“Not until I know if they’ve got Barney.” She sighed. “I think it would be better for you if it was all out in the open.”
“And I think I’d rather tackle Piers without the world watching.”
“If he doesn’t get you first. What if he hires more men?”
“He won’t get the chance.” Giff grinned in the old insouciant way, though it was a trifle lopsided with the injury near his mouth. “I know where he’s staying. Sattar didn’t waste his time while he had that fellow in his clutches.”
Hope burgeoned at last. “He questioned him?”
“To some purpose.”
“I’m amazed Barney talked.”
“Most men will talk fast enough when pricked by the point of a dagger.”
A chill went through Delia. She was almost sorry for Barney and could not help feeling relieved when Lord Tarporley and Sattar emerged from the building empty-handed.
By the time Giff arrived at the Assembly Rooms, accompanied by a dogged Lord Tarporley determined to see him safely bestowed, the battle-axe was already raising hell. The ride into town had been both painful and necessarily slow. He’d been glad of the young man’s presence, which at least prevented Sattar from voicing the scold obviously under his tongue.
His henchman, Giff guessed, was mortified at having allowed Barney to escape. But that would not stop him ringing a peal over his master for making a target of himself by going apart and out of his sight.
The opportunity was further delayed when he and Tarporley dismounted outside the Rooms. A groom came running.
“My lord! I’ve been on the watch for you. Here, give him into my hands.”
Tarporley relinquished his reins, turning to Giff. “Let my man assist yours, sir.”
“No need. Sattar can manage both horses.” With an apologetic look towards his henchman’s tight-lipped expression, he added, “See them into the stables.”
Sattar switched to his native language. “Are you telling me my business now, sahib? What do you here? Go home where I can see to your hurts.”
“Presently,” Giff returned in the same tongue. “I must see Delia is none the worse for the adventure.” And in English, “Meet me at the lodging.”
“I’ll see you safely back, Giffard, once I’ve checked on my sister,” said Tarporley.
“Good of you, sir.”
“And call for a medical man. I know a good fellow here who serves my mother.”
“I don’t need the services of a doctor, I thank you. Sattar will see to my hurts.”
Lord Tarporley’s astonishment was plain. “He must be a boon to you, sir.”
“I could not manage without him.”
Sattar was still within hearing as he led both Tiger and his own mount away, and turned his head. Giff caught the grim look, but a tell-tale twitch of the lips promised mitigation of the coming scold.
“Take my arm, Giffard.”
He did not need it, though his muscles felt stiff, but Giff was loath to offend the lad. And it would present a good appearance. Might be useful to seem worse than he was if Piers had his spies out.
His eyes sought out Delia as he entered the main hall from the vestibule, leaning on Tarporley for effect. The place was crowded, members of the expedition party having evidently joined their respective relatives. But the prominent voice of the battle-axe was to be heard above the general hubbub.
An exclamation came from Tarporley beside him. “Good Lord, she’s already summoned that fellow Rhoades!”
The name struck at Giff on the instant. Delia’s militia captain! The redcoat caught his eye and he saw Miss Watkinson was busy haranguing the fellow, who looked none too pleased. That would teach him to flirt with other men’s petticoats! His satisfaction dissipated at Tarporley’s next words.
“I dare say the captain will wish to question you closely, Giffard. If I were you, I’d put him off until you’ve had your hurts seen to.”