“Indeed.” Maybury’s smile slipped a little, as his gaze fell to Isobel’s fingers. Will looked, too. Saints—his ring! But Isobel had slid one hand over the other, and the gold seal ring was no longer visible. Bless the woman—she had more wit than he.
Now, Maybury was running his eyes over Jennet, with the intensity of a man who knew good breeding stock when he saw it. But what he said next chilled Will to the marrow.
“Curious, Cavendish, but just such a horse as this was seen galloping hastily away from my property in Hampstead, bearing both a man and a woman. It was several days since, I grant you, so I doubt it could have been this mare. However, if it was you and your Portuguese acquisition, you owe me a blanket and a handful of dried apples. Not to mention the price of a ruined lock.”
Maybury’s stallion pranced sideways, eager to be on its way. This distracted the man just long enough for Will to compose his features.
“How very disturbing for you, sir. Had you no servants or watchmen to guard your property?”
“The main house, aye, for I was away from home. But the cottage had no such guard upon it as it was considered to contain naught worth stealing. It housed my late steward—not yet replaced—who died there of the sweating sickness. The place has yet to be aired and properly cleaned, lest any contagion remain.”
Will repressed a shudder and exchanged a glance with Isobel, who pressed her lips together and paled.
Maybury grinned broadly. “So, it was you. Nay, look not so pained. I do but jest. There was no contagion, nor vengeful shade haunting the place. But I must tell you—I know the reason for your subterfuge.”
This time, Will could not prevent the shiver that scuttled through him. Was he to be found out so soon, before he’d even put his new plan into action? Saying Isobel was a Portuguese seamstress who spoke no English had not, admittedly, been a part of the plan. He’d panicked when he saw Maybury.
He tilted his head to one side. “What do you mean by that, sir?” He made sure there was an edge to his tone that Maybury couldn’t mistake.
“Only that a few days after the felonious entry into my cottage, a man came calling. I’d not give him the name of gentleman, for all that he dressed like one. Called himself Pike, and said a person had recently abducted his ward.”
Keeping his face averted from Isobel’s, Will said, “I’m sorry to hear it. But I don’t understand why you’re telling me this.”
Maybury leaned forward in his saddle, eyebrows raised.
“Because, like my woodsman, he described a horse matching that which now you ride. One of his servants caught a glimpse of it disappearing up the road.”
Found out, so soon. Will hadn’t bargained on Pike’s tenacity. There must be a great deal at stake for him to be scouring the countryside for Isobel. Suddenly, anger got the better of him.
“That man is a villain, and I’ll move heaven and earth to prove it. This lady is his victim, but I’ll not say more, as I know not whom to trust. You will forgive me, sir.”
“At last!” Maybury’s face brightened. “I can see the truth in your eyes, Cavendish, and written in the blush on yon fair damsel’s face. You may trust me, I assure you. As soon as I saw that horse, and the lady, I knew you to be the guilty party. You always were one to hurtle around, courting danger and righting wrongs. And I would have crushed that snake Master Pike beneath my heel had I known. Now, why don’t you invite me back to your lodgings for a private discussion over a glass of Canary, and see what I may do to help you?”
Will caught Isobel’s eye. And was surprised to read amusement where he’d expected dismay.
She inclined her head towards Maybury. “Sir, you have the advantage. Hubert Pike is my cousin, and just such a serpent as you describe. If we may trust you, then I, for one, would be grateful for another ally.”
“A wise decision. I like her, Cavendish—we must both take good care of the lady. I cannot wait to hear your tale. In any wise, ’tis best I return with you to your dwelling, for who knows what reception party awaits you there?”
As it turned out, Will had cause to be grateful for Maybury’s company, for when he returned to Giles Street, there was, indeed, a reception party.
But not the one he was expecting.
Chapter Twelve
While Will was in conversation with Maybury, Isobel had been subtly trying to remove his ring. This, to her horror, proved an impossible task. He’d put it on her while she was in one of her deliriums—had he used a vise and a lever? The thing would need a blacksmith to get it off.
Learning that Pike had pursued her, and had a description of Will’s horse, was a further blow. The final cut was the way Master Maybury had uncovered their secret so easily—it did not bode well for their situation. Would all London know of their escapade? Would she be forced to wed Will after all, despite her refusal to countenance the idea?
As the jettied buildings crammed closer together, she realized they must be heading into one of the closely packed residential areas of the city. There was little room here for gardens such as she was used to at Marston House—Londoners had to purchase their provisions, not rear or grow them. There were costermongers on every corner, flower sellers crying their wares, and peddlers pushing through the throng of pedestrians with brightly beribboned baskets.
The smell had intensified, too—with this many pannier-laden donkeys, horses, and closely crammed humanity, ’twas hardly surprising. A kite flapped lazily away from a heap of something dead as they approached, and she wrinkled her nose. One of the first things she’d ask Will for was a pomander. Or an orange and some cloves, so she could make something for herself.
Maybury coughed loudly. “Why do you take us along this street, old friend? I thought the Cavendish house was in a less noisome neighborhood.”
“It is.” Will leaned closer to Maybury, but Isobel was close enough to hear. “I would prefer not to attract the interest of my neighbors by bearing the lady in through the front door. If I’m to continue with the deceit that she’s a Portuguese seamstress, we ought to enter via the service lane. I must introduce her to my housekeeper first, and get her accepted into the household before I risk any of my neighbors seeing her.”
Maybury turned to Isobel and pulled a face. “Best cover your nose, Mistress. This is the place from whence the night soil is collected, and we shall no doubt be passing the Cavendish midden. How charming of Sir William to take us in via such intriguing landmarks.”
She smiled. There was sense in what Will was doing, and now that Maybury was a co-conspirator, she felt more at ease. It was not that she didn’t trust Will, but she felt herself always off-balance in his company. Maybury caused her no unease at all.
They dismounted in the cobbled lane, and Will let out a powerful whistle which, after a few minutes, brought out a middle-aged gentleman wearing a stained apron, whose face brightened when he saw Will.
“Good day, Hagger. Pray, take these horses to the stables and see they’re given a good rub down. And if you could endeavor to keep Jennet between the others, I’d be most grateful. I have reason to keep her out of sight for the moment.”
He then took Isobel’s elbow and leaned his face close to hers. “And you, if you will, had best keep your eyes lowered submissively. Aye, I know.” He waved a hand at her. “You don’t approve of any of this, but please, if you would do as I say for now, it would serve us both well. Pretend you don’t understand the language. I’ll give you into the care of Goody Cooper, who keeps house for me. She’ll give you refreshment and find you a bed. Once Maybury has had sufficient Canary and departed, you and I will talk.”