The Gallows Bride (16 page)

“
You need to go back to your own home as well, Jemima, and
retrieve the papers your father hid,” Hugo added gently, watching
the flicker of sorrow on the woman’s face.

She
really was a truly remarkable woman. Anyone else would have had the
vapours, but not Jemima. She had earned his respect while he had
stood beside her in the corridor on the morning of the executions.
Her calm fortitude had been humbling to witness. It didn’t sit
comfortably with him that they were asking her to do this, but at
least he could go to Padstow knowing Peter would protect her,
probably better than the Star Elite could. Peter was an incredibly
lucky man.

If Hugo
was ever inclined to marry, which he was not, then it would be to
someone like Jemima.

“
We can go to the house in the middle of the night, and be at
Harriett’s house by dawn. It depends on how close Scraggan has got
to her, and how much of a threat she feels she is under. That will
influence how much persuading we have to do to get her out. We may
have to stay overnight,” Jemima cautioned, knowing they didn’t know
how stubborn Harriett could be.

“
We could stay throughout the day, and leave as soon as it got
dark,” Peter agreed, having accepted that it was inevitable they
were both going to Padstow.

Although
it rankled – a lot, if it helped to vanquish Scraggan once and for
all, and eased Jemima’s fears about settling down, then he would go
along with it.

But if
anyone posed any threat to her, or she made noises about not
getting married at the end of it, then he would bloody well drag
her up the aisle by her hair if he had to, and the entire Star
Elite wouldn’t be able to stop him. Peter squared his jaw in
determination.

God
knows he was a bloody fool for agreeing, but their kiss had
reawakened all of the love and desire that had been slowly burning
within him through the long, harrowing months since he had last
slept with her. Nothing would get him to simply turn his back and
let her leave now.

He
wondered briefly if his accompanying her on this journey had been
inevitable. As soon as Hugo explained his involvement in Jemima’s
escape from gaol, it was evident he wanted something in return. If
Peter was honest with himself, he had made the decision back in the
corridor when he had found her alive that, whatever she did,
wherever she went, he would be right beside her.

“
What about me? Harriett knows me just as well as she knows
you,” Eliza added from her position beside the doorway.

Everyone
jumped and turned toward her, watching as she sauntered across the
room to stand beside her sister.

She
glared at Edward, silencing his protests with a look before turning
to Jemima, effectively cutting the men out of the
conversation.

“
It would be best if you went to retrieve Father’s papers
because you know what you are looking for. I can go to Harriett’s
and persuade her to leave with us,” she ignored Edward’s attempt to
interrupt, and continued describing her involvement in their plans
as though it had already been decided she was going.

She
continued. “When you have the papers, you can come and join me at
Harriett’s house. You can go one way, and Harriett and I can travel
together. It wouldn’t look all that odd for two women to be
travelling together. If we split up and go our separate ways, we
can make circuitous routes and meet up at Willowbrook.”

Hugo
glanced warily at Edward, who was clearly fuming and refused to
remain silent any longer.

“
What about me? Am I supposed to just sit back and do
nothing?” He stared, aghast, at Eliza, wondering if she could
really expect him to wave her off happily. It had only been
yesterday that she had agreed to remain at Haverstock while
he
went after Scraggan.
When had everything changed so radically?

“
Well, you could come with us. Another pair of eyes and all
that,” Eliza replied casually, knowing there wasn’t any chance he
would remain behind. “Or you could stay here.” She didn’t bother to
answer Edward’s snorted epithet.

“
Eliza, if I might have a word with you?” Edward lunged to his
feet, grabbing hold of Eliza’s elbow and practically dragging her
from the room. The door closed on the sound of Eliza scolding him
for being so rough.

Jemima
winced and screwed her face up at the sound of shouting coming from
the next room.

“
Should we plan for her to come with us or not?” Hugo asked
Jemima warily. Suddenly he was very grateful he wasn’t married and
had no plans to get married.

“
She’s coming,” Jemima declared ruefully, ignoring Peter’s
soft chuckle beside her.

“
It seems as though there will be three couples to find their
way back to Willowbrook,” Jemima added, settling back in her
seat.

“
Three?” Hugo’s brows rose in question, before it suddenly
dawned on him that he would be paired up with Harriett Ponsonby.
“Great,” he muttered ruefully. Edward and Peter get the beautifully
spirited sisters and I get the eccentric old witch.

CHAPTER
S
IX

Two days
later, Jemima found herself seated on an old cart, barrelling down
the rear driveway of Havistock Hall. A small, tattered bag holding
a few of their personal belongings and a couple of changes of
clothing was securely tied to the back.

Although
the cart had been thoroughly checked and made safe, the hard wooden
bench had little padding against the deep ruts in the service road
that ran from the back of the house to the rear of the
village.

Jemima
glanced across at Peter, who held the reins in a casual grip. He
looked so unlike the Peter she knew and loved, she couldn’t keep
the smirk off her face as she studied him.

His dark
brown hair had been streaked with boot polish, making it completely
black. Although there was little they could do about his broad
shoulders and height, his elegant, and very expensive, clothing had
been cast aside and replaced with well worn but serviceable
servants’ clothing.

They had
agreed that they would remain in disguise and would keep off the
main roads as much as possible. Dressed as they were, anyone they
passed would be less likely to remember them. They were simply a
working couple, travelling in an old, worn-out cart.

Jemima
was wearing one of the maids’ oldest and most worn dresses, which
was too short in the sleeves and tattered around the edges. Her
dark blonde hair was drawn back from her face, giving her an almost
severe look. Her hair had also been liberally streaked with boot
polish. They almost looked like brother and sister –
almost.

Even the
horse had been dressed for the occasion. Dominic had chosen one of
his best horses, which had excellent breeding but clearly wasn’t a
thoroughbred. Until this morning, Maverick had been happily
munching grass in a field, not having seen a brush or a comb for
several long weeks. His mane was tangled and his coat caked with
mud. He looked like any other hard-working servant’s horse as he
plodded along, effortlessly pulling the cart.

For the
first time in a long while, Jemima was able to sit back and enjoy
being out in the sunshine and fresh air, and she listened to the
clip-clopping of the horse’s hooves with a sigh of
contentment.

“
All right?” Peter murmured, having heard her sigh.

Jemima
looked at him with a smile. “You know, I rather think I am,” she
replied thoughtfully, wondering if it was the carriage ride she was
enjoying or knowing that she was going to spend the next few days
alone with Peter.

Havistock Hall was a wonderful house, if large. Yet it amazed
her that, despite its size, there was very little opportunity to be
alone.

“
I wonder if Eliza and Edward are speaking yet,” Peter mused,
throwing her a smile.

Jemima
chuckled, remembering the fierce looks that had passed between the
couple earlier that morning.

Eliza
had opted to travel in the most inopportune manner, making it
nearly impossible for Edward to spend any time alone with her
without causing censure among the people they were likely to
meet.

Although
they had also decided to travel in disguise, rather than travelling
as servants, they had opted to travel as a middle class
couple.

Albeit,
upon Eliza’s insistence, as brother and sister.

Despite
Edward’s objections, Eliza had chosen an outfit suitable for a
middle-aged spinster who was rather po-faced and stern. The
neckline of her dress was so high that it nearly touched her chin
and was of a dark, nondescript colour that was anything but
flattering. Her shoes were block-type shoes with a solitary buckle
on each. Her hair had been darkened using a cocoa powder mix that
had turned her hair a murky, muddy brown colour. Unfortunately, it
had also given it a slightly sweet, chocolatey scent that reminded
Jemima of their old aunt Agatha: old and fusty, and somewhat
cloying.

Jemima
began to chuckle at the memory of Edward’s curses when he had first
clapped eyes on the woman he was going to marry.

He had
stared at her for several moments, before slowly walking around
her, eyeing her from head to foot as though she were a horse. His
brows had gone up, then down, then up again as he tried to decide
if he was prepared to accept her new appearance. Then he had
sniffed, before moving closer and sniffing again. After several
moments of quiet contemplation he moved to stand before her and
took a deep breath. He then looked at her in horror.

“
Good God, woman, they will think I like necrophilia!” His
outburst had caused everyone to burst into fits of laughter that
Edward had found far from funny.

Eliza
had merely lifted her chin, glanced at him from the top of his head
to the tips of his boots, and told him that was excellent news, as
it was just the look she was aiming for.

Edward
had been left to wear Manver’s old suit and tie. With his hair
neatly combed and lightly greased, he looked like a middle-aged
doctor.

The
atmosphere in the house while they had been packing and making
last-minute preparations had been frosty, mainly because Edward was
angry at Eliza, not only for insisting she was going with them, but
for making it nearly impossible for him to protect her in the way
he wanted to. Jemima wondered if his annoyance was mostly because
it would be impossible for them to share a room
together.

Their
carriage was more lavishly furnished than Jemima and Peter’s, but
was still aged, and would do little to protect them should it start
to rain, as it was starting to now.

Jemima
tipped her head back, enjoying the soft tickle of raindrops on her
face. It wasn’t heavy rain, more of a fine mist, and the moist
coolness on her face felt wonderful.

Her eyes
abruptly popped open and she stared at Peter’s hair in horror. “Oh
no,” she gasped, eyeing the rainclouds in trepidation.

“
What is it?” Peter asked, scouring the area around them, his
senses on alert.

“
The rain; the boot polish,” Jemima replied, studying his
black hair for signs of betrayal.

“
We’re all right, the boot polish won’t wash off that easily,”
Peter reassured her, before bursting into laughter.

“
What? What is it?” Jemima asked, waiting patiently for him to
stop chuckling long enough to draw breath.

“
We
are all right, because the boot
polish needs a lot of soap and water to wash off.”

“
So?” Jemima frowned, wondering what was so funny about
that.

“
Eliza - oh God,” and he burst out laughing again.

It took
several more minutes for Jemima to realise what was so funny.
Jemima had streaked her hair with cocoa, which needed water. She
would undoubtedly smell – and look – like a cup of hot chocolate if
it rained heavily.

“
Edward’s going to have a conniption,” Jemima said, biting her
lip in an attempt not to laugh. But it was useless.

The
thought of Eliza in her spinster-like clothing, riding on a
carriage, with brown streaks of cocoa running down her face,
smelling like a cup of hot chocolate, while Edward glared at her
balefully was too much.

Their
laughter remained with them for several long miles.

They
stopped twice to eat, each time choosing a coaching inn located
just off the main road. Although seemingly relaxed, Peter had
remained watchful and had spent a lot of time studying the people
around them for possible threats.

Throughout the day, they had found a variety of topics to
discuss. Jemima now knew a lot about Peter’s childhood with Isobel,
and Peter knew more about Jemima losing her mother at a young age,
and the family’s struggle to continue a normal life without a woman
to run the household. They had talked about their favourite foods
and pastimes, their distant relations and immediate
family.

By the
time they turned into the slightly shabby tavern later that
evening, Jemima felt as though she had known Peter forever. They
had discovered they had so much in common that they felt a strong
camaraderie.