her absence. She did not possess one true friend, the sort a girl could confide in or depend upon. Nobody had ever assumed she might want one and she had no idea how to go about getting one. And that was a humbling thought, as well as a depressing one. She had more money than she could ever spend in one lifetime, yet she envied the Warriners.

She got the impression life was tough for the family—although such disloyalty had not been vocalised explicitly—and she suspected the main obstacle between Joe qualifying as a doctor, and not, was decidedly financial. That might work in her favour. In her experience, those in need of money were easily bribed and her father had often commented on the benefits of ‘greasing a few palms’. In a few weeks, she could easily fill the palms of all four Warriners with gold and still not make a dent in her reserves.

And then again it might not. If they desperately needed money quickly, they could well sell her back to Bainbridge if the opportunity presented itself. At least Bainbridge could pay them instantly—Letty would have to wait weeks to get her hands on her own money. The appointment was already made with the solicitor on the day of her birthday to sign the papers which would give her her longed-for independence. It was also the day she would consign a generous portion of it to the charitable trust she intended to set up in her name and begin carving out a new life filled with noble purpose rather than pampered inertia. Once that was done, she intended to begin searching for premises right away and nobody would be able to stop her.

Her uncle had always been most dismissive of her desire to put her money to work and had refused to allow her to spend it on anything apart from gowns and fripperies she did not need and had long ago ceased to want. But on that glorious day, in one month’s time, she could do with it whatever she pleased. The Warriners might not want to wait.

The fact that she had not been attended to by the family servants niggled. It was almost as if the brothers were intent on keeping her presence here a great secret. Why would they do that unless it was for sinister purposes? Was it for her protection or was it for theirs? The most pressing problem was that Letty really did not know if this family was to be trusted.

Until she did, it was probably sensible to have an escape route. As soon as Joe left her on a quest to fetch her some tea, Letty eased her legs over the side of the bed. After carefully testing her weight on her bad ankle, she hobbled across the room to the faceted, leadlight window and peered out.

Markham Manor was indeed in deepest, darkest, dankest Nottinghamshire. One side of the estate was fringed with dense woodland. The outer edge of the estate ran directly alongside the River Idle, so unless they came by boat or battled their way through the trees, the only way Bainbridge could enter the grounds was to the east, and via the narrow, rutted dirt lane her rescuer had found her on. A lane whose only destination was here.

In the distance, Letty could just about make out the high wall which she now knew enclosed the Warriners’ land. She also knew the huge gates were now locked because Jacob had moaned about the effort it had taken to do so and the splinters he had received in the process. A little further along, and purposely hidden behind tangled vines, was a smaller gate, a secret escape route which sounded positively medieval and very romantic. The Warriners of old must have needed such a device, as well as a great deal of fortified protection, if they had built such defences, yet those same defences now gave Letty a great deal of peace of mind. She had been here three days and nobody had come a calling. The more time passed, she hoped, the less likely it was they would do so.

Directly below her window was a cobbled courtyard which housed a large iron pump handle and a small mountain of buckets balanced haphazardly on top of each other. Other than that, the courtyard was bare. Her bedchamber must face over the kitchens then, in the rear of the house and well away from prying eyes in the lane. The drop from her window to the courtyard was significant enough to cause injury, she estimated, yet not quite high enough to result in death. There was trellis alongside her window, covered in the gnarled old branches of a wisteria left quite barren by the winter. If she had to, she could lower herself from it carefully and make a dash for the woods.

Satisfied the outside was safe, Letty turned and began to hobble towards her bedchamber door to investigate the layout of the house when the door opened and Jack Warriner strode in.

Then stopped dead.

She was wearing his shirt. That should not have come as a surprise because his brother had dressed her in his shirt when they had transferred her unconscious body to Jack’s bedchamber because the only other one in any habitable state had mould creeping over the damp, cracked walls. Except the sight of her standing there in it was simply staggering. She had legs. Lovely, shapely female legs which were bare to mid-thigh where the tail of the shirt hung. And the most wonderful golden hair Jack had ever seen. A tumble of corkscrew ringlets fell past her shoulders, the short curls around her face framing it like a halo. His words dried in his throat and his eyebrows shot up as he stared at the beautiful creature right in front of him.