“Father, I’m off now,” Callum said, entering his father’s study and pausing near the older man’s writing desk.
His father looked up at him and smiled weakly. “Will you return soon?”
“Of course! I only need to see to some of my affairs. I’ll come back any time you ask.” Callum’s words caught in his throat, a sudden pain of emotion choking him. “Or perhaps you’d like to visit me closer to town? That would be enjoyable, would it not?”
“Certainly. I shall make plans straight away,” his father assured him. “Son, I… I thank you for spending these last few weeks here. It meant a great deal to your mother to see you for such a long time. And I, as well.”
“Think nothing of it, Father. It does me good to know that we both spent so much of her final days with her. I shall cherish the moments forever.”
“And did she bid you make a promise? Hmmm?” the old Duke asked, raising an eyebrow in question. “Something about marriage?”
Callum cleared his throat and looked away in embarrassment. “That she did. I was not aware you knew of the conversation, though.”
“Indeed. She confided in me first!” his father answered, laughing softly. “But she’s right. Your mother was always right, in everything. She had such a good head on her shoulders, and about this matter in particular. You need to find a wife. Death has a way of making its bystanders feel the passing of time, and I want to know that you are securely wed before I pass on myself.”
“Father, not you too!” Callum said urgently. “I assured Mother that I would seek out a bride, but I cannot endure the pressure from you as well. You have my word that it is now an important matter, but that is all I can promise today.”
“That is a very politic and appropriate response,” the Duke replied before embracing his son. “There is nothing more anyone could ask of you. Only I beg of you, don’t let me go to my grave before this task is complete.”
Chapter 4
“Are you prepared?” Aaron asked his daughter, looking over her disguise before limping closer to adjust her shawl so that the newly torn place showed more prominently. “You know what you must do?”
“Aye, Father, after speaking it through a hundred times last night, I know what to do! But prepared? No, not a whit. I’m shaking like a yearling before the wolves, and we haven’t yet left the house!” Beatrix replied.
“Then you mustn’t go,” her father insisted, putting his hands on her shoulders and looking very intent. “If you know not why you do this, then your heart ain’t in line with the hunt.”
“No, I must. For your sake and for mine,” she insisted, shaking her head and letting some of her purposely unruly hair fall in front of her face. She brushed it back impatiently and added, “Once this is done, we’ll be away from here. Pencot can assume the role of the notorious Prince Aaron and we’ll retire to the countryside. You’ll heal from your wounds and we’ll while away the days with tending our garden and feeding breadcrumbs to the birds!”
“You’d send me to my grave from boredom, daughter!” Aaron argued, but it was light-hearted, and she knew it. He, too, had long made it known that he wouldn’t be put out at the thought of a life free from the constant threat of being discovered, and this last ambush should prove to be their last.
“Never, Father,” Beatrix insisted, then she teased happily, “We shall find excitement in other pursuits. Perhaps you might discover your gift for watercolor painting the songbirds of the realm?” Her father looked aghast at the thought, so she added, “Or you might take another wife? And I might someday marry myself, if I’m not too old already. Wouldn’t that fill your days with wonderful diversions if I were to make you a grandfather?”
“Stop! You’ll have me play the part of the doddering old fool, hiding sweeties in my waistcoat pockets for the little ones!” Aaron pretended to pat his pockets as though looking for something he’d lost while Beatrix laughed at his antics.
Then, it was time for him to turn serious. “But my girl, if anything goes wrong with the hunt, you must promise me this. You must run away. Leave me and leave the others, we’ll fend for ourselves. But you must flee. Should I not return, have no fear. I will never stop looking until I find you.”
She wanted to argue, to protest that she would never betray the men who’d been the only family she’d ever known, no matter the kind of ruffians they may be. Instead, she eased her father’s conscience by mumbling a word of agreement.
Aaron lifted his daughter’s chin with the ends of two fingertips. “I mean it, girl. Run far away from there, leave the others. I’ve already spoken to them and said as much; they are all in agreement. Protect yourself at all costs, and come back to your old father safe and sound.”
“I will, Father,” Beatrix promised him, pushing down the growing sense of dread that threatened to give her away. She coughed lightly and said, “How do I look?”
Aaron appraised her disguise with a frown. “Hmmm, not nearly ugly enough to be a common serving girl who’s fallen ill from hunger on the road. Is there any soot in the fireplace you might smear on your face? Any fat in the pan you might string into your hair? You look far too fetching and genteel for this ruse.”
She wondered if her father was only making excuses, but then remembered that there was nothing so serious in his esteem than a hunt. She quietly obeyed, fetching both of the items and applying them as carefully as she could.
“Now, Father?”
Aaron sighed in defeat. “Now, my girl. I shall ride with the boys so far as the village boundary in order to keep an eye on you, but I’m far too likely to be spotted if I go much further. And with this leg of mine still binded up in your stitching, I’ll do you no good if something is amiss.”
“Yes, Father,” Beatrix said, smiling at him. She kissed his cheek and said, “Then we must be off.”
Aaron’s reluctant expression spoke volumes, but Beatrix ignored the meaning behind his look. She knew too well that he would be the one to take her place if she showed even the slightest twinge of fear or doubt. As it was, she affixed an eager smile to her face and led the way, feeling none of the confidence her words and appearance projected.
Behind the small cottage in the forest surrounding the village, Beatrix and her father opened the meager barn and led out their horses. They saddled and mounted the beasts without speaking, then rode along in silence for a time, neither one daring to bring up the dangerous scheme before them. When they met the rest of Aaron’s men at the hedgerow nearly an hour later, the solemn group moved on towards their riches.
Callum had been riding silently for the better part of the morning, his footmen riding in flank to his left and right. They were alone in their travels at the present. Barclay had already gone on ahead before dawn that morning by coach, carrying the trunks into town in order to ready the household for Callum’s return home.
The morning had been foggy and gray enough when they set out, a fact that he’d found somehow soothing. Now, with the misty gray vapor burned away and the mid-morning sun shining brightly around him, Callum’s somber mood turned even more foul. Was it too much to ask that the weather align with his grief-stricken sentiments? Could he not have kept the gloomy clouds overhead as he traveled so that he might think heart-breaking thoughts of missing his mother?
Instead, the golden rays colored the countryside with an intensity that made him want to crawl into the deepest recesses of his quarters and shun their joy.
“My Lord, we should take caution in these parts,” one of the footmen said hesitantly, loath to disturb Callum’s silent misery. “There have been reports of vagabonds and other unsavory people about.”
“I’ve heard some tales as well,” the other one added. “Some thieves were only recently caught along the highway, and they showed no mercy for any traveler, man or woman.”
“Are we listening to old ladies’ stories again?” Callum joked calmly. “If the reports are true, then they’ve already been caught, correct? Besides, I’m certain the
pair of you can dispatch anyone who wishes us harm, and of course I shall aid in any way I’m capable.”
“Very good, My Lord,” the first guard answered, though Callum couldn’t help noticing how nervous the young man appeared. His eyes darted back and forth across the road and at the surrounding canals, empty at this time of year of storm waters but now the ideal place for a rogue to hide.
Whether it was the footman’s own fear getting to him or the ominous sense that something was amiss, Callum soon began to feel the unease himself. He noted how empty the fields were despite the hour of the day and the planting season being well underway. There were no houses nearby, and even those up ahead in the distance appeared to be shuttered, despite the hour and the fair weather.
“Now that you tell me, I think I might agree with you both. Keep close watch, men,” Callum said quietly. He moved both reins into his left hand and used his right to feel for the pistol at his hip, ensuring it was there should the need arise.
They watched the sides of the road carefully for a few more minutes, but suddenly the three men halted their horses at the sound of a rustling in the hedge ahead of them. The footmen withdrew their own guns, and Callum took the stock of his gun in his grip, preparing to draw against anyone who may be ambushing them.
“Shall I call out to them, My Lord? Or fire a warning shot?” one of the men asked very quietly. Callum shook his head.
“No need to alert them to our position or station,” he answered. “If they’ve been lying in wait, they no doubt already know that a member of the peerage may be passing this way.”
I only hope Barclay encountered no trouble earlier, Callum thought, his frown deepening at the thought that any harm might have come to the kindly valet. He was only briefly relieved to remember that the driver of the carriage was also quite skilled in fighting.
The rustling grew louder and more frantic as the three men watched, fairly holding their breath in anticipation. Callum heard the distinct sound of the hammer cocking back on the footmen’s guns, first one and then the other, as the agonizing wait grew longer. When the lower limbs finally parted and a sleek brown hare burst out, they chuckled softly at their fright.
“If only we’d been ready, we could have had a nice stew for supper, eh?” Callum asked, laughing as his footmen replaced their weapons in their holsters.
No sooner had he spoken than another sound in the hedge followed. This time, a young lady appeared, walking around the hedge and seeming to be out of sorts. Callum frowned at her disheveled appearance but couldn’t help but feel sorry for her.
“Madam, are you all right?” he asked, and she jumped at the sound of his voice. Turning to see the three of them, she clutched her torn shawl tighter below her chin, keeping it close.
“Good sir, I’m lost,” she said, her voice shaking with unshed tears. She pointed to a muddy patch above the hem of her skirt and clutched at a faint bruise on her forehead, and said, “I’m all out of sorts and don’t feel well. I fell from my horse, as you can see, and I know not how to get home. Can you tell me the way, perhaps?”
“Good heavens, she must have hit her head,” Callum said to his footmen. “Help her to sit down while we tend to her.”
The men climbed out of their saddles and took the girl by the hands, leading her to a large rock and gently guiding her until she sat. Callum dismounted and approached her.
“What is your name?” he asked, looking at the mark on her forehead and scrutinizing her face, wondering how severe her injury might be.
“You there, her name be not important!” a rough voice called from behind him. “All’s important is the contents of your pockets.”
Callum and his men turned quickly to see as many as six men emerging from behind them, weapons drawn, their faces twisted with disgust at such a fine man as he. He put up his hands slowly, showing them that he meant no harm.
“Come no further!” one of his footmen barked loudly, drawing his gun and pointing it at the group of them.
That was all the invitation the gang needed to attack. They surged forward, fighting nearly two on one against Callum and the guards. Fists swung and elbows were thrown, the sounds of bone connecting with bone ringing in Callum’s ears. At one point he was thrown down but managed to scramble out of the way before a cheaply booted foot could collide with the side of his head. The ruckus went on for some time, and his only thought was that there would be no one to help them this far from the village.
A new idea occurred to him. Callum rolled several paces away and pushed to his feet, running up behind the woman who still stood on the outskirts of the fray. He held the end of his gun to her head and pinned her close to his chest with his other arm, then shouted to the thieves.
“Stop at once, or she dies!”
Chapter 5
No one moved. No one spoke for the longest time. The picture before him seemed to freeze as though shrouded in ice, every character in some fairy story suddenly rendered immobile as if by a witch’s spell. His men and the thieves all stared in surprise as Callum continued his threat against the young lady’s life. Even Callum knew not what he intended to do, only knowing that she was the key to ending this assault.
“You there. All of you. Lie down on the ground!” he ordered.
It took several moments for them to listen and obey, each one looking at the others in his group to see if they would also comply. Eventually, all of them were down in the dirt, their arms splayed out to the sides, their weapons well out of their reach.
“Remove their weapons and pack them in our things,” Callum ordered his men. He rudely addressed the criminals once again. “As this wench appears to be one of your own—and appears to be something of value to at least one of you—she will accompany us. Surely you know that I have no means to call for guards as there is no one nearby. Therefore, once we are safely away from here, I will release her. And only then! If I chance to see any of you attempting to come after us, the last thing you will ever see is her death!”
Callum anticipated their outrage or protests but was surprised when there were none. They remained stoic and still, never uttering a sound. Instead, they only cast nervous glances at one another, the fear evident on their faces.
“Bind her hands,” Callum ordered one of his men. “And see that she has no weapon herself. I don’t wish to be stabbed in the back as we leave.”
“Unhand me! Don’t you dare touch me!” the woman screamed at the approaching footman, her filthy hair falling in front of her eyes.
“Place a cloth over her mouth as well, lest she bite me and I become infected with whatever madness she has succumbed to!” Callum hissed, struggling to keep hold of the woman who now fought him.
“My father will gut you alive and hang you by your own entrails!” she bellowed, and for a moment Callum was struck by visions of the ungodly demon who must have sired the woman.
“I’d be careful invoking threats of hanging, if I were you,” Callum shot back in a low voice. “As it stands, I’ll have no choice but to let you go when I am safely away from here. Do not tempt me to see justice prevail for you and your friends here.”
The threat seemed to take the fight out of her. The young woman went slack for a moment and put up no resistance when the guard bound her hands in front of her with a length of rope, then wound it around her torso to keep her arms cinched close. He looked almost apologetic when he reached to also bind her mouth with a clean, white cloth, averting his eyes from her shame-filled face and stepping behind her to tie the knot.
The guards together lifted the woman behind Callum’s saddle after he’d swung his leg over and taken his seat. They mounted their horses and waited as Callum issued one last word of warning to the men who still lay prone, urging them to use good sense and not attempt to follow.
The footmen dropped back a pace in order to keep a close watch over the woman as they rode. Callum noted she offered no squeal of fear when the horse started forward, and he briefly wondered if she was actually
as unskilled in the saddle as her ruse made her seem to be.
Fell from her horse indeed, he thought with a frown. Yet she can ride behind me without even clinging to me to save herself? What a gullible fool my grief has turned me into!
They rode for nearly half an hour at a steady clip, all the while Callum pondering where to leave the young woman. In truth, it burned at him that they would get away with their crime—not for his own spiteful sake, but because they would be free to harm another—so he intended to separate her from the gang as best he could. Of course, he could not abandon her to the side of the road in an empty part of the countryside, that would be cruel. He would see to it that she was left within sight of the next town so that she might at least try to find a morsel of food or lodging for the night in a kind-hearted farmer’s barn.
What she does from there is no concern of mine, he thought. All I need think on is getting home and unpacking from my stay…
The Stolen Diadem of a Castaway Lady: A Historical Regency Romance Novel Page 3