Highway Revenge

by Millard, Nadine

  “I do. He’s definitely hiding something. And whatever it is, it’s bad enough to keep from the whole family—“

  Here Jonathan paused, and Evelyn heard the worry in his voice.

  “What will you do?”

  “Follow him. What else can I do?”

  “You don’t think it will be noticeable that you’re following your father to London?”

  Evelyn heard Jonathan heave a great sigh.

  “Yes, I suppose it will be, but what is the alternative?”

  Lord Ashdon was quiet for so long that Evelyn thought they’d actually walked away.

  Eventually he spoke again.

  “We have time until Friday. Best to consider all angles and then decide.”

  The sound of gravel crunching followed this, and Evelyn knew they’d left the yard.

  What she didn’t know was why they’d been speaking in such terms; they sounded like Bow Street Runners! Their tones professional. Their speech that of men who had been involved in intrigues before.

  Still, she had no time to think of such things now. Three days was really nothing at all when one considered what she had to do in such a small space of time. Evelyn crept back toward the house, making sure she wasn’t spotted by either gentleman.

  She dearly hoped Jonathan would not decide to follow his father’s carriage on Friday. Robbing Uncle Geoffrey would be difficult enough. Robbing him while Jonathan was in pursuit would be completely impossible.

  Andrew couldn’t believe how blinded Jonathan was to his young cousin.

  “I’ve never known you to be so unwilling to look at the facts, Jon,” he said, trying to control his temper.

  He didn’t think it was possible that Jonathan was losing his touch; the man was sharp as a knife. But here, at his family estate, when his senses were relaxed? He could be forgiven for not noticing little details.

  But missing the fact that his sneaky little cousin was hanging around the stable this morning was the outside of enough. A man of Jonathan’s talent should have noticed her, just as Andrew had.

  “I am not unwilling to look at the facts, Andrew. Nor am I saying that I don’t believe you, but…” Here he shrugged his shoulders, seeming more amused than concerned. “…it’s Evie. There is no way she is involved in anything unsavoury. Trust me, what you see with Evie is what you get.”

  Andrew stood and moved to the window of the library that overlooked the walled garden of the estate.

  “You don’t find it odd that she was eavesdropping on our conversation?”

  “I think that she saw us having a serious conversation and was afraid to interrupt.”

  Andrew turned back to Jonathan, his eyebrow rising sardonically.

  “Why not just make herself known then?”

  Jonathan stood now as well. They faced each other across the room, neither one willing to concede to the other’s point of view.

  “She’s shy, Andrew. I told you this on the way here.”

  Andrew could feel himself growing angrier and tried to calm his temper. His mind threw up an image of Miss Spencer, eyes glowing, voice snapping. She was far from shy.

  He didn’t like the way he became side-tracked remembering the flush of her skin, the curve of her lips as she bit back her responses to him. And he really didn’t like his body’s immediate reaction to the memory.

  For God’s sake, he needed to concentrate. Why was he so distracted by her? And why was everyone else so taken in by her innocence?

  “I know what you’re thinking.”

  Jonathan’s voice sounded behind him, and Andrew turned to accept the tumbler of brandy that Jonathan was offering.

  “Oh? And what’s that?”

  “You’re thinking that Evie is hiding something, and I’m refusing to see it.”

  Andrew merely shrugged. It was the truth, after all. Why deny it?

  “But Andrew, you don’t know her like I do. In fact, you do not know her at all. I grew up with her. She’s practically a sister, and I can tell you for absolute fact that Evie is incapable of deception. And she would certainly never do anything to harm or hurt someone else.”

  Jonathan paused to swallow the entire contents of his glass.

  “God knows, she’s had reason to be bitter over the years. I can’t say I would blame her to want to cause my father discomfort. He hasn’t exactly been a doting guardian over the years, and my mother has done her best to make Evie invisible. But never, in all the years, has she even raised her voice to one of them.” He lifted a hand and placed it on Andrew’s shoulder. “I know you don’t like to hear it. I don’t even know if you’ve heard it before, but when it comes to my cousin, you’re wrong.”

  Jonathan placed his empty glass on a table and quietly left the room.

  Andrew watched him go, feeling for the first time an air of discord between him and his partner.

  Jonathan was entirely convinced that his quiet little cousin was as innocent as she seemed.

  And Andrew had to concede that Jon was a lot more knowledgeable about the chit.

  Muttering a soft oath under his breath, Andrew ran his hands through his hair. His instincts were screaming at him that Miss Spencer wasn’t what she seemed. That she was, at the very least, hiding something.

  And he hated to ignore his instincts.

  But what choice did he have? This was Jonathan and his family’s problem. He would toe the line and adhere to Jon’s decisions. He had to be wrong sometime, he supposed.

  Now, all he had to do was figure out how to quash this ridiculous attraction to the girl and he’d be well satisfied.

  Evelyn woke up on Friday morning and wondered for a moment why her stomach was filled with an icy dread before it all came rushing back to her. Today was the day she would become a highway robber.

  Evelyn sat up and took deep breaths, trying to stem the panic that was fighting hard to overwhelm her.

  She had planned everything. Absolutely everything.

  Last night, when she was sure it would be no longer in use, she had snuck down to the carriage and had done as much damage to the back wheel as she could manage. It wasn’t much — she had made it wobbly at best — but she had removed and hidden vital parts at the very least. It wouldn’t be enough to prevent her uncle’s trip, but it would be enough to delay his journey so that he would leave, not before noon as planned, but hopefully late into the evening.

  It was imperative that it be dark before she accosted him.

  A brief knock on the door signalled the arrival of Molly. Aunt Millicent had never allowed Evelyn to have a maid of her own, though when Anna moved away, she had consented to Molly, a downstairs maid, assisting where necessary because the neighbours would suspect something if Evelyn suddenly started looking like the help.

  “Good morning, Miss,” Molly said with her usual cheerful smile. “I trust you slept well.”

  “I did, thank you.”

  Lie. She had not slept a wink.

  “I’ve brought your chocolate, Miss. Let me just draw these drapes for you.”

  Evelyn sat up and sipped gratefully on her warm chocolate while Molly bustled about the room, opening drapes and moving toward the wardrobe.

  “What will you wear this morning, Miss?” she asked as she opened the doors of the closet.

  “No!” Evelyn screeched, causing the poor maid to jump.

  Evelyn’s heart hammered as she scrambled out from under the covers and dashed toward the partially opened closet. She had stupidly left the clothes she’d borrowed, well… stolen, really, from the stable lads stuffed in the bottom of the closet. If Molly, or, indeed, anyone were to see the garments, her adventure would end before it began.

  “Good Lord, Miss Evelyn, what on earth is the matter?” Molly gasped, her hand clutched at her breast.

  “N-nothing,” stammered Evelyn. “I just — ah — I had hoped that you might fetch me a lavender cloth for my head. I-I think I may be developing a headache.”

  As far as excuses went it was rat
her poor, and, judging from the sceptical look on her face, Molly thought the same, but she was far too well-trained to voice her thoughts, so with a quick nod of her head, she turned and left the room.

  Evelyn released the breath she’d been holding and sat down heavily on the bed. That had been rather too close for comfort. If she were really going to do this successfully, she would need to be much more careful.

  Molly returned shortly after with the cloth for Evelyn’s head, and she was then left with no choice but to climb back into bed and pretend that her head hurt.

  Lying in the dark, for Molly had insisted on closing the drapes again, Evelyn felt a pang of nervousness. Was she doing the right thing? Did she truly think that this madcap scheme could work?

  Then she thought of the terrible day her father had died, thought of her life since she’d arrived at the Park, grieving and scared, thought of how she’d been maltreated by her aunt and uncle since that day… and firmed her resolve.

  She could do it. And she would.

  “Evie, are you quite sure you are alright? You look dreadfully pale.”

  Anna was staring at Evelyn with no small amount of concern in her eyes, and Evelyn felt a pang of guilt. She was never sick, so she knew that Anna must be genuinely worried. However, she had also inadvertently given Evelyn the perfect excuse to escape early and prepare herself for Uncle Geoffrey’s trip.

  Since her uncle had railed for the entire evening and even through the soup at dinner about the mysteriously damaged carriage wheel that had delayed him, Evelyn knew that he was determined to travel this evening, if only because he was far too stubborn to allow circumstances to dictate his plans.

  Aunt Millicent had tried her best to have him wait until the following morning, but he would not be prevailed upon, just as Evelyn had suspected and hoped.

  “You cannot travel through the night,” Aunt Millicent had stated shrilly. “It is simply not done.”

  “I will stop at an inn on the outskirts of Town and wait until morning, if I must, but I will not allow the stupidity of the stable workers, or John Coachman, or whoever the blasted fool who ruined my carriage is, to stop me from making the journey today as I planned,” Uncle Geoffrey had responded, his face turning an alarming shade of puce.

  Aunt Millicent appeared to know she had argued enough, and so it was, mercifully, that by the arrival of the goose for the next course at dinner, the topic ceased to be discussed.

  Now, as the last course was cleared away and the ladies were preparing to retire to the drawing room, Evelyn spoke up.

  “Aunt, I pray you will excuse me this evening, I fear that my headache has returned.”

  Aunt Millicent never cared a jot whether Evelyn joined them after dinner or not, so with a careless wave of her hand, she dismissed Evelyn.

  “I will come with you, Evie, to see you settled,” Anna offered, taking her cousin’s arm.

  “No, no, Anna. I shall be quite all right. ‘Tis nothing that a good night’s sleep won’t fix, I am sure.”

  Much as she appreciated Anna’s kindness, the last thing Evelyn needed was Anna’s company this evening. She planned on escaping to the stables as soon as possible, since Uncle Geoffrey had said that he was leaving after his port.

  Thankfully, Anna consented easily enough, so Evelyn bid them all a general goodnight and walked from the room.

  As soon as she gained the stairs, however, she fairly sprinted to her room.

  Ringing for Molly, she had the maid brush out and braid her hair, to convince the savvy abigail that she was, indeed, retiring.

  Evelyn refused offers of tea, cool towels, and company and was finally able to get rid of Molly, leaving strict instructions that she was not to be disturbed.

  She listened, heart hammering, ear pressed against the cool wood of the door until she was satisfied that Molly had left. Now, all she had to do was change into the clothing of a stable boy, climb out her window and down the rose trellis outside it to the stables. She would steal one of Jonathon’s stallions and ride unseen into the woods and toward the road where she would eventually hold up her uncle’s carriage and steal the papers.

  “Easy,” she chirped with a nervous laugh.

  As far as ideas went, she was starting to think that this was definitely one of her worst. Still, it was too late now.

  In mere moments, one way or the other, her life would change forever.

  CHAPTER SIX

  It had been hours, and her life had remained steadfastly the same.

  She was freezing, starving since she hadn’t been able to eat at dinner, and starting to ache in places that she didn’t even know she could ache.

  As it turned out, sitting atop a giant horse in the middle of a cold autumn night was not the most comfortable of activities.

  What on earth could be taking so long? Could it be that Uncle Geoffrey had actually listened to Aunt Millicent and decided to wait until tomorrow? If that was the case, then all of Evelyn’s plans would be destroyed. No self-respecting highwayman robbed someone in broad daylight, surely.

  Evelyn sighed and glanced up at the clear night sky. For the hundredth time, she wondered if she should just give up and go back, but then, the image of her poor father’s broken and bruised body would crash to the forefront of her mind, and she would feel her spine stiffen in resolve.

  No, this was an action that she must take. Everyone thought her a meek little mouse with less courage than a fox in a hunt. So much so that Uncle Geoffrey thought he could take her entire life from her, and she would do nothing about it.

  Midnight, the stallion she had borrowed, pranced uneasily beneath her, and Evelyn realised she had gripped the reigns far tighter than necessary. Forcing herself to relax her hold, she bent to whisper reassuring words to the beast.

  “Don’t worry, Midnight. I shan’t keep us out here forever. If they don’t make an appearance soon, we’ll give up and go home.”

  Though the thought filled her with disappointment, Evelyn knew it was futile to sit here turning to ice while her uncle no doubt slept the night away.

  Just as she was about the give up and return to the Park in defeat, the sound of approaching hooves caught her attention. Evelyn’s heart immediately leapt to her throat.

  Please, let it be him, she prayed.

  Soon, the glimmer of carriage lanterns lit the darkness of the night, and Evelyn’s eyes, having become accustomed to the dark, were able to make out the shape of the coachman atop the conveyance.

  Evelyn held her breath as the coach trundled forward and finally, she was able to tell without question that it was her uncle’s coach and John Coachman was driving it.

  I can’t do this, she suddenly thought, feeling more than a little panicked. What am I doing? I need to get out of here!

  She turned Midnight to sneak back through the small copse of trees she’d chosen as the place to wait but, once again, an image of her father popped into her head.

  You must do this, Evelyn. You must.

  Before she could once again doubt her actions, Evelyn turned Midnight and dashed into the road, waiting while the carriage came to a screeching halt.

  Lifting the admittedly empty pistol that she’d stolen from her uncle’s gun room, Evelyn felt a pang of guilt looking at poor John Coachman’s face. She vowed to make him his favourite apple tarts tomorrow to make up for it.

  Not being sure what the etiquette was for robbing someone, she supposed cake was as good an apology as any.

  But that wasn’t a priority right now. Turning herself into an outlaw was.

  “Stand and deliver!” she called in what she hoped was a deep and authoritative voice. It didn’t sound very deep. Or authoritative, come to that. But at least she hadn’t squeaked.

  Evelyn did her best to keep the gun steady as she watched John Coachman scramble down from the coach and stand to the side as she’d directed him.

  There was no movement and no sound from inside the coach.

  “Occupants of this carriage, o
ut—” she shouted, adding “—now!” for good measure.

  Just as Evelyn was beginning to wonder if she’d have to march over and drag her uncle out, the door opened, and a boot stepped out and hit the ground. Evelyn frowned in confusion. Uncle Geoffrey did not own boots like those and, as her gaze travelled slowly up the muscled calf encased in the Hessian, she realised that he most definitely did not own legs like those either.

  The kernel of dread that had been her companion since she had embarked on this madcap adventure grew and grew until it threatened to choke her.

  As her gaze continued to travel up the body that had emerged from the conveyance, the body that was decidedly not plump and squat Uncle Geoffrey’s, the horrifying realisation of just who she was looking at dawned on Evelyn.

  Before her eyes finally got to his face and straight into the glacial green of his, she already knew that she was looking at Lord Andrew Ashdon.

  What she didn’t know was what he was doing here. And what on earth she was supposed to do now.

  Andrew stifled yet another yawn and gazed out the window of the fast-moving carriage. There was nothing to see of course since the night was dark and cool, but it was better than the alternative: Geoffrey Spencer’s scowling face. The man was clearly extremely upset about Andrew’s sudden desire to travel to Town and the subsequent wait while he readied himself for the trip.

  Andrew had made a few attempts at conversation, but after stilted one-word replies and even an occasional grunt, he found that silence had a lot of merit.

  He let his mind wander as the carriage gently rocked from side to side. When they got to Town, he would discreetly follow Spencer’s movement and see what the man was up to. The sooner he figured it out, the sooner he could put Jon’s mind at ease.

  Spencer had probably gotten himself into debt or something equally mundane. That was usually the way of it with pompous gentlemen of the ton. They were as predictable as they were irritating.

  The whole matter ought to be cleared up in a matter of hours, and then Andrew had every intention of enjoying himself until he had to return to the staid-and-stifling Spencer household. He’d visit his club, a couple of gaming halls… He might even pay a call on one of his former mistresses.