The Road to Ruin

by Bronwyn Stuart

  “Never mind me, what of you? How deep does the burn go?”

  Before she knew what he was about, he had the burned edges of the gown in his hands and was trying to see right past her garments.

  “I told you, it’s nothing.” She swatted his hands away.

  “Let’s make an exchange. I can inspect your wounds and you can inspect mine.”

  “You just said yours were nothing.”

  “Doesn’t hurt to have someone take a look though, does it? It wouldn’t help either of our causes if one of us were to develop an infection. Or worse.”

  “Not here,” she said, looking around as though more inept thieves lurked in the shadows. “When we stop for the night, you may look at my scratch.”

  His brows rose for a moment but then his mouth drew into a tight line as it had so many times in the last few days. He nodded once and then turned away to survey the scene.

  Hoof beats sounded and everyone scattered without a word. Trelissick hauled Daniella into the tree line with a hand over her mouth and his arm around her waist pulling her close. Hobson and Willie disappeared to the other side of the road.

  Relief poured through her when she saw Patrick rein in with a curse.

  “What are we going to do now?” she asked when the men finally had the tree moved out of their path enough to move on. “Should we alert the authorities in the next town?”

  Trelissick shook his head at the same time as Hobson did.

  “You’re just going to leave them here like this?”

  “We don’t have time to stop, lass. The magistrate would ask questions—he would have us stay in town for days.”

  “Hobson’s right. Someone else will come along and they can report the bodies. We’ve moved neither them nor the tree far enough for anyone to just barrel past.”

  It seemed wrong to Daniella, but then again, a battle at sea saw all those lost go overboard. Holding on to bodies only brought disease. “Very well, let’s be gone from here. It gives me a very bad feeling.” Not because she had killed a man but because there wasn’t one who remained alive to tell the story of why they were there. Her father would never hire such obviously dismal excuses for criminals but she wouldn’t put it past her brother to thoroughly muck it up. If he had a finger on any kind of illegal activities, she would eat her favourite bonnet. He was after all a peer, a man knighted by the king himself. She was about to snort but recalled Trelissick’s words about ladies.

  Damn the men in her life. Damn them all to hell.

  Chapter Twelve

  Why couldn’t it all be simple? Why couldn’t they stick to his plan to get them to Scotland without interference from inconvenient elements? First the bad food, then the highway robbery attempt—and now a storm had blown in and dumped rain and hail the entire afternoon. Even if it did cease, the way would still be too treacherous for the carriage to risk. They could slide off the road, lose a wheel, snap an axle—anything could happen. Even now they should have stopped, but they had yet to find a town and the carriage was too small to shelter them all. To top the dreadful day off, James was beginning to think they were lost.

  It seemed they were in the middle of nowhere. The only structure they had passed in the last two hours had been an old barn, apparently abandoned. The map showed a fork in the road leading closer to the coast but they must have passed it already.

  His only consolation, if one could label it that, was that if he couldn’t travel due to the weather, then neither could Daniella’s brother, although by now James had his doubts that Germaine pursued at all.

  Were it him, he wouldn’t rest for one second until he’d caught up. Indeed he hadn’t rested since he’d discovered his mother and sister gone. Each and every moment of the day had seen him plotting ways to get them back and then drive a knife right into the heart of that damned pirate.

  James, or rather the Butcher, would be hailed a hero for eliminating a menace.

  “Are you cold?” Daniella asked from the dimness.

  He must have shuddered or betrayed some movement so he shook his head. “Just thinking.”

  “About the storm? Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a little thunder and lightning?”

  He forced a chuckle as he pushed murderous thoughts away. “Not at all.”

  “Then what were you thinking about?”

  “I was thinking how lucky it was today that we weren’t all killed.”

  “How would you get your precious items back then?”

  “Well, for one, I’d be dead and no longer in need of them.”

  “And two?”

  “There is no two. Death is pretty final, don’t you think? Perhaps except in the case of your father. How many lives has he used up so far?”

  “I believe this is his third meeting with Davy Jones in as many years. Who knows how many more men have laid false claim to sinking him.”

  “Does it ever get tiring?”

  “What?”

  “The never-ending danger? The never knowing if you’ll live out the day?”

  “Why don’t you tell me? The Butcher must have had some experience with that himself.”

  “You’ve made it abundantly clear that you have no knowledge of war or the Butcher.”

  “Will you tell me? I’d like to know.”

  “No. You would not. It is not a subject for a lady.” And when he realized she would protest her status in that regard, he added, “Or for any woman.”

  Another hour passed, the steady beating of rain on the roof of the carriage the only sound to penetrate the tension. When they slowed to a stop Hobson opened the door and stuck his dripping head in. “What should we do? We haven’t seen a town since this morning and not a marker to show how much longer it will be until we reach one. Willie thinks we should go back to that barn we passed: the horses are getting tired and cold.”

  He hated the idea of it. Hated even more that they would have to turn the carriage around in this weather and then backtrack so far, but it would be worse to be on a strange road after dark with their destination unknown. They must have taken a wrong turn somewhere along the way. Already it was obvious the light would fade much quicker with the black clouds roiling above them. They would have no time to figure out where they were and remedy their direction.

  James nodded, stood, reached under the seat where he had earlier removed the pistol and pulled out a greatcoat. “Stay here this time. Please,” he added. “We’ll turn around and then find shelter.”

  “I have no wish to catch my death out there in that,” she said. Her look conveyed he, on the other hand, should definitely venture out into it.

  A very real smile found its way to his lips as he stepped into driving rain and fading light. She was filled with mischief and fire and he rather thought he liked that about her. Even though he really didn’t want to.

  *

  Quite a great deal of time later they finally reached the decrepit barn they had passed earlier. It seemed like yesterday that they had fought and killed the men on the road. Daniella was beyond weary but she hadn’t been able to sleep. Not knowing if they could be stuck on the side of the road, all four of them huddled in the carriage, until morning. It hadn’t bothered her when Mrs McDougal had fallen ill and been left behind. It wasn’t until after the battle with the thieves that she’d realized just how hopelessly outnumbered she was. Four men and only one woman. Hobson was the only one she wasn’t at all afraid to be alone with. He’d been kind to her where Trelissick had been gruff and moody. She didn’t know Patrick but there was something about the way he stared at her that made her skin crawl. It wasn’t leering as such: almost as if he worked to decipher her secrets from afar. Willie she knew nothing about but if he was in Trelissick’s employ then he couldn’t be all bad. Could he?

  This was what Daniella traditionally referred to as her bout of doubts. It only ever hit her after she’d already gone ahead with a scandal or challenge or something equally wrong-headed. The uneasiness had tried to encroach several ti
mes already but she kept pushing it back, thought of something else, did something else. But now as they pulled into the dark barn with God knew what animal calling it home, the bout of doubts flew at her full force.

  She wanted to call out that she was quite happy to continue on the road but Trelissick had warned her to stay quiet on the off chance the structure was inhabited. He was so bossy and serious all the time.

  Except when he had flirted with her at the dressmaker’s.

  He wouldn’t call it flirting but she would. His eyes had sparkled and his grin had shaved years off his face and his mouth had transfixed her. She couldn’t help but rise to his playfulness. He had obviously at one time been a boy and then a young man. What had happened to turn him into a veritable rock? Was it this Butcher business?

  When she’d first agreed to be his hostage she had planned to wait until they drew closer to their destination and then she was going to flee—she could not guarantee he would really hand her to her father and was determined to get herself home—but the fight with the thieves would have ended a whole lot differently had she been on her own.

  This side of the border, she was certainly better off with him than without him. She would never tell Trelissick that though.

  Daniella was startled from her thoughts when the carriage door flew open. She raised her dagger against the blinding light from a lantern, ready to use it if she had to.

  “Where did you get that?” Trelissick’s voice reached her, full of furious exasperation.

  “I took it from one of the dead men.”

  “Are you planning on stabbing me in the back with it?”

  She smiled as she dropped the blade to her lap, ensuring he knew the thought had occurred to her. “Not today.”

  His gaze held hers steady for more than a few beats of her heart while droplets of water fell from his hair to roll down his face and neck. He then stepped back so she could jump down. He didn’t offer his hand as he had when they had been in town. Not the gentleman then?

  “Patrick started a fire for us right down the end of the barn if you’d like to get warm.”

  “I’d actually like to change my clothes if you don’t mind.” Her “little scratch” was still on fire just above her hip, and her dress was stiff with the blood that had dried there.

  “I still want to check your wound.”

  “You really don’t need to and yours looks to be doing much better.” The rain had washed away the blood on his face, leaving only light bruises to show that he had been in a fight at all. His nose wasn’t any more crooked than it had been before and he was using his hand with the scabbed knuckles just fine.

  “I’m not asking permission, Daniella.”

  She huffed but he was deadly serious. She damned him again. “Very well. Bring me my bag and we’ll get this over with so you can get dry and I can get warm.”

  She didn’t wait for arguments or acquiescence, just climbed back into the carriage.

  “What are you doing?” Trelissick called after her.

  “I’m not going to stand naked out there for the whole world to see.”

  “You don’t have to be naked at all.”

  She smiled to herself. He actually sounded as if he was going to grow prudish on her. “I am cold and filthy. I wish to change into something that will stop my teeth chattering all night long.”

  Harsh mutters reached her ears but she couldn’t make out his words; she wondered if he was cursing her right back. The carriage dipped a little and then sprang upright again and he was back, standing in the doorway, a lantern in one hand, two bags in the other.

  She raised her brow at the second bag. He better not be thinking of undressing as well. She gulped.

  “This one has the medical supplies,” he said as though reading her mind. Or perhaps just her expression.

  As Trelissick climbed back into the carriage and closed the door behind him, the small area seemed to shrink in size, sparking a small flame of hysteria in her chest. “Why don’t you wait outside until I am presentable and then I shall call you back in?”

  “Why don’t you take off your things and I will close my eyes?”

  “Can I trust you to keep them closed?”

  He chuckled. She liked the sound of it.

  “I give you my word but if I think you are hiding injuries from me, there will be consequences.”

  She straightened up. After all, what could he do to her that hadn’t already been done? He really had no idea what she had been subjected to in her life aboard ship. Not one clue at all. He must think she’d embroidered below decks while the men played pirate. “Am I supposed to be scared?”

  “Are you scared of anything?” he asked as he turned away from her and put his head in his hands.

  She began to undo the buttons marching down the front of her gown as she considered her answer. “Well, I don’t much care for spiders. And there was this one time we were off the coast near India and… Well, you don’t actually need to hear about that.”

  “You’ve seen much of the world, haven’t you, Daniella?”

  “I have. Beautiful green coasts and deserted islands and towering cliffs and the bluest waters you couldn’t even dream up on a good day.”

  “Is that what you miss the most?”

  She wriggled the dress over her knees and then off her feet and sat back down in her underthings. He’d already seen her shift and stays. “I miss my father the most. I would have given it all up had he just kept me by him.”

  “Did he not discuss it with you first?”

  She laughed long and loud then. “There was no discussion. The captain has the final say aboard The Aurora.”

  “If he’s not to be argued with then why are you being so defiant now? Is it for him or the ship? Or is there another reason entirely?”

  Daniella pulled on the first dress she found in her bag, discarding the nightgown: it was far too cold for that. She was doing up the buttons when she remembered he was there for a reason other than annoying her. “Both,” she replied, beginning the task of undoing them again. “I do not belong in London. Hell, I am beginning to believe that no one belongs in London. There is no happiness, only order. No freedom, no contentment, no acceptance.”

  “Are those the things you wish for then?”

  She wasn’t sure what she wanted anymore, and even if she was, wishing wasn’t going to get it for her. If a body wanted something in life, she had to work hard to make it happen. “I tried to fit in when I first arrived. There were so many rules and I couldn’t keep them straight in my head. I had no help other than from Anthony and he was really no help at all. I was doomed from the first wobbly step I took.”

  “Doomed in what way?” He was looking at her now. Her gown was undone and while she hadn’t managed to pull it all the way down to her waist, he kept contact with her eyes.

  She cocked her head to one side and sighed. “I am undesirable.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Trelissick choked and spluttered and at first Daniella thought he was laughing but it became clear from the way his eyes bulged that she had shocked him. “What did I say?” she asked.

  “You are not undesirable.”

  “I heard the men talking about me and that is exactly what they said.” She remembered that conversation because she had wanted the ground to open up and swallow her whole. It was the first time in her entire life that she had been made to feel miserable and ugly and unwanted.

  “Who said that? And when?”

  “At some ball I was dragged along to with Anthony. I heard them say that with my freckles and tanned skin and wildness, I was undesirable.”

  “Ah, I think I see.”

  She glared sharply at him, ready to slap him if he even for one moment agreed with those dogs. Not that his opinions mattered that much to her, she reminded herself.

  “They weren’t saying you were undesirable. They must have called you an undesirable. As in, not good for a wife.”

  Her cheeks burned
with humiliation and she was suddenly sorry she’d raised the subject. “And why not? How is that any better?”

  “You don’t understand how it works in London. A man takes a docile wife. He wants her to be obedient and efficient and quiet. She runs the household and bears the heirs. She does not sell her virginity or ride astride in the park. She doesn’t challenge gentlemen to duels or swim naked in the moonlight.”

  She wished he would forget that particular night ever happened. “I know all of that and anyway I don’t want to be some staid man’s even more staid wife.”

  “I’m afraid that is how it works, Daniella. You can’t break so many years of tradition or thinking.”

  “So you are going to go home after you retrieve your items and find yourself a lap dog?”

  He shook his head, donned a patronizing glare and folded his hands over his knee. “I am going to find a woman who will make me smile at the breakfast table and who can run my house and birth the children who will carry on my name. It is what titled men do. I am the last of my line so it is what I must do.”

  “And before you were titled? What did you want to do then?”

  She saw it in his eyes. Whether he meant to show it or not, regret flitted over his face, and she knew this hadn’t always been his future. Once upon a time he probably would have had it all figured out, the second son. How many men walked around thinking their older brothers would die young?

  “It doesn’t matter what I wanted. This is the way it has to be.”

  “Says who?”

  “Says society. Says my sister, who must make a good marriage. Says my mother, who wishes for nothing more than to bounce a grandchild on her knee. Says the House of Lords, who need the titled to make fair and just decisions about the future of the empire and her people. I have responsibilities. I cannot shirk them just because I saw it turning out differently.”

  Trelissick sighed then. Mostly with resignation. “Let us get this done so we can warm ourselves by the fire.”

  Darkness shrouded them and, as it did, the temperature dropped. She would not like to grow too cold lest she never warm up again.