The innkeeper stroked his beard, shaking his head. ‘They didn’t stop here if they did...’
What if they had already passed them? What if Louisa was in mortal danger and he had gone the wrong way?
Wick’s muscles were strained and his neck stiff as he pulled Becca’s sketch from his pocket. ‘Have you seen this man or his horse? The horse is brown with a bald face and a white sock.’
He stroked his beard again. ‘I reckon I have, my lord. It belongs to a gentleman by the name of Mr Barnabas Brecks, who keeps a cottage with a woman of dubious morals. He often stops at the Crown when he visits the village.’
So Lord Barnabas had been clever enough not to use his real name or his title.
Wick felt his hands clenching into fists again. ‘Have you seen him today?’
The innkeeper shook his head. ‘Haven’t seen Mr Brecks in a fortnight.’
The villain had not been foolish enough to be seen with Louisa in the village. Lord Barnabas was proving to be not as stupid as Wick had always taken him for. But he was twice as dastardly.
‘Where is his cottage?’ Mantheria asked.
‘I don’t rightly know, my lady,’ said the innkeeper, shaking his head. ‘Somewhere on the opposite side of the river. It’s not my business to be nosy.’
‘Mr Brecks has abducted a young lady,’ Wick said, stepping closer to the innkeeper. ‘It is everyone’s business to stop him and to rescue her from his clutches.’
The innkeeper’s breath hitched. ‘But I thought he was a proper toff.’
Mantheria scoffed. ‘There’s nothing “proper” about him. A true villain he is.’
The short man exhaled slowly and twirled the bottom of his beard around his index finger. ‘I don’t know where he lives, truly. But there’s someone who might.’
‘Who?’ his sister asked, before Wick could.
‘I’d ask at the vicarage.’
Wick rubbed his tired eyes. ‘The vicar?’
The innkeeper barked a laugh. ‘Nah. Old Reverend Perkins can’t see past the end of his nose. But his wife, Mrs Perkins, is the greatest gossip in the county. Nought happens within a ten-mile radius of Cookham that she don’t know.’
‘Where is the vicarage?’ Wick demanded.
The older man pointed down the road towards the church. ‘The house next to the church, my lord.’
Wick turned to the door. He had to find Louisa. Every moment counted. She might not have been violated yet. He could still save her.
‘You go on foot,’ Mantheria said. ‘I’ll wait with the coachman for the carriage to get a new team of horses and then follow you.’
Wick walked as quickly as he could without running. His heart was pounding and sweat poured down his face by the time he knocked on the door of the stone house next to the church. Taking out a handkerchief from his pocket, he wiped at his face.
A middle-aged woman answered the door. He took off his hat. ‘Mrs Perkins?’
The woman shook her head. ‘I am the housekeeper, Mrs Daily.’
Reaching into his pocket again, Wick pulled out a bent calling card. ‘I am Lord Cheswick and I wish to see Mrs Perkins immediately.’
His title did the trick, and he was ushered into the front parlour.
‘I’ll go and fetch Mrs Perkins, my lord.’
Wick did not sit down. He could not stop himself from pacing back and forth through the room.
A young woman opened the door, carrying a book in her hands. She appeared to be reading as she walked. Her hair was light brown, and a delicate pair of spectacles were perched at the end of her nose. She had a pretty face with large brown eyes, a petite nose and a prim mouth.