Scoundrel Ever After (Secrets and Scandals) (19 page)

The man nodded. “Can’t rightly think of such a place. But you’re welcome to stay with me. I’m Peck. I live in the hermitage at Versant House.”

That must be the manor house they’d passed. Audrey had known of a few hermits at grand houses, but had never met one. “Thank you for your kindness.”

Ethan looked over at her, and she could tell from the set of his mouth that he wasn’t convinced they should accompany the hermit. Audrey thought it was the best they could hope for. The hermit wouldn’t tell anyone about them. It would afford them a level of anonymity they likely wouldn’t find anywhere else.

She stepped her horse closer to his. “Come, brother. The hermit seems a kindly fellow, and he’s all alone.”

With a subtle nod of his head, he seemed to get her meaning. “Very well.” He looked down at the hermit. “Lead the way.”

“’Tisn’t far.” He led them down the narrow path for perhaps a half mile, before cutting through some rougher terrain to a small clearing nestled in a grove of trees. He gestured to a small stone structure. “My humble abode.”

Humble indeed. It boasted a single room and a dirt floor, though at least it had a hearth.

The hermit gestured toward the trees. “Just tie your beasts up. I can’t offer lodgings for them, but there’s fresh grass, plus an apple tree and a stream over yonder.” He pointed opposite the way they’d come.

Ethan climbed off his horse and Audrey followed suit. He took care of tying them up and unsaddling them, then used his hands to brush his mount as best he could, while Audrey did the same for hers. Meanwhile, the hermit had gone into his little house.

“What the hell is a hermitage?” Ethan asked.

He’d never heard of one? But why would he have? “Some large houses like the one we passed keep hermitages—small houses or even caves. Most are follies, but this one is real. It seems Versant House keeps a live hermit.”

His eyes widened in horror. “What does that mean—
keep
? Is he a pet?”

She shook her head, smiling at his reaction. “No. He likely prefers to live on his own and in the elements. Some landowners employ a hermit to provide a sort of entertainment for their visitors.”

Ethan paused in brushing his horse. “I don’t understand.”

Audrey chuckled. “No, I don’t imagine you would. It’s an odd situation, really, though it’s not as popular as it once was, according to my father. As I said, in many cases there is just a hermitage, an abode like that one that looks rather charming and fanciful. However, sometimes there’s an actual person who lives there to give truth to the myth, bringing the fantastical to life.”

Ethan shook his head, appearing altogether perplexed. “I will never understand the eccentricities of the wealthy. He’s paid to live out here alone because it might amuse the landowner and his friends?”

“That’s about right.” Though when he said it, the notion did indeed sound absolutely ludicrous. “It suits the hermit fine, so it’s not a hurtful arrangement.”

“I understand.” He sounded as if he really didn’t.

Audrey finished brushing her mount. “I’m going to pick apples for the horses. They should eat something beyond grass.” Both had been grazing since they’d been tied up.

“No, let me. I’ll water them too.”

Audrey watched him pick his way through the shrubbery and wished they could go back to the way they’d been in Wootton Bassett. Rolling down a hill seemed so far away. It was part of the adventure she’d longed for, but she realized it was only a piece of it. This, now, fighting for their survival is what she would’ve done had she made her way to America. Was it what she truly wanted? It could be, with the right person. But was Ethan the right person?

“I have rabbit stew for dinner.” The hermit’s voice startled her from her thoughts. “Come inside.” He beckoned her from the doorway.

“My brother’s gone to get apples for the horses.” She glanced back toward the way Ethan had gone.

“He’ll come in when he gets back.”

Nodding, she went into the small hermitage. She’d been in one once, but it had been a folly while this was a real home. The interior was dark, with a single window on the opposite wall. A fire sparked in the hearth, its heat permeating the space to make it quite warm. There was a narrow bed in the corner and a single chair with a rickety table.

“I don’t have enough seating, but the rug is comfortable enough.” He gestured to the oval carpet placed in front of the hearth. “His lordship likes to give me things he doesn’t need anymore.”

Not very many things it seemed, but it was better than nothing. She sank down to the carpet and curled her feet to the side. She pulled her bonnet from her head and immediately felt her hair slump to the side in rebellion against the few pins she had left tucked into the curly mass. “You’re happy here?”

Though she’d explained the arrangement to Ethan, she wasn’t sure she didn’t share at least a portion of his surprise at such a situation. Particularly the living outside and alone, which she supposed was the crux of it.

“Oh yes,” the hermit answered, kneeling before the hearth to spoon the stew into three bowls, which once again looked like castoffs from the manor house. “Solitude suits me just fine, but I do appreciate company now and again.” He smiled at her warmly, then handed her a steaming bowl. He fetched three spoons from a small cupboard in the corner and gave her one. “Where are you and your brother headed?”

Ethan would want her to be noncommittal. She tried to mimic the way he danced around questions. “We’re just passing through.” Though Ethan had given her a concrete story to tell, she found she didn’t even want to pretend such an awful existence. “My brother is going to be a teacher at a boys’ academy, and he secured a position for me as housekeeper for the headmaster.”

“He really is your brother then?” The hermit glanced at her skeptically.

Audrey dropped her gaze and filled her spoon with the aromatic stew. “Yes, he is. I’m quite proud of him.”

“Mr. Hughes,” the hermit said, “come in and join us.”

Audrey turned her head to look at the doorway. Ethan stood in shadow, the twilight casting a faint glow around him. He looked rugged and handsome, and she envisioned him living the life of a hermit in the more glamorous hermitage she’d seen before, with its columns, arched doorway, and multiple sparkling windows. Could he live like that? Would he want that?

Ethan moved inside and sat down beside Audrey on the carpet. He set his hat near the hearth and plucked up his bowl of stew and the third spoon with a nod of thanks to the hermit. Ethan shot Audrey a questioning glance, but she couldn’t comprehend what he was asking. Had he overheard the story she’d told? If not, she’d best inform him.

“My brother Wendell is going to be an excellent teacher,” she said. “He’s quite good at motivating young lads.”

Ethan’s nostrils flared, but that was the only indication that he was perhaps surprised or dismayed. Too bad. She was tired of taking only his directives. She’d chosen to come on this adventure and she’d been through quite a lot. If she wanted him to be a teacher instead of her fleeing a violent husband, he could play along.

“What will you be teaching them?” Peck asked before spooning stew into his mouth.

Audrey watched Ethan and wondered what he would say. He’d said he was supposed to attend Oxford and had sounded bitter about not going. Perhaps making him a teacher hadn’t been very thoughtful of her.

“A variety of things,” he said smoothly. “Though Greek is my favorite.” He said something in what had to be Greek, drawing Audrey to look at him in surprise. He was watching her with that edge of arrogance that never failed to heat her belly. “‘Education is an ornament in prosperity and a refuge in adversity.’”

Peck grunted. “I was fortunate enough to learn to read, but I don’t speak any languages beyond my native tongue.”

Ethan leaned slightly forward. “How does one become a hermit?”

“I suppose it must be different for everyone, but if you make enough mistakes and ruin enough chances, there’s not much left to do.”

Audrey studied Ethan for some sort of reaction, but he’d gone back to eating.

Peck finished up his stew, drinking the dregs from his bowl, and wiped his sleeve across his mouth. He stood and put his bowl and spoon on the table. “Just set your dishes here. I’ll wash them in the stream in the morning. I’ll be going out to hunt now. Make yourselves comfortable and leave whenever you wish.”

Audrey blinked at him. “You hunt at night?”

“There are many creatures that only inhabit the shadow hours.” He grinned. “Tasty creatures.”

Ethan nodded and laughed. “Right you are.”

Peck took a blanket from the end of his bed and set it next to Audrey. “I have just this one extra covering, but it’s better than none. Sleep well.”

After he’d gone and closed the door, Audrey turned to Ethan. “Why did you laugh? What do you know of nighttime hunting?”

“Plenty. The best game come out after the sun goes down. We hunters know this.” The gleam in his eye made her shiver. What could he possibly hunt in London?

She thought about what Peck had said about why he was a hermit, about mistakes and ruined chances. Misfortune had driven Ethan to a criminal life, something he would not have chosen otherwise. “You seem to have more in common with the hermit than I would’ve thought.”

“Mmm.” He spooned the last bit of stew into his mouth. “Are you finished?” At her nod, he took her bowl and deposited their dishes atop the table. “Why did you tell him I was a teacher? What happened to the story we planned?”

“‘We’ didn’t plan a story.
You
did. I didn’t want to be pregnant or abused.” She stretched her legs out in front of her. “Anyway, where did you learn to speak Greek?”

He stood beside the table and looked into the fire. “I didn’t. My father had several favorite quotes.”

“Would you have liked to learn Greek?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I had a tutor who taught me Latin for a time, but I’ve forgotten most of it.”

A life interrupted by tragedy. That he was still here, still fighting for his survival was a testament to his self-discipline. She didn’t know much about the life he’d led but imagined he was someone important. Why else would men have followed him so far from London? “What sort of criminal are you?” she asked softly. “You said Gin Jimmy was a lord of crime. What are you?”

He turned his head to look at her. The firelight danced in his eyes. He shrugged out of his coat and folded it up, then placed it on the carpet that covered the dirt near the hearth. “Your pillow, my lady. You take the blanket as well.”

He wasn’t going to answer her. Again. She wanted to shout in frustration. She settled for glaring at him, but he wasn’t paying attention as he untied his cravat, pulled off his waistcoat, and made his own, smaller, pillow.

She ought to check his wound, but she was too annoyed. Besides, they’d left the poultice at Bassett Manor so there was nothing to do except inspect it. He’d begun to scratch at it, she’d noticed, which meant the wound was healing. Or so the innkeeper’s wife had told her.

He lay down on the carpet, his head on his waistcoat. She did the same, using his coat as her pillow and drawing the threadbare blanket over her. She was careful to keep at least a foot between her and Ethan. Then she rolled on her side, putting her back to him for good measure.

“I’m Gin Jimmy’s right hand. Or I was until I tried to double-cross him.”

Her breath hitched and she held it, trying to be extra quiet in case he said something more. When he didn’t, she rolled over and looked at him. His eyes were open, staring at the beamed ceiling.

“What did you do?” Fear for him quickened her pulse. No wonder men had followed him so far from London. If he’d gone against this crime lord, he would have enemies.

“I wanted to be Ethan Lockwood.” His mouth quirked into a wry smile. “A stupid dream, I realize now.”

“It’s not stupid. And it doesn’t have to be a dream.” She scooted closer to him. “You
are
Ethan Lockwood, aren’t you?”

He turned his head and looked at her. The searing gray of his eyes nearly burned her with their intensity. “I am who I am, Audrey. I’m a criminal who is wanted for murder and I doubt there’s a way I can redeem myself. I can’t seem to go even a couple of days without having to kill someone.”

She heard the pain and regret in his tone and longed to soothe it all away. “I’ll help you, however I can.”

His features hardened. “There’s no helping me. Any regret I feel at killing those men is because of you. I regret bringing you along and exposing you to my depravity. But know this: I don’t regret killing them. In fact, I revel in it. I rose to become Gin Jimmy’s right hand because I am smart and cunning and above all ruthless. Don’t ever forget that, and don’t ever think I’m someone I’m not. I am the hermit, Audrey. A solitary monster who’s chosen his lot and must endure it.”

She exhaled then, having held her breath through all he’d said. She wanted to argue with him, to again say it wasn’t too late to change, but so far he hadn’t listened.

He looked back at the ceiling. “Go to sleep. We’ve still four or five more days of travel until we get to Beckwith.”

Beckwith? The name was familiar . . . Lord Sevrin’s estate in Cornwall. Where her friend Philippa lived.

Ethan put his back to her, signifying an end to their conversation, and perhaps their friendship, if that was what it had ever been. She rolled to her back and stared at the wood crisscrossing above her. At least he’d finally revealed some of himself, and he’d told her where they were going. A minor victory, but she’d celebrate it since it was the only one she had.

Chapter Eleven