Chasing Raven (23 page)

* * * *

She joined the others for breakfast and there suffered the lukewarm inquiries into her mother's health from the aunts and Lady Newcombe. They had all, it seemed, slept very well. Only Mary looked tired
and
sounded genuine when she asked after Lady Charlotte's recovery. Hale was apparently still talking to the doctor in his library and nobody knew where Monsieur Reynaux might be. Probably still asleep.

Anxious about Matthew Bourne's proximity to Greyledge and eager to get that meeting over with, as soon as she could slip away with the minimum of notice, Raven dashed back to her room for a coat and hat. Then she met Mary, as planned, in the flagged stone passage to the kitchen.

"Are you sure about this?" Mary demanded, her eyes worried. "I still think we should—"

"Bringing you with me is a compromise, Mary, and I shall make no other. Now do not be difficult, or I shall let my mama match you with that doctor. Now she's feeling better and imbued with a new lease on life, I would stay away from her if I were you."

So the two women hurried out, looking as innocent as they could.

Chapter
Twenty-Three

"My lord," the groom found him on the way to the stables, "I thought you should know that those two young ladies took the dog cart down to the village this morning. Miss Deverell and Miss Ashford. You asked us to keep an eye out for anything strange, and I thought it odd that they were unescorted and in a bit of a hurry like. She said you wouldn't mind, my lord— the noisy one, that is— but she wouldn't stop and wait while I came to find you."

"I see." The air went out of his lungs. "Thank you, Joe."

Damn her! What was she up to now? Could she not behave herself and follow his rules for one day? She knew he would never approve of two young ladies dashing off the estate without mentioning it to him first. And what was the need for that secrecy?

Furious, he ordered Bowsprit saddled.

* * * *

The village inn was a small, rustic, very old building with low timbered ceilings and a slanting floor. Like most of the local structures it was charming and picturesque, but very far from the sort of place in which Matthew Bourne might usually be found. He had taken a room overlooking the village square and so he saw them arrive in the dog cart and sent word down to the landlord that only Miss Deverell may come up. Mary must wait below with the horse and cart.

In the past, Raven would have gone up to his room without a thought, but she was cognizant now of how that might appear and she did not want Hale to give her another of those disapproving, exasperated frowns. Besides she had to think of his reputation. So she told the landlord that she would wait in the dining room of the inn and if Mr. Bourne cared to see her he could come down himself. She was not going to play games with him and nothing would take place behind closed doors.

Feeling mature and confident, she took a seat by the window and waited patiently, hands in her lap, until he appeared.

He wore only riding boots, a shirt and breeches, all grimy and worse for wear— like him. She had never seen Matthew so untidy, even on his worst days after a rough night.

"I thought you would come last night," he said, falling to a chair across the table from her. "Or were you too busy with your new friends?" he sneered.

"What are you doing here, Matty?" she asked gently. "You should not have come."

"I came to rescue you, of course. You surely don't want to stay here? And now, as you must have heard, my engagement is called off. You and I can be together. Wherever we want to go."

Raven sighed. "That is just foolishness. You ought to go back to London and to Lady Louisa Winstanley. You have broken her heart."

"As you broke mine!"

Sunlight trickled in through the small, crooked window and dripped across his face making it look very pale. He squinted angrily and shouted for a tankard of cider and some bacon for his breakfast.

"What do you want, Matty? How can I persuade you to go home and make amends to that poor girl? I have a little money in my possession, but not a great deal."

"I don't want money! You must come with me, Raven. You and I are meant to be together. We have had fun, as you said yourself. Why should that end now?"

"We
had
fun, but we can have no more. You and I are traveling in different directions and that is as it should be, I think. I will always care about you as a friend, but that is all. You did receive my note in response to yours?"

"Oh, yes. That prim creature brought it. Taking delight in the service, no doubt."

"Then you should know that I cannot—"

"You
will
run away with me, Raven. You will. I won't be made a fool. I left my life behind to come here after you. If you turn me down now you are a cruel, callous woman. I thought, if I proved my devotion to you by throwing Louisa over, you would run into my arms." He scowled. "This is far from the greeting I expected. Now you mean to leave me ruined!"

"Matty, you are not ruined. You have made a mess of things, but it is not too late to put them straight." She paused while the landlord brought him a tankard and set it down on the table gingerly, alongside a plate of greasy bacon and a lump of bread. Once the man had gone again, she said, "Your parents are devoted to you, and I know they will forgive you. If you go back now and show you are contrite, all this can be set aside."

He glowered into the cider. "As you set
me
aside?"

"We are different people now than we were six months ago." Well, she was, anyway. She thought of last night, lying in Hale's arms, surrounded by his strength, learning to trust.

Perhaps she had been wrong not to tell him that she was coming here to see Matthew, but he would have argued. Since he could be just as hardheaded as she, he might have come here to confront Bourne and make a scene. She did not want that. Truly she thought she could persuade Matthew to go home. He was not usually difficult to sway and surely by now he was tired of living without all the luxuries to which he was accustomed: the servants at his beck and call; the grand, warm houses; clean clothes whenever he needed them, and fine dinners of rich food.

Yes, she knew Matty very well and this idea of running away was nothing more than a boyish fantasy. The glow ought to have worn off by now. It looked as if he had not been shaved in days, and now he yelled at the landlord because the cider was hot and spiced with cloves, which he did not like. He reminded her of a little boy having a tantrum at the table, flinging his food at the hard-worked nanny.

If she could get him to go back to London, then she would tell Hale once it was done, and then he'd see she was capable of managing her own affairs. That she was not just a silly, pampered girl he would spend his life looking after and worrying about.

She wanted him to know she had strength beyond being stubborn. To have him be proud of her. Oh lord, she truly was in love with him. Her heart was very full and aching. As soon as she saw him again, she must tell him how she felt.

But now to handle Matthew and put this old business behind her.

"How did you travel here?" she asked.

"By mail coach."

"Then I can give you the fare to go back, if you—"

"I'm not going anywhere without you."

"Matthew, I am not leaving with you." She took a deep breath. "I am going to marry Sebastian Hale."

To her surprise he did not look up from the plate, but stuffed his mouth with bacon until grease ran down his chin. Then he muttered, "No, you won't. Reynaux will take care of him. If he has not already."

She frowned. "What are you talking about?"

Matthew wiped his mouth on his shirt sleeve. "We knew Hale would follow you here. After all, he chases you wherever you go."

"What does Reynaux have to do with that?"

"Alphonse Reynaux has been waiting to get a clear target— to catch that man on his own— and now he will. Thanks to you, Hale finally came out of hiding."

* * * *

He took a short cut to the village, using a horse path through the forest. But he came to a halt when he spied a bundle of clothing that looked very much like a woman laid in the grass. He did not dismount but shouted to see if there was any movement. His voice echoed around the trees and then all was quiet again. It struck him suddenly, as eerily quiet.

Until the shot rang out, loud and clear.

Something hit him with such force that it pushed him sideways out of the saddle. Bowsprit reared up in alarm and the last thing he saw was the path of dewy moss hastening to meet his face. The last thing he smelled and tasted was blood.

And then there was silence again.

It felt as if he was falling and falling and falling, through a very deep rabbit hole into darkness.

* * * *

"I don't believe you. What does Reynaux have to do with anything? How do you know him in any case?" She felt her temper rising as Matthew sat there smugly, his lips shining with bacon grease.

"He knew my brother Douglas in Paris, and when he came to London two years ago, he sought me out. Asked if I could help him get to the Earl of Southerton, against whom he apparently has a very large axe to grind. Of course, Hale was living like a recluse until recently, much to Reynaux's frustration, and he had not been able to get a sight of him. Your father had banned Reynaux from Deverell's so he couldn't even meet the man there. I was happy to help."

She felt sick, her hands and feet turning numb as the room began to spin and the day's heat gathered.

"Reynaux missed the first time, and managed to hit a bloody ugly vase on the Faulkner's terrace instead. I must say, he's not the world's most efficient weapon of vengeance, but the French buffoon will be a wonderfully amusing pest to annoy the blazes out of Hale. He does persevere, despite his ill luck. Plucky little fellow and quite determined."

She stood, gripping the back of the chair with one hand. "You must be insane. I knew you could be reckless, Matthew Bourne, but I never thought you could be involved in anything like this." Now her mind ran over the events of last evening too— her mother's illness and Reynaux's failure to show the least concern. Was he somehow behind that too?

And then she remembered seeing her mother pick up the wrong glass at dinner. She had thought little of it— other than the rush of embarrassment it caused— but then she had not known there was anybody looking to harm her darling Wolf. The two incidents had not connected in her mind until now.

"If you have caused Hale to be hurt I will never forgive you. And I will see you both brought to justice."

"I'm not a murderer. I'm the son of a Marquess." He chuckled, wiping his plate with the hunk of bread. "I don't care what happens to Reynaux. He is nothing to me but a useful way to end Hale's reign of arrogance and finally get revenge for my brother."

"As far as that matter is concerned, Hale told me the entire story. Of Douglas being caught in some deception and fleeing abroad to hide from the accusations. The earl had nothing to do with your brother's death. All he did was try to right a wrong."

Matthew pushed his plate across the table and it fell to the stone floor with a clatter. "I daresay he told you my brother killed himself too, did he? He would have no scruple about perpetrating that filthy lie to further defame my brother's memory."

"About that he said nothing. He only told me the cause for your brother being abroad."

There was a scuffling in the doorway of the inn, and Raven looked over to see Mary with a pistol pressed to her cheek, her eyes wide with fear. With her, came Reynaux. The Frenchman was sweating and disheveled, out of breath, as he shoved Mary forward and followed her inside, still holding the muzzle of that weapon to her head.

"Any of you speak a word, Mesdames, and I'll send this one back to her maker," he grunted. His eyes held a gleam of vicious delight and something very much like...victory. The hand holding the gun trembled. "You, Mademoiselle Deverell, will go with Monsieur Bourne as he desires. There is nothing for you 'ere now."

"What have you done?" she demanded, fraught, heart racing.

He pushed the pistol further into poor Mary's cheek. "Le silence, sil vous plait," he hissed. "Your gallant fellow will not follow you now. He cannot 'elp you. Better you go with Monsieur Bourne, as I promised 'im you would once I was done 'ere."

The landlord, clearly would not intervene while that pistol was in view and it was too early in the morning for any other patrons in the tavern. The four of them were alone.

Terrified for her friend and for Hale— not knowing what had happened to him— Raven looked around frantically for something to use as a weapon of her own.

"You did it?" Matthew stared at the other man, his face turning puce. "You really did it?"

"Oh yes, this time I had the success most sweet. We can celebrate, eh?"

But Matthew tipped forward in his chair as if he might cast up his accounts and Raven guessed he had not really expected the "buffoon" to succeeded. Or perhaps he had not considered how the reality would feel.

"Come, Bourne, put up your 'ead! We must go before the alarm is raised and the dogs sent after us."

"I...I can't. Oh, Christ! No! What have we done?"

As the confused Reynaux momentarily turned his attention to Matthew, lowering his pistol, Raven grabbed the tankard from the table and threw it, hot cider, spices and all, into the Frenchman's face. She shoved him backward and yelled at Mary to run for help. Her friend did not hesitate, but flew over that doorstep.

Reynaux tumbled against the wall, cursing in French, the gun going off into his own foot and then at Raven, but missing. She did not care. In that moment she would have given her life if it could save Hale. But she feared she was too late for that. Grabbing her chair, Raven held it aloft and stepped forward, meaning to bring it down over the villain's head, but she slipped on the spilled cider and went down hard, cracking her head on the flagged stone floor.