Highway Revenge

by Millard, Nadine

  She ate until she felt full and was beginning to feel slightly more human when Anna arrived, looking beautiful in deep blue velvet.

  “Good morning, Evie,” she said, coming to kiss her cheek. “You look quite the thing this morning. I hope your megrim has eased?”

  “Good morning, dearest,” Evelyn answered with a smile. “Indeed. It has quite disappeared.”

  “Good. I was so worried last night. You were frightfully pale.”

  Evelyn waited while Anna took her seat and asked for tea and toast before speaking again.

  “Anna, is everything all right? It looks as though we have taken turns being pale.”

  Anna smiled weakly and began tearing her toast to shreds.

  “I confess I have not slept terribly well.”

  “Why ever not? Has Peter—“

  “No, no. It was nothing to do with him. I did not see him at all last night, thank heavens.”

  Evelyn felt the familiar pull of sympathy at her cousin’s obvious relief. The poor woman was in such a miserable marriage. It pained Evelyn to witness it.

  “So then, what—“

  “Nothing, Evie. It was nothing.”

  Whatever was bothering Anna, she would not discuss it. Her tone brooked no argument.

  Even if Evelyn had wanted to pursue it, the arrival of Aunt Millicent with all the subtly of a raging winter storm brought an end to any chance of conversation.

  “Anna, Evelyn. Oh, girls, what a to-do.”

  Evelyn was sure to hide her flinch behind her coffee cup. Aunt Millicent didn’t like to be made aware of her screeching.

  “Your father was set upon by a band of highwaymen last night,” she announced dramatically. Lied dramatically, more like.

  “What?” Anna’s face was the picture of shock.

  “Yes, yes. The whole house is in uproar. Jonathon and dear Lord Ashdon are with your father, deciding what is best to be done.”

  Aunt Millicent launched into a story filled with such embellishment that Evelyn was almost convinced another robbery had taken place last night, one in which she’d had no part.

  Listening to her aunt ramble on, Evelyn was reminded of how close she’d come to being caught. If Lord Ashdon had wanted to, he could have captured her in mere seconds. Thank heavens, it was over and done with now.

  Aunt Millicent’s monologue was interrupted by the arrival of Jonathon and Lord Ashdon.

  Evelyn dipped her head, unwilling to meet the man’s eyes. She could feel her cheeks heating, and she desperately willed them to stop. There was no call for her to blush, for heaven’s sake. It would just seem suspicious.

  Evelyn listened to all the polite good mornings without joining in and was contemplating how soon she could excuse herself without seeming rude.

  “Good morning, Miss Spencer.”

  The softly spoken greeting brought Evelyn’s eyes up to clash with Ashdon’s, and she felt her cheeks flame even hotter.

  Get a hold of yourself, she scolded.

  “G-good morning,” she mumbled before ducking her head once again.

  “Did you sleep well?”

  Evelyn supressed a sigh. Why did he insist on speaking to her?

  She looked up again to find him watching her closely.

  Her skin prickled uneasily. He couldn’t know. How could he?

  “Quite well, thank you,” she bit out.

  “And your headache?”

  For God’s sake, she was getting utterly sick of the man already, and he’d only been in the room five minutes.

  “Gone,” she answered, not even making pretence at politeness.

  “Are you sure you are well, Miss Spencer? Your cheeks are flushed.”

  His words brought all sets of eyes in the room to her face, most scrutinizing, her aunt’s shooting daggers.

  “Perhaps that’s because I’m not used to an interrogation with my eggs, my lord.”

  The cacophony of gasps and snorts of disbelief did nothing to improve Evelyn’s opinion of Lord Ashdon. He forced these reactions from her and caused her to behave in ways entirely unlike herself.

  Rather than shame him, however, or even insult him, her words seemed to cause him great amusement, and his answering grin was so dazzling that Evelyn literally lost the ability to speak.

  Why did he have to be so handsome?

  “Mama has just been telling us of the group of bandits that attacked you, Ash,” Anna said, looking curiously from Evelyn to the viscount.

  “Group?” he repeated with a raise of his brow, glancing from Aunt Millicent to Anna.

  Evelyn was astonished to see her aunt’s cheeks growing as pink as her own.

  “Er — well, perhaps I misheard…”

  “Perhaps,” Ashdon answered with a smile, though Evelyn got the impression that he had the measure of her aunt’s character and penchant for exaggeration.

  He moved to fill his plate along with Jonathon, and the ladies remained silent while they waited for him to tell them what had really happened.

  Of course, Evelyn already knew what had really happened, since she’d made it happen, but she couldn’t admit that obviously.

  “There was only one highwayman,” Ashdon spoke as he took his seat at the table.

  Evelyn frowned in confusion. Was he going to pretend it had been a man?

  Why would he do that?

  “So, what happened?” Anna was clearly riveted, and Evelyn supposed she would be too, if she was only hearing of it now.

  As it was, she just wanted the whole disastrous business forgotten about, so she kept her head down and concentrated on the pattern of her china cup, which wasn’t terribly interesting but would do as far as distractions went.

  “Tales of highway robberies don’t interest you, Miss Spencer?” Ashdon suddenly addressed her and jolted her from her thoughts.

  “What? No. I mean, well, yes, but — I—” She tripped over the words in confusion. What was she to say?

  “Oh for heaven’s sake, child. Do stop rabbiting on.” For once Evelyn was grateful for Aunt Millicent’s lack of interest in anything she had to say. “Do continue, my lord,” she gushed, turning once again to Ashdon.

  Ashdon studied Evelyn for some moments before continuing to speak.

  “It was, as I say, one highwayman, and fortunately he was unsuccessful.”

  “Thank goodness you were there, my lord, or I do not know what would have befallen my poor, dear husband.”

  Evelyn threw her eyes to heaven at her aunt’s insincere worry. She couldn’t care less what befell her husband, and they all knew it.

  And suddenly, it was all too much for Evelyn. Her aunt’s twittering, Ashdon’s lies, Anna’s gasps and oohs and aahs as he told them his tale.

  “Well, at least it’s all over and done with, and no harm has been done to anyone. It’s best forgotten now and put behind us.”

  They all fell silent at her brusque words, and Evelyn couldn’t blame them. She rarely spoke out, and when she did, it was never in the tone of a strict governess scolding her charges.

  “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I believe a walk will help to clear the remnants of my headache.”

  Moving quickly, Evelyn was almost at the door when Lord Ashdon’s voice stopped her.

  “I very much doubt it’s over and done with, Miss Spencer.”

  The slight feeling of dread that had accompanied Evelyn since she managed to get away last night exploded into fully fledged horror. What could he mean? Whatever it was, it couldn’t be good.

  “Why would you doubt it?” she asked trying to sound nonchalant but coming back and gripping the back of an empty chair for support.

  “Because, my dear, it is highly unlikely that a highwayman would attempt one robbery and then disappear forever, is it not?”

  Evelyn’s breath caught at his words. He was right. Of course he was right! Good heavens, what had she been thinking? She hadn’t been. At least not properly. Her thoughts were rioting wildly around, her heart hammering so loudly she
was surprised the other occupants of the room weren’t being deafened by it.

  Speaking of the other occupants, they were all silent, expecting a response, no doubt. And the most expectant of all? The loathsome Lord Ashdon.

  Suddenly, Evelyn was furious. Furious with him, with herself, with her uncle, with the whole damned lot of them.

  “How should I know?” she snapped, ignoring the shocked reaction of her family.

  Ashdon, however, merely looked amused, that sardonic smile hovering around his lips.

  “You shouldn’t, of course. Forgive me, Miss Spencer. I did not mean to offend you with my question.”

  Evelyn could almost feel Aunt Millicent’s rage from across the room.

  She needed to get out of there and collect her scattered thoughts.

  “You did not offend me, my lord,” she muttered, now conscious of her rudeness. And to a Peer. Her aunt would have her head. “I fear my headache is making another appearance.” She attempted a smile that she suspected looked more like a grimace.

  “Can I get you anything, Evie?” Anna asked, and Evelyn felt yet another pang of guilt at her cousin’s concerned tone.

  The emotions she’d felt over the last few days would be enough to last her a lifetime.

  “No, thank you. I think a walk in the fresh air will help more than anything else,” she responded with a shaky smile.

  “If you’re sure?” Anna asked worriedly.

  Evelyn risked a quick glance around the room at Anna’s and Jonathan’s worried expressions, Aunt Millicent’s fuming one, and at Lord Ashdon once again wearing that exasperating, assessing look, as though he could see right through all of her lies.

  “Yes, I’m sure,” she finally answered before moving quickly to the door.

  Stopping briefly, Evelyn donned her bonnet and cloak then swept through the door and into the crisp, morning air.

  She needed to think fast and come up with some sort of solution to the mess she’d created for herself.

  “Don’t say it.”

  Andrew looked up Jonathan’s words.

  The two were still in the breakfast room, the ladies having taken their leave to prepare for morning calls.

  “Say what?” he asked innocently, raising his coffee cup to his lips and wishing for something stronger.

  “Say that Evie is acting — well, strangely.”

  “You admit it, then?” he asked carefully. He knew how fiercely protective Jon was of both Anna and Evelyn and having always thought it a little over the top, he now understood it completely.

  He understood it because Miss Spencer brought out the same protective nature in him. So, yes, he understood the feeling; he just didn’t understand why the hell he was feeling it!

  “Of course I admit it,” Jonathon snapped. “’It’s obvious that something is on her mind.”

  “Something to do with your father?”

  Andrew watched as Jonathan leapt from his chair and began pacing.

  “I know you think I am blinded, Ash, but I promise you, Evie couldn’t be involved in anything sinister. She couldn’t be. She isn’t the type.”

  “Then what do you think is going on?” he asked, refilling his cup, more to keep from slamming his hands on the table in frustration. The little enchantress really had her cousin fooled. Had everyone fooled.

  “As to that, I cannot say. But I know it is nothing bad. I know it,” Jon replied fiercely.

  Andrew released a sigh and ran his fingers through his hair, undoing all the good his valet had done less than an hour before.

  “You are blinded, my friend,” he said quietly, knowing where he needed to lead the conversation and hating himself for it.

  Jonathan seemed to know too, if his sudden stillness was anything to go by. Andrew wasn’t surprised. Jonathan was one of the most astute people he’d ever known. Usually.

  He watched as Jonathan turned toward him, his normally warm brown eyes as cold as glaciers.

  “I know her, Ashdon.” He spoke quietly though his tone was infused with that steel that said he was holding on to his temper by a thread.

  Andrew felt his own temper rise. Could the man really be so fooled by yet another female? He stood so that they were facing each other, their tension palpable.

  “You thought you knew Gabrielle, too,” he said, more sharply than he’d intended.

  The words seemed to suck every last drop of warmth from the room, and Andrew wished immediately that he could recall them.

  “Do not speak of Gabrielle,” Jonathan rasped, and there was a world of pain in his tone that made Andrew feel ghastly for bringing her up.

  “Jon, I’m so—“

  “Don’t,” Jonathon said, and he sounded as though he were an old man who carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, weary and alone. “Just. Don’t. I have some pressing matters to attend to. I’ll see you later.”

  Without another word, he turned and slipped quietly from the room, and Andrew felt like the biggest cad in the world.

  What had possessed him to bring up Gabrielle? What had caused him to become so angry that he would lash his best friend with words designed to hurt?

  With a muffled oath, Andrew moved to gaze out of the French doors that led to the estate’s formal gardens, which in turn led to a small wood. His eyes picked up a flash of green, and, suddenly, he knew what was driving his unusual behaviour. Evelyn Spencer!

  If Jonathan was so convinced of her goodness, there was a chance she was as innocent as she seemed. And if he couldn’t suspect her of foul play, couldn’t mistrust and dislike her, then he could all too easily begin liking her more than he should.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The cool, autumn breeze was a welcome relief to Evelyn’s heated cheeks.

  She’d been traipsing around the garden, stomping out her confusion and her frustration with herself, and had come to the conclusion that she could not hang up her mask just yet.

  For Lord Ashdon, much as she was loath to admit it, was right; should she no longer commit some robberies, everyone would know that her uncle had been the target, and until Evelyn had her hands on those papers, she didn’t want anyone knowing what had happened.

  Her uncle was as wily as he was dishonest, and she would not show her hand until she knew she could prove her claim.

  So that was that. Although the thought caused her to feel physically sick, there was no real choice in the matter. She must continue to be a highway woman. She must, to her ever increasing horror, actually rob someone. Steal from them. Take their possessions through fear and force.

  Evelyn felt unwelcome and terribly inconvenient tears fill her eyes.

  Dash it all! Tears wouldn’t help. There was nothing for it. She had to just do it, and that was all there was to it.

  Squaring her shoulders, Evelyn turned to return to the house only to find herself face to face with the dreaded Lord Ashdon.

  “Damn it,” she muttered before she could help herself, then clapped a hand over her mouth. Swearing in front of a viscount. Well, wasn’t that just the icing on the cake?

  To her relief, he looked completely shocked and then highly amused as he let out a bark of laughter.

  “Lovely to see you too, Miss Spencer.” He grinned, and it was so devastatingly charming that she forgot to respond, to blink, to breathe even.

  “Miss Spencer?”

  “What? Y-yes, yes of course,” she stuttered.

  “Of course what?” He frowned.

  “What?” She frowned right back.

  This was becoming uncomfortably like the conversation they’d had last night. Although, thankfully he didn’t know she’d been the one he’d been talking to.

  He seemed to be remembering too as his face went from confused to astute in the blink of an eye.

  The last thing Evelyn needed was his quick mind figuring out what she was up to.

  “So, my lord, what brings you out here this morning?”

  She realised her tone was too bright, far more welco
ming than it had been up to this point, and too friendly, given that the last time they’d been alone together they’d been at complete loggerheads. But if he concentrated on that, he wouldn’t think about last night, and that was good enough for her.

  “I thought the fresh air would do me some good, too,” he answered, his smile friendly.

  He held out his arm to her, leaving her no choice but to place her hand on it and allow him to lead her at a sedate pace around the gardens.

  Of course his arm felt solid and sinewy beneath her fingers. Of course she felt the heat of his skin through the layers of clothes and gloves they both wore. He wouldn’t be considerate enough to have weak, regularly heated arms.

  Her dislike of him coupled with her overwhelming attraction to him was both confusing and unwelcome, and she placed the blame for both squarely at his Hessian-clad feet.

  “Miss Spencer?”

  “Y-yes?” she stuttered again, keeping her gaze firmly ahead as they wound their way around the garden.

  “You seem a little distracted this morning.”

  “I do?”

  “Hmm. No doubt there is something on your mind?”

  Her heart hammered at his question that wasn’t really a question, more like a statement or even an accusation.

  “Not particularly, my lord,” she managed to mutter, though her mouth was dry as an Indian desert.

  “Really? I would have thought the news of a bona fide highway robber would cause enough excitement to be on everyone’s mind.”

  Damn. She’d walked into that one. Of course she should be up in the boughs about a highway robber. If she’d only just learned about it, she probably would be.

  “Well, of course,” she tittered. She, who had never tittered a day in her life. “’Tis enough to overset any lady. But, well, you and my uncle are unharmed after all and — and perhaps he has moved on since he was so unsuccessful last night?”

  She turned to look at him, hoping he would agree that this was a genuine possibility so she could put the whole, sorry mess behind her.

  His mossy gaze bore into hers, and she had a sudden and altogether ridiculous urge to sweep an unruly lock of hair back from his brow, just as she had last night. She wouldn’t. Of course.