Captain Jack Ryder -The Duke's Bastard by Maggi Andersen

Author:Maggi Andersen
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: 0
Published: 2018-04-02T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

Jack fell back against the squab as the carriage door slammed shut. The vehicle lurched forward. Opposite him, Lord Caindale looked brittle and pale as death. “I’m glad to have found you, Captain Ryder,” he gasped. “I find myself as frightened as Macbeth before the ghost of Banquo! I am being watched. A brute of a man has been lurking outside my house ever since you left.”

“You don’t know him?”

“No, he’s a stranger to me.”

Jack studied him thoughtfully. “The fellow might be there for some other reason, my lord.”

Caindale removed his hat and ran nervous fingers through his thinning locks. “No. They’re watching me. If I put a foot wrong...”

“But the kidnappers let you go. What worries you?”

Caindale sighed. “I wasn’t entirely honest with them. If I’d told them the truth, I might not be sitting here now.”

Jack raised his eyebrows. “Told them what exactly?”

“When we were in Paris, John Butterstone did inform me of an English plot to kill Bonaparte.”

Jack rested his hands on his knees and leaned forward. “Did he give you the plotters’ names?”

“He mentioned someone. But I have no idea if it was carried out or Bonaparte beat them to it by dying.”

Jack frowned. “Forgive me, sir, but you have lied to me. How do I know you’re telling me the truth now?”

“I have no reason to lie.” Caindale’s hair received more rough handling. “I wasn’t sure before that I could trust you. I feared you might be one of them.”

“What has changed your mind?”

“A note from Lady Ashley, telling me to receive you, and advising me that she and her mother are returning to London for the funeral service.” He grimaced. “This is not something I can deal with alone. It was a Frenchman who questioned me in the cellar. If the French, — apart from the Bourbons who are happy to see the back of him—believe we killed their Emperor, they won’t leave any stone unturned until they’ve revenged him.”

“Am I to be told this Englishman’s name?”

Caindale looked stricken. “I want it all to stop. If I tell you, what are you likely to do with the information?”

“I’ll question him and attempt to uncover the truth.”

He threw up his hands. “There. I thought so. If you approach these men and make it public, it will be like setting the hounds among the rabbits.”

“I’ll be discreet with my inquiries,” Jack said. “What else do you ask of me?”

“Some protection for my family. Lady Butterstone and Lady Ashley may be in danger too. You’re an ex-army man; you will have useful friends.”

“Then you must tell me everything you know. Why was Butterstone killed?”

“I can only imagine it was because he made inquiries of the wrong people at Whitehall. Stirred the hornet’s nest.”

Jack frowned. “You’re suggesting that someone in our government was involved?”

“It’s possible,” Caindale said.

“The other possibility is that the French might have considered Butterstone to be a party to the plot to bring about Bonaparte’s death,” Jack said. “In that case why didn’t they

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