The Lady to Match a Rogue: Faith

by Thorne, Isabella

  Oscar stood and pushed in his chair at the breakfast table. “Excuse me,” he said simply, and hurried out to find her; wherever she had gone, and beg her forgiveness.

  * * *

  At Mortel Manor, Isaac expected to see his youngest sisters cowed and repentant at the breakfast table. They would promise to act as young ladies should. Then he would benevolently allow them their hobby, but it was near noon and no one had seen a shadow of them. At last, he went to the stable and realized that they had taken a horse and carriage. That was understandable, he supposed if they were gathering their writings from the storehouse. There was quite a pile of papers he knew. They had accumulated over the years. Isaac thought about going to the storehouse, but decided the twins should come to him. It was important that they remember he was the viscount now. When they had not returned several hours later, he decided that he should check on them. It was possible that they were pouting in the old outbuilding and not willing to bend to his lead. In any case, he needed to see what had transpired.

  Isaac was not watching where he was going and when he came around the bend, he was near run down by a large stallion. The man mounted on the huge beast dragged on the reins, as he shouted to Isaac. He recognized Oscar Titherington and his horse, Demon’s Reach.

  “Where is she?” Titherington asked harshly.

  “What?” Isaac looked up bewildered at the man.

  “Where is Faith? What happened?” he demanded.

  “Why, in the old storehouse I suppose,” Isaac said. “With her sister.”

  “No,” Titherington said. “She is not. Neither is her work. I have just come from there. It has been cleared out.”

  Isaac felt fear fill his chest. He threw a look at Titherington and then ran the rest of the way to the storehouse and looked at the bare space. The chairs were just as he and Simon had put them so many years ago, but there was no clutter of papers and ink. Instead the loft looked empty. Sterile. When had they done this? Last night? Early this morning? He knew the twins were not at the house. If they were not here, where were they? The fear that he felt for all of his siblings’ safety bubbled up inside of him. He remembered their tiny faces and the delight that filled their eyes as he and Simon had outfitted the storehouse for them before he went away to school. “It will be your safe place,” he had said, and they had both nodded seriously. Even then, they knew they needed a safe place.

  He remembered how he worried about them after the affair with Mercy, and how he wanted to protect them. He could hardly think of them as ladies grown, now. He remembered when they were born. He knew in his heart, he was more their father than Father ever was. He only wanted what was best for them, and more than that, he was the viscount. He was responsible for them. He shook his head. It was not responsibility. It was love. They were his family and he loved them. He prayed to God the girls were unharmed. The thought of any harm coming to his family was devastating.

  Titherington circled the outbuilding on his massive horse. The beast picked up on the gentlemen’s nervousness and pranced sideways outside the door. Titherington, still mounted, called to Isaac. “I told you. She has taken her work. Where is she? I must speak with her.”

  “Her work?” Isaac had the feeling that he was two steps behind the gentleman. What work could the man be referencing?

  “Yes. Her work. Her writing. It’s mostly gone. Just a few drafts left behind, and they are old ones.”

  The man surely seemed too familiar. How would he know which drafts were old? Isaac stared at Titherington and then at the scene in the barn, his eyes going to the chaise where a blanket laid thrown aside in haste. Perhaps this was worse than he thought it was. Faith was constantly telling him she could make her own decisions, regardless to the fact that he thought she was both too young, and of course, a woman. But she was a woman. Now, his heart nearly stopped. Had Faith and Titherington had a tryst while he and the others were in London? He knew the man was a rake. Had the man despoiled his baby sister? Else, how did he know of the existence of this place at all?

  Titherington swung down from the saddle and leaving the horse unattended stalked to Isaac. Isaac clenched his fists. Titherington grabbed Isaac by the lapels. “What happened?”

  Isaac realized the pure terror in the man’s face echoed his own.

  “Where is she, man?” Titherington demanded.

  “I don’t know,” Isaac admitted. “I told her I was finished with her folly. I would destroy the lot. It has filled her head with nonsense and she cannot be allowed to…”

  “What!” Oscar shouted in his face.

  Isaac knew that he had only spoken so in anger, but he did not have to explain to Titherington. “I only wanted what was best for her. No man would have a woman who acted so.”

  “Blast and botheration,” Titherington snapped, shoving Isaac away. “I will have her; if she will have me.”

  Isaac’s eye went back to the chaise, his brain conjuring all sorts of indecencies. How had this all happened beneath his notice?

  “I upset her last evening also. I had hoped to apologize…” Titherington continued

  “Apologize?” Perhaps there was more to this than just the writing. Perhaps it was not all his fault. He turned on Titherington in his distress over his sisters’ absence. He knew in his heart it was his fault his sisters were gone, but he needed someone to blame. He needed to lift the black terror that consumed him. He had only just found Mercy safe, and now the twins, his baby sisters. Isaac’s eyes narrowed. “You have been cavorting with my sister!”

  “There has been no cavorting!” Titherington nearly shook him. “I did not dishonor your sister,” he growled. “I may have treated her like…well a man, but I thought she was a man. I have recovered.”

  “You? The rake of Nettlefold, couldn’t tell she was a woman? You lie.”

  “I know. I’m an idiot, but not a liar, and apparently she fooled more than me.”

  That was true, Isaac thought. He picked up one of the papers wondering if it would give some indication of her whereabouts. Had he had so driven Faith and Hope from him that this might be all they allowed him now? The thought was terrifying.

  “Are you sure she’s not home?” Titherington said.

  Isaac shook his head. He realized his error now. He had only thought of her as a woman, barely more than a child, at that, and she had rebelled. Faith was always the headstrong one. How had he thought that she would only cry a bit and pout in her room until he magnanimously allowed her hobby? That was not Faith, and her writing was not a hobby to her. It never was. Mercy was right. This was her life. He ran a finger along the paper, and thought the writing was surprisingly good. He was so out of line. No wonder she ran. “I told her I was going to burn her writing,” He admitted.

  “Then you’re even more of an idiot than I am,” Titherington said.

  “Perhaps, I am,” Isaac said. “I just wanted to show her…I wanted what was best for her and now, I don’t even know where she could have gone. She doesn’t know anyone outside the village…Perhaps Mrs. Hardcastle?”

  “No,” Titherington said, shaking his head. “That is much too close, and she doesn’t plan to be caught. I know where she is or at least I know where she is going.”

  “How would you know where she is going?” It hurt Isaac that this man knew, and he didn’t. How had he grown so far from them? He and Temperance had taken turns holding them when they were babies and Mother was overwhelmed, or trying to calm Father.

  “Because. I know her.” Oscar said, and that was the truth. He did know her. “It’s where I would go.”

  “Where?”

  “London,” Titherington said.

  Isaac stood open mouthed. “She’s a woman,” Isaac said aghast. There were myriads of highwaymen on the road from Bath to London. It was not safe. He had only just retrieved Mercy from such wretches. His heart could not handle his youngest sisters in the hands of some reprobate.

  “A very clever woman, if you did not notice. She took her pa
pers. She will go to Chapman. He will lead her to Maddox.”

  “I don’t know this Chapman.”

  “He’s a printer in London,” Titherington said. “He is also a drunk and a wastrel.”

  Isaac gave Titherington a look.

  “I know,” Titherington said waving a dismissive hand. “Pot. Kettle. That doesn’t matter. What matters is Faith and her sister.”

  The man was right.

  “I’ll get the other carriage,” Isaac said suddenly jogged into motion. He realized that the man seemed to truly care about his sister. Maybe he did have some idea where to find her, and Isaac thought he must find her. “I shall fetch her. Come with me if you wish, Titherington. We can get there before morning.”

  Titherington stalked to the doorway of the storehouse and whistled for his horse. The beast came to his call like a dog, trotting to the man who launched himself into the saddle. “Thank you, but I think I will ride. I intend to catch her before sundown.” He took a steadying breath. “London or even the coaching inns along the way are no place for a woman alone, even if she is dressed as a man.”

  Isaac blanched. “You are right, but still you cannot go alone. You cannot spend the night with my sister.”

  “I will not dishonor her,” Titherington said. “I told you, I intend to marry the chit if I can convince her that I’m not an idiot.”

  Isaac nodded. He noticed the man did not ask his permission, but the truth was, it was Faith’s acceptance he really needed.

  Without a backwards glance, Titherington turned Demon towards London. He kicked his horse into a gallop and was gone in a flash.

  Isaac turned back towards the stable. With a carriage, there was no way that he would reach the twins before Titherington, but he expected to be there as quickly as he could. That meant he needed to go astride. As he came to the manor, he called to his brothers. He explained as quickly as he could. Faith and Hope already had a good head start on them.

  “Isaac,” Mercy cautioned as he strode towards the stables. “Be kind.”

  Isaac gave a brief nod to Mercy. He would be kind, but first he had to find her before some fiend on the road did. “Dear God, let her be safe,” he prayed. She could have her scribblings, if only she was safe.

  * * *

  Oscar wished to follow Faith immediately, but he did stop by the cottage to collect his pistol. Without his walking stick, it was his only weapon on the road. Then he headed straight for London. He had whatever else he could require at his grandfather’s townhouse, and he did not want a moment’s delay. He made a steady pace with Demon’s long stride, stopping at each coaching inn along the way and checking in case Faith had decided to stop, but she did not.

  Evening was coming on apace, and Oscar was worried for her. He tried to push his fears aside. Would he be worried if she really were Emerson? Yes, Fiend seize it! The man was so slight he could be blown away by a strong wind, which was entirely because he was not a man at all. As he rode, Oscar thought of his friendship with Emerson. He blamed Faith for deceiving him, and she done so, but there were also many times that the ploy fell flat. He saw it now. The moment when he first saw Faith wielding the sword in the barn; the times he saw both Emerson and Faith writing with the same stub of a pencil in the same little book; the way he caught Emerson’s eyes intent upon him when they read and mostly, the way his own heart had softened towards the man. He had known. He blamed her for lying to him, but he had also lied to himself. Was he so desperate for a true friend that he blinded himself to the truth? He tried to think of what he would say to her when he found her, and then apprehension raised its head. If he found her. Dear God, please let me find her, and let her be safe.

  * * *

  23

  The moon was up and the road to London was wide, but somewhat rutted with the spring rains. Hope had taken the reins giving Faith a bit of a break and she sat dozing beside her sister. They were making good time, but not rushed, when Hope suddenly picked up the pace. The carriage hit a hole in the road, and Faith was jostled awake.

  “What is it?” she asked rubbing her eyes sleepily.

  “Someone is following us,” Hope said as she snapped the carriage whip above the animal’s head. The horse increased his pace.

  “Is it Isaac?” asked Faith, squinting through the darkness. “Are we discovered?” She could hear the hoofbeats of a rider, but could not see anything.

  “I am sure I don’t know,” Hope replied keeping her eyes on the road ahead, “but I do not wish to be caught by him. I wish to be caught by another even less.”

  “It’s not Isaac,” Faith said as she realized the truth of the matter. She reached for Titherington’s cane, the only weapon they had against highwaymen.

  “Stop,” cried the highwayman as he rode abreast. “Your money or your life,” he called.

  “We have no money,” Faith called, which made her shiver as she thought of the man’s alternative. Even as she spoke, Hope pulled the carriage to a halt. “Be on your way,” Faith said. “There is nothing for you here.”

  “No one travels without a purse,” said a second man drawing his pistol, and leveling it at Faith who gripped the cane with menace. “Tell your missus ta give up ‘er purse and jewels. Now!”

  Faith glanced at Hope and realized that by the light of the moon and dressed as she was, he thought she was a man, but it was clear that Hope was not. With all the terror that had been going on, on the road to London recently, and Mercy’s abduction, it was lucky that the man only wanted their money. Still, it was their money.

  Angling the pistol pointing to Faith and then to Hope, Faith thought she would have to time her attack perfectly, and even then, it was risky. Perhaps too risky.

  Hope, who was digging for their purse, all the money they had, shook her head slightly. It was then, Faith saw the second highway man from the corner of her eye as he joined the first, coming up to the carriage and grabbing Hope’s wrist. He dragged her violently from the carriage. Hope screamed as he clasped her, being way too familiar with her, and turned her face to catch the moonlight. Hope struggled and screamed again and the man cuffed her. Hope fell silent, and Faith feared the worst.

  The purse fell to the mud, but the man snatched it up.

  “That one will fetch more than the coin in her purse,” the other man said. “Don’ go bruisen ‘er.”

  “No!” Faith shouted jumping to her sister’s defense. She could perhaps hit the one man with the cane, and they might escape, but against two, she had no chance, even if she could unclasp the fox’s head and release the dagger. Her own scream of frustration joined her sister’s.

  * * *

  The scream went through Titherington like a knife. Faith. Everything in him wanted to race to her rescue, but he forced himself to have a cool head. He trotted gingerly along the side of the road where leaves softened Demon’s footfalls. He had to get closer. When the highwaymen were in sight, he knotted Demon’s reins and pulled off his gloves. He then slid silently to the ground, his boots making no sound on the moss and leaves at the side of the road. Demon moved only an ear, turning it back to Titherington as he reached for his pistol. Priming and loading it as he moved, Titherington crept closer to the danger. There were two men. He would have one shot. He had to make it count, and then, there would still be the other…He wished he had his cane and the dagger within it.

  Faith held the cane. She wielded it with a two-fisted grip, feinting as Cassondra had done, and then hitting the man’s knee with all her strength and to her surprise, the knee gave way with a wet, satisfying pop, and the man went down with a bellow of rage and pain. His pistol went off accidentally as he fell, the report deafening in her ears, but she was unhurt. She dove right for the carriage, and Hope, but the other man wrenched the walking stick from her grasp and broke it tossing the pieces to the ground. He reached for her, and in the next second, Faith looked up to see the ominous black hole of his pistol’s barrel before her face. She froze in terror, her life passing before her eye
s.

  “Now, then,” he began, but his words were cut off.

  From the far left, another shot rang out and a dark stain filled the highwayman’s chest. A look of surprise filled his face as he looked at Faith. A shout came from somewhere to her left and then the man fell dead before her eyes. Faith looked around for the other shooter, their rescuer. Oscar!

  Faith’s heart filled with joy as she saw Titherington stride quickly into the clearing, eyes only for her, but the highway man that Faith had only wounded, had managed to get his pistol and reload. Crippled and kneeling, he trained his weapon on Titherington’s back, and Faith reacted without thought for her own safety. She threw herself into Titherington’s arms knocking him backwards and shielding him with her own body. The pistol exploded at close range and a white hot blade of fire shot through the back of her shoulder as she rolled over, Titherington still in her arms. She blinked at him. Her shoulder was throbbing, and she was deafened by the shot. All she could hear was the elated beating of her heart.

  “You came,” she said and then, for Faith Baggington, all went dark.

  * * *

  When Faith went limp in his arms, Oscar Titherington felt nothing but a white hot rage at the man who had shot her. It could not be! He turned on the man, but Hope found him first. As he sat grinning maniacally on the ground not but a few feet away, the girl snatched up the dagger from his broken cane and rammed it into the side of the man, low in his kidney. The man did not make a sound as blood gushed from the wound when she withdrew the knife. She dropped it and rushed to her sister.

  “Faith!” she cried. “Oh, don’t be dead. I couldn’t bear it!”

  I couldn’t either, Titherington thought, but then he realized that Faith’s heart was still beating. He could feel the solid rhythm of it in his hands as he held her and her breath upon his face.