Sleeping Engagement

XXXVII. The Chase

"Yes," she said, approaching one horse. "Is she fast?" When he did not reply, she asked, "What?"

His jaw tightened and he shook his head. "Nothing." Three more men joined them outside. "We can't go alone," he told her.

Margaret nodded, mounted her horse, and said, "We don't have much time. I'd rather we catch them before this other friend meets them."

***

The village of Irving was located outside Theobald. On horseback, it could be reached in half a day, and just before the end of the day by carriage.

The young man did not want to stop at Irving. They continued to the village of Haywood where the population was dense and had more than one tavern to stay in. He should go straight to Hastings, but his cousin Peter gave a specific instruction. He had to wait for him to come.

Fiona slept soundly in his arms. Did she think she was safe with him? Of course, she did. Children would believe a lie if it was delivered by someone they loved.

He paid the hackney that dropped them outside an old tavern and carried Fiona in his arms. The sound of soft, drunken chatters greeted him, and a woman came up to him to ask if he was there to get a room. Yes, he was, for him and his little sister.

He was afraid. Thorne was just a few miles away. The only consolation was that his uncle's schedule was predictable, always the same. By morning, he would be in his estate. By night, he would be in the Manor.

When the woman returned to announce their room was ready, Edmund carried his sleeping bundle of burden up the stairs. The woman helped by opening the door and closing it when he entered the room. And locked it.

Edmund made a move to turn to the door, but the light flickered on, revealing the room was occupied before he even entered. His heart sank to the ground. He should have known Peter would do this.

"Do you truly think you can get far?" the man asked. His hair and eyes were dark, even in the light. Like all Trilbys. "Where are you going this time, Edmund?"

Edmund carried the sleeping Fiona to the bed without an answer and carefully tucked her in. He took his time before straightening to full height and face the man. "I was going to wait here for Peter. He was supposed to tell us where to go. And I guess he decided."

The Lord of Thorne arched one thick eyebrow, the corner of his mouth curling with what could either be amusement or menace. It was hard to figure out with the man. There were stories about him, of how he served heads on a platter, of how he drank blood every night. Those were false, of course, because Edmund knew what David Trilby was truly capable of.

"To return her to me, I suppose?" Thorne asked, watching Fiona sleep.

"No, of course not. But since you are here, and I believe Peter that bloody bastard told you, I'm hoping you can help."

Thorne was young. He may be his uncle, but he was far younger than his father, Osmond. They could even pass as cousins, him and Edmund. When he was younger, Edmund had learned to categorize his family.

His father and his siblings he considered the spawns of his great-grandfather, inheriting the old man's nefarious characteristics down to the last bit of their being.

The other category would be what he would call the servants because they would follow anything the spawns and the old man told them.

The last category, and that's where Thorne and his family belonged, were the indifferent bastards. They had their own worlds, living their own lives with little contact to the family. They took orders from the old man, of course, but they would always rather not participate. They were unbothered by most things, which made them different because they had the potential to betray the family. But because they were capable, and they could do anything asked of them better than anyone, they were treasured. Because of that, they held some power.

And Edmund was hanging on to that power.

"Tell me, Edmund," Thorne said, tilting his head to the side, "Why do you think I would let you get away with this? After you tricked me, took her away from my care, why do you think I should help you?"

"It was Noah. It wasn't me."

"Truly?"

"Yes! Surely you heard. You know my father took her from Noah to return her to you."

"Then it was not you who took her to someone who is not a bloody Trilby?"

"I had no choice. Something happened," Edmund said.

Thorne's smile did not disappear. "Of course, something happened. Something always happens to you, Edmund, and I'm starting to feel it's all because you're playing the game wrong."

His nose flared. "I'm afraid I'm not the typical player."

"No. You are exactly the typical player. You play the same game as everyone else and now look at the trouble you've caused."

"I'm not like you. I'm not like Peter. I can't stand idly by knowing what they're doing to her," he hissed, pointing at Fiona.

Thorne's mouth closed tightly as his eyes veered to the girl. "Tell me what happened and I'll decide if I'll help you or not," he ordered. "And if I decide to help, you know what it will cost you."