The Highwayman's Lady (BookStrand Publishing Romance)

by Karen Lingefelt

  “Not too readily, I should think. Still, you must have felt some alarm.”

  “I might have had he been more menacing,” she confessed. “I’m not even certain my aunt was all that frightened, if only because she didn’t scream. If anything, she acted as if he were just an ill-mannered rake who thought he could importune the younger ladies in her charge without a proper introduction.”

  He laughed heartily. Felicity liked the sound.

  “Do you live with your aunt?” he asked curiously.

  “As a matter of fact, I do,” she replied. “Lady Tyndall is my mother’s sister, but my mother passed away when I was young, so I was sent to live at Tyndall Hall because there was another girl there—Lady Lydia. I have many aunts and uncles, but none of them had any daughters save Lord and Lady Tyndall. And Tyndall Hall was near my fiancé’s ancestral home.” As she flicked her gaze over his scarlet regimentals, she thought again of her father and brothers, but decided against mentioning them. It was too painful and she didn’t really know Captain Jordan all that well yet, though naturally she wondered if he’d fought in any of the battles that had claimed the lives of so many of her loved ones.

  He nodded. “I was raised by an uncle—but oddly enough, not because he already had a boy in need of a companion, but because he didn’t have a boy of his own.”

  Then Captain Jordan must have grown up without a father, just as Felicity had grown up without a mother. Only what happened to his mother?

  She was debating with herself whether to ask something so personal when two horsemen came thundering through the open gates at the end of the drive, their cloaks flapping around them. Her pulse spiked.

  “Those aren’t highwaymen,” Captain Jordan assured her. “They would scarcely come galloping up the front drive in broad daylight.”

  “But you said a few moments ago that they do maraud in broad daylight.”

  “Yes, if they know young ladies are out walking alone and unprotected. But I’m with you now, so you’re no longer unprotected.”

  “Then why do they continue to come toward us as if you’re invisible?”

  “Because they’re not highwaymen. They aren’t even masked. I take it your highwayman wore a mask?”

  Ire rose within her. “Why do you say he’s my highwayman, as if he works for me, or might otherwise hold some special place in my heart?”

  His aquamarine eyes twinkled again, reminding her of a sparkling sea on a rare, warm summer day. “I’ve heard of women who fancy themselves in love with dangerous masked men, thinking they can reform them. Or maybe because they dream of being kissed by such rogues.”

  Felicity was too stunned to speak. To think he’d just said—again—something similar to what the highwayman had said!

  “Which is not to say you wished to be kissed by the highwayman,” he hastily added, as if he realized the impropriety of his statement. “But all of us, men and women, at some time or another, like to entertain wicked, forbidden thoughts. You look utterly appalled, Miss Griffin. I’m not being very tactful, am I? I’m totally bungling this up. I seem to bungle up everything.”

  “Then we have something in common.” Felicity eyed him askance as the horsemen drew rein before them.

  Captain Jordan promptly lavished them with attention, as if eager for a diversion. “Good morning, gentlemen,” he gushed pleasantly. “Are you guests for the house party?”

  “No, but we are searching for one of the guests. Would you be Lord Howland, sir?”

  Captain Jordan suddenly stiffened, and so, Felicity thought, did his voice, which lost all pleasantness as the gush abated to a tentative trickle. “No, I am not. And he is not a guest here. He is our host as well as lord and master of this estate.”

  “That much we know. But you are a guest?”

  “I am, and so is this lady. We’re just out strolling. I am Captain John Jordan, at your service, gentlemen. This is Miss Griffin.”

  The two horsemen tipped their hats in unison, as one of them said, “I am Julius Pitt, and this is my brother Augustus. Would you be acquainted with a certain Lord R who is said to be a guest here?”

  Before Captain Jordan could respond one way or the other, Felicity blurted, “Do you mean Lord Renton?”

  “All we know is that his name starts with an R, and he’s a guest here,” said Julius Pitt.

  “Then that’s Lord Renton,” she affirmed.

  “Aha!” exclaimed Augustus Pitt. “So he’s the scoundrel we seek!”

  “And he is a scoundrel,” Felicity assured them, only too eager to be of assistance.

  “Is he in some sort of trouble?” inquired Captain Jordan, as if he hadn’t deduced that from the word scoundrel.

  “This Lord Renton is in a great deal of trouble,” Julius Pitt growled, and Felicity couldn’t help feeling a spurt of wicked glee at the prospect.

  “Suffice to say he’s a blackguard and a thief who preys upon innocent ladies,” declared Augustus Pitt. “We are here to bring him to justice.”

  And with that, the Brothers Pitt pulled reins and galloped toward the manor.

  Oh no, thought Felicity, as she felt the blood draining from her face and into her stomach, making her queasy. It couldn’t be…not Lord Renton. Her own betrothed—well, former betrothed—but he couldn’t have been the one who—

  “I don’t believe it,” she whispered. “It can’t be!”

  “What can’t be?” Captain Jordan asked curiously.

  “My highwayman,” she choked out, as a cold qualm squeezed her heart.

  He resumed his jocularity. “Oh, so he is your highwayman, after all?”

  “I’m afraid so—and now that I think about it, it makes sense. Of course! Lord Renton is the highwayman!”

  Chapter Seven

  “Lord Renton is the highwayman!”

  God Almighty, but that was the last thing Jack had expected Miss Felicity Griffin to say.

  She gazed up at him with those wide, dark green eyes. “Well? What do you think of that, Captain Jordan?”

  “I think that’s the last thing I expected you to say,” he managed to reply.

  “Indeed? And what would have been the first?”

  Jack’s mind raced as he wondered if he dared to say exactly what he was thinking. Oh, what the hell—in for a penny and all that. “If you must know, I was waiting for you say, ‘Why, Captain Jordan, no wonder you keep saying the same things my highwayman said! It’s because you’re my highwayman!’”

  There! No one, least of all she, could accuse him of concealing the truth from her.

  Anger sparked in her eyes. “Sir, would you kindly desist from referring to him as my highwayman?”

  That was all? “Miss Griffin, will you never cease to amaze me? It seems as if everything you say is the last thing I’d expect you to say.”

  “I’m pleased to hear I don’t bore you, but just how did you expect me to reply to what you said before that? A claim to have been my—dash it, I mean—that is—the highwayman.”

  He couldn’t help teasing her with a smile. “Truth be told, I had no idea how you might’ve replied. I only thought you wouldn’t have upbraided me for continuing to make you ever so possessive of him.”

  “Well, I’m not. But do you not agree ’tis possible Lord Renton is the highwayman?”

  Jack could barely suppress a sigh of relief—or for that matter, a howl of laughter. It seemed he was in the clear—at least for now—though there’d been a couple of heart-stopping, chest-clutching moments when he thought he might have inadvertently betrayed himself. Not that she could have done anything in a retaliatory rage. She didn’t carry an umbrella or even a reticule with which to cosh him over the head.

  So he decided to play along with her. Besides, he was very interested in hearing her explain her theory. If nothing else, it promised to be highly entertaining.

  For ever since meeting her, Jack had found Felicity Griffin to be nothing if not entertaining. Renton didn’t deserve her and never had. That muc
h was quite clear.

  She broke into his musings. “You don’t think it’s possible he’s the highwayman?”

  Jack tucked his hands behind his back. “I never said that.”

  “You haven’t said anything, and maybe you don’t have to. The expression on your face, as if you’re wondering why I’m not in Bedlam, tends to say it all.”

  “As a matter of fact, I do not wonder why you’re not in Bedlam. I was only thinking what a fool Renton is.”

  “Indeed.” She looked ready to spit, and he stepped out of range, for he already knew her capable of it, even if she hadn’t just taken a quaff of whisky. “And to think he means to make a fool out of me!”

  “Woe betide any man who’d dare.” To include Jack himself.

  In high dudgeon, she continued her march toward the end of the drive.

  “Where are you going?” he asked, as he matched her stride. “I should think you’d want to return to the manor and see justice served to Lord Renton.”

  She spun around in a sharp about-face, and so did he. “You’re right, but I’ll do more than that. I’ll tell him precisely what I think of his foul trick.”

  “You’re referring, of course, to his stint as your highwayman.”

  “For the last time, he is not my highwayman!”

  “If this is the last time you’re going to point that out to me, then I’m pleased to hear I may continue to vex you about it without fear of getting my ears blistered.”

  “I shall blister more than your ears if you say it again, but at the moment you’re in line behind Lord Renton. Oh, but this would explain quite a few things about that night! For instance, where was he? He had a much larger carriage than we did, with bigger wheels, and twice as many horses as we had.”

  “With legs twice as long,” Jack couldn’t resist adding, as he recalled the beautifully matched grays that had nearly trampled him in the tiny stable yard behind the inn.

  “Then you’ve seen his horses?”

  “Oh yes, when I was out at the stables yesterday trying to catch flies in my mouth.”

  “Indeed? Was that before or after you let Lord Howland’s prize ewe escape from the sheepfold?”

  That caught him totally off guard. He stretched his gaping mouth into a grin to mask his surprise. As quick-witted as she was, he was still astonished that she’d swallowed that awful clanker last night.

  “It must have been before,” he said. “I was too distracted by all the flies to pay any mind to the ewe.”

  She looked at him just long enough to let him see the roll of her eyes. “I let the highwayman think my betrothed was traveling behind us. No wonder he didn’t seem afraid of Renton catching up and foiling his dastardly deed!”

  Jack had to purse his lips and glance the other way so she wouldn’t see him ready to explode with laughter.

  “He could’ve easily arrived here well ahead of us,” she ranted on. “I don’t believe for a minute this nonsense that he was compelled to stay the night at the inn, when he was so close to Howland Hall.”

  “It rained that night, which in the dark would have made the road impassable, even for such a short distance.” Jack looked up at the sky as if doing so might prove his point a day and a half later, and sneezed, which helped to keep his laughter at bay.

  “Bless you, but it only sprinkled,” she said.

  “Thank you, but it could have poured,” he countered. “England, you know. Perhaps Renton didn’t want to ruin his brand new carriage and allow his fine new horses to get wet.”

  “You do have an excellent point. But consider this—since he does have a faster carriage and horses, perhaps he reached Howland Hall ahead of us by taking another route. I mean, this drive can’t be the only way to Lord Howland’s stables.”

  “It isn’t,” Jack affirmed, thinking of the back road he and Howland and Rollo had taken on horseback after quitting the village that night. So far he was impressed with how thoughtfully Miss Griffin was making her case, even if she was vigorously prosecuting the wrong man.

  Except for that baffling moment when she’d leaped out of the carriage to confront him, she did not strike him as an impulsive person.

  “Let’s suppose Renton took that back way to Howland Hall, then doubled back to lie in wait for me,” she said. “Could he have done that?”

  “Anyone could’ve done that,” replied Jack. “Only why would he do such a thing, and to his own betrothed?”

  “As a test of my love for him. Indeed, that’s exactly what the highwayman said himself. Only—” She abruptly stopped again.

  Jack took two steps ahead of her before he realized she’d stopped, and he stepped back. “Only what?”

  “He tricked me. First he said if I gave him my ring, that would be a test of Renton’s love for me, that if he really loved me, he’d be more concerned with my safety than the fate of the ring. Then he said it could just as easily be a test of my love for him, that if I really loved him, I would refuse to surrender the ring and risk being shot by the highwayman.” She covered her cheeks with her hands, still staring at the manor in dismay. “Now that I think about it, I realize he only wanted my ring. He barely troubled us for our reticules, or even Aunt Cordelia’s jewelry case. And I thought it was because it was his first time holding up a carriage—which it must’ve been, in any event. But he only wanted my ring, to end our betrothal.”

  Bloody hell. This made so much sense that even Jack was inclined to believe it. And God help him, he would have swallowed it whole if not for the fact that he was her, or rather, the highwayman.

  She dropped her hands to reveal cheeks pinker than they’d been a moment ago. “And then there was something else the highwayman said. Something only Lord Renton could’ve known.”

  “And what was that?” Jack thought he knew, but wanted her to say it.

  “He knew I’d never been kissed before. Not even by Renton—as if I could ever have been kissed by anyone besides he, since we’ve been engaged all our lives. Oh, what a mull I’ve made of this!” She continued toward the manor, no longer marching but trudging.

  Telling her that she’d never been kissed before had only been a lucky guess. Jack shook his head before catching up to her again with two long strides. “How did you make a mull of it? The highwayman didn’t try to kiss you or take other liberties, did he?”

  “Oh, I almost wish he had now!”

  And Jack almost wished he had. But he had to remember she still thought the masked stranger was Lord Renton. “Do you honestly believe it would’ve changed the outcome, Miss Griffin? Let’s assume Renton is the highwayman. Since he ostensibly went to all this trouble to end his betrothal, even if you’d let him kiss you, he still would’ve used that against you, perhaps accused you of being a soiled dove who would allow another man, especially a masked stranger, to kiss you, when you’d never let Renton himself kiss you.”

  She kept her gaze averted. “I understand what you’re saying, Captain Jordan, but it’s not that I’ve never let Renton kiss me. He’s never tried. And he certainly didn’t try last night. He clearly finds me repulsive.”

  “You’re anything but that,” Jack said sternly. She sounded as if resented having never been kissed—as if she longed to be kissed, and not necessarily by Renton.

  “Only why would he go to such trouble to end our betrothal? Why not just say he wished to end it—as he did last night?”

  “So he did tell you he wished to end it?”

  “Yes, shortly before I spluttered whisky all over you. He could have said he didn’t want to marry me. He didn’t have to stage this elaborate charade. And to think I thought the highwayman was the most charming man I’d ever met!”

  Jack marveled at his ability to remain standing at that admission. But she wasn’t finished astounding him.

  “I even found myself wishing that he’d tried to kiss me.” She paused to regard Jack with wide green eyes. “Oh dear, that shocks you, doesn’t it?”

  “Miss Griffin, you have no id
ea how much,” he said flatly.

  “You think I’m fast, don’t you?”

  “You’re putting words in my mouth again. I never said that, either.”

  “Well, why else would you stand there looking so dumbfounded? Especially when you mentioned earlier that all of us, men and women, entertain wicked thoughts at one time or another. Oh, and let’s not forget how you keep referring to him as my highwayman.”

  “Then it seems I have good cause to make such a reference, and you have no cause to be vexed by it,” he answered. “And no, I do not believe you are fast or all that is scandalous just because you think the highwayman is the most charming man you’ve ever met. And that you wish he’d taken liberties. I only wonder how few men you’ve met that such a scoundrel would rank so high on your list.”

  “Very few, as it happens,” she said somberly. “But that’s only because I’d been betrothed to Lord Renton for most of my life, and never had cause to notice any other men or how charming they were until now.”

  “If you think Lord Renton and the highwayman are the same person, I wonder that you found the latter to be at all charming, when it seems you never thought likewise of the former.”

  She sighed and resumed walking. “I’ve never attended a masquerade or otherwise had the chance to pretend to be anything other than what I am, but I’ve heard that those who do tend to behave in a far different manner than they act as themselves.”

  Well! If that was true, and she thought the highwayman was the most charming man she’d ever met, then that made Jack an oaf. Indeed, by Miss Griffin’s reasoning, he was no more charming than Lord Renton.

  He pretended to mull. “I wonder what sort of highwayman that would make me?”

  She swept him with her gaze from head to toe. “Since I do find you rather charming, Captain, what do you think?”

  “That as a highwayman, I would be a—” He was about to say, a bungling oaf, but since that was exactly what he thought he’d been last night, and for that matter was being now...

  “Don’t you think it would make you a frightening villain, as my aunt claims?” Miss Griffin gifted him with a teasing smile as they reached the front steps of the manor. “But only if you remembered to bring a knife as well as a pistol, and had the presence of mind to take her jewelry case as well as our reticules—even if all we had in them were a few paltry shillings.”