Lady Thief (20 page)

“The highwayman?”

“Yes.” She raised her eyes to his, a queer blind look in them. “I told you—Jason has been trying to help me find Papa’s killer. He’s the one who took the dispatches I gave you.”

“I remember.” He nodded. “The dispatches from Wellesley.”

“He’s been trying to find that man again. I was hoping he’s the man I’m searching for . . .” Her voice trailed off. After a moment, she continued quietly. “He found the man. Nick—it’s Stoven.”

“Stoven!” Spencer frowned. “Jenny, are you sure?”

“That he’s a traitor? Yes. That he’s my father’s murderer? I don’t know.” She shook her head slowly. “But if he is—Nick, he
offered
for me. How could he do that if he killed my father? How could he look me in the face and swear that he loved me?”

Spencer smiled faintly. “Perhaps he did. You’re very easy to love.”

She managed a faint smile. “Nevertheless, I must know for certain.” She stared out the window with a frown. “I’ll have to hold up his coach.”

Spencer did not seem at all pleased with her remark. “Jenny, if Stoven is a traitor, and if he is your father’s killer, he’s a very dangerous man. Is there no other way?”

She stared up at him, her face grave. “Nick, I must find out if he has the ring. He doesn’t wear it, but I suspect that he carries it on him somewhere.”

He sighed. “If you’re determined to rob him, I intend to go along.”

A flicker of amusement showed in her eyes. “Nick, you aren’t a thief.”

“Neither are you.”

“Yes, but you’re a
duke
.”

He looked startled. “What has that to say to anything?”

“Dukes don’t rob coaches.”

“Jenny—” He shook his head with a laugh. “Nor, let me remind you, do ladies.”

She responded gravely. “I never said that I was a lady.”

He laughed again and drew her into his arms. “Lady or no, you are soon to be a duchess. Do duchesses rob coaches?”

She smiled up at him. “I have no idea. Shall we find that out for ourselves?”

“That sounds like a good idea.” He lifted an eyebrow. “Though, for now, I believe I have a better one.”

She looked innocent. “Oh? And what is that?”

He bent his head toward hers. Just before their lips met, he murmured, “Deeds—not words.”

 

 

By dint of a few careless questions, Spencer managed to discover that Stoven planned a trip to his estate at the end of the week. The estate was outside London on a little-traveled road, and the earl, who had a penchant for night travel, planned to set out just after dark.

Jenny and the duke agreed that the time and place were right, and they made plans to hold up Stoven’s coach on Friday night. Jenny sent word to John to have the black stallion—and Jason—standing by.

It remained only for them to while away the rest of the week, which they did in a very agreeable fashion. The
ton
grew accustomed to seeing the two of them together, either riding or driving about in the duke’s curricle. They were observed walking in the park; they danced every dance together at Lady Catherine’s ball; they were seen at the theater; and they graced Lady Jersey’s masquerade by appearing as Cleopatra and Marc Antony. Jenny had toyed with the idea of appearing as the Cat, but her devoted duke had threatened dire consequences.

Society, never slow on the uptake, had gotten wind of their unofficial understanding, and they eagerly awaited word of a betrothal. They waited in vain. The couple had no intention of announcing their plans until a certain traitorous murderer had been brought to justice.

On Friday evening, Spencer and Jenny met outside a tawdry inn about a mile from Stoven’s estate. The duke’s first words upon entering the dilapidated structure were: “For God’s sake, Jenny—this building looks as though it’s about to fall on our heads!”

Jenny set her lantern down on a rickety table and grinned at him. “When in Rome . . .”

He stared at her. In a considering tone, he said, “If this is the type of place you’ve become accustomed to during the past year, I don’t think I want to meet your highwayman friend. He’s very likely a cutthroat.”

She laughed. “Jason’s a hard man, but I wouldn’t call him a cutthroat. He’s been a great deal of help to me, Nick, and I want you to meet him.”

Spencer smiled ruefully. “I suppose you mean to invite him to the wedding.”

“Oh, no.” She grinned wryly. “He’d be most uncomfortable. But, I do hope he’ll come to us any time he needs help.” She stepped toward her love and gazed up at him with a coaxing smile. “Nick, do you think we could do something for him? So he could stop being a highwayman?”

Spencer stared down at her, bemused. After a moment, he shook his head slowly. “I don’t know when you’re more dangerous—when you’re wearing that mask and holding a pistol, or when you’re practicing your womanly wiles.”

“Could we?” Jenny refused to be sidetracked.

“I suppose we could. Would he accept money?”

“Not from you or I.” She smiled brilliantly. “But if we could arrange for a reward—for helping to capture a traitor—I’m sure he’d accept that.”

Spencer nodded. “Very well. I’ll see what I can do.” Jenny threw her arms about him and was about to give him a strong indication of how grateful she was when she was interrupted by a loud cough from the doorway.

Jason stood on the threshold, having just arrived. “Don’t mean to interrupt,” he said uncomfortably, “but I brought the horse.”

Jenny turned to face him. “Jason, I wondered where you were. You’re late.”

Keeping a wary eye on the duke, Jason responded irritably, “I wouldn’t have made it here at all if that horse of yours would have had his way. That animal ought to be shot. Damn near took my arm off at least a dozen times.”

Jenny frowned. “I told John to put a muzzle on him.”

Jason nodded. “Aye—and so he did. Took that devil about half a mile to chew his way through it.”

“I do apologize for my unmannerly beast, Jason.” Jenny smiled at him and then indicated the duke. “This is Nick—the man I told you about.”

The two men eyed each other for a moment, and then Spencer held out his hand. “Glad to meet you, Jason.”

Jason grasped the outstretched hand and nodded briefly. “Same here. Leastways, I think it is. I don’t take too kindly to strangers,” he said bluntly, “but Jenny said as how you was a right one.”

Spencer nodded in a dazed sort of way, and Jenny spoke up hurriedly. “I think we’d best go, Nick. It’s getting late.”

As they stepped outside, Spencer murmured, for her ears alone, “It’s so reassuring to have my character approved of by a thief.”

Jenny shot him a warning look, which was belied by the amusement in her eyes. They made their way toward the horses in silence.

Jenny’s stallion was standing apart from the other horses, the leather muzzle hanging about his nose in tatters. As the three approached him, he was engaged in a spirited attempt to chew his way through the rope that held him to the tree.

Spencer made as if to reach out and touch the horse, but jumped back hurriedly when the animal lashed out with both forelegs.

“Take my advice,” said Jason with a wry smile, “and don’t go near him. He’s a devil.”

Jenny looked offended. “He is not. He just doesn’t like men, that’s all.” She walked over to the stallion and began to stroke his glossy black neck.

The red glare faded from the creature’s eyes. He hung his head like a bashful boy, gently nuzzling the girl’s shoulder.

Spencer exchanged a wry glance with Jason. “He’s obviously a one-woman horse. What’s his name, Jenny?”

She grinned. “What else? Bandit.”

The duke laughed. “I should have known.”

Jason shifted slightly. “I’ll brush off now, Jenny. You won’t need my help tonight.”

She turned to stare at him, surprised. “Jason, you must come with us.”

He looked uncomfortable. “Why? The two of you can handle Stoven.”

“Oh, but that’s not the problem. If Stoven
is
the man I’m searching for, it will take both you
and
Nick to keep me from losing my temper and killing him.”

Spencer nodded, following her lead. “It’s a terrible thing, her temper—quite a spectacle,” he said gravely.

“An eruption to rival Vesuvius,” Jenny added with equal solemnity.

Jason stared suspiciously at their innocent faces, which were growing dimmer in the deepening twilight. “Why do I have the feeling that I’m being led down the garden path?” he grumbled.

Jenny laughed. “Get your horse, Jason.”

“All right, then,” he said irritably, “but I’m staying out of sight.”

“Fine—just as long as you come.”

Jenny watched as the two men went to get their horses, then turned to remove the tattered remains of the muzzle from Bandit’s nose. The horse was calm and quiet now that she was with him. The wildness was gone from his eyes. He stood docilely while she climbed into the saddle, and then waited for her signal before moving forward.

The three riders were soon on their way. There was little conversation during the ride. They were all aware of the gravity of what they were about to attempt.

A few moments later, they turned off the main road and onto a narrow road leading to Stoven’s estate. Jason halted. “I’ll stay here and signal when the coach passes me.”

The other two nodded and continued down the road. They came to a wide place and pulled their horses off to the side. As they waited, they talked in low tones.

“I’ve wondered about something,” remarked Spencer, “ever since you held me up.”

“Oh?” Jenny smiled faintly. “What is it?”

“Why my horses stopped so suddenly and stood so calmly while you robbed me. They’ve never acted that way before or since.”

She continued to smile. “Why do
you
think they acted that way?”

“I don’t know.” He grinned suddenly. “My coachman swore that you were a witch and that Bandit was your familiar.”

Jenny smothered a laugh. “Nothing quite so fanciful, I’m afraid. Actually, I don’t quite understand it myself. Bandit just seems to have that effect on other horses.”

Before he could respond, they heard the hoot of an owl. Jenny tensed slightly, her head cocked to one side in a listening attitude. The call was repeated twice, and she quickly began to draw on her gloves. “That’s Jason’s signal.”

Spencer donned the hooded mask that Jenny had brought for him and pulled a pistol from the pocket of his greatcoat. “Jenny, be careful.”

Jenny smiled wryly. “I will. And you keep quiet—if you say anything, your voice will give you away in an instant.”

“Very well.” He watched as she drew on her own mask and pulled a pistol from the pocket of her cloak. The sounds of an approaching coach could now be heard, and Jenny said softly, “If I know Jason, he’ll be across the road—just in case.” She nodded toward the road and murmured, “I’ll go first. When the horses come to a stop, keep the coachman covered.”

Spencer nodded and listened as the coach drew nearer. From the corner of his eye, he saw Jenny speak softly to the stallion and, though he couldn’t hear her words, he saw the stallion’s instant response. The animal gathered his powerful haunches beneath him and tensed in preparation for the leap which would take him into the road—and into the path of the oncoming coach.

There was a moment of taut silence, and then the great horse leaped into the road, his eyes glaring red. The coach horses immediately stopped. There was no threshing about; the horses showed no indication of fright. They simply stopped and stood quietly.

Spencer, leaving the woods just behind Jenny, immediately covered the terrified coachman with both his pistols. The man cowered in his seat, his eyes fixed on the duke’s imposing figure.

Jenny moved her horse toward the door of the coach, her pistol out and ready. In a cold, mocking voice she said, “Step out of the coach, if you please, Lord Stoven—slowly.”

The earl carefully climbed out of the coach, one trembling hand clutching his cane, his face pasty-white in the moonlight.

Jenny gestured casually with her pistol. “Your money and jewelry, if you please, my lord. And, my lord, don’t try anything foolish. My silent friend has a very nervous trigger finger.”

She watched him glance uneasily at the duke’s still figure, and then tossed a leather pouch to land at his feet. He bent to pick up the bag and, straightening, slowly began to place his money and jewelry in it. When the pouch was filled, Jenny held out one black-gloved hand. Stoven tossed the bag to her.

Jenny placed the bag in the pocket of her cloak and then, on impulse, said coolly, “The cane.”

Stoven clutched the cane with both hands. “No! It—it was given to me by my father.”

“Was it indeed? Then I promise to take very good care of it. Hand it over.”

The earl maintained his death grip on the cane. “It isn’t very valuable—you have no need of it.”

“It amuses me.” There was an audible click as she drew back the hammer of her pistol. “Hand it over.”

Stoven, fearing her wrath more than he feared the loss of the cane, quickly handed it to her. She twirled it casually and said, “Thank you, my lord—and a very pleasant evening to you.” With these mocking words, she whirled her great horse and disappeared into the woods, her henchman at her heels.

Moments later, the three riders were reunited in the tumbledown inn. There was no conversation; the three were too tense for that. Jenny removed her mask and then turned up the lamp which she had left burning. She placed Stoven’s cane on the table and quickly brought out the pouch and upended it. A few gold coins, two fobs, and a diamond stickpin rolled out onto the table. There was no ring.

Spencer picked up the cane and examined it carefully. “Stoven seemed strangely anxious to keep this,” he murmured. He gave the cane a slight shake, and a muted rattle was heard. His eyes met Jenny’s. He handed the cane across the table to her.