She blinked. “You?”
“Yes. I will bring her back safely. This I vow to you.”
“What of Amos Blankenship?” She gestured weakly with a hand and released a choked, humorless laugh. “He will carry tales. He will not keep this to himself. Indeed not. He will—”
“Oh, he will not talk. I will see to that personally.” Nodding with renewed determination, he turned, marching for the door, hoping that she took solace in his assertion of that. Hopefully, she believed him.
“Wait.”
He turned back around. Mercy was gazing at him resolutely, a fiery light in her eyes. “I am going with you.”
“I will be riding hard—”
“And I will ride hard alongside you. I can keep up. I am accustomed to long hours in the saddle. I won’t be a burden.”
He shook his head, frowning. “You don’t understand.”
“No. You do not understand.” She pressed a hand to her chest, over her heart. “She is my sister. I am going.”
He held that determined stare of hers and recognized at once that she would not be swayed on the matter. “Very well. I will meet you downstairs in ten minutes.”
“I will meet you downstairs in five minutes,” she countered.
That said, she turned and hastened from the room in a whisper of swishing skirts. He followed on her heels, continuing on and venturing to his own bedchamber and packing a few items should they have to stay the night on the road, as he suspected they would.
He didn’t tell her, but he doubted he would catch up with Grace and Blankenship in time to save Grace entirely from the clutches of Amos Blankenship. There would be no undoing that. Mercy likely already knew that. She was an intelligent woman. The couple would have had plenty of time alone and opportunity for all manner of vice.
Silas’s greatest challenge would be not thrashing the man on sight. He would have to work hard to crush that impulse when they came face-to-face.
Grace Kittinger was a child in every sense. Certainly he had seen girls younger than her lost to the hardships of the streets, but Grace had a loving home and family. She had a sister like Mercy. She should be safe from the likes of Blankenship and all manner of men like him. She should have been safe . . . and he knew it was going to wreck Mercy that she had not fully shielded her.
Sighing, he shut his bag and lifted it from his bed, determined to not keep Mercy waiting.
Chapter Twenty
Dusk tinged the sky as they reached the fifth village of the day. Silas could not precisely recall what number inn this would make. The last village of Clembury had boasted no less than four inns and it had taken some time to visit each one of them.
He tossed a coin for the lad to take both their horses and together he and Mercy strode inside.
“Do you think this is the one?” Her voice was still anxious, even after a long day of riding—and searching. She had not given up.
“Let us hope,” he murmured.
The hour was growing late. It would soon be too dark to continue much farther, and if they did not quickly locate Grace and Blankenship that meant the two of them were holed up in some little love nest for the night. There would be no coming back from that. Once that happened, Grace would be well and truly lost.
She would have no hope except marriage to Blankenship. With any luck the fellow meant to offer for her, but Silas had his doubts. He knew men like Blankenship, and they rarely acted with honor. On second thought, marriage to Blankenship might not be the hoped-for outcome. It would only lead, ultimately, to misery for young Grace. He would not wish that on her.
With a hand at the small of her back, he guided Mercy toward the front desk. Raucous sounds spilled from the taproom to the right. Silas rapped the bell at the desk and a man soon emerged to greet them.
“Good evening,” the gentleman said, eyeing them, no doubt assessing their worth based upon the richness of their garments and appearance.
Mercy tucked a bit of hair that had fallen loose back up inside her bonnet in obvious self-consciousness. The day had been long. Even as comfortable and accomplished as she was upon a horse, they had not gone a slow pace. Urgency had pushed them. She was exhausted and looked every inch of it.
“A room for you and the missus?” He reached for a ledger.
“Ah. Perhaps. That is, I hope so. This is rather complicated. Allow me to explain.” Silas scratched his head as though struggling for thought—as though he had not performed this very little drama at each of the previous inns they had visited today. “We are attempting to locate another couple, but you see we do not know their names. We saw the pair earlier this morning. Presumably they were on their way north as are we. I confess I overheard them speaking to the innkeeper over their breakfast. They were seated at the table beside ours. I did not notice until they had departed from the inn, unfortunately, but the gentleman left this on his seat where he was dining.”
Silas pulled from his pocket his very own watch piece dangling from a gold chain, displaying it to the innkeeper as he continued, “It looks to be a fine piece, excellent craftsmanship, and I was hoping to return it to the gentleman. I am certain he will miss it. Might he be staying here?”
The innkeeper’s eyes rounded. “Gah. That is a fancy bit of a gewgaw there.” Now it was the proprietor’s turn to look as though he were in serious contemplation. “Well. Could you describe the gentleman and his lady to me?” he asked slowly, as though the idea was slow to seize him.
Silas snapped his fingers as though this were a brilliant and not obvious suggestion. “Right. Yes. Splendid idea. The gentleman was perhaps of my age.” He looked to Mercy as though for confirmation.
“Yes, some might consider him a handsome fellow. Light brown hair.” She held up her hand a few inches above herself. “About this tall. He cuts a rather dashing figure in fashionable attire.”
Silas nodded in agreement.
The innkeeper canted his head thoughtfully. “Perhaps, perhaps.” He stroked his furry chin. “What did the lady in question look like?”
Mercy took a careful breath. “Quite pretty. Young. Dark haired. About my height.”
They looked quite alike, the two sisters. Grace was merely a younger version of Mercy. He knew Mercy must be thinking that, too. She had to have been told that throughout her life. Of course, she could not simply say she looks like me.
The innkeeper smiled. “Yes. Yes! You are in luck. Or rather your gentleman is in luck for you have found him. They are here.”
“They are?” he asked excitedly, not even having to feign his enthusiasm at this news.
Mercy grasped his arm in eagerness, delighted color brightening her face. “Oh, praise be.”
The innkeeper sent her a curious look at her high-spirited reaction, but continued on, “Yes. The young couple checked in earlier this evening. They requested dinner be served in their room.”
Mercy’s fingers on his arm turned to claws at these words. Dinner in their room. There was no unhearing that.
“I see,” Silas murmured.
“They’re up the stairs, second room to the right. The room directly next door to theirs is our remaining vacant room for the night. All the others are taken.” The man slid the ledger toward Silas on the counter. “Shall you and the missus be taking it for the night? I recommend you do so. You don’t want to risk being left without accommodations.”