I eyed the sword—too dangerous to try to wrest it from him while he was on horseback, and I could not waste the time to argue it out of him. I drew my fob watch out upon its chain. A quarter past three. Morland and his men were about ten minutes away if they had not marched on, and then give or take time to persuade him, another fifteen to twenty minutes to return here. Half an hour until help arrived. If it did arrive.

“Weatherly, we must go.”

“I am ready, my lady.”

I flashed him a smile, which he returned. We were no longer mistress and servant, but comrades in arms. Well, not enough arms, as it happened. Together, we headed toward the edge of the forest, where Mulholland and his men had forced a way through. Hopefully their path would not be hard to follow; Mulholland had two horses as well as seven men and no belief that we would dare enter the forest behind them.

“Augusta!” Duffy bellowed behind us. “Come back this instant. You will get lost, you stupid woman.”

And on that message of good luck, Weatherly and I pushed our way through the scraggly roadside undergrowth into the forest.

42

As soon as we left the road, the temperature dropped into a bone-aching chill, and the rich odor of damp earth, distant smoke, and leaf decay filled my lungs. The smell of October.

Ten or so yards beyond the roadside, the low grassy undergrowth shifted into a thick maze of trees. Mainly ash mottled by lichen, interspersed with hazel and oak. A good canopy of leaves still clung to their branches, although the forest floor was carpeted with the autumn drop. Very little moonlight penetrated the branches above us, but I could just make out the trodden pathway of our quarry through the scrub and spiky gorse. No sounds of human or horse progress, though. Mulholland was some distance ahead.

“Do we have a plan, my lady?” Weatherly asked beside me.

I was struggling to free the hem of my riding habit from a sharp, pointed branch that had fallen among the scrub and leaves. A yank liberated the wool and linen, sending the branch shivering back in a thudding, cracking release. “We follow them—as quietly as possible,” I said dryly, “and stop them from killing Lord Evan and Mr. Kent until Captain Morland comes.”

“Excellent,” he said. “Any idea how?”

“None whatsoever,” I said. “At least, not yet.”

He pulled a branch back for me to duck under. “May I make a suggestion?”

“Please do,” I said, rising from my bend in a crackle of leaves and crunch of old seed casings. Lud, I was sweeping half the forest behind me with every step. I would have to do something about my gown.

“I think we should take off our cravats. They are too white and will be seen.”