by Jo Goodman
"Here, you must have something to warm you. You can hardly work while you're frozen through." She thrust the cup into his hands beneath the disapproving eye of the cook.
"Your smile's enough to warm any man, Red."
Rae blinked, uncertain she had heard correctly.
"Enough of your blarney, old man," Mrs. Timms scolded. "The girl doesn't need her head turned by the likes of you."
"As if I could," he snorted. "She most likely has a feller. Don't you, Red?"
Rahab nodded slowly, but before she could say his name the tinker clutched his heart. "Ahh! It's fair to breakin', it is. Crumblin' as easy as Jericho's walls."
Rae's eyes widened further, and she slipped her hands into her pockets so no one would see how they trembled.
"Go on with you, tinker," Mrs. Timms said sharply. "Have you come to work or prattle? Drink your tea and leave the girl alone. Rahab, there's no use for idle hands here."
"Mightn't I see the tinker's wares?"
Mrs. Timms softened under the appeal in Rae's face. "All right," she said gruffly. "A few minutes, no more."
Chapter 11
Jericho crossed his arms in front of him and patted his shoulders to keep warm. Occasionally he stepped in place or gave a little hop to make certain he could feel his feet. The trees blocked most of the biting wind, but what got through seemed to go right up his cape. The woolen muffler about his face protected him from breathing the dry, icy air.
The rattle and clatter of pots made him cock his head toward the approach of the cart. His wait was over. He stepped out of the woods and hurried to the edge of the road. Drew slowed the cart just enough for him to hop on.
"Well?" There was a very large question in the one word.
Drew gave the reins to Jericho and he slipped his hands beneath his armpits so his fingers would not ache. "She's there."
"How do you know?"
"Damnedest thing, son. She's one of the servants. She was sitting there in the kitchen, pretty as you please, when I walked in. Every bit the woman you described to me, so I knew her right off. I can tell you, it was a shock to see her there."
Jericho gave the reins a jerk and stopped the cart. "If she was in the kitchen then why isn't she with you now? What was to prevent her from leaving?"
"Keep moving. She's not coming with us, so there's no use turning around."
"The hell you say."
"She's got a mind of her own, that one. I believe you mentioned that more than once. Now, let's move along, or I swear I'll clobber you with one of those damn clanging pots."
Jericho snapped the ribbons, muttering a few choice words that nearly heated the air around them. "Tell me the whole of it."
"I was able to talk to her for a little while before that snippety cook yanked Red away. It seems the duke does not know she is underfoot." He described what Rahab had related to him of her arrival at the house. "Her main worry these past weeks has not been herself, but you. She wondered why you took so long to make your presence known."
"You explained, didn't you?"
"I told her it was my fault. That I was sick and you damn well couldn't be loosed from my side."
"Considering all you had done for me, it was small repayment." It also had been an agony of waiting, but Jericho did not mention it. Drew knew it right enough. "Did she understand?"
Drew chuckled. "I think her word for you was noble. Her eyes got all soft and teary and she kissed this old leathery cheek. You don't mind if I fall a little in love with her, do you?"
"I mind like hell!" Jericho said flatly, then grinned under his muffler. "So why isn't she here now?" The smile had vanished, and beneath his gloves Jericho's knuckles were white.
"She says she is safe enough where she is, and there is no reason why you can't follow the plan you began with her brothers. She wants to stay at Linfield and see if she can't uncover something that will be in aid of protecting Ashley from the duke."
Jericho groaned. "I swear to you, Drew, she is tempting me to throttle her. What nonsense is she plotting? She's taken leave of her senses."
"She would not be moved," Drew said firmly. "She insists you go about your business."
"How does she think I will come up with the blunt? She knows that her father was going to see that my expenses were covered." Drew coughed and cleared his throat at the same time. Jericho glanced sideways and saw his companion was looking a trifle discomfited. "Out with it, man. What did you say to her?"
"I believe I must have mentioned Stanhope."
"You believe?"
"All right. I told her flat-out that you had a plan to recover your inheritance."
"It was your plan," Jericho said dryly.
"Don't split hairs. She thought it was an admirable idea."
"She would. Didn't I mention she has cotton batting where most other people have brains?"
"You're too hard on her, son. She's a plucky thing, a regular out-and-outer."
"She's daft. Whatever they say, love is not blind, just lacking all reason."
Drew's face crinkled in a deep smile. "I suppose this means we're going to Stanhope."
Jericho cast his eyes heavenward and sighed. "Aye, Drew Goodfellow, I suppose it does."
* * *
Rae hugged herself, fairly dancing about her small room as she dressed for bed. Jericho was alive! For the first time she admitted to herself that she had been afraid he was not. She should never have entertained the thought, even at the back of her mind. He was alive, and finally she felt that way, too!
"Is it the full moon, do you think?" Nancy asked.
"What?" Rae stopped spinning and reentered the present.
"I wondered if it was the full moon that's made you all silly this evening."
Rae's smile was beatific. "I daresay it is. Isn't it wonderful?"
Nancy yawned and pulled the covers up to her chin. "So you say. Be a dear and put out the candle." She turned on her side as the room darkened.
Rae stood at the small attic window for a long time, bathed in moonlight, staring out at the great expanse of the Linfield lands. Jericho had been there today, hiding somewhere in the orchard and hazelwood, and she had never known until an old tinker called her Red. She laughed softly to herself. Had she expected her skin to tingle when he was within a half-mile of her? Yes, that's what she had expected. Love made her feel as if every one of her senses stretched far beyond the boundaries of Linfield. She fell asleep that night with a sweet smile dimpling her cheek and a sigh on her parted lips.
Rahab succeeded in springing the lock on the duke's desk after two weeks of concentrated effort wherein she dusted, polished, and swept the study ten times. Mrs. Ritchie was heard to remark that she never had a girl with more sense of her duty than Rahab Smith. A quick search of the contents showed nothing more remarkable than a few bills of sale and invitations to dine and party with, in Rae's estimation, what must have been a full third of England's finest names. It was shocking, she thought, that Nigel Lynne was considered such an eligible match for a young girl to make. She admitted that he had rather an arresting countenance, masculine yet finely etched. Still, he had cruel eyes. Those she remembered well, and she wondered that others did not see the more sinister side of him.
Rahab left the desk exactly as she found it, carefully wiping away her finger smudges and polishing the brass plate around the lock until it glistened and the scratches she had made were invisible. Even so, when the duke returned a day later she held her breath, waiting for the axe to fall. When it did not she congratulated herself on her stealth and ceased jumping at shadows.
"You'll never credit what I just heard," Nancy, who still maintained she never gossiped, whispered to Rae.
They were sitting at the dining room table, deftly polishing a mountain of silver utensils. Rae was wishing the Lynnes had chosen a less intricate pattern that did not hold tarnish in every crevice. "What did you hear?" she whispered back, mocking Nancy's self-important air.
"I should make you b
eg for being such a tease, but this is too delicious to be put off. The Earl of Stanhope was stopped by highwaymen not more than a fortnight past. I can't think of anyone more deserving to be ordered to stand and deliver. Oh, now, look what you've done!" she exclaimed as the spoons in Rae's lap clattered to the floor. "What a noise!"
Both girls bent to pick them up, Rae apologizing for her clumsiness.
"How did you hear this?" Rae asked, beginning to polish once more.
"From my Jack, who got it from one of the grooms at Stanhope who was riding with the earl when it happened. The way I hear it the earl was white from fear and nearly fainted dead away. That should teach him a thing or two about what it's like to be singled out and ill-used," she said smartly.
"You too?" Rae's question was full of grim fury.
"Of course me, and every other young thing in skirts. He thinks because we're in service we don't have anything to say in the matter. I didn't know he was here long enough to bother you. You should have said something."
"I did. To Stephens."
"That was a good thing. He'll keep an eye out for you if the earl returns. Now that Betty's gone, it'll be hard on all of us."
"So that's why she was dismissed. I often wondered. But surely she spoke out against the earl."
"What could she have said? She hopped in his bed easily enough when he crooked his little finger, not that she could have done much to put him off. Anyway, she wasn't dismissed for that, only for having the bad luck to end up carrying his bastard."
"Poor girl," Rae said. "I hope the earl had his entire fortune on his person that night." Because Jericho is more deserving of it, she added to herself.
Rae's fierceness made Nancy laugh. "If only it were so. I understand the highwaymen left the earl stripped of his jewelry and his dignity. It will be some time before we see him around here, I think."
Rae offered no comment and continued polishing, a serenely satisfied smile on her face.
* * *
The first Saturday in February the weather broke, and Nancy wheedled Jack until he agreed to escort Rahab and her to town. It was well over an hour's brisk walk to Hemmings, and Rae basked in the clean, sharp air every step of the way. She walked a little ahead of Nancy and Jack, allowing them a little time to themselves. She carried a large straw basket in the crook of her arm and a list of items that Mrs. Ritchie had asked her to purchase in her apron pocket. Beside it rested Rae's letter to her parents, a letter very long on loving regards and dreadfully short on details. It couldn't be helped, she supposed, for she would not take the risk that her missive might, just might, fall into the wrong hands. She tapped the letter lightly, making certain for the tenth time that it was safe. Nancy promised her that Jack would help her post it. She seemed to think he knew where to take it.
Hemmings was not a town, but a cozy little hamlet tucked between river and wood. It sported a livery, a hostelry called Blackamore's, a smithy, two small dress establishments, a milliner and wigmaker's, a barber dentist, and several other tradesmen's shops. The houses were prevailingly Tudor in design, with flat arches and dark wood-panel accents on their clean white walls. The snow-covered rooftops fairly gleamed as the sun beat down on them, and Rae found herself glancing overhead to avoid the precariously positioned icicles threatening to drop.
The first order of business was her letter, and Rae did not relax until she saw Jack hand it over to the captain of a small merchant ship. It cost Rae most of her first quarter's wages to send the thing, and even at that price the captain could not guarantee delivery. He reminded Jack that there was little more being done than talking of peace. Normal trade had not yet resumed, and the best he could do was pass the letter on to a Frog friend of his who dealt with the Americans. Rae had to be satisfied with that.
A little of the day's brightness vanished for Rae, but she put on a good face for Nancy who cheerily insisted that everything would turn out right enough. Jack proved to be fainthearted about attending Nancy in the milliner's and left the women alone to discuss lace and ribbons with the owner. Neither of them bought more than thread and a length of hair ribbon, but they pretended that they were grand ladies and that nothing had caught their fancy. It was more pleasant than reminding each other that they hadn't enough money between them to purchase even one chapeau.
They came out of the shop giggling. "A chapeau, indeed," Nancy snorted while trying to catch her breath. "She doesn't know a chapeau from a chateau." They both thought of the owner wearing a house on her head and burst into fresh laughter. "La, but that was fun!" Nancy dabbed at her eyes, then pulled at Rae's arm, dragging her into the dressmaker's.
It was just going on noon when they finished purchasing the items on Mrs. Ritchie's list and Nancy suggested they meet Jack at Blackamore's for lunch. The inn was nearly vacant when they walked in, and Nancy chose a table off the main room. Rae set her basket by her chair on the polished oak floor and draped her pelisse on a hook near the hearth, then warmed her hands in front of the fire. Jack came in a few minutes later and the hosteler took their order. They had timed their arrival nicely, for their meal had hardly been served when there was a flurry of activity caused by the passengers of the afternoon coach.
Rae paid them no mind, as her back was to the window and the adjoining room, but Nancy's head bobbed around as she tried to glimpse everyone alighting from the carriage, making a game of where they had been and where they were bound.
"If you wanted to see them all you should have chosen the main room, love," Jack said patiently.
"Oh, hush." Nancy tapped Jack's wrist lightly with the back of her spoon. Her eyes narrowed on someone coming through the inn's door. "Now where did he come from? He wasn't on the coach."
"I'm sure I don't know. And stop staring, Nancy. There's no mistaking he's quality and liable to take you to task for your saucy smile."
Nancy lowered her eyes so demurely that Rae had to laugh. None of the trio saw the stranger's arrested posture as he glanced in their direction.
"I'll have a table in that room," Jericho told the hosteler. "Near the fire." He found it remarkable that he was able to get the words out. Red! He could hardly believe she was here. His eyes wandered hungrily over her straight, narrow back and the curling length of hair tied at her nape with a shiny blue ribbon. God, he wanted to touch that hair. Perhaps he could hold off wringing her neck long enough to do that, or better still, he would strangle her with it.
Nothing of his wayward thoughts showed on his face as he followed the innkeeper into the room. While the owner poured him an ale, he hung his great cape and tricorn beside Rae's pelisse, then took his seat, facing Rae now. He leaned back in his chair, stretching his legs and folding his arms in front of him. And waited.
An indolent smile lifted the corners of his mouth, and his hooded cerulean eyes slid over Rae's face as she lifted it. Her features suffused first with color, then went ashen with shock, and finally contorted in a fit of choking. Jericho merely shook his head as the soup she had been spooning to her lips went sputtering across the table. She was, as always, providing a delightful spectacle.
He bit back his laughter as her male companion clapped her soundly on the back to help her recover her breath and nearly sent her bosom into her soup bowl. Rae reached for the bowl to steady it, fumbled, and the contents poured over the front of her gray day dress. Jericho supposed the dress was a loan from the other woman at the table, because it did not fit Rae very well, being rather a shade too form fitting, especially now with the broth soaking through in an ever widening circle. If one made allowances for the bits of carrot and onion and beef, it was not an unappealing sight as the damp cloth clung tenaciously to the curves of her breasts, in spite of her best efforts to pull it away. Only when he realized the soup must be burning her did his smile fade and spur him to action. He came to his feet in one leaping movement, and grabbing his tankard of ale, he poured the frothy contents all over the front of Rae's gown.
Nancy and Jack exchanged looks of absolu
te astonishment as Rae stood, straightening to her full regal height, faced the lord squarely, and demanded to know if he had cow dung between his ears. Nancy blinked twice. Surely she had not seen a glimmer of a smile on the young lord's lips. No, it was not there now, and how could it be when Rahab was giving him a set down that made Nancy's ears burn?
"What was that in aid of, you simple-minded jackanapes?" Rae asked hotly. "Is your own wardrobe so extensive that you give no thought to ruining mine, or is it that you don't know the proper way to dispose of your libation?"
"I thought the spilled soup was burning you," Jericho said calmly. "It appears I mistook the situation."
"It appears so! The soup was lukewarm at best, indeed, a few degrees cooler than the drink you poured over me. And the soup would have stayed in the bowl had you not been staring so rudely! Now look what you have done! This poor dress is not even mine."
"Don't worry about the dress," Nancy said hurriedly, eager to placate both parties. "We can scrub out the stain."
Rae hardly heard Nancy's entreaty, because Jericho's eyes were taking her at her word, examining her thoroughly to see what he had done. Her breath caught in her throat as his long, slender fingers reached up to pluck a bit of carrot from her bodice and his thumb unerringly brushed her nipple.
"You seem to have a veritable garden on your... person," he said, wicked teasing in his eyes. "Innkeeper!" His imperious voice brought the owner running. "Do you have a room this lady may have while she makes repairs to her gown? Something with a good fire, I think, so she may dry it also. And a bed, that she might rest while she waits."
"Aye, m'lord."
Jericho nodded in satisfaction. "Good. Then show her to it. Add it to my bill."
"Very good, m'lord. This way, miss." Rae brushed past Jericho with her head held high and followed the innkeeper to the second floor. He showed her to a bedroom at the end of the hall with small windows on two sides and a meager fire in the grate. He stoked it for her before he went for a tub that she might use to rinse her dress.