The Prince in the Tower Read Online Free Page A

straightened and her eyes narrowed ever so slightly.  After all, the wild blood of the Thoreaus flowed in her veins, too.   But Kate forestalled her before she could speak again. 
    “A untie,” she said faintly, “did you say there were Dragoons in the village?”
    “Yes, my dear.  They are quartered here for the winter.  Or perhaps they are looking for the Cavalier.  Miss Radish wasn’t quite certain.”
    Lady Alice, concerned when her niece fell back amongst the cushions, immediately took her pulse.  That she pronounced it slightly elevated was of no surprise to Kate.  Pork jelly was suggested and refused with loathing, so Lady Alice bustled off, returning with Caro’s medical supplies.  Luckily, Kate heard her light footstep returning to the drawing room, so that when Lady Alice opened the door, Kate was feigning sleep in order to forestall offers of saline draughts, camphor liniment for her bruises, Balm of Gilead for muscle aches, or Daffy’s Elixir for general well-being.
    In truth, she ached all over and wanted nothing more than to sleep for days and wake up to piles of money, an obedient family, and no Mr. Dalrymple.  But that was obviously impossible, so instead she concentrated on unraveling the mystery of the counterfeiting gang while Lady Alice moved softly about the shabby drawing room.
    Eventually her aunt covered her with a worn quilt, shutting the door quietly as she left.  As soon as she’d gone, Kate flung back the quilt, dragging herself to the desk where a suitable amount of digging unearthed a stubby pencil and a sheet of foolscap which she proceeded to cover in a list of all those who might be involved in treason.
    It was obvious to the person of the meanest intelligence, which Kate assured herself she was not, despite her lack of success with the family accounts, that there had to be someone in the gang, who had knowledge of the area, the people, and Castle Wallingford.  Someone local.  So she immediately put on the top of her list Adam Weilmunster, for the simple reason that she disliked him so greatly.  Second was the Countess of Malford, who, though regrettably respectable, certainly had the gall necessary for a successful operation.  The third was Ethan Douglas.  Unfortunately, though Ethan was more rambunctious than all the Thoreaus combined, even his own mama predicting her son would end up hanged or transported, Kate had to admit a thirteen year-old would be hard pressed to mastermind such an elaborate scheme.
    Kate sighed.  No.  None of the above had the correct combination of brass-faced cunning and ruthlessness to do something so dastardly, so she scribbled through their names, drumming her fingers to aid in thought.
    Turning the paper over, she sketched in a crude map of the village.
    At the east side of the green, far below the hill on which perched the vulture-like pile of stones which made up the castle, stood the venerable St. Agatha’s Church.  On the west side, just past the road which ran directly north to south, stood the comparatively new All Souls.  Immediately south of that was the Lady and the Scamp.  The Inswith river wound past Wallingford Castle, west through the farmlands of Appleby Manor, then east, circling the village on three sides.  Crinkum’s Lane led east, at right angles to the post road, past the various shops, the green, and finally the sacred spot on which Captain Harry had been hanged.  The oak tree which had given the village its name, and Kate her cover during various highway hijinks, stood, most massive of all, in a wooded area in the triangle formed of post road and river.  Directly over the river to the west lay the lands of Bellevue.  Opposite, on the other side of the road, lay the Malford estate.
    Kate was utterly certain that this told her something, but was unsure what that something might be, so she studied the map for a hint, a sign, a clue of any sort.  Outside, she could hear the children playing Astley’s