Unmasking Deception, page 15
For Dominic, it was almost like carrying on their flight from the runners the night he first met Viola. The horses, filched from Richard’s stable, were fast, and when the woman at the gate of Maida Gardens told him about the couple getting out a hackney and into a yellow bounder, he knew where he would find them. At Minton’s cottage, which he insisted on referring to as his Buckinghamshire estate. The girl at Maida also told him the female passenger had looked anything but willing, and if it hadn’t been for the large, threatening manservant…
Feeling positively murderous, Dominic had ridden full tilt after them, Napper at his heels. Leaving London behind, he wondered how long the horses would last. Was it worth wasting time changing them just to get some slow old nags in return?
In the end, he allowed the horses a few short, slow periods to rest.
“What do you plan to do when you catch them?” Napper asked during one such spell.
“Kill him,” Dominic said savagely.
“I hope you’re not serious.”
Dominic cast him a fulminating look. “What do you expect me to do? Wag my finger at him and tell him not to do it again?”
“If you want. Thing is, you’re not much use to Miss Viola or anyone else if you’re banged up again for murder, and they’ll hang you this time for sure. There are other ways to punish varmints like him.”
“My brother thinks he killed Crawley.”
“So do you, or we’d never have been looking for him the day we got out of Newgate. Prove that, and you’ve all the punishment for him you could wish. Concentrate on saving the girl. And on not killing him.”
Dominic said nothing, merely urged his brave gelding back to a gallop. He ignored the sign pointing down a side road to the inn and kept going.
“Look, sir!” Napper yelled, not long after, pointing back the way.
Dominic slowed and glanced over his shoulder. The side road with the inn seemed to emerge back onto the main road just behind them. And a yellow post chaise was turning on to it.
A weight seemed to fall from Dominic’s shoulders. “It’s them.” Delving inside his pocket, he found the masks pinched from Maida last week and passed one across to Napper.
Napper put in on and casually reached up to break a branch off an overhanging tree. This, he hid under the horse blanket which had been tied to the saddle. It looked just like a hidden rifle.
Dominic grinned. “Creative. There are no outriders, at least. You take the postilion. I’ll deal with Minton.” He took the pistol from his other pocket and hefted it. “And Napper? It’s not loaded.”
“Thank God.”
They urged their tired horses into the middle of the road and turned to face the oncoming chaise. Napper heaved his “rifle” to his shoulder, the blanket trailing downward.
Dominic flourished his pistol. “Stand and deliver!” he yelled with relish and more quietly to Napper. “I’ve always wanted to say that.”
The postilion, who clearly saw no reason to risk his life for someone too mean to hire outriders, dragged his horses to a snorting, anxious halt. “You got a nerve!” he offered. “Ain’t even dark yet, and there’s patrols on these roads to stop the likes of you. Best be on your way and leave law-abiding people alone!”
“Ha!” Dominic retorted in his best growl. “Law-abiding, my foot!” Leaving Napper to cover the postilion, he nudged his horse around the side of the chaise, dismounted, and wrenched open the door, pointing the pistol straight at the heart of the man within.
The furious man had half-risen from his seat, presumably to see what was going on. Like the frightened female beside him, he was a complete stranger to Dominic.
“Oh, for the love of—” Dominic slammed the door on the startled pair and threw himself back in the saddle with enough fury to cause his wound to give a warning throb. He had forgotten about it until that moment, but the last thing he needed was to start bleeding again before he had found Viola.
“Stand back, let them go,” he called to Napper, who obediently reined his horse to the side of the road while still keeping the postilion covered with his tree branch. Just in case the mouthy fellow had a pistol on his person.
“Go on and don’t look back!” Napper commanded.
The postilion needed no second telling, although once the carriage was passed, he yelled insults at them from a safe distance.
Dominic barely heard, for his attention was now on the road, in the direction the chaise had just come, and there was another right behind it. Also, without outriders, and with only two horses and one postilion.
“Let’s hope the boy was lying about patrols,” Dominic murmured as he joined Napper once again in the middle of the road. “Because this is taking a lot longer than I intended… Go on, your turn,” he added generously.
Napper actually grinned. “Stand and deliver!” he yelled, aiming his blanket-covered tree branch. Dominic waved his pistol in a menacing fashion, and this postilion, like the last, pulled his horses to a standstill. He glared but said nothing. In fact, his face was weary, as if being held up was a regular occurrence.
Dominic knew an instant of shame, but it didn’t slow him down as he dismounted and jerked open the chaise door.
*
“Why did you mention Lord Richard Gorse?” Minton asked abruptly. This time, he was rubbing the expensive wool fabric over the right pocket of his greatcoat, a distracted gesture of nerves, perhaps, and certainly impatience. “What is he to you?”
“An acquaintance who appears to be a gentleman.”
Her answer didn’t quell the suspicion in his cold eyes. “But why him? Why not your cousins? Who appear to be legion.”
“Lord Richard is an officer, a man of action.”
“With one arm and a lame leg.”
“I’m sure that will not slow him down when he sends the Bow Street Runners after you.”
His brow cleared. “Of course. And he will not care about your reputation the way family members will. But seriously, do you think he will marry you upon learning you are my leavings?”
“No.” She dropped her gaze once more to his fingers, which had curled around whatever the object was in his pocket. A lucky coin perhaps. It seemed too small for a weapon, even a penknife.
Perhaps seeing the direction of her gaze, he straightened his fingers, smoothing the fabric of his coat, then letting his hand onto the seat between them. “It doesn’t matter. No one will find you in time. You will be compelled to marry me to save your reputation and your family’s.”
“If I am ever made your wife in law,” Viola said intensely, “I will be a widow before morning.”
That did take him by surprise, for his gaze flew to hers, as though startled by her vehemence or her implied violence. Then he laughed. Just as the horses slowed in a commotion of shouting and angry whinnies.
Minton stopped laughing. “Now what?” he demanded, peering out his near window.
Viola’s heartbeat quickened. Could this be an opportunity for escape? Unlikely, on unknown country roads, but she must be ready for anything…
A shadow darkened the window beside her, making her jump. Abruptly, the door was wrenched open, and a masked man stood there, his pistol pointing straight at Minton.
A highwayman! She had never even thought of being held up. Fierce satisfaction swept through her. Perhaps the man would shoot Minton, which would be almost as good as doing it herself. Though, of course, there was no guarantee that he would not shoot her, too.
The highwayman’s intense eyes flickered over her, bringing a wave of familiarity. It can’t be…!
“What is the meaning of this?” Minton blustered. “You have no idea who you are threatening, but let me assure you, you are making a huge mistake.”
“Not I,” the highwayman said, apparently amused. Without taking his gaze—or his pistol—off Minton, he held out his hand to Viola. “I must ask you to alight, madam.”
Dear God, it was him! Joy surged, quickly mingling with fear for him. When she put her hand in his, she was trembling with reaction, but his fingers closed around hers, strong and comforting. She climbed down to the side of the road, unable to take her eyes off his masked face.
“You, too,” he ordered Minton.
Minton obeyed, though he seemed to have recovered his wits. “Wait a moment. You don’t sound anything like a highwayman!”
“Don’t I? How many highwaymen do you know?”
“Oh, you’re my first, but you speak like a gentleman.” Minton stood on the grass verge, with Dominic’s pistol still aimed at his heart.
“That’s what they call me,” Dominic said flippantly, “Gentleman Geoff. Because I always make polite conversation before robbing my victims blind. And I usually bow before I shoot them. Traveling light, my good sir? Without luggage?”
“As you see. A poor return for your efforts,” Minton retorted. “I know you, don’t I? You’re no more a highwayman than I am. Come, my dear,” he flung at Viola, “we’re leaving.”
Viola stood where she was. And he couldn’t reach her because Dominic stood between them with a pistol.
And suddenly, the highwayman’s voice changed from vaguely bantering to soft and chilling. “Empty your pockets. Now.”
Minton hesitated, but only for an instant. He turned out his pockets, throwing a penknife and a coin purse to the ground, followed by a notecase from the other pocket. There was no sign of the loose coin or whatever he had been constantly fiddling with on the journey.
On impulse, Viola stepped closer to Dominic’s back. “Take his coat,” she breathed.
He didn’t appear to hear her, for, keeping the pistol steady, he bent and retrieved the contents of Minton’s pocket, transferring them to his own. Then, straightening, he fingered the fabric of Minton’s coat. “Take it off.”
“What?” Minton stared at him.
“Take off the coat,” Dominic ordered. “My friend there needs a new one for winter.”
Only then did Viola become aware of the masked rider at the front of the chaise, aiming some kind of weapon at the postilion. Perhaps it was an easily identifiable firearm, for he had covered it with a bit of blanket. His posture, as well as his company, made her almost certain that this was Napper.
“You’re not getting the damned coat off my back!” Minton snarled.
“Actually, I am,” Dominic said softly. His lips stretched into an unconvincing smile. “What’s your problem? The evening is still warm.”
Even Viola’s throat went dry. She realized she didn’t actually know that Dominic wouldn’t shoot Minton. Certainly, Minton didn’t know it. There was something implacable about the highwayman, an air of serious danger, of threat and reckless violence barely controlled. Viola shivered, for this was a new side of Dominic. If it weren’t real, he was an actor to rival Edmund Keane.
“I am in a bit of a hurry,” Dominic said impatiently. “The coat comes with me. Your simple choice is whether to give it to me peacefully or be shot for it.”
“You’d kill a man for a driving coat?” Minton said furiously, hauling off the garment.
“I’m a highwayman. I’d shoot my own grandmother for a handkerchief. Thank you.” He took the coat and shoved it at Viola. “Put it on if you’re cold. And you, return to the chaise.”
Minton turned obediently to the carriage. He seemed dazed, but with a foot on the step, he apparently remembered Viola and glanced back, scowling. “After you.”
“She isn’t going with you,” Dominic said. He took only half a step nearer Minton, clenching one hand, and yet the violence in him looked ready to erupt. Viola only just stopped herself seizing his arm in terror that he really would commit murder now. Dominic’s lips curled. “She was the only thing of value you had. Get in before I help you with my boot.”
Minton was barely inside before Dominic kicked up the steps and slammed the door.
“Let them go!” he shouted to Napper, and an instant later, the horses bolted forward, the chaise bouncing along behind them.
Dominic spun in a swirl of greatcoat, seizing her by the shoulders as his eyes scanned her face. “Did he hurt you?”
She shook her head. He dragged her closer, and for an instant, she was crushed against him. She clutched his arms, gasping, seizing the comfort and the happiness and the quite inappropriate excitement. And then he wrenched free, almost shoving her away from him.
“Can you ride?” he demanded, indicating her garb.
“It has served as riding habit,” she confessed.
He vaulted into the saddle and reached down to her. She jumped and landed in the saddle, pressed against his legs.
“Hold on,” he said grimly. “We need to get off this road before the hold-ups are reported.”
“Plural?” she said in dismay.
Napper had pulled alongside, and she spared him a smile of gratitude as they set off at a canter.
“We tried the chaise in front first,” Dominic said, his breath tickling her ear.
“The sulky girl and the older gentleman? They tried to help me, I think.”
“Then I gave them a poor reward by scaring the wits out of them,” Dominic said ruefully.
“But how are you here? How did you know?” There was no time for any message to have reached Lord Richard.
“Your observant siblings and their very sensible governess found me. They had seen you with Minton, driving away from the park and when you didn’t come home…”
“But how did you know where we were going?”
“I didn’t. I only guessed and followed where the children had last seen you. They told me at Maida Gardens that you’d arrived and argued and then gone reluctantly into a waiting post chaise. I was sure then he was taking you to his cottage in Buckinghamshire. What I don’t understand is why. You told me you have no fortune.”
“I don’t.”
“Then he’s in love with you?”
“Lord, no. I don’t think he’s ever loved anyone or anything in his life. He believed me to be submissive—I suspect he’s cured of that delusion at least—and sought to blackmail my cousin Lord Wenning into supporting him. Financially and otherwise, he said. Dominic, I think he wants power behind him because he killed your Mr. Crawley and is afraid suddenly of being found out.”
“Not surprised since you and Richard have been asking him awkward questions. Richard had him and Jarvey squirming over a game of cards at the Sedgemoor House ball.”
“He seemed to think Lord and Lady Wenning would do anything to avoid scandal. So, they would marry me to him, and if there were any accusations against him after that, Wenning would protect him.”
“What, like my family protected me? Get it over quickly and bribe everyone to get an easy voyage to Australia and light labor?”
“Is that really what they did?”
“More or less. Richard was to receive a report today from the man he hired to investigate the whole thing.”
“Then we had better hurry home,” she said.
His breath of laughter stirred her hair, making her shiver. “My thoughts exactly.” With one hand, he drew Minton’s coat from her lap, shook it out, and drew it over her shoulders. “It’s growing dark and chilly.”
She barely noticed. It was so sweet just to be in the shelter of his arms, safe and cared for. He’d risked his freedom—and Napper’s—to come after her and bring her home. And that meant the world to her.
Chapter Fourteen
Richard had stayed considerably longer than he had meant to at the family home, planning Dominic’s legal exoneration with military precision. His father and each brother had tasks to perform. Richard’s was, mainly, to keep Dominic quiet until everything was official, which was probably the hardest part.
As he bade his family good evening at last and strode across the wide entrance hall to the front door, he was very aware that Dominic must be champing at the bit to know what evidence Dunne had dug up. He was probably well into the brandy by now and ready for a fight or some other mischief.
“My lord?” Jamieson, the butler, was by the front door, turning from a harassed-looking boy in a worn coat and grubby cap. “This…individual claims to have a message for you.” He spared a glare at the boy in question. “Which it is trying to do via the front door, as you see.”
Richard frowned. “What message.”
The boy took a deep, long-suffering breath. “I was to tell you about the young lady being taken off in a yellow bounder from the Black Lion in Knowton.”
“What young lady?” Richard asked, bewildered. “Who does this message come from?”
“From Mr. Gavelston to Lord Richard Gorse. That is you, isn’t it?”
“Yes, but who the devil is Gavelston?”
“God knows.”
“But you’ve come from the Black Lion in Knowton?”
“No, I’ve come from the Bell and Crown in Holborn,” the boy said. “One of the post boys who came from the Black Lion brought the message at the request of Mr. Gavelston. And the post boy sent me to deliver it since he needs his dinner before he goes off again.”
“Any more idea than me what it means?” Richard inquired. “Walk with me, because I’m in a bit of a hurry myself. Thank you, Jamieson.”
The butler bowed and closed the door behind them. Richard limped off down the road, and the boy trotted along beside him.
“No, guv,” the boy said. “But apparently, the lady said, ‘Tell Lord Richard Gorse,’ just before she was shoved into the bounder and taken away by her husband.”
Richard scratched his head. Even before Waterloo, he had never been much inclined to philander with married women. “And you don’t know who the husband is either?”
“No, but no one’s sure he is her husband, which is why you’re to be told.”
“They suspect abduction?” Richard said with distaste. And if the poor woman was being taken against her will, why would she bandy his name about? Surely, it was no member of his family, and he had lived pretty much as a recluse for years. Who the devil would turn to him for help in a moment of crisis?
He stopped dead.
Viola Dove. She had come to him about Dominic. Was this about Dominic?
