The Misfit Marquess Read Free Page B

the asylum would be felt, in one form or another, by the entire community.
    So if Lord Greyleigh opposed the rebuilding of the asylum, could perhaps the place be rebuilt in another function? Not a hospital, with its attendant diseases and death—but a guild-house perhaps. The Needlemakers were said to desire a larger hall for their growing concerns....
    "Mr. Wallace." Lord Greyleigh interrupted Talbot's municipal thoughts for the future.
    "My lord?" Talbot answered at once, responding to the tone of authority.
    Lord Greyleigh indicated the oval of grass upon which they stood. "I said, this is as good a place as any to bring all the bodies, that we might perhaps begin to determine who is who—" he said, only to suddenly go very still.
    He did not move, except for his eyes, which cast about in the darkness, searching. Talbot turned to gaze in the same direction, until he saw what caused Greyleigh to make a small, angry sound from between his teeth.
    There, through the gloom, was the outline of a man appearing oddly stooped, until Talbot realized that the man stood in a ditch. The man, his face lost to shadows, held an arm pinned between his knees. Obviously a body must lie at his feet in the ditch, only a portion of its arm visible over the grassy edge. The man worked frantically at something—Talbot realized the man struggled to remove a ring from an ungloved hand—but the stranger was not so intent that he forgot to glance suspiciously about.
    When he did, Talbot did not know the man but recognized raw panic as it crossed the man's features, especially since the man gave a cry of alarm, dropped the inert hand he held, and turned and ran.
    Lord Greyleigh growled again, the sound instantly catapulting Talbot into action, and both men sprang forward in pursuit.
    It was too late, however, for the man plunged into the trees that surrounded the asylum property. Talbot thrashed into the woods after the man, as Lord Greyleigh did without evident consideration for his grey silk waistcoat or polished boots—but there was no light. Within five steps into the snagging brush it was impossible to make out any trail or obvious sign of the man's passing. The would-be thief was gone from sight, and within seconds from hearing as well, the sounds of his twig-snapping retreat swallowed by the night.

    "He was raiding one of the bodies," Greyleigh declared, his tone incensed despite puffing a bit from his exertions.
    "The scoundrel!" Talbot acknowledged with feeling. His own breathing was more labored, but then he did not cut so fine a figure as did Lord Greyleigh.
    Both men worked their way free of the woods, brushing at their coats and trousers to remove leaves and debris.
    "As soon as it's light, I'll have members of the Watch out after him," Talbot stated.
    Lord Greyleigh nodded, even if he did not appear particularly hopeful that any lawmen would actually apprehend the villain. He moved back to the ditch, looking down at the body there. "A woman. We may as well move this body—" he began, but he was interrupted by a moan.
    "Good gad," Lord Greyleigh cried, stepping down at once into the muck of the ditch. "This woman. She lives yet."
    "She's alive?" Talbot echoed, moving to stare down at a pale white face half covered with a splattered dark pattern that even in the dim light looked ominous. He felt stunned, having given up any hope of finding any of the inmates alive.
    Greyleigh pointed at the woman's head. "You take her shoulders, I will take her legs. We must get her out of this gutter."
    The words galvanized Talbot into action. He reached down, as did Lord Greyleigh, and with hands under her arms and legs, they awkwardly brought her up from the ditch to gently lay her on the thin grass lane that ran between the dirt of the road and the ditch.
    Lord Greyleigh went down on one knee and put a hand to her throat. "I feel a heartbeat, and it is fairly strong. And she is breathing. Wallace, fetch one of those lanterns."
    Talbot did as he