“He should have done so at once! And why isn’t it enough, sir? What more does Giff need?”
“Proof of identity. Who is to say he is Giffard Gaunt when all is said?”
“Well, you, sir. And Miss Saunderton here.”
The rector looked dubious. “We have neither of us seen him since before he was breeched. It is true he has a look of Flora, but I can see no trace of Henry in his features.”
Delia’s stomach felt hollow all at once. “But you don’t doubt he is Giffard Gaunt, do you?”
The rector’s grave countenance relaxed into a grin. “Not in the least. He is too like Henry in temperament for doubt. But it is not for me to offer proof, Delia.”
“Yet these letters must count for something, surely?”
“Indeed. We will take them to Hammersley.”
“The lawyer? Should we not take them directly to Giff? I was thinking we ought to make for Waldiche Keep on the instant.”
“Dorchester is at much the same distance, and the sooner Hammersley sees these the better. Besides, there is no point in chasing after Giffard. The last thing he would want is for you to become embroiled in the brawl that is no doubt brewing at the Keep.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The ride to Waldiche Keep was accomplished in some three hours on the road, with a halt at an inn for refreshment and to rest the horses. Giff was conscious of a thread of disquiet and some degree of frustration.
If he was honest, he’d enjoyed the intervening days of inaction. It made a pleasant change to pass a few days without going in fear of attack. His distrust of Rhoades as concerned Delia notwithstanding, the man had kept his word to have his men patrol the town with the result Giff felt safe for the first time in what seemed an age. Besides which, the opportunity to spend at least some part of the time in company with his flower girl was a considerable advantage.
But the inevitable could not be long put off. He hardly felt his bruises and he was looking more himself. His strength was back and the confrontation with his cousin must be faced.
Tiger was itching to gallop, but out of consideration for his companions, Giff took the ride at an easy pace. No point in tiring the horses. Besides, he was in no frame of mind to do Piers any favours. The man could wait upon his convenience.
The nag of what his cousin had in mind, however, did not abate. Delia would have it the fellow meant mischief. She might well be right. On the other hand, if Piers was at an impasse, he might be willing to think in terms of compromise. Though Giff was disinclined to comply with anything less than utter capitulation.
The approach to Waldiche Keep ran through a wooded valley before the road began to rise. Giff called out a warning. “Keep an eye out! This place is ripe for ambush.”
Captain Rhoades brought his mount up alongside. “But the fellow does not know you are coming. How should he set up an ambush?”
“For all I know, he’s had men on the watch for days.”
“In that case, we must hope the sight of so many will deter them from acting. And if it is the two men who have been on your tail, I believe you said they were poor shots?”
Giff snorted. “Good enough to graze my thigh.”
“Then let us quicken our pace. A moving target will be more difficult to hit.”
“Possibly, but the rise to the Keep is steep. We need to preserve the horses.”
The captain nodded and began instead to train a hunting gaze on the surrounding trees. No sudden attack occurred, but Giff was relieved when they rode out of the woods and began the climb towards the old Keep, its remaining ruined turret now visible at the top of the incline. The sight struck a chord of memory in Giff, as it had the first time he approached. He had no real recollection of his old home, but he had been surprised to note a feeling of recognition as he entered the building.
It was not, as might have been expected, a castle. Little remained of the original structure beyond part of the crumbling outer wall. The present house, built on the flat land to the rear and added to over the centuries, had a higgledy-piggledy aspect, with one wing in the style of Queen Anne and a later façade to its pillared frontage. The cavalcade entered via an old stone archway that let onto a drive, culminating in a wide sweep of gravel in front of the building. Giff dismounted and handed his reins to Sattar.
“You and Lord Tarporley’s groom had best find the stables and see the horses rubbed down and fed.” He lowered his voice and switched to Hindi. “Leave them in this other fellow’s charge, Sattar, and get yourself into the house. If we need you, I’ll whistle.”
Tarporley and Rhoades were on the ground, both shaking the stiffness from their joints. Giff jerked his head towards the entrance.
“Looks quiet enough, gentlemen. But I’m ready to wager we were observed as we rode in.”
“Undoubtedly, I should think.”
Tarporley hung back. “Do you wish us to come in with you, Giffard? Or shall we wait as back-up?”