Page 26 of The Scoundrel's Christmas Challenge
A slight kick to the flanks, and they were off. Five minutes later, the snow was coming down in heavy gusts. It whipped about his hat, filling the brim, crept down his neck, and stung his eyes. He could barely see past the puff of steam rising from Boots’s nose as he pushed against the howling wind. Lucius took comfort that if his pace had slowed, so had Lord Frederick’s.
It was a half hour into the village by carriage. It would take double the time in this storm. He bloody wouldn’t let that cur get away with stealing a horse. Christiana’s horse. The snow clung to his eyelashes, and he blinked to clear his vision. His fingers were going numb by the time he reached the village. He let out a sigh when he saw the lights of the small inn and tavern. If his hunch was correct, the namby-pamby had stopped here to warm up. Lucius suspected he didn’t have the stamina to go far.
He dismounted in the small courtyard and walked to the stable. “Two men fool enough to be out in this weather,” said a stableman, taking the reins. “Will ye be stayin’?”
Lucius shook his head. “Just until the weather clears. Where’s the mount that recently came in?”
He followed the man to the back of the stable. The white stallion was quietly munching on oats. “He’s a beauty, he is,” said the man. “A bit small for my taste, but a high-stepper to be sure.”
“He’s part Arabian. You can tell by the size and this dip in his forehead,” Lucius told him, pointing to the horse’s forelock. “I’ll be taking him back with me as soon as the snow quits. Find a lead rope for him and give my mount some grain while I tend to the thief. He was stolen from her estate this morning. Lady Winfield’s stable master will fetch his saddle and bridle after the storm.”
“Ye don’t say.” The man whistled. “And the fella looked to be such a gent, too. Probably stole the fine clothes besides.”
Lucius pulled his hat low as he made his way to the inn. His fury was at a pitch when he slammed the door open. An older man, an apron tied around his thick body, looked up with wide eyes, then smiled. “Good morn’ to ye, sir. I’ll be right with ye,” he said, nodding to the bowl and tankard in his hand.
Lucius scanned the public room. There were a half dozen scarred wood tables with chairs, charred ceiling beams, and a fine polished bar two locals were leaning against. Then he saw Lord Frederick, his greatcoat still covered with snow. Their gazes locked, then Lord Frederick scrambled from his chair, tripped on another, and landed face down on the worn wooden planks.
When Lucius grabbed the back of his collar and yanked the man up, he started to laugh. “Is that your nose bleeding? Did you break it yourself this time?”
Lord Frederick covered his face with his arms. “Don’t touch me. I-I’ll have you arrested. I’ll?—”
“You’ll have me arrested? You stole a horse,” yelled Lucius, his patience snapping. “You may be the son of a duke, but this fist belongs to the son of an earl.” And he slammed it into Lord Frederick’s face.
The duke’s son crumpled.
The earl’s son grinned.
The innkeeper moaned.
“Not to worry, he’ll be gone as soon as the weather clears. Could you order a coach to take him to London? The Duke of Scuttleton will be grateful to have his boy home.” Lucius tucked a boot under the unconscious man’s arm and tugged up. He’d be out for a while.
“Aye, my lord. A mail coach will come through later today. I’ll be sure he’s on it.”
The innkeeper helped Lucius pick up Lord Frederick and put him in a chair. Using the man’s own scarf, he tied his hands behind the chair. “Now if he wakes, he can’t cause any trouble until the coach arrives.”
“Are ye hungry, my lord? Can I get ye something to eat?” asked the innkeeper, rubbing his bald head. His eyes dashed nervously back and forth between the lord before him and the one tied to the chair.
“I’d be grateful for some hot coffee or tea,” Lucius replied as he removed his scarf, then his greatcoat, and shook off the snow near the large hearth. The dancing flames hissed at the wet intrusions but soon sent a tingling through his hands as feeling returned. “Be at ease, my good man, for I won’t leave you alone with him.”
“Thank ye, milord,” said the innkeeper as he backed away.
After a hot cup of tea and some warm bread with jam, Lucius was feeling much more human. Lord Frederick was stirring, and only realized he was tied up when he tried to rub his jaw… or nose or aching head. Lucius wasn’t quite sure what would hurt the most.
“You blaggard, untie me!” demanded Lord Frederick.
“Not until the mail coach has arrived, and I see you on it.” He finished the last sip of tea and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “What were you thinking? A duke’s son turned horse thief?”
“Is my nose broken again? Why does the back of my head hurt?” Lord Frederick mumbled. “I’ll press charges against you as soon as I’m loose.”
“And when I’m asked why I planted you a facer, I shall tell them you a stole horse. I can’t imagine how the duke will react to that. You fell and hit your nose. It’s no longer bleeding, and it doesn’t look broken. I did send a deuced good right to your jaw, and when you fell backwards, you hit your head.” Lucius leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “But why did you do it?”
“I couldn’t go home without the beast. She left me no choice!” screamed Lord Frederick. Then he hung his head and began to moan. “You don’t understand. He’s a monster.”
“Who?”
“My father. He hates me, wishes I died instead of my brother. I thought this was my chance to prove…” Another moan. “He’ll cut me off now, disinherit me. It’s true. I can do nothing right.”
“Well, if this is how you solve a problem, I’d have to agree.” The actual fear on the man’s face surprised Lucius. He knew the older brother had always been favored, but he hadn’t known the younger one was so disliked. “And he can’t disinherit you, nodcock. He can only cut you off financially. You will gain the title.”
