The Highwayman (Rakes and Rogues of the Restoration Book 3) (36 page)

“What are you doing out here by yourself at this hour, girl?” Mrs. Winslow sat down beside her and offered her some warm bread and morning ale from the tray she carried.

“Sometimes I have trouble sleeping.” She didn’t feel up to polite conversation and she reached for the ale in the hope that its bearer would be content and go away.

“It’s Jack, isn’t it?”

Startled, Arabella almost dropped her mug.

“Whatever he’s done be patient with him. I promise you he’s a good lad and well worth the effort. I know he thinks the world of you. I’ve never seen him so taken with a lass. He’s brought you here to meet us, and you’re almost all he talks of since he met you last summer. ‘I know a woman who can ride as well as any man, Maggie,’ he says to me. ‘She has more courage in her little finger than any man I know. She’s as warm and cheerful as the sun in spring.’ Goes on and on about you, he does, with his eyes all lit up. He’s mighty protective too. Up and down the highway they know to stay clear of ‘Jack’s’ girl.’”

“Does everybody know?”

“Well...he’s in love, dear. And for the first time, too. He’s not known much of that in his life and he’s not very good at hiding it. Neither are you.”

“He talks about you often. And Mr. Winslow too. He says you were a mother to him, and he thinks of this place as his home.”

“Does he?” Mrs. Winslow said with a pleased smile.

“Yes. He speaks of you with great affection. What was he like as a boy?”

“I saw him only a time or two before he came to live with us. He’d come in with his mother. She was a sad one, that girl. Quality, no doubt. But beaten down she was by that bastard Harris. I can only imagine what Jack went through with that one as his father. He tried to save her from him. He even went to her family to ask them for help. Harris liked to tell that story himself. They set the dogs on Jack they did, and whipped him from the door. I expect she was done for after that. He’s not had much use for the gentry, since.

“Anyway, one day a fine gentleman, a military sort, comes by here with Jack in tow. A handsome fellow, but big and surly. He tells us Jack’s mother is dead and his father is finished and there’ll be trouble coming soon. Keep the boy and keep him out of it, he says. He gives us a fat purse, says, ‘Send him to school,’ and he gives a purse to Jack, too. “We all settled in after a few minor rows.

“Minor rows?”

“Aye, well...Jack was always a little headstrong and had no mind to take direction and my husband can be stubborn too. He took a strap to him once and Jack laid him flat with one blow. He was an angry boy and who could blame him? But he had a good heart, too. He’d feed any beggar with a story to tell, and was always protecting the little ones from the bullies. It wasn’t ’til he found his horse, Bess, that he found any peace, though.”

Maggie poured herself a mug of ale before continuing. “I remember when he first bought her. I would have sworn she’d bring the barn down, kicking and hollering and biting any fool who came near. I don’t know how it happened, but they seemed to work some magic on each other. They calmed each other down. That was the happiest and easiest I’ve seen him, until you came along. You’ve been good for him, Miss Hamilton. He was losing interest in things and with a man like Jack that’s never good. I could see it, even if no one else did. But that’s all changed since he met you.”

“Do you know what he does for a living, Maggie?”

“Oh, aye. I don’t think any less of him for it. Do you?” The question was a gentle one.

“No. I don’t. But I fear what might happen if....” Her voice trailed off and she left the thought unfinished

The older woman gave her a conspiratorial wink. “My Ben used to ride the highway, during the civil war. I settled him down right quick. The boy is mad for you and there’s no denying he’s easy on the eyes. A woman could do worse. Give him a good reason to change his ways and I wager that he will.”

Arabella watched slack-jawed as Maggie Winslow walked away. She would never have guessed that Ben had once been a highwayman. Nor could she picture Jack as an innkeeper. It just felt wrong. Mrs. Winslow was right though. She needed to be patient. Jack was a man who refused to be pushed. He was far from a fool though, and doubtless he was more than able to come to the right conclusion on his own. Already feeling better, she couldn’t help a little grin.

A clatter in the courtyard made her turn her head. The day was starting early. Already two coaches and a wagon were jostling in the yard. One was just arriving, one was carrying casks of wine, and one was about to leave. It was shaping up to be a busy day.

“Rat-faced Perry is dead.”

Jack looked up curiously from cleaning his sword. For the first time since he had met him, William Butcher looked worried.

“I can assume by your demeanor that it wasn’t natural causes?”

“You can assume by my demeanor that it was Robert frigging Hammond. Perry’s men were killed and he was tortured before his throat was slit. You best assume Hammond knows where the girl is, and that you’re the one who’s been helping her.”

“Bloody hell! That’s less than two hours from here. He’ll be close by now. Where is Bella? I want her found and locked in her room with two men inside and two more at the door. Then get me Richard Dudley. It’s time to deal with Hammond once and for all.”

“He won’t be alone, Jack. Billy Wyse brought the news at a hard gallop. He said Hammond was travelling with at least four other men.”

“They’ll be hirelings. As like to run from the battle when they see what’s involved.” Even as he said it he remembered the chase through London. They hadn’t run, and they’d been hardened men. But even hardened men didn’t stay to fight when the one who was to pay them lay dead.

“You’re pale as a ghost, man. Don’t worry. We’ll keep her safe.”

“I swear she’ll be the death of me, Will.”

“Most likely. But who knows? She could be the making of you, too.”

Arabella wasn’t in her room. She wasn’t in the garden or the kitchen or the parlor. It took them ten precious minutes of searching before they realized she was gone.

~

They were fording the River Trent just North of Nottingham when Arabella regained consciousness after a blow to the head. The left side of her face ached from jaw to temple and it felt as though someone was pounding an anvil inside her skull. She winced with each jolt and rattle of the carriage as she struggled to sit up.

“Good morning, my dear. I’ve seen you looking better.”

She groaned and eased back in her seat. “Good morning, cousin. I don’t suppose you have something that might ease a megrim?”

His brow creased with annoyance. It wasn’t the reaction he’d been expecting. “I shouldn’t worry, Arabella. Your headache won’t bother you for long.”

“Do you mean to shoot me, Robert? Won’t that be a little difficult to explain?”

“Perhaps I will be a horrified witness when your highwayman takes your life,” he said with a cold smile. “After I see you buried I could watch him hang.”

“And what would you gain from that?” she asked tiredly.

“Everything that was yours.”

“You won’t, you know. But think what you please. Life should be full of surprises.”

“You have changed, Arabella––and not for the better. I’ve no interest in playing at riddles with a dead woman. You and your lover saw me left in the depths of a rat-infested hole. I was chained in filth to the scabrous lice-infected dregs of London. I—”

“And you were going to pass me to your servants to rape. I should call it well paid.”

He slapped her hard, rocking her head sideways and she fell to the floor of the coach in a heap. As she struggled back into her seat she could see out the windows. There were two outriders, and probably room for another man to be riding with the coachman up top. She was not gagged or tied and he had never checked her person. She felt for her pistol. It was still in her pocket, loaded and halfcocked. Once again, Robert underestimated everyone but himself.

“If you wish it to be believable you should make up your mind, cousin,” she said, wiping blood from her lip. “Am I to be shot by Jack…or beaten to death by you?”

“Neither, my dear. Much as I would like to implicate your lover, you are right. Given the recent damage to my reputation,
any
connection to your death on my part could be difficult to explain. I shall deal with him later. Sadly,
you
are about to break your neck in a tragic coaching accident. So upsetting, but not unexpected when a rash young woman insists on travelling unaccompanied and far from home. This…” he said as he reached out to brush her bruised cheek, “will only add to the effect.”

There was a sudden commotion behind them. Arabella could hear the heavy splashing of horses’ hooves churning through the water and the eager shouts and curses of excited men. The whip cracked twice and the coach lurched forward as pistol shots rang out around them. Looking out the window she saw one of the outriders fall as three men closed in on them, bent low over the necks of their horses. The one in the lead rode a coal black steed.
Jack!

Another outrider fell as they gathered speed and the coachman pressed the team forward. The coach lurched and swayed as they scrambled up the bank and on into a wide and busy thoroughfare. The bustling mid-morning market crowd shrieked and shouted, diving to get out of the way. This kind of thing might happen in London in the middle of town in broad daylight, but not on the wide peaceful streets of Nottingham.

The coach skidded sideways as they rounded a corner and Arabella’s shoulder slammed against the wall. She dropped her pistol and Robert saw it and dove for it at the same time she tried to retrieve it. The coach swung wildly, out of control as they scrambled for the weapon. From the corner of her eye she saw Jack clinging to the door as he tried to force it open. He must have leapt onto the hurtling vehicle from the back of his galloping horse.

She struggled to wrestle the pistol from Robert, fighting for her life, and then everything turned to slow motion as the carriage careened off a stone pillar and tumbled on its side. As she hurled through the air she caught a glimpse of a terrified Robert. He didn’t look like the brutal cousin she so loathed––he looked like a scared little boy. She felt a moment’s pity, and then a bitter sorrow at the thought of never seeing Jack again. The pistol fired, and then another, and then everything went black.

~

Jack kicked open the door of the coach and dropped inside as William Butcher settled the horses and Richard Dudley used his pistol to hold back the crowd. A quick look at Hammond told him the man was dead from a bullet to the head. His blood ran cold when he saw Arabella crumpled in a corner. Her face was battered, there was blood on her lip and she looked like a broken doll.

Gripped by a terror more powerful than any he’d known in his life, he reached out an unsteady hand. Her pulse beat slow and steady and he let out a quick sob of relief. “I’m sorry, love,” he murmured, brushing the hair back off her face and kissing her brow. Then he eased the pistol from her hand, and for the second time, he stole her mother’s necklace.

“Hurry Jack,” Will Butcher hissed, leaning in over the door.

“She’s unconscious. She may have broken bones. It isn’t safe to move her.”

William nodded, and then took a closer look at Hammond. “Good Christ, man! Someone taught her well. It was her shot not yours that killed him.”

“She must never know, Will. Better no one does. Has anyone seen your faces?”

“No.” William adjusted his visor. “We were careful. More so than you. You’ve lost your scarf.”

“Good. Take Richard and get out of here. I’ll keep them distracted.”

“You know what that means, Jack. Are you certain?”

Jack shrugged. “The whole damned town is watching. I’m doing what I must.” He removed his cloak and folded it, placing it under Arabella’s head like a pillow, and then he braced his hands on the doorjambs and clambered easily from the overturned coach with Arabella’s necklace dangling from his pocket.

As he emerged from the carriage he was greeted with gasps of recognition. “It’s Gentleman Jack!” somebody cried.

“No! Look at those rapiers! I’ve seen him in the broadsheets and I seen him up in York. That’d be Swift Nick.”

“I swear he’s one and the same!”

In the ensuing excitement William and Richard Dudley melted away into the crowd.

“There’s a woman in the coach who needs help. Someone should see to her,” Jack said. He waited, looking only slightly bored, for the arrival of a physician. He’d done everything he could for her. He’d been in enough brawls and spent enough time on a battlefield to know that she would live, despite a nasty bump on the head.

It’s just as well she is unconscious
.
Were she awake, she would defend me
. It wouldn’t do to have her association with him known. At worst she might be thought an accomplice. At best, her name would be ruined. By taking her necklace he ensured she would be seen as his victim. Even if she later claimed otherwise, it would be attributed to confusion from being knocked senseless. She would be safe now. Her reputation was protected. She was free of the stain of killing a man, and free to go home and live her life without fear of Robert Hammond.

As soon as the physician arrived Jack wandered down the street in search of a likely tavern. He needed a drink. His nerves had never been so badly frayed. The image of her body lying limp and bleeding on the floor kept playing through his mind. So did their last conversation where she’d thrown his own words back at him. ‘You said I deserved better than a life of constant danger with a man who cheats the noose.’ She was right. He had said it. Before they met the risks he took were his alone. Now they also threatened everything she had, including her life.
In my selfishness, I endanger her as surely as my father did my mother
.

But he was not his father. And Arabella would not suffer because of her trust and love for him. There was nothing for it now. Nottingham was close enough to London. In broad daylight he had been recognized as Swift Nick
and
Jack. The king would hear and rescind his pardon. He had no future to offer her now. It was time to let her go.