Unmasked by her Lover, page 4
She did not glance up. In any case, judging by the angry spots of color on either cheek, she was far too enraged to pay him any attention, let alone recognize him in return. And the reason soon became clear as a gentleman barged through the door she had deliberately let fall back on him.
Aline and the child sailed past the foot of the stairs toward Mrs. Travis, the innkeeper’s wife, who had just emerged from the parlor. “A private room, if you please, and breakfast for myself and my son,” she commanded.
“My apologies, madam,” Mrs. Travis said nervously. “My one parlor is taken, but here is a quiet corner where you won’t be disturbed. Will the gentleman be joining you?”
“No,” Aline said shortly.
“Yes, he damned well shall,” snarled the gentleman, which was when Harry finally recognized him, too. Captain Gordon Garrow, one of Wellington’s staff officers. And by the slur of his words and his aggressive voice, he was three sheets to the wind.
Now, this is interesting…
“Remember who’s paying for it,” Garrow growled. “Wife.”
Aline is Mrs. Garrow? Really? When did that happen?
Meg had materialized in the parlor doorway, looking stunned by Garrow’s public rudeness, although, in fact, it was doubtful he noticed they were observed by anyone other than Mrs. Travis.
“I shall not be treated so in front of my son,” Aline snapped. “You have gone too far, and I will not tolerate it. Eat in the taproom if you must. It is more suited to your behavior.”
Garrow’s face turned ugly, and he came after his wife with clenched hands.
Aline stepped in front of the child.
“Damme, you will learn who is master!” Garrow snarled.
Harry leapt down the stairs, his first intention merely to protect Meg if necessary. However, he reached the foot of the stairs just as Garrow lurched past, and some devilment made him stick out his foot.
Garrow tripped over it and sprawled his length on the floor. Quick as thought, Harry stepped over him and smacked his groggily raised head hard onto the board. He stopped moving.
“Oh, well done, Harry!” Meg exclaimed unexpectedly. “What a perfectly dreadful man!” Then she flushed and turned to Aline. “I beg your pardon, ma’am, but indeed he was uncivil, and I hope you don’t mind too much that he—er…fell.”
The lady smiled dazzlingly. “Not in the least. We are eternally grateful.” At last, she looked directly at Harry. “Well, well, the dashing Captain Harry to the rescue. What a stunning coincidence. At least for poor Garrow.”
Since she held out one languid hand to him, there was little he could do but go to her and bow over her fingers. Meg watched the proceedings, suddenly wary. As she should have been, for no one was supposed to know they were here.
“Mrs. Garrow, I apprehend?” He made it a question.
The lady sighed. “I know. A mistake, but what can one do? He is much more amiable when sober. Allow me to present my son, Basil, the child of my previous sadly departed husband.”
Basil grinned at him and pointed to the unmoving Garrow. “Is he asleep there?”
Garrow emitted a huge snore as though in response.
“Yes,” Harry said.
“Silly man,” Basil pronounced. Then his hand crept back into his mother’s. “He won’t wake up, will he?”
“Not until he’s better,” Aline said. She regarded Harry. “How long do you think?”
“Who knows?” Harry replied. “But if I might make a suggestion, we should carry him up to one of the bedchambers and lock him in until he sleeps it off.”
“Excellent idea,” Aline approved. “I shall tell him he merely fell over his own feet and struck his head.”
“If I were you,” Meg said frankly, “I would not be here when he wakes. Take your coach and your little boy and let him fend for himself.”
Aline stared at her, then laughed. “Do you know, I believe I might? Captain, introduce me to your charming companion. Is this Lady Harry?”
Since Mrs. Travis had hurried through from the back with her husband and a male servant, Harry said hastily, “Indeed. Meg, this is Mrs. Garrow, whom I first met in Spain some years ago.”
“Join us for breakfast,” Meg invited.
Harry cast her a quick glance of warning, but he could hardly withdraw the invitation. It was like Meg to look after people, and she had no way of knowing the dangers presented by Aline Garrow.
“Give me a hand here,” he said cheerfully to the innkeeper, bending to Garrow. “Put him in my chamber unless you have one further back from your guests. I’d lock him in if I were you, just in case he comes to. Don’t let him out until he’s slept it off.”
“I’ll be arrested!” the innkeeper objected, taking Garrow’s feet. “I can’t go around imprisoning people!”
Hefting Garrow between them, they began to carry him upstairs.
“Unlock the door while he’s asleep. He’s in no state to remember any of this clearly. Any word of my curricle?”
*
Meg swept the beautiful Mrs. Garrow and her child into the parlor and settled them at the table where Mrs. Travis had already laid out cold beef, bread, and coffee.
“We cannot eat your breakfast, my lady!” Mrs. Garrow protested.
Was that the faintest hint of French in her accent? “Mrs. Travis will bring more,” Meg assured her. “You must both be starving if you have traveled all night. Do you like coffee, Mrs. Garrow? Or shall I send for tea?”
“Coffee is just the thing.” Mrs. Garrow accepted the cup and saucer from Meg with a quick smile and sipped gratefully before setting it down beside her and helping Basil to bread and butter and a little beef. “You are very kind to strangers.”
“No friend of Harry’s is a stranger,” Meg said lightly. “So, you met in Spain?”
“Our paths crossed once or twice. He dances divinely, as you know!”
Meg blinked. Divinely was not the word she would have used, though, of course, he had been a fun and lively partner on the few occasions they had met as adults at balls.
“Though I admit I did not expect quite such—um… enthusiastic assistance,” Mrs. Garrow added.
“I hope,” Meg said, trying to pick her words with care, “such occurrences are not usual in your life.”
Mrs. Garrow smiled and shook her head. “Basil and I fell asleep in the coach. I didn’t realize he was drinking until it was too late. I insisted on coming here, off the beaten track, as it were, to avoid embarrassment. I did not want him around my son in that condition, let alone making…advances.”
Meg flushed slightly, mostly with indignation, for although the lady was vague and just a little affected in her speech and mannerisms, there was a quiet truth in her last statement.
“Most of the time,” Mrs. Garrow said, “I take excellent care of myself and my son. It seems I relaxed too far, but thanks to you and your husband, I shall come about.”
Mrs. Travis came in then with dishes of bacon and eggs, and Harry strolled in behind her.
“He woke up and mumbled,” Harry informed Mrs. Garrow once they were alone. “And went straight back to sleep.”
“Good. You are my hero once more, Captain.”
Again, Meg felt that twinge which felt horribly like jealousy—of a shared past she knew nothing about. A suspected intimacy she did not like at all.
“Not at all,” Harry said politely. “I’ve always wanted to see Garrow fall flat on his face.”
“Why?” Meg asked.
“Don’t like the fellow,” Harry replied frankly.
Meg frowned at him. “Should you say so in front of his wife?”
“Probably not,” Harry admitted, though without obvious sorrow. “I hope you will hold me excused, ma’am.”
“Excused and lauded,” Mrs. Garrow said at once. She appeared to have little loyalty to her husband. In the circumstances, this was not, perhaps, surprising, but it bothered Meg. The lady’s gaze moved between them. “But tell me, what brings you to such an out-of-the-way inn?”
“It’s a shortcut,” Harry explained. “Or at least it was meant to be before the wretched roads damaged our wheel.”
“How annoying! You mean you are trapped here?”
“Only for another few hours.” Harry glanced at Meg. “The wheel is not yet ready.”
“Then I may return your kindness and offer you seats in my carriage,” Mrs. Garrow said in apparent delight. “There is plenty of room without my husband.”
“How good you are,” Meg said at once. “But we could not take you out of your way.”
“Well, I could at least take you to the next posting inn, where you might hire a chaise,” Mrs. Garrow offered. “But where are you bound? We were on our way to Calvert Court, though since I am not acquainted with her ladyship…” She broke off, intercepting Meg’s startled glance at Harry. “What is it?”
Harry gave a tiny shrug, clearly agreeing that some of the truth had to be told.
“Coincidence,” Meg said lightly. “We, too, are en route to Calvert Court. Lady Calvert is my sister.”
“Then, that is perfect!” Mrs. Garrow exclaimed.
“Not quite,” Meg said with a rueful smile. “I would crave your discretion.”
“Discretion?” The lady’s eyes widened, then narrowed, gleaming. “I sense an intrigue.”
“No intrigue,” Harry said steadily. “I am a friend of the family, escorting Lady Meg to her sister.”
“Ah. You are not married at all, are you?” Mrs. Garrow sounded amused and not remotely shocked. “I thought not. It is merely a sop to the proprieties for the innkeeper’s benefit.”
“Exactly,” Meg said, relieved by her quick understanding if not by the speculative look in the other woman’s eyes as they rested on Harry. “And I’m afraid there is more. You find me arriving, but in fact, we would like it known that I have already been at Calvert Court for at least two days.”
“Of course, I know nothing to the contrary,” Mrs. Garrow said at once. “I merely picked you up in the drive because you were fatigued after a long walk about the countryside. Only won’t others at the Court know differently?”
“Not necessarily,” Harry said lazily. “Meg and Lady Calvert are twins.”
“Ah!” said Mrs. Garrow wisely.
But Meg had latched on to a much more salient point. Frowning, she said, “What others at the Court? Drat, the girl! Please tell me Martha is not holding a party?”
“Actually,” Harry said, pausing with his coffee cup halfway to his mouth, “now you mention it, Robert did say something about a party. I wasn’t really listening since I had no intention of going.”
“According to our invitation,” Mrs. Garrow said, “they are expecting guests from today for as much as two weeks, until the ball on the eighteenth.”
“Perhaps it’s just the thing we need,” Harry said to Meg. “Half the ton will know that you have been with Martha all this time. With Mrs. Garrow’s discretion.”
“Oh, I owe you a great deal more than that,” Mrs. Garrow insisted. “Indeed, I rely on your discretion to cover the nature of my husband’s…indisposition. And, in fact, to cover the oddity of my appearing without him. Though, of course, I would not expect you to lie to your sister.”
“There would be no point,” Meg said frankly. “She would know in an instant.”
“But clearly, we may help each other,” Harry said, holding Mrs. Garrow’s gaze. Some understanding seemed to pass between them, excluding Meg, which irritated her far more than it should.
Mrs. Garrow inclined her head. “Of course, we may. It is the perfect solution for all of us.”
*
“Who is she?” Meg asked bluntly fifteen minutes later. Having left Mrs. Garrow and Basil to refresh themselves in her chamber, she had flitted back to the parlor to discover Harry gazing out of the window.
“I have no idea,” Harry said, “but you shouldn’t trust her.”
“We already have,” Meg pointed out.
He shrugged. “We didn’t have a choice since she is going to the same place, but don’t tell her more than you need to.”
“You don’t like her?” Meg said, surprised.
“She is charming. I don’t like where she keeps popping up, and I most certainly don’t care for her husband.”
“No indeed, he is a terrible brute. Imagine being tied to him and trying to protect her child. It’s unthinkable.”
“It would be,” Harry agreed. “Only I doubt somehow she is tied to him.”
Meg’s lips twitched involuntarily. “You mean they are not married either?”
“They might be,” he conceded. “But I doubt she feels compelled to stay with him. If she is with him now, there is a reason.”
Meg frowned. “Why do you think that?”
He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Because I always suspected she was a spy.”
*
The rest of the journey to Calvert Court, after they rejoined the main road and changed horses, promised to be both quick and pleasant. The carriage was well sprung and comfortable, and Mrs. Garrow amusing company.
Meg enjoyed playing with Basil. Harry joined in the games, introducing Basil to thumb wars, which caused a huge amount of hilarity, especially when Meg showed Basil how to defeat Harry’s much larger thumb with guile.
And then the unthinkable happened.
The coach slowed suddenly, swaying alarmingly as the horses screamed and tried to rear amidst a deluge of shouts. In the racket, three words penetrated with absolute clarity.
“Stand and deliver!”
Meg stared at Harry with widening eyes. He was already reaching for the pistol in the corner pocket of the carriage when the door was wrenched open, and a masked man pointed a cocked pistol straight at him.
“Don’t,” he snarled, and Harry lowered his hand. “Down you come, all o’ you. Quickly! The gent first.”
Harry complied, his gaze steady on the gunman’s eyes.
“Isn’t the man funny, Basil?” Aline murmured, her arm around her son as she rose to alight. “He’s playing a trick on us, just like a real highwayman.”
“He’s just like…” the child marveled but was cut off by his mother’s swinging him down to the ground.
As Meg scrambled after them, she saw that a second masked ruffian stood at the horses’ heads, covering the coachman, who sat with his arms above his head. Both robbers wore thick, enveloping, and muddy overcoats that must have been swelteringly hot in the summer sunshine. And both had wide-brimmed hats and mufflers pulled up over their mouths.
Perhaps it had all happened too quickly for real fear to have set in. Meg felt more indignant, and her concern was mainly for the child, along with a nagging worry that Harry would do something dangerous.
But whatever his inner fury, it seemed Harry would do nothing to endanger his companions. His movements were slow, his unreadable gaze steady.
“Turn out your coat,” the first footpad growled at Harry. After pocketing the coins and the worn, leather purse that Harry produced, the robber was clearly unsatisfied, for he stepped closer and, with his pistol in one hand, went through Harry’s pockets himself, even feeling inside his coat for inner hiding places.
Harry bore it without twitching a muscle. He only let his gaze flicker occasionally from the highwayman’s to Meg and Mrs. Garrow. Basil, wide-eyed and grinning, still seemed to think it was a game of his mother’s devising.
Grunting, the robber snatched Meg’s reticule, grabbed the money within, and dropped it to the ground. “Gew-gaws,” he flung at Mrs. Garrow, pointing with his pistol at her earrings.
“They’re paste,” she said, although already removing the first.
“Just hand them over.” The highwayman stuffed them in his overcoat pocket, too. Then, keeping the pistol steadily aimed, he produced a wicked-looking knife and stepped back a few paces to cut the straps binding Harry’s valise to the back of the coach. Presumably, Mrs. Garrow’s bags on the roof looked too daunting to retrieve.
He picked up the valise, then gestured with his gun toward the coach. Meg followed Mrs. Garrow and Basil back inside and was relieved when Harry climbed in, too.
“Drive on!” yelled the highwayman at the front while the other brandished his pistol menacingly at the window. Basil chortled.
The carriage jolted forward immediately, and as she watched the robbers run for the woods on their left, lugging Harry’s valise with them, Meg released a sigh of relief.
“Well,” Mrs. Garrow remarked lightly, “that was an adventure!”
“Can we go with the highwaymen?” Basil asked eagerly. “Can we?”
“Goodness, no, they’re long gone,” Meg said, then frowned. “On foot.”
Harry rose, reaching for the door and bashing on the ceiling. “Halt!”
Barely underway, the carriage slowed again. Harry seized the pistol from the corner pocket and jumped from the coach before it had properly stopped.
“Harry!” Meg exclaimed, in fear for his wound as much as anything else.
“I’ll meet you at Calvert Court. Drive on!” he called to the coachman and loped off across the road toward the woods as the carriage moved on once more.
“What is he doing?” Mrs. Garrow demanded.
“He’s going after them,” Meg said grimly, “the big, stupid…Halt!” She, too, knocked on the ceiling as she shouted, and yet again, the carriage lurched to a standstill.
“Lady Meg, you can’t!” Mrs. Garrow exclaimed as Meg jumped down. “It’s insanity!”
“Oh, can we go, too?” Basil demanded. “Oh, please let us, Mama!”
Meg cast him a distracted smile and ran off toward the woods. She could no longer even see Harry.
“We’ll wait!” Mrs. Garrow called.
Chapter Five
Harry’s suspicions were high when he jumped from the carriage, but he could not deny his chief motive was irritation. With a hefty dose of stubbornness. He had faced the might of the French army and never lost more to them than a bit of blood. And half an ear. He was damned if he would lose anything to cowardly strangers, let alone the ring in his purse.
