“We aren’t going to hurt you. All we want is information.”
“Yes, sorry.” Con eased his hold, though he did not release her. “I’m not trying to take your scarf from you. You can keep it. Just tell me where you got it.”
“I din’t steal it.”
“I believe you. You found it, didn’t you?”
“’Twas just lying there. It din’t belong to nobody.”
“Where was it lying? Can you show me where you found it?”
She pointed back up the street. “Down there. It caught on the lamppost, see.”
“Excellent.” Con beamed and reached into his pocket for a coin. “Here’s something for your information.”
“Gor!” Her eyes widened as she snatched the coin from his hand. “Thankee, sir.”
“Now, tell me, did you see where the scarf came from? You said it caught on the lamppost. Did you see it land there?”
No longer reluctant, she started to answer, then sighed and admitted, “No. It was just there at the bottom of the post. Nell went for it, but I got there first. An’ we had a bit of scrap about it, an’ I won. I saw it ’fore she did.”
“How long ago was that? Since you found the scarf.”
“Oh. Well…” She wrinkled her forehead in thought. “A while. I went in to get a little tipple, you see, ’cause of my luck. And then, um, I went down to Annie’s to show her. A while.”
“Thank you. You’ve been very helpful.” Con smiled and swept her an elegant bow, which made the woman giggle and bob a curtsy back to him. Obviously Con was an expert at charming any woman.
It took only a few minutes of questioning the shopkeepers along the street before Con found one who remembered the black vehicle.
“Oh, aye, I saw it. Ugly thing, don’t know why you’d want to paint your wagon black like that. Better something cheerful, I say. And why not a sign on it?”
“Did you hear anything?”
He looked puzzled. “It made a racket on the cobblestones, if that’s what you mean. So loud I couldn’t hear my customer. That’s why I noticed it.”
“How long ago was it?”
“Oh, some time now. An hour or two. Wait, I remember, it was just ’fore I ate. Around noon.”
Con’s eyes gleamed as he took Lilah’s arm, propelling her back to the carriage. She could almost feel the renewed energy and hope surging in him.
“I knew it!” he said as they started forward again. “I knew they would find a way to help me.”
“They’ll have to divest themselves of a lot of garments to leave a good trail.”
“There are four of them after all.” He tossed a grin at her.
“It was very smart to do that.”
“The family’s had some experience,” he said drily.
They kept a sharp eye on the street, hoping for another sign from the Moreland women. Every time they spied a possibility, Con would jump down to investigate, but none of the objects turned out to be anything belonging to Con’s sisters. The problem was that any piece of clothing dropped on the street was likely to be picked up before Lilah and Con could find it. And how long could the ladies keep tossing out clues before one of their captors caught them?
The traffic and houses thinned out, which at least made it more likely that a discarded item might not be picked up immediately. Con spotted the next item, a crumpled straw bonnet that he thought might belong to Thisbe. “It’s plain as she likes them.”
Con fretted about the time as they continued at their slow pace. The sun had been growing steadily lower. Lilah decided it was best not to ask what they would do after darkness fell. Next they found a woman’s jacket.
Lilah held it up, studying it. “It’s very stylish.”
“Kyria’s then.”
After a time, they came upon a handkerchief caught in a hedge. “Definitely Kyria’s.” Con spread it out on his knee. “See the monogram?”
Heartened by their finds, they pressed onward, passing fewer and fewer travelers. Whenever they came upon a slow cart or carriage, Con stopped to ask if the driver had seen the wagon they sought. One farm boy, walking placidly beside his ox-drawn cart, nodded, saying it had passed him not long out of the city.
“We’re falling farther and farther behind,” Con said grimly. “But I don’t dare go faster or we might miss one of their clues.”
After a while, Con stirred restlessly, looking around. “I’m not sure…”
“What is it?” Lilah half turned, putting her hand on his arm.
Con glanced at her, startled, and Lilah quickly withdrew her hand. “I think we may be going wrong.” He twisted around to look behind him. “It’s been a while since we’ve found anything.” He pulled to a stop. “We crossed a road back there.”
“You think we should have taken it?”
“I don’t know. But at some point, they’re going to turn off. I doubt that cottage is on the main road. And… this feels wrong.”
He turned the carriage, a cumbersome process, and headed back. When they reached the intersection, he turned left down the smaller road.
“Couldn’t they have turned the other way?”
“Yes. If they turned at all. I’ll try the other way next if—look.” A white petticoat lay in the muddy ditch. “They threw it out as soon as they turned. Clever girls.”
“We’re gathering quite a collection.”
“We’re getting closer, I think, but it’s taking too long.” He cast a look at the gathering twilight around them and increased the pace.
Lilah spotted a white handkerchief at the juncture of a smaller lane. “Do you think she meant to stay on this road or turn?”
“It’s ambiguous,” Con agreed. “She could have tossed it out from either direction and it floated back here. I’m going to take the turn. Megan said the windows were high. I don’t think they could see the road. They wouldn’t know that the road turned off until they felt the wagon do so.”
The overhang of trees turned the dusk into night. Lilah leaned forward, peering intently ahead. The carriage jarred as it passed over a rut, and she braced herself with a hand on Con’s leg. Embarrassed, she straightened up quickly, glancing at Con. But he appeared not to even notice the inappropriately familiar touch as he stared, eyes narrowed, at a hedge-lined path.
“I think…I’m going to try this lane.”
“It’s more a track than a lane. Why do you think this is the way to go? Did you see something?”
“Not really. It’s very nearly dark.”
Very nearly? Lilah could barely even make out that there was a path. It was even darker along the lane, with the high encroaching hedges on either side. “Why do you think it’s this way?”
“I’m not sure. This nearly hidden path made me think about what Anna said about it being secluded.”
There was no point in getting into another discussion about the unreliability of Anna’s “vision,” so Lilah kept silent. It was fully night now; the moon was rising. Fortunately it was a full moon. The hedges ended, and the lane curved around a tree. Lilah could make out a dark shape ahead of them.
The night was hushed, the only sound the plodding of the horses’ hooves and the carriage wheels turning, and even that was muffled by the dirt surface