One Forbidden Evening (Zebra Historical Romance)

by Jo Goodman

  A second glance at the darkening skies assured Ferrin that a storm was imminent. Lightning flashed on the horizon, and minutes later thunder rumbled overhead. Something colorful flashed below the lowering clouds, making Ferrin blink, then fix his gaze on the object.

  When he realized what it was, he could only shake his head at the folly of it. He peeled back his greatcoat enough to give Anna a glimpse of the same patch of sky that he was studying. “Look, Anna! There! Do you see the kite? It belongs to one of your friends.” Under his breath, he added, “Obviously the one with the least gray matter in his upperworks.”

  Ferrin pressed his heels into the gelding’s flanks, pushing him to increase the pace. He could only imagine in what manner Cybelline and Lily were occupied that neither one of them saw that one of the kites had been recovered and was now being flown by someone’s sure hand on the ground. He acknowledged that Cybelline might not have understood the danger, but Lily had been present when he had demonstrated the voltaic pile to the boys and told them the tale of Benjamin Franklin, the kite, the key, and the lightning storm.

  “Bloody hell,” Ferrin said softly. Apparently soothed by his tone, Anna snuggled closer. He closed his greatcoat around her again and pressed on. Now that Anna was safe, he set his sights on the kite and making a timely rescue of whichever scoundrel was holding the string.

  “You take Rose,” Dash said. “I want to fly the kite.”

  Since Midge had been the one to climb a tree to retrieve it, untangle the tail, and run hard into the wind to send it flying, he was understandably reluctant to surrender it in exchange for a mewling infant. He glanced up from the lake toward the tree line where Lily and Cybelline were still kneeling at Becky’s side and tending to her injuries.

  “All right,” he said with little grace, “but we should move away from the lake. We’ll be in Dutch with her ladyship if we’re caught out this close to the water with Rosie.”

  “I’m not going to drop her,” Dash insisted.

  “I know that. She doesn’t.” Midge tugged on the ball of string cupped in his hands as the kite dipped. He skillfully helped it find another air current to lift it again and began walking toward the open field at the far end of the lake. “Come on.” He released more string and this time the skeleton key he’d attached before he left the hall was finally visible. It dangled from a loose knot in the twine. “It’s too bad Pinch isn’t here for this,” Midge said. “Always likes to be part of an experiment, Pinch does.”

  Midge turned then and walked backward for a bit, squinting in the direction of the hall. “They’re coming now.” He jerked his chin toward the gardens. “His lordship’s at the front of things.”

  Dash also turned. He counted five servants and Pinch following in Lord Sheridan’s wake. Another of the grooms was riding out to the road to fetch the surgeon from the village. Hefting Rose in his arms again, he glanced worriedly toward the trees. “Do you think she’s badly ’urt? The maid, I mean.”

  “I expect so,” Midge said. “That ’orse was a brute.”

  “The rider, too.”

  Midge nodded. “Should have done more myself, I’m thinking. Leapt up on the back of him, perhaps. Or thrown myself at his leg from the other side. Becky’s a right’un, though. She held on. Ain’t no one can say she didn’t give it ’er all.”

  Dash hurried to catch up to Midge. “I was thinking the same.” A rumble of thunder shook the ground under him. “I say, what’s that?”

  Midge pointed off to his left. “Bit of thunder, I expect. There was a bolt of lightning over that way a little while ago.”

  “I should take Rose back to her mum,” Dash said, glancing around. “Or at least give her to one of the grooms when they get here.”

  Midge agreed. “Pipkin will take her.”

  Dash took off, cutting a diagonal toward the trees and arriving at Lily’s side only slightly out of breath. “His lordship’s on his way,” he told her. “And he has grooms with him.” His eyes darted toward Becky. She scarcely seemed to be breathing. “Is she going to be all right?”

  Lily didn’t answer his question. She gestured vaguely to the side and issued a brisk order. “Stand over there, Dash.”

  Dash stepped away quickly. He heard Lily and Cybelline speak in hushed tones that were unintelligible to him. Giving them his back, he waited for the arrival of Sherry and his entourage. Two of the grooms carried a litter between them. Pipkin, the senior carriage driver, and Mr. Kennerly, the master of the stable, arrived just behind them. Pinch and Mr. Penn, the groundskeeper, brought up the rear.

  Dash thrust Rose into Mr. Pipkin’s arms before the older man had an opportunity to consider what he was being given. “Lady Sherry doesn’t want me standing about,” Dash reported by way of explaining himself. He waved to Pinch to join him, then he turned and ran off to tell Midge what he’d seen.

  Midge relinquished the kite in exchange for information. “I remember when Ned Craven served up a proper beating to Ol’ Fitzhugh,” he said. “Does she look like that?”

  “Worse.” Dash kept an eye on the kite but glanced from time to time at his companions. “I fear for her.”

  Pinch nodded. “I saw the same as you, Dash, and his lordship looked grim.”

  “What’s to be done for Anna, then?” asked Midge. “Lord Ferrin set out all alone. What chance does he have of bringing her back?”

  “I don’t know,” Dash said, “but Mrs. Caldwell seems to think he will.”

  “I expect she can’t let herself think otherwise.” Pinch drew on wisdom learned from living on the mean and squalid streets of Holborn. The others, his boon companions for more than half his life, were of a similar mind. “Mayhap we should go to the road to look for him. You never know but that we can lend a hand.”

  Midge was all for it, but Dash glanced doubtfully at the kite. “I can’t take it through the woods.”

  “We’ll tie it to a tree branch at the edge. Look! The wind’s blowing hard enough to keep it aloft. Just see if it doesn’t. And if what Lord Ferrin says is true, then if lightning strikes, it will fell the tree, not you.”

  Dash allowed that this was an excellent point and wondered why he had not thought of it himself. He was not so certain Pinch would have come up with the idea if they all still had their kites and keys. “Very well. Let’s find a place to tie it down.”

  They struck off for the wood and did not have to look long for a branch they could reach by putting Dash on Pinch’s shoulders. With the kite secured, they set off through the trees for the road, crashing through the underbrush so loudly they startled deer and a family of rabbits. In contrast, Ferrin’s approach on horseback was infinitely more quiet.

  He came upon the scoundrels so suddenly they actually teetered up on their toes as they stopped. Cocking an eyebrow at them, he made a circling motion with his index finger then pointed behind them, indicating they should return from whence they came.

  Except to set down on their heels, they didn’t move. They asked some version of the same question at the same time.

  Ferrin answered them by opening his greatcoat and revealing Anna’s chubby little body clinging to him. She turned, saw the boys, and smiled beatifically.

  The scoundrels clambered closer, making the horse shy. Ferrin steadied Newton and cautioned the boys to step back. “I see you’ve abandoned the kite,” he said. “A very good decision.”

  “Tied it to a tree,” Dash said.

  “Tell me, does it have a key attached to the string?” All three of them nodded, and Ferrin could only shake his head. “I’m the one who has learned a lesson today,” he told them. “Come on, we should move on. A storm’s coming, and we have a little girl who very much wants to see her mother.”

  The boys led the way back, their exuberant cries announcing Anna’s return long before they broke through to the clearing. Cybelline was already headed toward them at a run, her hair flying, her skirts raised almost to her knees. Ferrin dismounted before she collided with his horse an
d took her under his wing in exactly the same manner he’d taken Anna.

  He folded both of his women into a single embrace and allowed them to weep and laugh and talk in a nonsensical fashion until the intensity of the emotions they shared simply wore them out.

  Standing on tiptoe, Cybelline pressed kisses to Ferrin’s face just as she had Anna’s. “I never doubted,” she whispered against his throat. “Never once. I knew you wouldn’t come back without her, and I knew you’d come back.”

  The enormity of the trust she had placed in him left Ferrin quite without words. He swallowed hard and held on. Looking past Cybelline, he saw that Becky was being carried away on a litter. She was surrounded by a phalanx of servants who bore her like Roman soldiers carrying the Caesar. Sheridan and Lily followed the solemn group, but after a few steps, Sherry turned, put two fingers to his lips and whistled shrilly for the scoundrels to join them. They trotted off, glancing back wistfully from time to time at the kite they were forced to leave behind.

  Grateful for these moments alone, and appreciative of Sherry’s confidence, Ferrin drew Cybelline back a little so he could assure himself she was all of a piece. “Becky’s injuries?” he asked finally, searching her face. The gravity of the maid’s injuries was immediately apparent to him. “I’m sorry, Cybelline.”

  “You’re not to blame.”

  “I didn’t find him,” he told her. “I can’t be certain who it was who took Anna, but I believe I know who arranged it.”

  “Nicholas’s mistress,” Cybelline said.

  “In a manner of speaking, yes.”

  Taking Anna into her own arms, Cybelline stepped back. “I don’t understand what that means.”

  The rider at the edge of the wood judged it safe to finally make his presence known. “My dear Mrs. Caldwell,” he said in crisp accents. “I think I can explain.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Cybelline instinctively took a step backward; she drew Anna closer to her breast. Ferrin immediately stepped sideways to partially block her and Anna from the intruder’s view. The pistol aimed at them did not waver.

  The rider dismounted but remained in the shadowed edge of the wood where he could not be seen by any of the party making their way back to the hall. When Cybelline glanced in the direction of the house she saw that the servants were already beginning the climb through the terraced gardens. Sherry and Lily still followed behind, but the scoundrels were making a race of it to the front door.

  “I must caution you against summoning help, Mrs. Caldwell.”

  Cybelline’s head snapped around as she realized how transparent her thoughts had been. The muffler that covered the lower half of the man’s face made his speech less distinct and somehow more menacing. It did not, however, conceal his identity from her.

  Sir Richard Settle’s carefully correct manner and carriage had always been his calling card.

  Cybelline did not shy away from his dark, piercing regard. “I wonder that you find a pistol necessary. It suggests you are not so confident of your superiority as you would have me believe.”

  Sir Richard tugged on his muffler until his chin was raised above it. He did not address Cybelline but made his remarks to Ferrin instead. “Do you find her cleverness appealing, Ferrin? For myself, I do not.”

  Ferrin made no reply. As a test of the other man’s patience, it was successful. Sir Richard jerked the pistol so that it was clearly pointed at Ferrin’s chest and no longer aimed just past his shoulder at Cybelline.

  “Nicholas found her entertaining,” Sir Richard said. His tone remained relaxed, conversational, but his grip on the pistol tightened. “I wonder if you do not find her the same.”

  Ferrin shrugged. At his side his fingers brushed Cybelline’s pelisse. He caught a fold and pulled on it without drawing Sir Richard’s attention to the movement. Cybelline responded by sidling a bit closer, making herself and her daughter even less of a target.

  Sir Richard’s horse pawed the ground nervously when lightning flashed overhead. “Easy, Titan.” He held the reins firmly until the rolling thunder had passed, then he looped the reins around the slim trunk of a beech and pulled them to make a loose knot.

  Ferrin’s own mount was similarly distressed by the approaching storm. Newton swung his head and nudged Ferrin’s shoulder.

  “Send him here,” Sir Richard said. He jerked the pistol to punctuate his order when Ferrin was slow to obey.

  Ferrin gave Newton a sharp rap on his hindquarters and sent him off. The gelding wandered close to Sir Richard and the shelter of the trees, but another jagged bolt of lightning had him veering away sharply and heading in the direction of the stable. Ferrin lifted his hands helplessly, indicating he was not responsible.

  Sir Richard’s mouth thinned. With his free hand he motioned Ferrin and Cybelline to join him under the trees just as the first fat droplets of rain began to fall. When neither of them deigned to move, he steadied his aim on Ferrin, although his message was for Cybelline. “I will shoot him. I doubt anyone at the manor will hear or, if they do, will think it is naught but thunder. You won’t get away, not with Anna, not with his lordship lying at your feet.”

  A raindrop fell on Cybelline’s cheek. Another caught her lashes. She wiped them away impatiently, unwilling to allow Sir Richard to mistake them for tears. Without waiting to take her cue from Ferrin, Cybelline stepped outside his protective stance and began walking toward her late husband’s lover.

  Ferrin did not allow Cybelline to get in front of him, rather he fell into step beside her. He watched Sir Richard carefully during his approach, waiting to see if the man would shift the direction of his aim to Cybelline. He didn’t. It seemed to Ferrin that Sir Richard had finally set his strategy after determining that Ferrin was indeed the more serious threat. This was completely to Ferrin’s liking. The extent to which Sir Richard underestimated Cybelline’s resolve and resourcefulness would surely be their advantage.

  Cybelline sheltered her daughter’s head with her hand. In spite of this effort, a few raindrops splashed Anna’s face. With the eagerness of a fledgling bird, Anna squirmed and tried to catch more in her open mouth. Cybelline removed her hand as they reached the edge of wood and a canopy of pine boughs lent them protection. She shifted Anna to her hip. A clap of thunder encouraged her daughter to hold on tightly.

  Sir Richard retreated the few steps necessary to ensure he maintained a safe distance from Ferrin. “You did not seem particularly surprised when I revealed myself,” he said to Cybelline. “Or is it that you are so adept at concealment?”

  “It is odd that you should speak of concealment,” she said calmly. “I suspect it has always been a practice of yours.”

  “Always.”

  “And Nicholas’s practice as well.”

  “Can you doubt it?” asked Sir Richard. “He hid behind you, did he not? Your woman’s skirts made a chameleon of him, hiding him in plain sight. So few of us have the eyes to see it, though. Did you?”

  Cybelline answered honestly. “No. No, I didn’t.”

  Sir Richard nodded slowly, thoughtfully. “It worried Nicholas, you know. Your animus toward me gave him pause. He wondered if you did not suspect our relationship.”

  “I couldn’t suspect what I could not conceive,” she said. “But I will tell you that my dislike for you had little enough to do with my husband. You earned my enmity entirely on your own merit.” Out of the corner of her eye she thought she saw Ferrin smile. Sir Richard, she observed, was unamused, and she took an indecent amount of pleasure from it. “I have noted, however, that you kept Nicholas from being invited to join the Royal Society. It gives me cause to wonder how well you loved him. It has always seemed to me that you were pleased with his accomplishments as long as they did not overshadow your own. I have invariably found it difficult to think of you in any way except as a small man.”

  Sir Richard’s nostrils flared at the insult. “His accomplishments? He had none that were not at my urging. I was the one who mentored
and encouraged him. Nicholas had no direction until he allowed me to shepherd him, and he was grateful for my guidance.”

  Ferrin drew Sir Richard’s attention to himself again by posing a question of his own. “Was it you who suggested that Mr. Caldwell should pursue law?”

  Sir Richard’s eyes narrowed slightly. “It was.”

  “Then you knew him at Harrow.” Ferrin saw his comment caused Sir Richard a moment’s concern. There was the slightest hesitation before he answered by nodding his head. Ferrin went on. “You were his professor there.”

  “Yes,” Sir Richard said. “For a while. I went to Cambridge then.”

  “But Caldwell didn’t follow.”

  “No. He decided against it.”

  “That must have rankled. It cannot be easy for the shepherd who’s lost his sheep.”

  Sir Richard merely shrugged. The pistol didn’t move.

  “When did you realize you were no longer so influential in Caldwell’s life? When he announced his intention to marry? Or was it earlier, when he arranged for his grandfather to make a substantial gift to Cambridge in his will with the proviso that you leave your post there?” This time Ferrin saw a muscle jump in Sir Richard’s lean cheek and knew that his intuitive leap had hit the mark. “I thought that you exercised considerable control over him, but I know now he was every bit your equal in this regard.”

  Sir Richard glanced at Cybelline again. “He loved me that much,” he told her. “He could not bear it that I would be at Cambridge while he remained in London.”

  “With me,” Cybelline said softly. “While he remained in London with me.” A brilliant flash of lightning made the very air around her crackle. Anna was becoming heavy on her hip, but Cybelline would not set her down. “He made a choice that you’ve never been able to accept.”