The captain clearly received a great deal of information from his sources. Maybe I could discover how much danger truly surrounded Evan. A tantalizing prospect, but did I dare ask the captain about a certain escaped convict? Was it too much of a risk? A question might—if it was maladroit—unintentionally focus such a keen mind upon the subject of criminals and then possibly upon the man with a scar who sat opposite him. Admittedly it was a small risk. Who would, after all, think the well-dressed gentleman—who sat at Lord Davenport’s dinner table—could be a desperate criminal? Even so, a risk.

It seemed I could dare. With as much sangfroid as I could muster, I selected a macaroon from a plate and asked, “Does that quietude extend to the roads, Captain? If the weather improves, I intend to ride out tomorrow and I have always believed the roads here are safer than those near London. Yet there have been so many reports of highwaymen and ruffians in the papers. I have even read there is an escaped convict roaming the countryside. I do not wish to come upon such danger.”

I knew Evan was listening, his chin angled toward our conversation, his relaxed attitude belied by the clenched fist around his fork.

I tried not to hold my breath as I offered the captain the plate and he chose his own fancy. “We have received a dispatch about an escaped convict turned highwayman,” he said, placing the biscuit neatly on his plate and nodding his thanks, “but that is a countrywide alert. He is unlikely to be this far west. Even so, if you are concerned about such dangers, then perhaps it might be prudent to stay within Lord Davenport’s extensive grounds.”

The main danger I could see was the man sitting beside me currently biting with some appreciation into a macaroon, but I managed to smile.

“A good thought, Captain.”

I glanced at Evan, but he was in polite conversation with Miss Grant, the very epitome of a well-bred gentleman, with his face—and scar—turned from the view of Captain Morland and Lieutenant Powers.

29

Overnight the rain stopped and I’d had the rather obvious realization that Evan and I would be riding to Blackburn to face a man who might be a murderer. Admittedly it was a late realization, mainly because all I had seen ahead was a possible pathway to exoneration for my love. But if Dr. Lawrence had killed once, then perhaps he could kill again.