“What happened here? Where is the occupant of the coach?” he asked a man with a silver mustache who had taken charge of trying to remove the coach from the side of the road.
“They’re looking for ’em,” replied the man.
“Them?” A shiver of dread crept up his spine. His mother had assured him that Emma had no contact with any man who could remotely be seen as marriageable. If she were to wed, all was lost.
The man tied a sturdy rope around a broken axle. “’Tis all the talk. They say a man and woman were in this here coach and run into another coach, robbing them and killing one o’ them. The body was found right in the middle o’ the road, shot dead.” He leaned closer. “Bad sort, you could tell, and not just ’cause he was dead. They moved the body out o’ respect for the ladies.”
“What?” Eustace rocked back on his heels, trying to make sense of what the man was saying. He thought very little of Emma, but she was no murderer.
“’Course, they couldn’t just leave the body there in the mud. Blocking the road, it was.”
Eustace checked again to make sure the coach was indeed Emma’s. What had happened here? “You say there was a man and woman?”
The man tugged on the rope that connected the overturned coach and a team of black horses. “I didn’t say it. The men they robbed did.”
“And where are these men now?”
“Here now, I got a job to do. I’ve got to get this here coach off the side o’ the road.”
Eustace rubbed two shillings together, making a distinctive metallic noise. “Where can I find the woman from this coach?”
In one swift move, the shillings disappeared from his hand and the man doffed his cap revealing a mostly bald head. “Don’t know where they are, sir, but they can’t have got far, not with the weather we’ve been having. They’d be on foot too, ’cause we found the nags from this here coach, the harness cut with a knife.”
“Where is the nearest town or hamlet?”
“Straight that way, through the hedgerows, about two miles. Follow this road here and it’ll take ye ’round the fields.”
“Thank you,” muttered Eustace and mounted up again, squinting into the cold rain as he trotted down the road to the little hamlet. He would not be kind when he found Emma. If anyone deserved a sound beating, it was she.
When he arrived at the hamlet, he was pleased to see only one inn. If Emma had come this way, she must surely have stayed at the Green Man Inn. Fortunately, the news of the robbery and murder was all the talk, so information was not difficult to glean. He heard of strangers in town, a Mr. and Mrs. Anders who arrived the night before on the mail, which Eustace found suspect.
“I would like a room for the night,” Eustace said, addressing the elderly landlord. “I would like to inform my mother I have arrived safely. Could you post a letter for me?”
“Yes, of course, sir.” The landlord gave him a nod of the head and a genial smile.
“I’ve heard a Mrs. and Mr. Anders are staying here,” commented Eustace in what he hoped was an offhand manner. “I believe they may be friends of mine. Could you describe the lady?”
“She’s a pretty, young thing, she is—head full of blond curls, bright-blue eyes. Why her smile could—”
“Yes, yes, that sounds like her.” Eustace did not wish to hear anyone sing the praises of his stepsister. “Could you let me know the room? I’d like to surprise them by giving my regards.”
“Oh, I don’t think that would be good.” A cloud fell over the landlord’s countenance. “Mr. Anders is quite unwell, in fact…” The landlord leaned close and lowered his voice to a whisper. “I don’t want to spread rumor and cause a panic, but the magistrate thinks he’s got the pox.”
“How dreadful.” Eustace was not sure what to make of it but decided against a knock on the door. It would not do to expose himself to illness only to find the lady in question was not the one he sought. “Could you let me know when the lady emerges? I should very much like to offer my assistance to Mrs. Anders.”
“Yes, of course, sir.”
Sixteen
Dare and Emma remained all day in the inn, discretely querying the maid who brought up dinner as to the latest news. The overturned coach and corpse had been found, and it was the talk of all in the heretofore-sleepy little hamlet. The highwaymen had not left but roamed freely, receiving the sympathy of the hamlet, who believed them to be the victims. It was impossible that they had not heard about the arrival of a Mr. and Mrs. Anders. So far, the men had stayed away, most likely for fear of smallpox, but Emma had no hope they would not eventually come to see “Mr. and Mrs. Anders” for themselves.
Dare’s progress had consisted of not developing a fever, which was Emma’s primary concern. They still did not know why the men had targeted Dare, but both agreed they would be best served to retreat to a place of safety.
To do that, they had to leave. And that was proving difficult.
“You need to leave tonight,” declared the Earl of Darington. The day had almost passed and the sun hung low in the sky.
“I prefer to help you continue to recover from your injuries,” replied Emma mildly. She checked his wound once more to ensure it did not appear red, hot, or swollen. If the wound were to fester or turn septic, it would not matter if they managed to evade the highwaymen, for it would be fatal on its own. The wound continued to seep, but so far everything looked as well as could be expected.
“I do thank you for your assistance,” said Dare, grimly submitting to her ministrations. “but I cannot consider myself a gentleman and continue to allow you to put yourself at risk. You must leave as we agreed on the next mail coach.”
“That was before I realized those men were still here.”
“You will be on the next mail coach.”
“I most certainly will not.” Emma folded her arms across her chest.
“You will, if I have to put you on it myself.” Dare’s lips were a thin line, and Emma did not doubt his tenacity and determination in carrying out his threat.
She changed tack and attempted reason. “I doubt they will allow me to travel by mail if they think I have been exposed to smallpox. Besides, there must be some other way than abandoning you to your fate. I did not help to heal you just so you could get yourself into more trouble.”
“I appreciate your help. I doubt I would be alive now without it. But the truth is I can fend for myself more easily without you.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“You and your maid will only slow me down. I am sure I can escape more easily without you,” he said without compassion.
Emma blinked at him. Was he saying this because it was true or because he was trying to protect her? She chose to believe the latter. “We are at an impasse then, for I cannot see that the way to repay the man who saved my life is to abandon him to the men who shot him.”
Emma wandered to the window as she spoke, looking out over the small village on the gray, winter day. The clouds had hung low all day, casting the landscape in a dim, subdued light, as if everything was waiting for night to arrive. She feared their unwanted acquaintances might be waiting for night too.
Dare responded not in words but in a growling sigh that she had come to interpret as one of displeasure. She wanted to leave for safer lodgings as much as he did, but abandoning him could not be right.
She watched out the window for the comings and goings of the brigands. It had become something of a nervous habit for her. As she idly watched the sleepy hamlet going about its business, two people caught her eye. They were gentry by the cut of their cloth.
“Oh no!” exclaimed Emma, staring out the window. She had seen that many riding capes on only one man before. It was Eustace. He had found her. Cold dread filled her veins.
“What is it?” asked Dare, struggling to sit up.
“I fear Eustace ha
s… Oh, wait. No, it is not him.” Emma put a hand to her chest, relieved. “There is a gentleman down there who must have at least fifteen riding capes on his greatcoat. I feared it was my stepbrother, but it is not.”
Dare’s interest perked up. “How many?”
“Too many to count. He is with a lady in a plain black coat, such a contrast.”
“The lady, what does she look like?” asked Dare with an urgency to his tone.
“She is wearing a bonnet, so I cannot rightly see— Oh! What are you doing out of bed? You should not get up.” Emma gasped at Dare who stood slightly hunched over and shirtless next to her. It was one thing to see him lying down; it was another to have him tower over her, the muscled perfection of his form drawing her attention from the couple in the street.
“My word.” Dare’s face was twisted with surprise and pain. He held himself up on the windowsill with one hand and pressed the other onto his wounded side. “That is my sister.”
* * *
“No,” said Darington as the unrelenting pain forced him to allow Emma to help him back to the bed. What was he thinking, getting himself shot? Damned nuisance. “No,” he said again as he watched her grab Sally’s plain cloak and pull it around her. “No, it’s too dangerous.”
“Yes, I know,” said Emma with a gleam in her eye. She was an unusual girl, he had to give her that. “Those brigands are nowhere in sight,” she continued in a cheery tone. “We have no time to waste.”
“No,” he said for a third time through gritted teeth, trying to get back out of bed. “I will go make contact with my sister.”
“I fear you will do nothing of the sort,” said Emma with a hand on his bare chest. At the merest touch, he complied and lay back down. “You are not even dressed. Even if you tried to stagger down the stairs and cross the street, you would more likely fall on your face and cause a scene, which would no doubt alert our enemies to our presence. No, you will have to stay here.”
“It is not safe,” growled Dare, angry at his own impotence. “Send Sally if you must, for she is less recognizable than you.”
“I ain’t going down there!” cried Sally.
“I must alert your sister to your whereabouts before she leaves,” said Emma practically. She looked at him with sparkling eyes. What could she do if those men attacked her? Charm them to death? Maybe…
“It’s too dangerous,” Dare repeated.
“She must have come looking for you. We must tell her where you are. How else will she find you?” Emma asked, picking up her bonnet.
Dare shook his head. “I do not know, but my sister is…tenacious.”
“A good thing too,” said Emma, tying on her bonnet. “I’ll be back in a twinkling.”
“Please.” Dare’s strained voice did not sound like his own.
Emma paused and looked back at him.
“Please be careful.”
A slow smile brightened her face. “As you wish.”
And with that she was gone.
Dare waited for a minute before struggling out of bed again and staggering to the window. He could not lie helpless and do nothing while Emma and his sister might be in danger.
“Bring me my coat,” he demanded of the frightened maid.
She squeaked in fear and jumped up to comply. He pulled the pistol out of his coat pocket.
He opened the window a crack, ignoring the blast of cold on his bare chest. He cocked the pistol and watched as Miss St. James walked across the street to meet his sister, who stood with a man in a much-adorned greatcoat that could only belong to Wynbrook. Dare lamented his weakness that prevented him from walking, but he would still protect those who were dear to him.
Emma strode boldly across the street toward Kate and Lord Wynbrook. If anyone could approach strangers on the street and instantly bring them to her side, it was Miss St. James. He watched carefully as Emma led Kate and Wynbrook to the inn. He scanned the road for signs of danger, but seeing none, he returned to his bed with a groan of pain.
Emma entered a few minutes later looking triumphant, followed by a hesitant, then surprised Kate and Lord Wynbrook.
“Robert!” His sister raced across the room to him and gave him an uncharacteristic embrace. It was more emotion than she had shown in years. Or ever.
“Kate, good to see you. Ow! Easy there.”
“Do be careful, Lady Kate,” said Emma, coming up beside them. “You might rip out the stitches.”
“Stitches? Where were you shot? Are you all right? How did you get away?” Kate had nothing but questions, and demanding ones at that.
Emma quickly apprised Kate of his medical situation and introductions were made all around.
“Pleasure to meet you, Miss St. James,” said Lord Wynbrook in a tone Dare could not like. The Earl of Wynbrook was a handsome, young, titled gentleman, with twinkling, green eyes. His clothes were impeccably cut and his manner pleasing. Dare had never realized until Emma looked up at him with her smiling, blue eyes how irritating Wynbrook’s hold on perfection was. In truth, Emma and Wynbrook would make a lovely pair. They were both of pleasant disposition, animated, and attractive.
He had never hated Wynbrook more.
Kate distracted him from his uncharitable thoughts by demanding to know how he had escaped the brigands and made the acquaintance of Miss St. James. He knew by Kate’s tone and pale face she was worried about him and had no context in which to put the discovery of him in a bedchamber with a young lady.
He spoke briefly about the events that led to their current situation but apparently did not do the adventure justice, so Emma jumped in at the part where she had come into the picture, finishing the story in grand form. Her rendition added much zest to the story and gave it the dramatic retelling of some gothic novel or romanticized tale. It did make for great theater, though, and kept basically to the facts.
Kate frowned at all the parts where they were in danger and stared at Emma in shock and surprise when Emma confessed it was she who had performed surgery and stitched up the wound. Without waiting for an invitation, Kate pulled down the blankets and inspected his injury with a critical eye, exposing his naked chest to the room. A curious look passed over Wynbrook’s face.
“You must forgive that Darington does not have a shirt at the moment,” commented Emma. “The wound bled quite a bit, and I fear I ripped his linens to shreds, using them as bandages.”
“Emma has been very helpful,” said Dare, trying to express his appreciation for her skills as a healer and distract everyone from the fact that he was half-dressed. In an instant, he realized he had made a mistake by calling her by her first name.
The slip was certainly not lost on Kate, who raised an eyebrow at him. He deserved that. It must be the pain medication making him softheaded.
“But how do you come to be here?” asked Dare, desperate to change the subject. “How did you find me?”
“Your sister has dragged me up one frozen, ice-caked road and down the other,” drawled Wynbrook. “I am certain that if we had not found you here, she would have knocked on every door and searched through the hedgerows until she did.”
“After I was pushed from the coach, I ran back to the inn and found Wynbrook outside,” explained Kate. “We rushed after you in Wynbrook’s coach, hoping to overtake you quickly, but it was not to be. Fortunately, we got a few good leads and eventually they led us here.” She said the last in an offhand manner, as if it was not unusual to chase a coach through the night.
It was Dare’s turn to raise an eyebrow at his sister. So Kate had been in the presence of Wynbrook for over twenty-four hours. He noted that she did not mention where she had stayed the night. Had they traveled all night? Had they shared a room at an inn? He wanted to ask, but Kate was busy frowning at his wound and Wynbrook was suddenly busy removing a piece of lint from his greatcoat.
Guilty. Both
of them. They had shared a room; Dare knew it.
“Well now, we have all had such adventures!” exclaimed Emma, breaking the awkward silence with a smile to the whole room.
What followed was a discussion of what to do next. Wynbrook was in favor of informing the magistrate, and Dare had to relate to him the dangers of that option. Emma advised that to travel at this point would put a strain on him, at a time when he needed mostly to rest, and if traveling was a necessity, they should keep it as short as possible.
“Actually, we may not be far from Greystone,” said Kate.
A chill crept up Dare’s back at the name. He was surprised the word even came from his sister’s lips.
“Greystone?” asked Emma. “Is it a nearby town? Have you friends or relatives who can help?”
“Greystone Hall is our…” Dare paused, not sure what to call the place that haunted his memory. “Home.”
Seventeen
Emma refused to let anyone see her concern. They had enough to be worried about without her adding to their fears. She allowed Lady Kate and Lord Wynbrook to focus on the travel plans as she quietly packed her things. Under any other circumstances, she would not have allowed the patient to move. This was the most dangerous phase of recovery, the point at which her father’s wound had begun to fester and he slowly lost his life.
While she was alert for any telltale signs of fever, Wynbrook and Lady Kate took on the problem of moving their party without alerting anyone of their intended departure. Fortunately, Wynbrook’s coach still held Dare’s luggage, so he was able to dress with Wynbrook serving in the role of valet.
A bit of reconnaissance from Wynbrook revealed no sign of the brigands, so they decided to take a chance and hustled into Wynbrook’s coach. Wynbrook continued to serve as coachman, not wanting to hire anyone who could later reveal their destination, and brought the coach around to the front of the inn. Dare walked stiffly between Emma and Kate, leaning on them as needed, and after some difficulty entering the coach, collapsed onto the velvet squabs. Sally followed behind with the luggage.
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