Highway Revenge

by Millard, Nadine

  “So, how about that ride into the village?” She heard Jon ask.

  “Sounds good. Give me a few moments.”

  Evelyn huffed out a sigh of relief. Another close call. She needed to be a lot stealthier if she was going to become a successful thief.

  Although, given what she’d just overheard, it wouldn’t matter if she were to make herself invisible. The papers weren’t in the study anymore.

  Evelyn was so lost in her thoughts that she hardly noticed her feet moving her back round the corner. She needed to get to her bedchamber to think. It was the only room where she was assured some privacy. Anna had gone to pay calls with Aunt Millicent, and they were the only ones who came to her room.

  There must be a way to get what I need. Surely, Uncle Geoffrey will—

  “Oomph.” Evelyn’s thoughts and movements were brought to a sudden halt as she collided with a wall. A warm wall. A wall that smelt divine and felt positively sinful, pressed against her face as it was.

  For a brief, tantalising, insane moment, she was tempted to lay her head against the solid chest she’d just dashed straight into. But common sense gladly reared its head, and Evelyn took a hurried step backwards to look up at the man she’d smacked into.

  “Lord Ashdon,” she began, hating the nervous squeak in her voice. “I-I’m sorry. I did not see you there.”

  She looked into his clear green eyes and was a little worried by the calculated expression in them, as if he was searching her face for clues. As to what, she had no idea.

  “No harm done, Miss Spencer,” he answered, quickly rearranging his features to look all that was charming and charismatic, “so long as you are not hurt?”

  Evelyn tried desperately to look casual and guiltless, but she was remembering her eavesdropping of moments ago, and she suspected her cheeks were currently flaming at the thought.

  “Not at all, my lord,” she managed with a tight smile. “If you’ll excuse me?”

  She stepped around his large frame and had taken a few steps away from him when his voice brought her to a standstill.

  “You little eavesdropper,” he said softly, sounding highly amused.

  Evelyn spun round in shock. How did he know?

  “I beg your pardon?” she said, trying to sound affronted but still hearing that blasted squeak.

  Lord Ashdon grinned and stepped closer, prowling toward her.

  Evelyn took an instinctive step back.

  “You heard me, Miss Spencer. You were listening in on my conversation with your cousin just now, were you not?”

  Evelyn tried to laugh it off in that giggly, breathless way she’d heard sophisticated ladies like her cousin Anna do. Instead, what actually came out of her sounded more like the twitter of a maniacal bird on the verge of hysteria.

  “Don’t be absurd” she squeaked. Stop squeaking, for heaven’s sake.

  Lord Ashdon took another step closer.

  Evelyn took another step back.

  “Are you quite sure, Miss Spencer? Because I can think of no other reason for you to have dashed round that corner when we came out of the library as if the very hounds of hell were after you.”

  Evelyn felt her cheeks grow hotter still, and she cursed them, and him, to perdition.

  “I-I—“

  “You?” he asked, his eyebrow raising, looking for all the world like they were casually discussing the weather. He was an arrogant cad.

  “I am sure I have no idea what you mean.”

  He stepped closer, and she stepped away, and suddenly her back was pressed against the wall.

  “Allow me to explain it. I saw you. I saw you run away from the door when Jonathan opened it, and I know you’ve been hiding around that corner.” He pointed as though she were a child and needed it explained in the simplest of terms. “Now, I know what I saw. But I don’t know why I saw it. Was there a reason for your lurking outside the room listening in to our conversations, or are you just generally a busybody?”

  Since his tone was so friendly, so casual still, it took a moment for his question to register in Evelyn’s addled brain.

  When it did, she gaped at him.

  “How dare you?” she gasped in outrage.

  “’Tis a simple question, Miss Spencer,” he answered with a, frankly, beautiful grin.

  But she would not fall prey to his charm. “Well, that is just the most ridiculous, insulting—“

  “Do you know,” he interrupted as though she hadn’t even been talking, “this is the most I’ve heard you talk. It seems you are quite the chatterbox when you’re caught red-handed.”

  All shyness was forgotten in the face of his breath-taking conceit, but she was still rendered utterly speechless by the gall of the man.

  She tried desperately to think of a scathing reply that would put him firmly in his place. But she couldn’t think of anything, so she did the only thing she could think of, which was to turn on her heel and stomp away from him, her head held as high as she could get it without straining her neck.

  She stomped all the way down the corridor without once looking back at him and heard his soft chuckle follow her the whole way.

  Andrew felt a grudging respect for the departing Miss Spencer. Even her back looked outraged.

  But as soon as she was gone from sight, he dropped the act of casual boredom.

  So, the timid little cousin was not all she seemed. Much as he hated to admit it, Andrew felt his attraction to her growing. It made her more interesting, he admitted to himself, that she wasn’t as staidly good as she had first seemed.

  The fact was that she had been listening to Jon’s and his conversation, of that he was sure. The question was why was she listening, and why was she so determined to hide it?

  He thought of Jonathan’s conviction that Geoffrey Spencer was hiding something rather big. It couldn’t be a coincidence that the man’s niece appeared to be doing the same thing.

  Were they perhaps planning something together?

  Andrew frowned as his brain jumped from one theory to another.

  He had no idea what was going on in this house, but he would find out. His curiosity had been piqued.

  He would keep an extra close eye on the beautiful Evelyn Spencer. And it would be no hardship.

  “And I told Mrs. Jenson that of course she was right to worry about highwaymen, and that Mr. Jenson was far too casual about the safety of his wife and children.”

  Evelyn tried not to fidget, since it was a pet hate of Aunt Millicent’s, but she was bored to distraction and was struggling to keep her eyes open.

  As was usual for her, Aunt Millicent had returned from her afternoon calls with a rundown of every single visit she’d made. Not only did she gossip about everyone she’d seen, but she felt it necessary to give her opinions on every aspect of their lives and then come back here and tell them all about it.

  It was a ritual that never failed to irritate Evelyn, but she had accepted it as an unchangeable fact. Tonight, however, Lord Ashdon was present, and Evelyn was unaccountably embarrassed by her aunt’s actions.

  Why should she care about Lord Ashdon’s opinion? He was confusing and distractingly attractive and altogether too arrogant for Evelyn’s peace of mind. But she couldn’t help wishing that Aunt Millicent wouldn’t dominate the conversation with her silly and, often times, spiteful blather about their friends and neighbours.

  “Mother, surely you do not think that anyone is in any danger of being robbed on the roads around here?”

  Jonathan sounded as bored as Evelyn felt, but he, at least, tried to take part in the conversation. Evelyn didn’t see the point in bothering.

  “Well, perhaps not here, Jonathan, but before you and Anna were born, you could hardly go from one end of the village to the other without being accosted and robbed. It was quite rampant, I assure you. And, according to poor Mrs. Jenson, Portsmouth is quite a hive of inequity with highway robberies, and muggings, and all sorts.” Aunt Millicent sounded thoroughly thrilled at the
idea.

  “Surely you exaggerate, Mother.”

  Aunt Millicent looked most put-out to be questioned and argued with, but since it was Jonathan doing the arguing, she wouldn’t berate him.

  “Well, perhaps the village roads were safe,” Aunt Millicent conceded, though she didn’t seem happy about it, “but the road to London was most definitely unsafe.”

  Evelyn risked a glance at Lord Ashdon and was disconcerted to see that he was still watching her.

  All evening, every time she’d attempted a covert look, her eyes had been met steadily with the mossy green of his.

  And every time it happened she’d experienced that strange thrill throughout her body, making her feel like her very blood was being heated by his look.

  It was ridiculous and inconvenient. She didn’t have time for silly infatuations. And besides, she didn’t even like the man.

  “Be that as it may, there is no reason for Mrs. Jenson to be worried about such things nowadays. The poor woman is already a bag of nerves.”

  Aunt Millicent shrugged and moved on to a new subject: Miss Marstop.

  “Did you see the bonnet that girl wore today? It was the most singularly ugly thing I’ve seen since Mrs. Corston’s gown at the Assembly Rooms last Easter. Why, I could barely keep my countenance. And, of course, her father spends so much money trying to—“

  Evelyn resisted the urge to throw her eyes to heaven. Her aunt was as relentless as she was malicious.

  Evelyn knew that Miss Marstop was a wonderful girl, smart, amiable, and unfailingly kind. But none of those things mattered to Aunt Millicent.

  “Honestly, if Mama doesn’t stop droning on about bonnets, I think poor Ashdon will fall asleep in his pheasant.”

  Anna leaned over to whisper her complaint to Evelyn. Evelyn, in turn, looked again at Lord Ashdon. Her eyes would continue to look even though her brain commanded that she avoid even the smallest of glances at the man. Her eyes could go to the devil along with the object of their infatuation, the traitors.

  “Well, it will spare him at least from having to hear the rest of her gossiping,” she whispered back. “She hasn’t even gotten on to the subject of Captain Townsend’s triumphant return.”

  “What?”

  Anna’s sudden screech brought an abrupt end to Aunt Millicent’s character assassination and all eyes to Evelyn and Anna.

  “Anna, really. Must you shout so? You forget yourself.” Aunt Millicent was smiling, but her eyes were shooting daggers at the young ladies.

  “Apologies, Mama. I — uh — I thought I saw a bee.”

  As far as excuses went, it was rather weak, but Aunt Millicent was far too concerned with continuing her chattering to scold Anna over much and soon resumed her uninteresting twittering.

  “Are you well?” Evelyn whispered, alarmed by the sudden pallor of Anna’s pretty face.

  “Yes, yes, quite well.” Anna smiled, but Evelyn knew her cousin enough to see that the smile took no small effort and looked completely insincere.

  “I cannot imagine why Captain Townsend’s return would overset you so, Anna.”

  Evelyn watched carefully as Anna’s amber eyes filled with anguish before she schooled her features to impassivity.

  “It doesn’t,” she said flippantly. “Why should it? I am surprised to hear it, that’s all. I remember he was quite certain that he would never return to Surrey. I wonder what has brought him back after all this time.”

  Evelyn was both confused and alarmed by Anna’s distress. She had never known of any sort of attachment between her cousin and the handsome captain. Had never even known of a friendship between the two.

  But if Anna hadn’t told Evelyn, there must be a good reason for it. So, rather than pry, she sought to cheer her cousin up.

  “Well, I suggest we listen avidly to Aunt Millicent’s vital information then,” she said with a smile, “lest we miss what the man had for breakfast.”

  As she had hoped, Anna smiled sincerely this time, and they both turned their attention to Millicent.

  Evelyn once more risked a glance at Lord Ashdon and found him staring yet again. This time, however, she thought she detected a look of respect in his green eyes. Had he been listening to her conversation with Anna? How could he have possibly heard what they’d been discussing since he was at the head of the table and had Aunt Millicent’s caterwauling in his ear for the entire meal?

  Evelyn sighed in exasperation at herself. She really needed to stop obsessing over Lord Ashdon and his eyes.

  Later that night, Evelyn sat in the window seat of her bedchamber with the drapes drawn to admit the silvery light of the moon. Though she couldn’t see much of the view, she knew it well enough to know that this side of the house faced the river that ran along the border of the Park and, beyond that, the road that led to London.

  Her mind, being the stubborn object that it was, insisted on remembering images of Lord Ashdon from that evening: how he’d looked bored throughout the talk of Captain Townsend, how he’d frowned disapprovingly throughout the talk of poor Miss Marstop, and how he’d looked amused at the hysterical talk of non-existent highwaymen.

  Highwaymen…

  Evelyn sat up, her mind suddenly whirling with possibilities, finally focusing on something other than Lord Ashdon.

  Highwaymen.

  She couldn’t, could she? No. It was too bizarre, too insane…

  All of a sudden, sitting still was an impossibility. She began pacing back and forth on the Persian rug her aunt had insisted was too good for her room, but, since there was nowhere else for it, it had been left with Evelyn.

  If it were true that Uncle Geoffrey had decided to keep the damning papers on his person and, indeed, transfer them to London at his convenience, then there would be no opportunity to get them.

  Unless, and it was utter, utter madness, but still the thought remained: unless Evelyn decided to make the fictional highwayman of her aunt’s dinner story into something real. Into someone real. Into her.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” she scolded herself as though speaking aloud would make her more sensible to the ridiculousness of the plan forming in her mind.

  She couldn’t rob him, for goodness’ sake.

  Well, she fully intended to rob him, but not in a carriage.

  Evelyn realised how ludicrous it was to imply a difference between robbery in a house and a carriage, but one seemed decidedly less criminal than the other.

  She stopped pacing and heaved a huge sigh, trying to stop the sudden galloping of her heart. She couldn’t, wouldn’t become a blasted highway robber! For one thing, she didn’t even know how she would go about it.

  That’s not entirely true, said a little mischievous voice in her head. You can ride and shoot as well as any man of your acquaintance and better, in fact, than most of them.

  That was true; she could. Jonathan had taught her wonderfully.

  Evelyn swallowed hard as her heartbeat picked up again.

  She could do it. Just once. One time, one robbery, and she would have what she needed: the evidence to prove her uncle’s despicable nature and free herself from him once and for all.

  Of course, she had no clue what one wore whilst conducting a highway heist.

  She laughed at the idea of worrying about the type of fashion that the occasion warranted. Then abruptly stopped when she realised the laughter was becoming a tad hysterical.

  Was she really going to do this?

  Her mind flashed back to that day in Uncle Geoffrey’s study, the feeling of horror and unspeakable grief as she read of her uncle’s plans to have Father’s saddle slashed so that he’d fall. That, in itself, wouldn’t have ensured her father’s death, but then, that hadn’t been the whole plan. No, the ruffian had ensured that father’s neck was good and snapped before he disappeared.

  The now familiar pain and useless anger welled up inside Evelyn. But no, it wasn’t useless. She would use it. Use everything she felt to bring her uncle to justice.


  And, if becoming a highwayman was the way to do it, then so be it.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The problem, Evelyn decided some days later, was that it was rather more difficult to become a highwayman than she’d first supposed.

  She had to make sure that she listened closely and carefully to everything Uncle Geoffrey said so she would know when he planned to travel to London. She had to figure out how to be a man, which was no mean feat.

  And, well, she had to figure out how to actually rob somebody.

  These things were not as easy as they seemed.

  Rather than get overwhelmed, however, she decided to approach it as she would any other problem and made a list of what had to be done, intending to approach each problem one by one.

  The first thing to do would be to get her hands on some men’s clothing.

  Evelyn had taken herself out for a walk round the grounds so she would have some peace and quiet to hatch her plan.

  Coming round the stables, she suddenly spotted Jonathan and Lord Ashdon in what appeared to be a very serious conversation, if their expressions were anything to go by.

  She hesitated then ducked into the stable and crept along the wall to get closer to where they were standing without being seen. It was possible that Uncle Geoffrey had confided something to Jonathan while they’d been ensconced in the study, and she meant to find out what it was.

  “He plans to leave on Friday, spend a couple of days in Town, then return with whatever it is bothering him settled.”

  Jonathan was speaking softly enough, but since the yard was quiet and still, Evelyn could pick up on the gist of what he was saying.

  Her heart began to pound.

  Surely he spoke of Uncle Geoffrey’s plans to meet his solicitor. That gave her only three days to become a highway robber.

  “And you still suspect something?”

  Lord Ashdon’s deep, masculine voice sounded and caused her to shiver, which caused her to be thoroughly annoyed with herself.