by Martha Keyes
Though he was quite obviously startled at the unexpected embrace, for a moment it almost seemed to her that he settled into it. No sooner had the thought crossed her mind, though, than he broke free of her hold, rising to his feet, and leveling a pistol at her.
Briggs reached for his pistol as well, pointing it at her. He stood next to Lord Ashworth, his face a strange mixture of delight and wrath.
“I told Emmerson she weren’t no fainting miss,” he said with a gleeful sneer. “Didn’t I warn him, Yates? Give ‘er an inch!” He shook his head as though in Kate he saw all women. “Tried to murder you, she did. But she didn’t ‘ave the strength on account of being a wench.” He leaned back and guffawed at the thought.
In a scramble of movement, Kate watched as Briggs’ pistol was knocked from his hands by Lord Ashworth.
“Don’t move.” The voice had lost its gruff quality. He spoke as Lord Ashworth, and he pointed the pistol at Briggs’ temple.
“What the devil?” Briggs hands were up in defense, and he looked as though he wasn’t sure whether his companion was having a laugh at his expense.
Lord Ashworth reached for Briggs’s pistol and handed it to Kate who stared down at it with wide eyes.
It felt cold and smooth in her hands. And terrifying.
“Miss Matcham,” said Ashworth. “Shall we make use of the torn hem of your dress?” He kept his eyes and pistol trained on Briggs, but he motioned with his free hand for her to bring the dress fragment which was hanging on by only a few threads.
Still at a loss to understand the increasingly strange situation in which she found herself, Kate placed the pistol carefully in her pocket and rose to her feet, feeling it knock against her thigh, then bent over to tear the very tattered hem of the riding dress Fanny had gifted her.
“Yes,” said Lord Ashworth, glancing over at the sound of the tearing. “Briggs’ clumsiness made that much easier than it should have been. Thank you, Briggs. As delightful and stimulating as your conversation has been, my friend, I’m afraid we really must do away with it for the remainder of the evening. Miss Matcham, with the fabric in your hand, you will please fashion a gag around Briggs’ mouth.”
Kate hesitated. What game Lord Ashworth was playing at? Did this mean he was on her side? Was this part of his plan for her? Or was it part of his own selfish plan?
She walked toward Briggs, giving him a wide enough berth until she was well behind him so that he had no opportunity to reach for her.
Having never fashioned a gag before, Kate needed a bit of direction from Lord Ashworth, though she felt she had done quite a tolerable job, all told.
Lord Ashworth complimented her work, adding afterward, “I have no desire to hear him talk, but my greater fear is that he might make an attempt to alert others to our position. Now we will make our way back up the way we came.” He looked at Briggs through narrowed eyes. “If the world were just, Briggs, we would tie your hands behind your back, but as I have no desire to heft your less-than-coordinated personage up this ravine, selfish mercy wins the day.”
Gagged as he was, the only mode of expression available to Briggs was his eyes and brows. They told quite a story, though, and Kate was grateful she was not destined to spend any more time as his captive. Her only concern was whether a gag would be enough to keep him in check as they scaled the hill.
As if reading her thoughts, Lord Ashworth added, “I would remind you, Briggs, that I will have my pistol, which I have no compunction whatsoever in using if you attempt anything at all. You will walk in front of us at all times. And I have no need to remind you that Miss Matcham is quite capable of doing you harm with even the most commonplace of rocks.”
Kate blushed, lowered her gaze, and bit her lip in embarrassment. She was immeasurably grateful that she had not, as she had feared, killed Lord Ashworth. But the fact that he knew she had done her best to maim him made things awkward. That, and the impromptu embrace she had subjected him to.
She stole a glance at him.
He was smiling at her reaction. But an instant later, his gaze moved toward the ocean, and his demeanor shifted, any signs of humor or enjoyment replaced by decisiveness and gravity.
He directed the three of them to begin moving, his manner urgent. And though Kate didn’t understand what was happening, the knowledge that she had only nearly escaped a miserable death made her anxious to put distance between herself and the small cove where the water continued to rise.
32
Briggs seemed to be in awe at his lordship’s manner and to trust his threats enough that he obeyed Lord Ashworth’s orders, staying in front of the group. And Kate, though her wrists burned as ever and the skin had begun to tighten painfully, pushed her way up the hill with gritted teeth. Her ankle and cheek throbbed.
“I don’t mean to press you,” she said caustically, “but might I be informed what it is you plan to do with me?”
Lord Ashworth looked at her with a strange expression as though he failed to understand her.
“Well?” she said. “What is the meaning of it all? Are you staging a coup of some sort? To take over as Emmerson’s replacement, perhaps.” She slipped on some loose rock and tried to regain her balance.
Lord Ashworth put out a hand to help steady her, but Kate pulled away.
“A coup?” he said blankly.
She swallowed, feeling very silly as he stared at her with disbelief.
“I free you,” he said between breaths, “and arm you with a pistol, and you assume that it is part of my plan to stage a coup? Did you think you were to be my accomplice?”
They reached the top, and Kate tried to catch her breath, relieved that she had made it, despite the constant protestations from her aching body.
“You say that,” Kate said breathlessly, rubbing at her throbbing wrists as if she might rub the pain away, “as though it is a strange assumption. Might I gently remind you that your behavior and words have been contradictory in the extreme?”
Lord Ashworth chuckled, grabbing Briggs’ arm in his. “This from the woman who hit me over the head with a rock and then embraced me?”
Kate flushed, and Lord Ashworth took the lantern from Briggs before stepping up beside Kate.
His smile had faded, and he gave her a searching glance.
“I will explain it all, I promise,” he said. “But there’s no time right now. Not much longer. Have your pistol at the ready.”
Kate looked at him with wide eyes, the thought crossing her mind that, if she had failed to use a simple rock as a means of violence, her use of a pistol could be catastrophic.
Lord Ashworth guided them onward with confidence, and it wasn’t long before Kate saw small pricks of light appear in the dark expanse before them. As they approached the dim lights, Kate’s eyes began to make out the shape of men, walking next to horses loaded with the same large barrels she had seen in the stables. They were moving in the direction of the large cove.
A muffled sound came from Briggs, and Lord Ashworth stopped a moment.
“It will be better if you keep your thoughts to yourself, Briggs.” Lord Ashworth paused a moment, looking at him. “I must remind you again of the pistols we carry and insist that you not try anything you might have cause to regret.”
Eyes narrowed angrily, Briggs nodded his understanding, and they pushed forward.
Soon they were close enough to distinguish the individual men in front of them. Did Lord Ashworth intend to forge a path straight through the trail of men carrying barrels?
But he stopped. Standing a few feet away in the dark, Kate noticed a man watching the procession of barrels. He turned as he heard them approach.
It was Emmerson.
He looked momentarily taken aback, an expression not at home on his otherwise-stoic face. But before he could say a word, a shot rang out.
Kate jumped at the unexpected noise, her hand flying to her pocket in an acutely anxious moment of worry that the pistol in her own pocket had fired. She glanced at L
ord Ashworth whose pistol was in the air.
Kate scrambled to pull her own pistol out, leveling it at Emmerson with trembling hands.
“You’ll forgive me, Emmerson, for the disruption,” said Lord Ashworth, the gruffness of his voice from earlier absent.
Emmerson’s eyes were wide, but his brows were drawn together in anger. “What the dev—"
His exclamation was cut short by another shot, not quite so near, but in the vicinity. Moments later, the distant sound of hooves pounding on the ground met their ears, growing louder. The four of them watched the approach of a group of at least ten men on horseback.
On hearing the hoofbeats, the line of men stopped. There was a brief silence and then mayhem as horses and barrels were abandoned, men running in the opposite direction as the approaching riders. Briggs ran as quickly as his short legs would carry him toward the other escapees, the gag still fastened around his mouth.
Emmerson himself seemed tempted to flee, but Lord Ashworth had anticipated his intention and, in a swift gesture, reached for the pistol in Kate’s hand and pointed it at Emmerson.
“Not a step.” His voice was cold and hard, unfamiliar to Kate. Even in the grave situation they had faced in the hole, there had been some humor in Lord Ashworth’s manner. But here, no trace of it was left.
“Run, Emmerson,” he said, “if you wish to be shot dead in your tracks. I would not suggest it, but I will not try to stop you myself. I leave that to the riding officers approaching. Whatever you decide, your tyranny is over.”
For a moment, Emmerson looked as though he was still considering an attempted escape, but his composed demeanor returned, and he stood his ground. His eyes held no fear, only a sort of apathetic stare.
Kate had been listening in rapt attention, her eyes wide as she looked at Lord Ashworth beside her. Was this the man she had been sure would be the cause of her own death, not an hour before? The one she had attacked?
Her thoughts whirled around in her head, memories flitting through her mind to make sense of it all. Everything which had made her suspect him took on a new hue with the events of the night. Could it really all have been part of this end game?
If so, her original, charitable reading of his character had been correct. And, so far from being the treacherous criminal she had come to think him, he stood beside her, bringing to justice the man Kate had desired to see pay for his crimes for so long. Curiously, the fulfillment of seeing Emmerson apprehended was matched by the relief she felt to know the true character of Lord Ashworth.
The riding officers slowed their horses, and a few of them dismounted, informing Emmerson that he was under arrest. A man sat upon his horse at the front of the group with the unmistakable air of a leader. He looked at Emmerson.
“I warned you of this day.”
Even faced with arrest, Emmerson wore a derisive half-smile. “You’ll forgive me, Officer, if I don’t find myself impressed. It was so long ago I find it hard to remember.” He tipped his hat in a mocking gesture.
“Yes,” responded the officer. “Long enough for you to engage in sufficient crimes to put you to death a hundred times over. I knew one day you would go too far. This is where your greed has led you. Men like you are never content to enjoy spoils. You always want more. But we always catch up with you in the end.”
He nodded to his officers on the ground who had been surrounding Emmerson awaiting their captain’s orders. They began tying his hands.
The captain turned to Lord Ashworth, doffing his hat as a show of respect.
“Your lordship, I’m sure I have no need to tell you that the entire county is beholden to you. The country, even. You’ve prevented Bonaparte’s army from acquiring strength and support from the very people working to defeat him.” He inclined his head to Lord Ashworth in gratitude. “As you heard the man say, we have had our eye on him for nearly two decades now, but never with more than hearsay evidence from villagers who always later retracted their claims. Bullied and threatened by Emmerson’s men, no doubt. Now that we have him, though, and now that the people know that you won’t hold with such dealings on your land, we will have no trouble at all finding people to testify against him, including yourself. Thank you.”
Lord Ashworth only nodded, looking somewhat discomfited by the encomiums of the sober captain.
The captain gathered the reins in preparation to leave, and Lord Ashworth reached a hand to the saddle.
The captain looked down, his brows raised expectantly.
Lord Ashworth paused a moment before speaking in a solemn voice. “Captain, that man is responsible for the death of this lady’s father, Mr. Charles Matcham. If he pays for nothing else, please make sure he pays for that.”
The captain looked at Kate who held his gaze, her eyes stinging. He nodded. “You have my word.” He turned to his men, giving a few final commands before the group rode off with their prisoner.
The light of the lantern flickered, and Kate realized that only she and Lord Ashworth remained.
She looked at him, but he seemed to avoid her gaze.
“Miss Matcham,” he said, pulling the handkerchief from around his neck, “you have had the most trying of nights. I wish it were not necessary to require any more of you, but I’m afraid we must now walk a bit further. I am sure your ankle is in an awful state.” He clenched his jaw and grimaced at her. “Lancelot is tied up not far from here.” He indicated the way in front of them with his head.
Kate nodded and followed. She thought for a moment of Wyndcross. Had Henry escaped? How would she face the Croftes after such a night? Had Clara expected Kate to come out of it all alive?
She had no greater desire than to climb into her bed and sleep away all her thoughts and fatigue, but the idea of doing so in the home of those who had sacrificed her to maintain their deceit made her feel sick inside.
As if reading her thoughts, Lord Ashworth said, “Ashworth Place is much closer than Wyndcross Manor, and my sister Anne insists that you come to visit for a few days.” He paused a moment, and then bethinking himself of something, added with a half-smile, “If you are wishful. There is no obligation.”
Kate smiled at the reference to their previous conversation. “Insistence but no obligation?”
His eyes danced with humor as he nodded.
She doubted whether Lady Anne had insisted on any such thing, but she was grateful for Lord Ashworth’s fabrication. It enabled her to accept the invitation.
The gratitude she felt was marred only by the awareness that not two hours ago, she had hit this same man over the head with a rock. And yet he was treating her with thoughtfulness despite that.
It was all very strange. But whatever awkwardness she might feel on the subject, he seemed not to regard it. It would be best to put off an encounter with the Croftes until she had sorted out her thoughts and feelings. A short stay at Ashworth Place would allow such reflection.
“Thank you, my lord,” she said, looking over at him next to her. He didn’t meet her eyes, only looking ahead and nodding with a polite smile. Did his head ache from where she had struck him? “Why didn’t you tell me?” The words left her mouth before she could check them.
He stopped, finally looking at her. His eyes scanned hers under a pair of brows drawn together. “I wanted to,” he said. “Believe me.”
And she believed him.
He started slowly walking forward again, shaking his head. “I couldn’t take any risks. It was too dangerous. This was the opportunity the officers had been waiting for, and no one who was not directly involved could know of our strategy. For years, Emmerson has been the man behind the curtain, arranging and ordering everything, but never allowing himself to be seen as an active participant in the trade. He risks the least but profits the most, always playing it safe.
“Tonight, he strayed from that. The shipment was too valuable for him to trust to his men, and I was sure we could catch him red-handed. And we did.”
He inhaled deeply. “I knew you wan
ted to be part of bringing about justice, but I couldn’t let you, not when I knew Emmerson himself was so involved. He is even more dangerous than you know. But had I known that not telling you would result in what you experienced tonight…” He shook his head, stopping again.
Kate was silent, thinking on his words. She shook her head, thinking of all that had transpired. “You should have told me. I could have been trusted with your secret.”
“And you should have told me.” There was an angry inflection to his voice.
“Told you of what?” she said incredulously. “All my plans were frustrated, thanks to you.”
“Then how did you come to be taken by Roberts?” he said.
Kate huffed. “Quite innocently, I assure you. Clara convinced me to go for a ride. Little did I know that it was part of some elaborate plan to keep me from informing the authorities of what I saw in the stables last night.”
Lord Ashworth looked at her with a pained expression. “I had no idea.” He shook his head. “I was so angry and so terrified when I saw you there with Roberts and Briggs. I was sure that you had ignored my note and then been taken in an attempt to frustrate the free-traders’ plans.”
“Well,” she admitted in a reasonable voice, “I suppose I can’t fault you for coming to such a conclusion. It is not out of the realm of possibility, had I found the opportunity to do it. What of Henry, though? Was he involved in your plan?”
Lord Ashworth’s brow creased. “No, he was not. In fact, I didn’t know he was involved until last night, before I met you in the courtyard.” He shook his head. “I considered confiding in him and asking for his assistance, but I believe I did right in resisting the idea. His fear of Emmerson would have eclipsed his trust in my ability to execute the plan. And then he would be in greater trouble with the law than he now is.”
“What will happen to him?” Kate asked.
Lord Ashworth exhaled sharply and gripped his lips together. “My hope is that he will be shown leniency. His part in it all was foolish and naïve—I believe that he would have stopped had he known that he was aiding and abetting Bonaparte’s army by his involvement. That he didn’t know will, I hope, lead the powers that be to judge him less harshly. I will do whatever I can to mitigate the damage to him and his family.”