Free How To Tame a Rake by Maggi Andersen Page B

he’s very busy. There’s a lot of work to be done at Hawkeswood.”
    Vincent raised an eyebrow. “I suppose that explains these constant absences.”
    Willy bit her lip and looked over the park. “Where are we going?”
    “Only a few blocks. Mivart’s in Brook Street. Lady Angela keeps an apartment there.”
    They climbed the stairs to the Baroness’ apartment—part of a row of townhouses that formed Mirvat’s Hotel—Frederick pulling on his lead.
    At the sight of Frederick, the butler’s mouth hung open.
    “I’m Miss Corbet and this is Mr. Loudon. Lady Burdett-Coutts is expecting us,” Willy explained.
    “Who is it, Beaks?” A lady’s voice enquired.
    “Mr. Loudon, Miss Corbet and her … dog, my lady.”
    “Send them in.”
    The dark-haired lady rose and came towards them. “Heavens! He’s a strange breed.”
    “I trimmed his fur, it was falling in his eyes,” Willy explained.
    “Astonishing.” Lady Angela smiled as Frederick licked her hand. “How do you do, Frederick?”
    Two hours later, the carriage pulled up in Park Lane.
    “It was very generous of the Baroness to keep him,” Vincent said. “She will find a good home for him, I’m sure.”
    “I hope so.”
    He studied her. “You miss him.”
    “Already,” she sighed. “But Blake will be pleased.”
    Vincent reached for her hand and put it to his lips. “I would not have asked you to part with him, Willy.”
    “It’s for the best,” Willy said loyally, gently removing her hand.
    * * * *
    At noon, Blake, Ben Nye and a posse of men reassembled at the last place Joe Gore and his bandits had been seen. The hunt for Joe had taken on an even greater urgency since a young policeman had been killed.
    Ben rode his small, feisty mare. “We shall split up. You two men will go south,” he said pointing, “You two, north. Bill and Edward go east. His lordship and I will go west. We’ll meet back here around four o’clock before it gets too dark. If you catch sight up of ‘em, fire two shots into the air, or at their backs if you prefer.” He winked. “We’ll come running.” He stroked his bushy moustache. “We want ‘em dead or alive, men, but don’t be heroes. I don’t wish to see anymore of you buried before your time.”
    Blake and Ben rode off through the oaks, limes and beech trees, their eyes searching, their ears straining for human noise above the screech and twitter of the birds. Escaping Roe deer flattened the bushes only to have them bounce back into the horse’s way. Squirrels flung themselves along branches sending showers of leaves to the ground. The men rode for hours along the narrow trails in relative silence.
    A red fox emerged from the bushes, running for its life. Startled, Ben’s horse left the trail galloping into a thicket. It stumbled over a badger sett. “Whoa!” Ben cried, pulling the reins. He dismounted and carefully checked the horse’s fetlocks. “Nothing wrong there.” About to remount, something caught his eye and he knelt down, examining the ground. “Horses have been through here,” he said. “Recent like.”
    “They leave the trail over here,” Blake said, pointing. The land sloped down to a river. “Maybe they crossed there.”
    “Maybe they did.” Ben mounted and rode his horse into the water. Blake followed.
    There was no sign of the fugitives. On the opposite bank a steep rocky cliff blocked their way forward. Blake and Ben rode up and down both sides of the river for several miles, but found no sign of them.
    “Quite a trick that,” Ben said, dispirited. “Disappeared into thin air like phantoms.”
    Just then, a shot rang out. Startled, Blake turned his mount to search the woods. “Can’t see anything, can you?” He looked back to see Ben crumple from his horse.
    “Devil take it!” Blake jumped down and ran to the man lying face down on the ground.
    He carefully rolled him over. Ben was dead. He’d been shot through the heart. “They’re real all right,” Blake