Page 103 of Marigold and the Marquess
“Something’s wrong.” Leo hopped out of the carriage but told Marigold to remain seated inside. “Sterling, what is going on?”
The butler cast him a pained look. “It is Mallow, my lord. We cannot find him.”
Marigold scrambled down from the carriage. “How long has he been missing?”
“Could not be more than fifteen or twenty minutes, my lady. I let him out in the garden to do his necessaries, the same routine as always while I locked up the house. When I returned to fetch him, he was gone.”
Leo glanced at Marigold whose expression had turned anguished.
He took her hand in his. “We’ll find him, love. He probably broke out to chase after some pretty female. Go on up to bed. You have a big day tomorrow, and the streets are not safe at this late hour.”
“Are you forbidding me to search?” She tipped her chin up in defiance, her eyes now ablaze in anger.
So much for their happy reunion.
“Search the house,” he said, appreciating that Marigold needed to do something productive. “He might have run back inside and gotten himself locked in a cupboard or the cellar.”
Her eyes narrowed, but she nodded because it was plausible the little scamp was trapped somewhere in the house.
Leo did not think Mallow had slipped back inside. Would he not have barked? Or scratched frantically and been heard? His mind was already tearing through the possibilities. The first was the most dire, that Cummings had taken Mallow. He did not want to think about what his sick-headed cousin might do to the helpless dog.
Nor did he want to think about Marigold’s heartbreak if his fears proved true.
Mallow, use your wits. Come home.
Leo watched Marigold grab a lantern and hurry into the house to begin her search. Once she was inside, he turned to his butler and footmen. “Sterling, take a few men and search thoroughly through the shrubbery.”
“Are we to tread in your garden beds, my lord? They will be damaged.”
“Trample them, if you must.” As sorely as his heart needed to look upon his pristine garden, his place of solace and tranquility, those flowers could be replaced.
Mallow could not.
The little spaniel was a member of their household and had a place in Marigold’s heart. His, too.
But where were the Bow Street runners assigned to guard Chipping Way?
While his staff searched for Mallow, he conducted a private search for those men. He found one unconscious in the alleyway behind his garden wall and immediately called for help. To his relief, this runner seemed to be coming around by the time his footmen arrived. “I’ll be all right, m’lord. Let me help in the search.”
“You cannot stand on your own feet yet, Arthur.” He turned to his men. “Carry him into the kitchen and have Cook put the kettle on for tea. If he needs to lie down, help him into one of our guest chambers. And tell Sterling to send for Dr. Farthingale.”
“M’lord, what about Henry? Is he…?”
The runner was referring to his Bow Street colleague.
“I’m going to look for him now.” He found the other runner a few streets away, stabbed and trying to stagger back to Chipping Way. Leo helped him to sit against a tree, for he looked as though he was about to lose consciousness. “Don’t move, Henry.” He needed to question the man before he passed out. “I’ll summon help. Lie still. You’re losing too much blood.”
Leo withdrew his handkerchief and placed it against the wound which appeared to be a grazing slash along the man’s side, too near his vitals organs to dismiss. “Hold the handkerchief there and press down.”
“M’lord, I tried to follow the man. He was about yer size, but heavier than you. Looked to be in his forties. Dark hair. Clothes were decent, as though he’d fit in among the gentry. He took yer dog and ran this way. There was a carriage waiting for him on the corner. A hired hack. Tell Mr. Barrow. It was one of Ogilvie’s hacks. Ogilvie will give us the name of all the drivers on duty tonight.”
“That is very helpful. Sit quietly now. My men will get you into the house.”
He tore back home, made certain Sterling had sent a footman to fetch George Farthingale, and then ordered several footmen to follow him. Before he could leave, Marigold hurried downstairs and called out to him. “Wait! What is going on?”
He quickly told her. “The Bow Street runners are both hurt. You’ll need to take care of them until your uncle arrives to treat their injuries. One of them, Henry, is bleeding several streets away. He needs to be carried back here.”
“I’ll have rooms prepared for them.”
