Harcourt stilled at a knocking sound coming from the dower house. He doubted Merry had heeded his warning yesterday—or realized quite how terrified he’d been when he saw that carriage strike her. She’d been so damned close to being killed that he hadn’t slept a wink all night.

Something that had not passed Griff, his mother or his estate manager’s notice. He had dark circles under his eyes as proof and he couldn’t prevent himself from yawning. If anything would have happened to her...

If anything did happen to her...

He found the front door of the dower house open and followed the sound of hammering. If someone else didn’t kill Merry, he’d have a tough time not throttling her himself. Fool woman was determined to be careless with her safety. Why did she think leaving the door open, so anyone could walk in, was acceptable?

“Merry?”

The hammering noise stopped, and a head peered around the corner of one door. “Lord Langley. Whatever are you doing here?”

“Mr. Nicholson. I was about to ask you the same.”

The carpenter stepped out from behind the doorframe and lowered his hammer. “I was fixing this window. Seems it took a battering from the wind. Then I’m to finish up the door. Lady Merry left for Brycesbury after issuing her orders not long ago.” The slight smile on the old man’s face had Harcourt imagining Merry had been quite specific in her orders.

“I do not suppose you know why she was going to town?”

He pressed fingers to his forehead. “Said something about wallpaper.” He shrugged. “I try not to listen to ladies’ conversations, but I think that was what they said.”

“They?”

“Miss Sophia Pemberton?”

Harcourt nodded. Sophia might not be the sort of escort he had in mind for her, but it was better than no one he supposed. Still, it was clear she had not taken him seriously. He’d have to remedy that.

“Thanks, Frank. Have a good afternoon.”

“And you, my lord.”

The hammering resumed as soon as Harcourt left the building. He had not planned on going to Brycesbury today, but he could do with speaking to his accountant anyway. If he so happened to find Merry while he was there, so much the better. He could reassure himself she was well, and he’d be damned if the woman didn’t need another speaking to. He pushed a hand through his hair and put his hat back on. He’d always known Merry was a handful, but the bloody woman was turning him gray. If she was not kissing him as though he were the only man in the world then refusing him, she was determined to put herself in danger.

He made his way back to Lulworth Castle and found Griff stepping out of the doorway.

“Chasing after a certain woman again?” his friend asked with a grin.

Harcourt ignored the question. “I’m heading to Brycesbury. Do you want to accompany me?”

“Why not? I could do with a stretch of my legs.”

“I’m riding in. It’s a little way on foot.” Harcourt led the way to the stables where they fetched horses. Thankfully several were already saddled, ready for exercise so he did not have to waste any time waiting. Brycesbury was only a forty-five-minute brisk ride away so he’d have a good chance of meeting Merry there. He’d have to ready himself for her ire at being followed but he did not much care at this point. So long as she was safe, that was all that mattered.

Pushing his horse as fast as she could muster, they made it to Brycesbury in even quicker time. The town was smaller compared to the likes of London or even other towns in Dorset, but it was the nearest to Lulworth and boasted many shops. For those who did not wish to travel far, it was ideal. His mother complained there were no fashionable people or interesting places in the bustling town, hence her frequent trips to Bath, but he rather liked the quaint air of the place.

He grimaced. Now he really did sound old. Merry was having a strange effect on him. Was it not enough that she had persuaded him into the idea of matrimony without even trying? Now he was comparing Brycesbury to London—and favorably so.

“An attractive place,” Griff commented, “but what are we doing here?”

“I need to see my accountant.” Harcourt dismounted and tethered the horse to a hitching post. “Do you want to explore the town on your own while I visit with him?”

Griff shrugged. “I am well-used to being abandoned by you these days.”

“Need I keep reminding you that you invited yourself here.”

His friend held up a hand. “Yes, yes, I know. I am an utterly unwanted guest. It’s a fine job this neglect is in pursuit of a woman or I would be sore about it indeed.”

“You’re not unwanted, Griff, but you did manage to choose the worst time to decide you like the country.”

“I will confess, there is something diverting about it.”

Harcourt chuckled. “You mean there is something diverting about all the ladies that you have never met before.”

“The country air does seem to breed attractive women,” Griff mused. He glanced around. “I see a coffee shop. Leave me there and I shall meet you in an hour.”

Harcourt nodded. “That works.”

Leaving Griff, he set off toward the curtain shop, ignoring his accountant’s place of work entirely. He would worry about that once he had assured himself Merry was safe. He found the shop to be empty once he arrived and the shopkeeper informed him that two young ladies had been in a mere ten minutes ago. Harcourt must have just missed them. He thanked the shopkeeper and headed out once more, scanning the streets for them.

The town was not as crowded as London but nor was it designed to house as many visitors as it did. The streets were narrow, only allowing for a single carriage to pass and stalls were set up on street corners, forcing pedestrians onto the busy road. He stopped by a stall selling hot crumpets and scanned the crossroads. There were plenty of women in bonnets and pretty gowns, but his gaze landed upon two women—one in color and the other in black.

He picked up the pace and hastened after them as they entered a small park through iron gates. He saw Merry talking animatedly to Sophia without any care for her surroundings.

Scowling, he moved into a quick stride. Damn the woman. She should be paying more attention. While she and her friend strolled along the pathway between two lawns, Harcourt could see a man following behind them, his clothes ragged and his manner suspicious. The man paused briefly to see if there was anyone else in the park.

Harcourt started to run but the busy paths made it hard to catch up with Merry and he knocked into several people and was nearly struck by a carriage. He pushed past a large man, muttering a quick apology, his gaze set on the man following Merry.

His heart lifted up into his throat as the man approached. He grabbed Merry’s arm and she turned. The sunlight caught a glint of something. His blood ran cold.

A knife.

Shoving through a couple strolling arm in arm, he raced toward the park, turning the corner and shoving through the iron gates. “You there!” he bellowed.

The man twisted, his eyes widening under a floppy hat, then pushed past Merry. He raced down the path and darted in between the trees. Harry hurried up to the women and grabbed Merry’s arm.

“Are you well?” He sucked in a breath. “Did he hurt you?”

“I-I-I am well.” Her skin was ashen.

He looked to the trees. No doubt whoever he was knew the town better than Harcourt and would be long gone.

“And you, Miss Sophia?” he asked.

She straightened. “I am fine. He seemed more interested in Merry.” She wrapped an arm around Merry’s shoulders. “Goodness, I never thought we would be victim of a robbery in a town like this.”

“Was that what he wanted?” demanded Harcourt. “To rob you.”

Merry shook her head. “He never said. He just pulled out his knife then ran off as soon as he heard you shouting.”

Harcourt’s heart stilled. This right after the near carriage accident. This was no coincidence. “Did you get a good look at him? Was he scrawny?”

“I suppose.” Merry glanced at Sophia.

“I was too busy looking at the knife,” Sophia confessed.

“Old?” he asked.

Sophia shrugged. “A little old I suppose. Dark hair.”

Then it was not the same person who had been at the dower house. But he did not think the carriage driver had been either. Whatever this was, there was more than one person involved in trying to harm Merry. Somehow, he was going to have to discover what the devil was going on—and fast.

“I think we should get you home,” he said to Merry and Sophia. “You look pale, Merry.”

She nodded slowly. “Yes, that might be an idea.”

“Lord Thornford is in town with me. We shall escort you both home.”

Merry shook her head. “Oh no, there is really no need. We can—”

“I will not accept a no,” he said firmly. “We are seeing you home safely.”

For the second time that week too. Whoever was trying to hurt her was becoming more determined and bolder. If he was going to keep Merry safe, he would have to take action. Next time something happened, he would be close by and he certainly would not let the bastard get away.