The Highwayman (Rakes and Rogues of the Restoration Book 3) (12 page)

Amidst heaving bosoms, painted faces and rich fabrics and jewels, the woman in the far corner might have been a servant in her plain brown dress and dustcoat, but when she emerged from the shadows, it was
her
face he noticed. The bruises and swelling were gone. Her hair was pulled back in a tight coil, though a few loose tendrils framed her cheeks and jaw. Her features, now clearly defined, might have been severe if not for the fullness of her mouth and those soft green eyes with their sweeping lashes. Even in her anger, she was alluring.

He swallowed, momentarily nonplussed
. Sweet Jesus! She is as I remember, yet more
. But she looked at him with the cold eyes of a stranger. Surely, she recognized him. If he knew her without her bruises, she should recognize him even with his features covered. Her failure to do so annoyed him. He reached out and plucked the pistol from her hands. “Much good this thing will do you like this.” He fished in his pocket, and then loaded the weapon with powder and lead shot. After rotating it to half cock to prevent an accidental discharge he handed it back. “That’s how it’s done. Please be careful not to shoot your friends.”

~

They were all watching him with varying degrees of curiosity, as a shaken Arabella, tucked the pistol in her purse. He was right. She should have had it loaded. She wouldn’t make that mistake again
.
What is
he
doing here?
Could it be coincidence?
Surely, he can’t have come here looking for me?
Yet he looked so handsome in his cavalier hat with its dashing plume, and a fall of white lace at his throat. His appearance had been rather careless the last she’d seen him, and for a moment she dared imagine his elegant attire had something to do with her.

He is so far from home, on this very hill, the exact same moment as me
. She was trembling all over with shock and excitement. She felt light-headed and had to think to breathe. He stole my mother’s necklace, she reminded herself
.
Yet she wished she’d listened to Caroline and worn something more flattering, and when his hand had touched hers as he returned her pistol, it had sent delicious frissons up her arm and down her spine.

The tousled-haired blonde whispered excitedly “Now that’s as gentlemanly an act as ever a highwayman has done! And he’s so tall and handsome. It’s Swift Nick himself, I swear!”

“Ladies! Out of the carriage please,” Jack ordered, eager to halt that train of thought. Swift Nick was retired and he hoped to keep it so, though he knew he’d taken the risk of discovery in coming here tonight. He tugged at his scarf, raising it higher, and began helping them to the ground, one by one.

“How can you tell if he’s handsome when he is wearing a mask?” Arabella scoffed, waiting her turn to descend. “He might be pockmarked and toothless behind it.”

Jack gave her a quick glance, but she looked away. The voluptuously golden Miss Buckhurst stumbled on the step, shrieking in fright. Jack caught her in his arms and lowered her safely to the ground. Arabella watched through narrowed eyes as he removed the blonde’s arms from around his neck. Her eyes lit with indignation when the silly chit raised her lips to kiss him, but he smiled and took her hand instead.
No doubt, he is assessing the value of her rings.

Lady Grantham was next, and of course, she found it necessary to steady herself on his shoulder, and Lady Ferrar preened coquettishly, which Arabella thought undignified and sad in a married lady past a certain age. When it was her turn, she removed her shoes and jumped to the ground unaided.

“Thank you ladies,” Jack said with courtly bow. “I am sorry to inconvenience you this way, but my friend and I are collecting for a fund for widows and orphans and ah....”

“Wounded sailors,” his companion called helpfully.

Arabella’s head whipped around, peering through the dark. The voice sounded familiar.

“Yes...and wounded sailors.”

“They say Swift Nick is generous to the poor,” Miss Buckhurst said with a knowing smile.

“My maid is a devotee of chapbooks and broadsheets, Miss Buckhurst, and something of an expert on that thieving blackguard, Swift Nick,” Arabella said in a frosty tone. “One hears he rode his poor horse into the ground to escape his crimes, and then, grown timid and feeble, retired. I daresay this one, given his size and garb, must be the scoundrel they call Gentleman Jack.”

Ah! So she
does
remember me.
The king must never think that Swift Nick rode again. Jack was pleased and grateful she’d decided to help, and he enjoyed her wit, even as he winced at her anger. It was barbed and raw and she seemed eager to wield it, but he refused to believe his coming was a mistake.

Lady Ferrar looked at Jack with interest. “I have heard of you, of course. You are far indeed from the North Road, sir.”

“Alas, there are naught but flint-souled pinch-pennies to the North these days, fair lady. What else is an enterprising lad to do? Consider it alms for the poor. ”

“I consider it highway robbery. We are but four poor women. You will allow us our personal mementos and the coach and horses, I pray.”

“You are four very rich women,” Jack corrected her. “But also very beautiful ones. A kiss from one of you might so distract me, that one pretty bauble from each of you would more than suffice. A ring perhaps. Some earrings....” It’s for you to decide.”

“I would kiss you, sir,” Miss Buckhurst offered bravely, “if only to help and protect my dear friends.”

Arabella almost snorted. The chit was batting her eyelashes.

“The coach is mine, and it was I who invited you all here today. The duty falls to me by responsibility and rank.” Lady Ferrar stepped forward, claiming her privilege, brushing the over-eager Miss Buckhurst aside.

Not to be outdone, Lady Grantham’s voice rang out for the first time since the adventure began. “Which kiss would you choose as your prize, sir? You are offered one out of duty, one as a sacrifice… or…one from a widow who makes no pretense, but admits to the thing with pleasure.”

Lady Ferrar rounded on her, bristling with indignation while Miss Buckhurst gasped at the shock of being so neatly outplayed.

“I would choose the kiss of peace from your fierce lady warrior, who very nearly shot me where I stood.” Jack held out his hand to Arabella. “And so, brave lady? Will you not come and reconcile with me?”

As the others looked on in surprise and some consternation, Arabella took his hand, unable to help herself as, heart pounding and knees weak, she remembered another night.

Yes, Jack.
“I will.”

His hand closed over her arm, just above her elbow, and he took her in a possessive grip and drew her to his side.

Her skin felt tight, her nerves all a jangle, and the touch of his fingers seemed to sear her through her clothes. Anticipation welled deep inside her, despite her mistrust and her own good sense.

“So young and bold,” he whispered to her. “You hide it well. They have no idea do they?” He turned to his audience, raising his voice. “You needn’t fear for her, ladies. An innocent kiss or two is all I ask. What harm can there be in that? I promise to return her to you, safe and unsullied, in just a little while. In the meantime, you may join your servants, and make your contributions to my dear friend over by the fire.”

“Over here, then ladies, if you please.”

Arabella recognized the voice at last. Stung into anger she dug in her heels, but Jack merely picked her up and started up the hill.

“Put me down!” she hissed. “What will they think?”

“That you’re too frail to climb?” His voice was amused, but he set her back on the ground. “Walk with me if you don’t want to be carried, Bella. There is something I would show you, and things to discuss. Besides, they can see us but cannot hear us from the crest of the hill. It ensures both privacy and virtue remain intact.”

“I know who that man is. He is William Butcher!”

“That’s very observant, love. We’ll make a top notch cruiser of you yet.”

“You sent a man to spy on me? You allowed him to use me as a…as a decoy, so he could lure and then rob my friends?”

They had reached the top of the hill and he turned her to face him. “No, and no, and no again. You are reading the thing entirely wrong. I sent him to watch over and protect you. I thought, after Islington, you would understand.”

“How has protecting me become
your
business?” She did not want to argue, and despite her misgivings, there was no denying she was thrilled he had come to see her, but for her own self-protection, she needed to know why.

“You asked me for my help, if you recall.”

“And you gave it, you took your payment, and you left.”

Jack blinked. “It was not payment, it was…for you. For your protection.”

“I see. Rather like the way you sent another highwayman to protect me. Some criminal logic I can’t quite comprehend.”

“Will is a good man, Arabella. He is retired, but retains all of his old connections. I could hardly leave you unattended with your cousin running loose. Who better to see you safe in my stead?” Although Robert Hammond had been held over for the spring assizes, there was no knowing what might happen when his case was heard. It was best to consider him a threat until he was sentenced to prison, transported, or dead.

Jack’s concern for her safety tempered Arabella’s anger, but it also came as a great surprise. On her return to London she had thought him gone from her life. To discover Mr. Butcher was one of Jack’s close associates rather than a hire of Mr. Tully’s was certainly a lot to take in.
They are both criminals!
But so was her cousin, and she doubted the law could protect her from him. She didn’t object when took hold of her coat to pull her closer.

“He is not retired, Jack,” she pointed out reasonably, resisting the urge to snuggle against his chest. “He just helped you hold up my new friend’s carriage.”

“He helped me arrange an assignation, Bella. How else was I to contact you? Call at your door? I thought the point of the thing was to keep your reputation intact.”

“And pulling me aside like this?”

“You needn’t worry about that. You will be a very great heroine in the eyes of your friends. You parted with some reluctant kisses to save their jewels. It’s a noble deed that will win you much admiration. They can’t admit to being jealous or suspicious of that.”

“It didn’t occur to you that you might have harmed someone?”

He chuckled, and brushed a knuckle across her cheek. “No, Bella. I am far from new at this game, and I haven’t harmed anyone yet. I lay in wait beyond a very tight corner. The coachman had to slow considerably to navigate the turn. I was far enough down the road to give him ample room to see me, and plenty of time to come to a safe stop.

“And ample room to shoot you! You might have been hurt, too.” The thought of it gave her a panicked feeling. If her pistol had been properly loaded she might have killed him herself.

“A pistol is a tricky thing, more so at a distance, and more so still when moving at speed. There are very few coachmen who could make such a shot. ’Tis why more of us die from hanging rather than shooting. I hadn’t anticipated you carrying one though. For a prim lady spinster you are a bloodthirsty wench. You were just as bold but a good deal gentler when I heroically rescued from your tower.”

“There was nothing heroic about you taking my necklace,” she accused. There. It was out now––the thing that had been bothering her since that night. “It was nothing to you, but it meant a great deal to me. How could you have been so kind, and then so cruel? Why would you do such a thing?”

Taken off guard, he barely managed a defensive shrug. “As you said, it was payment for services rendered. Trinkets always mean a great deal to the women that wear them, but judging by their quality, I assure you, I sold you my services cheap.”

Her slap knocked him back on his heels. The sharp crack made heads turn in their direction.

He caught her fist in an iron grip, stopping her before she could hit him again. “I think it’s time we returned to the others,” he growled.

She jerked her hand free and held her head high. “That necklace was a gift from my mother,” she said, with as much dignity as she could muster. “I told you so once before. She left it to me just before she passed away. I was so young it was the only remembrance I had of her, the only thing of hers that I owned. You really should use more care, Mr. Nevison, before mocking things you know nothing about.”

She turned to leave, but he caught her sleeve, stopping her. “Bella, wait! You’re right. I
am
sorry. Really. I didn’t realize. I would never have taken it had I known how much it meant to you. I’m sorry I mocked its worth.” He pulled a chain out from around his neck. “You see? I have one too.”

It looked like a woman’s ring. Perhaps some family heirloom. Interest piqued, Arabella rose on her tiptoes, straining to get a better look in the dark, but he slipped it back inside his shirt.

“Who gave it to you, Jack? It must mean a great deal.”

“No one gave it to me. I took it. Not all keepsakes are happy ones. I envy you yours. But look!” he said, deftly changing the subject as he pulled back his sleeve. “I have a happy one too.”

A wide smile lit her face. He wore a bracelet woven from her hair. “But—”

“For luck,” he said with a grin.

She felt a warm tingle flush her cheeks. He said the most extraordinary things. “You think I bring you luck?”

“Well, we didn’t fall from the tower to be dashed to pieces in the courtyard. That was a great piece of luck.”

“But you said it was safe!”

“I lied. How else was I to get you down?”

“So I am Arabella Hamilton, guardian of mad schemes and daring escapes?”

“You are la belle du nuit, and I felt lucky for having met you.” He stopped suddenly, as if he had said too much, and there was an awkward pause. The voice of Miss Buckhurst, chattering excitedly, came to them from beyond the hill.

“I am sorry, too,” Arabella said, filling the uncomfortable space between them. “I should not have slapped you. I am not a violent woman. I have never struck anyone before.”