Lord of Deception (Trysts and Treachery Book 1) by Keysian Elizabeth

Author:Keysian, Elizabeth [Keysian, Elizabeth]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Tags: Romance, Historical, Fiction
Publisher: Dragonblade Publishing, Inc.
Published: 2020-06-22T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Nine

As the minutes ticked by and Kit did not appear, Alys’ anxiety increased. So many things could have gone wrong. What if he’d been captured? Wounded? Even killed? What if he hadn’t managed to send off his dispatch, or couldn’t find a horse—how were they to make a speedy escape with only her old nag between them?

“How unkind of me to think of you in such a way, Pennyroyal.” She stroked the animal’s silky nose and found comfort in its warmth. But the worries soon resurfaced.

When would they miss her at Selwood? How long could she stay away before Kirlham, Avery, or their “constables” came after her? It was a great pity it wasn’t market day—then she’d have a valid excuse for dallying. Oh, what was the time now? Where was Kit?

When what must have been a full hour had passed, she knew what desperation felt like. She couldn’t bear to return home, not knowing what had happened, and couldn’t go in search of him because she had no idea where he would be going to send his message. How had he managed to make contact with his web of spies without anyone at Selwood knowing? When had he found the time or the excuse to leave the estate? On market day, certainly, for they’d been there together.

But on that day, he’d not spoken at any length to anyone, and she’d been within earshot in every case. Was there any way he could have left a dispatch for one of his allies to find? Yes, indeed, there was! He’d gone to market with a hat. He’d returned without it, but never complained of its loss. She racked her brains, trying to remember when he’d last had it. Was it in the old gypsy woman’s pavilion? In truth, the woman had seemed to recognize him—could she possibly be his contact in the village?

Chill from the dismal drizzle and her fears for Kit’s safety, she could bear the waiting no longer. She dropped her handkerchief over a branch near the gate. Nearby, she arranged some pebbles into an arrow pointing towards Cheyneham. Praying only Kit would look closely at her clue, and that he’d interpret her signals correctly, she clambered back on Pennyroyal and set off down the road, as near to a gallop as the beast could manage.

So, she had a new string to her bow—she could play the spy. She was learning to act, dissemble, and tell outright lies—not something to boast about, but useful in the circumstances. Buoying herself up with such positive thoughts, she trotted into the village.

Once there, she hit the problem of how to find the old gypsy. Surely the village folk must know the woman if she were a regular at the fair? She’d have to start knocking on doors to find out. But it was crucial she ask the right person, in case Kirlham had any sympathizers amongst the village folk. Jacob! Jacob, the gardener, lived here, with his wife and children. She asked a passerby for the address and, moments later, was tapping at the door.

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