Page 40 of The Scarred Lyon

“Besides collecting poor Mr. Briggs, what will you do about the carriage?” Augusta asked.

“I discussed it with Mr. Tobey, who suggested we burn the rest. I told him there was nothing salvageable,” Patrick replied soberly.

“The site has already been picked over by thieves,” Duncan said. He gave a brief account of the two men who ransacked the coach.

“Taking a dead man’s coat,” Mr. Grimsley said, shaking his head. “Ain’t right.”

“I am glad to hear you avoided a confrontation with these thieves,” Patrick said.

“There is quite a lot that occurred,” Duncan said wryly.

“We saw the caved-in roof,” Patrick replied. “The rest of it looks as if it will give way any moment. All the better if we depart as soon as possible. Once we are finished at the wreckage site, we’ll leave. With luck, we will reach the Tobey farm late this afternoon. And get this. We received word that five miles outside of Stoneheath, the snow isn’t nearly as deep. We happened upon the worst of the storm that afternoon. Mr. Tobey is arranging to hire a small carriage in Stoneheath as we speak.”

“I am indebted to Mr. Tobey and his employees,” Duncan said.

Patrick and the men stood. “We had best get on with it. Pack up what you have. I assume the puppy is coming?”

“She is part of the family, now,” Augusta answered.

“We have a rope we can use to tie about her neck. We don’t want to take the chance of her jumping from a moving sleigh,” Patrick said.

“What about the chickens?” Augusta asked.

Patrick stared at Augusta quizzingly. “Chickens, Your Grace?”

“The Hansens left behind four chickens. Their eggs helped keep us fed,” Augusta replied.

“Beggin’ your pardon, Your Grace,” Mr. Ellery said, shyly. “We have a large box on the wagon with a cage-like top. That will hold them. Catchin’ them won’t be easy.”

Duncan chuckled. “There is some dried corn in the barn to keep them fed, but if you are worried about them, we will bring them with us. If Mr. Tobey doesn’t want them, we can take them to Bamford Park. As far as I am concerned, the chickens are mine because I paid Hansen enough to buy this entire property.”

“Yes, bring them with us,” Augusta said.

After the men departed, Duncan embraced Augusta. “We are going home, at last.”

She kissed his cheek. “Our home. You know, I just realized something. When Mr. McGloin and Mr. Ellery called me ‘Your Grace,’ I suddenly remembered that I am a duchess!”

Duncan nuzzled her neck. “My duchess, forever and always.”

When the men returned in the early afternoon, Duncan and Augusta were more than ready to depart.

“I thought you would take longer,” Duncan called out.

“We saw drag marks in the snow,” Patrick said. “The trunks along with other items, were taken. There wasn’t much to burn. Briggs is in the coffin on the wagon, preserved by the cold weather, and should stay that way until we return to Bamford Park for a proper burial.”

Duncan closed his eyes. “What a tragedy.”

“Agreed. Not an end I would wish for anyone. Grimsley and Ellery are in the barn trying to gather the chickens.” Patrick handed Duncan a long rope. “For your puppy. You, me, the duchess, and Lady will be in one sleigh pulling Dawn; Tobey’s men will handle the other with the coffin and your belongings. We had better depart. We will stay the night at the Tobey farm, and early tomorrow morning, Tobey’s men will take us to Stoneheath to collect the carriage and driver. I assumed you wished to be back at Bamford Park as soon as possible.”

“You have the right of it. One night soon, we must fill each other in on our storm travails.”

Patrick chuckled. “I believe you have far more to divulge than I do.” Patrick sobered. “It could have been far worse, Duncan. I’m glad we made it through. We all could have wound up like Briggs.”

“Yes. A sobering thought. Come, time to finish this particular journey.”

And get on with their lives.

Chapter Nineteen