The Marquis knew that this was true. No gentleman would have been so foolhardy as to ride alone or even with a groom over desolate uninhabited countryside without being armed.
He rose to his feet and walked across the room to the window, drew back the curtains behind which Perdita had hidden and, opening the window, slowly looked out.
He expected a blast of wind, but while they had been talking the weather had changed. The storm had subsided as swiftly as it had risen. The wind had gone, a fitful moon had come out from behind the clouds, revealing a thin covering of snow on the outbuildings of the inn.
The Marquis looked below.
The inn was a small and rambling building, black and white with a gabled roof. There was not a very big drop from the first floor to the ground.
Immediately be
