Mistletoe and Mayhem: A Regency Holiday Romance Anthology, page 35
“No, he likes pretty ladies, and you weigh no more than a child or the gun I strap to my saddle, so the strain will not be onerous.”
She could do nothing to stop the small shriek as he threw her up on top of the horse.
“A little warning, please.”
“Move forward.”
“I will sit behind you.” Ivy shuffled back.
He sighed, looking up at her.
“What?” Ivy quite liked this vantage point, looking down at him.
“Can you not just say, ‘yes, Rory’? Just once.”
“No, Rory. What if someone sees us?”
“Who will be out on such a day? Now move forward.” She did, and he climbed up behind her, and suddenly she was surrounded by him, his big body seeming to wrap around her, leaving Ivy with a very uncomfortable feeling deep in her belly.
Chapter Fifteen
He enjoyed holding her, knowing she was in his arms. She sat before him watching the road dappled in snow, pressed to his chest as the minutes ticked over and Rory thought he could keep walking for hours like this.
“Rory, how will this all end?”
“The threats?”
She nodded, her bonnet touching his chin.
“We have to find people who are not under that woman’s thrall to ensure she is tried without bias. That is, if we can take matters that far.”
“But why am I threatened and not just Jackson?”
He’d thought about that as he rode beside the carriage. Remembered Madam Layla’s threats where Ivy was concerned. For now he would not frighten her with all the details.
“You know that she mentioned your family.”
“Yes. But now we have Jackson back, surely he is the only target, as he can testify against her.”
“Perhaps she sees removing any Redfern will stop us wanting to go after her? And it’s likely she would have extorted money and an assurance to drop all charges for your return.”
“I don’t like that woman, Rory. She must be stopped before she hurts anyone else. The only good thing to come out of that entire horrid event is that Troy is so much happier, and he has only been in our household a few days.”
“Yes, she must be stopped. Who is Troy, Ivy?”
“The boy who left Le Plaisir with us.”
“I thought he was Roy now?”
“Parslip thought Troy more fitting.”
“Why?”
“I believe the city of Troy is now where the boy’s ancestors originate from.”
“And I ask again. Why?”
“Parslip said that Troy had no memory of his parents, or siblings, or anyone in his life, so he made a past for him. He and our cook, Mrs. Boodle, thought it was befitting a boy who had already suffered through too much.”
“That was very kind of them.” His voice only shook slightly.
“Are you laughing at my cook and butler?”
“I’m trying not to.”
“It’s very kind of them. I found a book about Troy, and Parslip is reading it to the boy.”
She moved, twisting her body and pressing her bottom into his groin, which had his eyes nearly crossing, until she could look at him.
“I think it’s sweet.”
His eyes settled on her lips. “I think you’re sweet.”
She leaned in, one hand on his chest, and this time it was Ivy who kissed him. Luckily his horse was well behaved, because in seconds he’d dropped the reins, wrapped his arms around her, and was kissing her back.
Her lips weren’t skilled, she was innocent, and he was on fire in the cool air in seconds. Ivy ignited him like no other before her. As he took the kiss deeper, he thought that he really did know now exactly what he wanted to share with Ivy.
“Ivy.” He breathed her name against her lips.
“I need to be honest.”
“All right.” Rory kissed her quickly because he could.
“I like you.”
“That’s welcome news, as I like you also.”
“Very much, Rory.” She eased back, frowning.
“Again I sense a but.”
Their eyes locked
“I didn’t think that would happen to me.”
“That you would like me, or that I would like you?”
“Both.”
“And yet you are immensely likeable,” he teased her.
“According to Mr. Landish, I am odd.”
“Why does Mr. Landish think you’re odd?”
“He said I was one of those devilishly tricky well-read females no man would ever want as a wife.”
“I may have to seek him out on your behalf when we get back to London and explain that his views are wrong,” Rory said. “In fact, many men like well-read females.”
“I told him that he was one of those devilishly dimwitted men whose only contribution to a conversation was how short in the hocks a horse is.”
“How did he take that?” Rory could do nothing to stop his smile. There was just something about Ivy that made him happy… even when he was angry with her. Which made no sense to anyone but him, so he’d keep that thought to himself too.
“His face turned red and he looked like he was close to apoplexy, so I walked away.”
He tried to muffle the laugh, but it came out as a snort.
“So you see, I am not an easy female to manage.” Her eyes were solemn.
“How do you know I am an easy man to manage? Plus, I have no wish to manage you, Ivy.”
“Oh.” She turned away, completely misunderstanding what he’d said.
“I like you as you are, Ivy.”
“Really?” She turned back, smiling.
“Really.”
Her eyes widened as she looked over his shoulder.
“Rory, men!”
From behind them, five men were approaching. Rory could not outrun them, and if he tried, they could be shot. He thought furiously as he pulled his pistol from his boot. What to do? Had they followed them from London, sent by Madam Layla? He looked down at the woman in his arms. They would not get her; he’d do whatever it took to keep her safe. Because she may not know yet that this was love, but he did.
“Mr. Haddon!”
“That’s a relief, it’s Lord Trockler,” Ivy said.
“Gentlemen.” Rory turned his horse and waited for them to draw near. Wrapping an arm around Ivy’s waist, he held her close.
“It’s just Lord Trockler, Rory.” Her hand patted his.
There was no “just” about it, Rory thought, looking at the nobleman. He remembered Jackson saying the man had offered his country house to them for Christmas. Could Trockler be under Madam Layla’s control also? He couldn’t discount it.
“You’re squeezing me tight, Rory—”
“Be still,” he whispered in her ear. “I can’t be certain, but it is possible Lord Trockler is close with Madam Layla.”
“Surely not?”
“We need to play along, Ivy, until we are sure. Do you understand me?”
She nodded.
“Do what they say for now, but stay alert.”
“I will.”
“Lord Trockler, how lovely to see you,” Rory said. If they were to play this part well, they needed to act as if nothing was out of the ordinary. “What has you out here in this weather?”
“My estate is not far from here, Mr. Haddon. We have been checking on the tenants. My grooms are keeping me company. What about you, Miss Redfern? Why are you with Mr. Haddon, alone?”
The man was scared. It was there in his face, all the signs that he was nervous. Rory had no idea where Trockler’s estate was but doubted it was nearby. Things were not adding up, and that confirmed to him that Trockler was in league with Madam Layla.
“Our carriage wheel broke, so we have sent my aunt and Jackson on, and we are attempting to find someone to fix it.” Ivy’s voice sounded normal, but her body was tense. Her fingers were clutching the ones he held the reins with. “We are to spend time at Greystone with Mr. Haddon and his family over Christmastide. He took me up before him as it was too cold to stay and wait.”
“Oh, well, I can help you there.” Lord Trockler’s smile was tight. “Come along, we’ll head back to the estate, and I will have one of my men fix it.”
“That would be wonderful, as my driver will be cold, as will the horses,” Ivy said.
“Follow us, then.”
There was little he could do for now, so Rory urged his horse in behind the men. Two of them then dropped back behind his horse, hemming them in.
“Stay alert,” he whispered in Ivy’s ear again. Her only answer was to squeeze his fingers.
They wouldn’t harm her. He’d do everything in his power to ensure that they had a long, happy future together, no matter what it took.
Chapter Sixteen
Ivy hoped Rory was wrong. Hoped that in fact Lord Trockler was a good man, and he was not under Madam Layla’s control.
“Not much farther now!” the nobleman called from up ahead.
“Do you think if Lord Trockler is in league with Madam Layla, he had something to do with the carriage wheel breaking?” Ivy whispered.
“I’m not sure something like that could be planned. But I would say they have followed us from London, if indeed Trockler is the enemy.”
Ivy didn’t want anything to happen to her, but the thought of Rory being harmed in any way made panic claw at her insides.
Rory would do what it took to keep her safe, she knew that, and yet he was one man, as she was one woman. They were outnumbered.
“I don’t want anything to happen to you, Rory.”
He leaned closer, his cheek now pressed to hers. “I don’t want anything to happen to you either, Ivy.”
“We have to get out of this.”
“We don’t know Lord Trockler’s intent yet, Ivy.”
“And yet you believe it is bad, don’t you, Rory?”
“I do.” He whispered the words in her ear.
They turned into a driveway and rode along that for a while. At the end was a large stone house.
“I had no idea you kept a place here, Lord Trockler,” Rory said.
“It’s one of a few I have. I come here when I want to be alone,” Trockler said, dismounting. He wasn’t looking at Rory or Ivy, but the house. “I will have someone sent to fix your carriage at once and bring it here to collect you. Come along, we shall go inside and warm up while we wait.”
Rory dismounted, then held up his hands to Ivy. She slid into his arms, and he held her briefly, allowing her to gain courage from his strength.
“Find a place to freshen up, then escape if you can,” Rory whispered. “Find where the horses are and go for help.”
“I won’t leave you. Besides, we don’t know if Lord Trockler is bad or not.”
“Think, Ivy. He came to ask your family to stay with him for a few days. Has he ever done so before, and while his wife is away?”
He had her there.
“You will escape, because it may be the only way we get out of this.” He gripped her fingers tight.
They were ushered into the house and into a small parlor, and the tension inside her grew. What would happen now? Was Lord Trockler intent on harming them?
“My lord, I wonder if I could freshen up?” Ivy said.
“Of course. Haddon and I will take brandy while we await your return.”
She was shown to a room on the second floor. There was a key in the lock that she turned. Hurrying to the window, Ivy opened it. She was at the back of the house and could see the stables. But how did she get down to the ground from here? What if she was overreacting? What if Rory was wrong and Lord Trockler wasn’t intent on harming them?
Bracing her hands on the windowsill, she looked out. A fall from here would break bones or her neck. Climbing onto the ledge, Ivy shuffled along it slowly.
But what if Lord Trockler is not intent on harming us? She could be risking her limbs for no reason.
Ivy reached another window and peeked in. Had she needed a sign, then the sight of Madam Layla seated in a chair, having a maid do her hair, was it. She recognized those golden curls instantly.
Creeping back along the ledge, Ivy went as far as she could the other way. It was cold and icy, so she had to be careful or she’d fall, and then she’d be no help to Rory.
Reaching the end of the building, Ivy found the roof sloped there. If she could get onto that and reach the gutters, she may be able to hang off them and jump the rest of the way.
Gripping the roof, she climbed onto it. The slate was rough, which would stop her from sliding. Clutching the side, she began to ease down slowly.
Would they come looking for her soon? She had to get down before they did. Rory would stay safe until she could get back to him… he had to.
It seemed to take forever, and her gloves were torn, hands raw by the time she reached the gutters. Ivy’s arms ached from holding on, but she’d make it; she had to. Lowering herself over the edge on her tummy, she let her legs dangle, but didn’t dare look down.
Please don’t let me break anything.
The gutter creaked and then bent as she lowered herself further, and then she was falling.
She landed on her feet; they gave way, and she fell onto her bottom, knocking the breath out of her body. Ivy rolled to her knees. Desperate for air, she wondered if she’d pass out, and then finally, the blessed relief. Inhaling large, steadying breaths, she staggered to her feet.
Running as fast as she could, she kept to the trees until she reached the stables. Listening, she heard no voices, only the thud of her heart.
You can do this, Ivy. Rory needs you.
She tiptoed inside. Horses had their heads hanging over the stalls, some nipping at her bonnet as she crept past.
“That Madam Layla, she’s got them all at her mercy.”
The words came from up ahead. Moving forward, she peered around a wall and found four men in a tack room talking. Ivy would never get a horse out of there without one of them hearing her. She saw the door had a lock on it. Could she shut it before they realized she was out there?
“That Lord Trockler will do anything for her,” a man was saying as she crept closer. “It’s like she’s a witch and casts spells over them.”
“Or she’s good at what she does, if you get my meaning. Them noblewomen is all uptight in the bedroom, but not Madam Layla. That’s what lures them to her.”
Ivy was now beside the door. There was a piece of wood to drop, then a key to turn in a lock. Pressing her palm to it, she swung it slowly.
“Hey!”
She slammed it and dropped the wood. Her fingers shook as she turned the key in the lock, then removed it. Running back to the first stall, she looked inside. No horse, only straw. The next had a horse but no saddle. The third had Rory’s horse, still saddled with the rifle strapped in place.
Fists pounded on the locked door behind her as Ivy led the horse from the stable. Mounting, she guided them outside. Rory had told her to leave and get help, but that help would be some distance away in the form of Timothy and the driver. Could she leave him for that long? What would they do to him once they knew she’d gone?
If only Lord Trockler was still in that room with Rory, she could go in there and retrieve him, then leave. She’d locked four men in the stables, but knew an estate this size would have more staff.
Ivy was not usually indecisive, and yet this was surely the most important decision of her life.
Letting go of the reins, she let the horse decide. He made for the house.
“Excellent choice.”
Tying him to a tree out of sight of the house, Ivy dismounted and unstrapped the rifle. Making sure it was loaded, she crept up the front steps and into the house. The parlor that Rory was in was on this floor. Listening at the door, she heard only the hum of men’s voices. Tapping on the wood, she stood back and waited.
Chapter Seventeen
Ivy had not reappeared, and Lord Trockler was getting nervous. He was pacing the room, while Rory drank brandy, pretending to be calm when he was actually wound tighter than a piano wire.
The tap on the door had Trockler hurrying to answer it.
“Miss Redfern!”
Rory was beside the man in seconds.
“Rory, come out here now.”
She stood with a rifle in her hands, and it was pointed at Trockler. His heart nearly stopped beating.
“What are you doing, Miss Redfern?” Lord Trockler demanded.
Rory didn’t hesitate, he pushed the man back into his study, then slammed the door. Grabbing her hand, he ran for the door.
“I told you to leave the house and go for help, Ivy!”
“Your horse wanted to save you.” She handed him the rifle. “He is waiting outside. I locked the men in the stables but am unsure how long the door will hold or how many others there are here. Madam Layla is also here, Rory, and I find that woman terrifying.”
“You do surprise me. I didn’t think anything terrified you.”
The chandelier above their heads shattered. Rory dived at Ivy and carried her with him to the ground.
“You will not move!”
He found Madam Layla on the stairs with a gun in her hands. Raising the rifle, he took aim and fired.
“Run, Ivy!” He didn’t wait to see how his aim was, just leapt to his feet, dragging Ivy with him.
They shot out the front door.
“Horse, that way!”
He grabbed her hand as they sprinted past the house. Rory prayed no one shot at them.
Reaching the horse, he grabbed her around the waist and threw her into the saddle. Untying the reins he then vaulted on behind.
“Go!” Ivy shrieked.
He galloped down the drive and onto the road. Heading right, he hoped they would reach someone who could help them.
“Keep looking!”
She did, checking behind them as he urged his horse on. Only when the inn came into sight did he breathe easier. His family and hers would be inside.
Dismounting in front, he took Ivy with him to the ground, then hurried inside.
“My name is Mr. Haddon. My family is here.”
