Free The Viscount's Revenge (The Royal Ambition Series Book 4) by M. C. Beaton

of speed. They could leave in the morning and arrive in London in the afternoon, thereby saving the greater expense of a night at a posting house.
     
    The trunks were corded and ready, the furniture had been swathed in holland covers to keep the dust from it until Mr. Cartwright-Browne should arrive, and Aunt Matilda was up in her room fussing over the packing of toiletries into two handboxes when Amanda and Richard made their way silently to the stables.
     
    “I’ll feel a million times easier when we have the jewels with us,” said Richard. “I kept a small trunk just for the purpose to slip in with the others in the hall.”
     
    “Don’t talk so loudly,” whispered Amanda. “Oh, what is that?”
     
    There was a rumble of carriage wheels in the drive at the front of the house.
     
    “Let Aunt see to whoever it is,” said Richard urgently. “We must have the jewels.”
     
    But before they could reach the stables, the carriage, instead of stopping at the front of the house, drove right around the side and halted beside them. It was the carriage from the vicarage. An elderly gentleman opened the door and stiffly climbed down.
     
    “You must be the Colby twins,” he said. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Mr. Cartwright-Browne.”
     
    He was a very old gentleman, small and wizened, in a pepper-and-salt frock coat and gaiters. He wore a bagwig and carried a cane.
     
    Richard signalled to Amanda with his eyes. “Please step into the house, Mr. Cartwright-Browne,” she said. “I will find you some refreshment. You were not expected until next week.”
     
    “That I know, Miss Colby, but Mrs. Jolly—I arrived there last night—told me you were leaving this morning. I decided to move in right away. I am very fond of my cousin but I have always lived alone and am set in my ways. I would like to see the stables first.
     
    “I believe you are leaving a horse and a donkey in my charge? Good. They will be well looked after. I have sent for my servants and they will be arriving later today.”
     
    “But…” began Richard desperately, but Mr. Cartwright-Browne was already marching towards the stables with a quick, rather crablike gait.
     
    Richard threw a wild look at Amanda, and both followed.
     
    Mr. Cartwright-Browne examined the stables and the harness room, and then gave Bluebell a lump of sugar and stroked his nose. The minutes ticked by and still the old gentleman prodded this and that with his cane and asked innumerable questions.
     
    “If we could finish this conversation in the house…” Amanda was beginning to say, when a shadow fell across them. The bulk of Mr. Brotherington looked in the doorway.
     
    “Heard there was a new tenant,” he said, striding forward. “I own all the land about here. I’ll have you know I’ll shoot that donkey if I find it on my pasture again, see.”
     
    “Who are you?” snapped Mr. Cartwright-Browne.
     
    “Name of Brotherington.”
     
    “Well, Brotherington,” said Mr. Cartwright-Browne, very stiffly on his stiffs. “I am the new tenant. My name is Mr. Cartwright-Browne.
You
are trespassing on
my
property and if you don’t take yourself off, I shall have you taken to the nearest roundhouse and charged.”
     
    “Ho!” Mr. Brotherington tried to stare Mr. Cartwright-Browne down, but harder and wickeder men had tried when they had faced up to the elderly judge from the dock of the Old Bailey.
     
    “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” snarled Mr. Brotherington, walking away stiff-legged like a surly bulldog being outfaced by a fox terrier.
     
    “I shall see to that man before very long,” said Mr. Cartwright-Browne meditatively, and if the twins had not been so worried about the jewels, they would have enjoyed the prospect of looking forward to hearing about how their tormentor was being tormented.
     
    “Amanda! Richard!” called Aunt Matilda. “Oh, there you are!”
     
    Introductions were made. “Jem coachman is anxious to be on