Page 96 of The Moonstone Pirate
He arched an eyebrow. “Back to them, are we?”
“Why not? Must every incident be connected to the rebel plot?” She paused and tipped her head toward the door. “Oh, I think I hear my uncle coming. Draco, you really ought to gohome and rest. Getting answers can wait until tomorrow. You’ll be in town anyway to meet with the Irishman.”
He raised a hand to stem her protest. “That’s the soft-hearted Imogen speaking. I’ve already wasted too much time. At a minimum, I need to question Matchett and also find out if the mail coach has arrived.”
“I do not like this at all, Draco.”
“I’ll sleep for a month once this assignment is over.” He cast her a wicked smile. “If fortune shines on me, I’ll have you with me in my bed.”
She gasped.
“All proper, Imogen. I am not suggesting anything naughty…even if you were willing.”
Her face turned a bright shade of red.
Yes, she was willing.
“I thought you might be.” He smiled and kissed her on the tip of her pert nose. “I’ll see you later.”
Chapter Fifteen
Draco hated puzzles.
This one had him stymied.
After quickly filling Burness and his wife in on all the details, he returned to Moonstone Landing. He hopped off the rig once he and his driver reached the center of the village, thanked the young soldier for driving him around, and then walked across the high street toward the Kestrel Inn’s stable.
Mr. Matchett came running out. “My lord, I heard you had a bit of trouble at the tea shop today. The glazier’s there now to board up the window until he can replace the glass. He says it may take a few days. Mrs. Halsey will keep her shop open, but just for her patrons to pick up their baked goods. There won’t be any seating or table service. A terrible shame that such a thing should happen to a good, hardworking lady like her. I’m sure it was her brother up to mischief. He’s a wastrel, that one. Always with his hand out and never willing to work a day in his life. I heard he was out of prison and coming around to pester her.”
Draco listened attentively to Matchett’s chatter. “Her brother?” He encouraged the man to tell him more.
Matchett was delighted to oblige. “Well, there isn’t much to tell about Walter Ramsay. Poor Mrs. Halsey’s been taking care of him all his life, and she’s had about enough of him now. He’s spent more timeinprison than out of it these past twenty years. Lost count of the number of times he’s been tossed in. But herecently got out again. Only a matter of days before he’s caught thieving and arrested again. He picks pockets mostly. The man has nimble fingers and will steal anything he finds easy to transport.”
“Will he steal a horse?”
“Walter?” Matchett scratched his stubble as he gave it a moment’s thought. “I’d have thought not in the past, but prison may have hardened him. That’s a hanging offense. Don’t think he’s ever taken anything that big before. He’s a small-minded man who steals small things.”
“Small enough to be shrugged off by his victims?”
“Yes, that’s right. He’s like a little gnat one has to swat away—you know how they all come out at twilight and swarm around you. Won’t kill you, but a bloody nuisance. But as I said, he may have been hardened by his time in prison. Stealing a horse and shooting at a tea shop full of patrons is nothing to be shrugged off. Well, he was right angry when Mrs. Halsey refused to give him so much as a farthing. You look fit, m’lord. I heard Walter nicked you. But you look all right to me.”
Draco ignored the pain to his arm and nodded. “I am.”
“Thank goodness. And the ladies? They must have gotten quite a scare.”
“Lady Imogen has a slight sprain to her wrist, but that should heal in a day or two.”
Matchett appeared genuinely concerned. “Oh, the poor dear. She’s such a sweet girl. I’m glad it was nothing more serious.”
Draco nodded. “I’ll convey your good wishes. So you think it was Walter who shot out the glass window?”
“Oh, yes. Has his grubby paw marks all over it, m’lord.”
“Mr. Matchett, there is something more I need to ask you.” Draco described the horse his assailant had been riding. “Do you remember ever seeing such a beast in your stable?”
“No, m’lord. I’d remember a horse like that as well as I’d remember my own children, assuming I had any.”
Draco stifled a grin. “Thank you, Mr. Matchett.”
