He knew he wanted her in his arms; he just didn’t know if it was to protect her or ravish her. Perhaps both.
“Are you all right?” she choked out.
“Do I bloody look all right?” he swore, which sent her off into peals of laughter once more.
“I’m sorry if you hurt your — pride,” she said with a saucy little grin as he tried to scramble to his feet.
He didn’t know whether he wanted to kiss her or wring her slender neck.
“Come along,” she continued as she pulled on his arm.
He instinctively pulled back, and suddenly she landed in his arms and he, for the second time, landed with a bigger thud on the cold, hard ground.
She’d knocked the wind clean out of him, but she was in his arms, and he allowed himself the luxury of wrapping them firmly around her.
He thought he felt her relax into him for a moment, though that was probably wishful thinking, before she scrambled to her feet and turned to face him.
The weak autumn sun was shining valiantly behind her, and it lit her golden hair, making it seem as though it was a halo framing her smiling face.
He felt winded again for altogether different reasons.
She was exquisite.
“Look,” she said slightly breathless as she held up a black bag in triumph, “you got it.”
And though it had, no doubt, been one of the surrealist positions he’d ever been in, and one of the toughest on his derriere, looking at the expression on her face, it had all been worth it.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“Right, this is the third time in as many days you’ve snuck out of the house. Care to tell me where you’re going?”
Andrew flinched at the sound of his friend’s voice behind him.
He should have known better than to believe he could keep anything from Jonathan.
The irony was, he was only going tonight to warn Miss Mystery of the perils of her chosen profession.
It wasn’t any of his business of course, but apparently the chivalry his mother had worked tirelessly to instil in him had stuck, for he worried about the dangers a lone woman would face in the dark of night.
Admittedly, last night he’d been rushing out the door because he had been inexplicably drawn to her. Tonight, his mind was so full of Eve, he didn’t have the room to think of anyone else.
That was worrying enough without adding being caught like a common criminal to the mix.
“Jon, I didn’t hear you.”
Jonathan smiled, and Andrew thought he felt some of the remaining tension between them dispersing.
“Losing your touch, old man?” Jon grinned.
“You hardly think you’d be that lucky.” Andrew grinned back, relieved that things seemed to be well between them.
“So, where are you going?”
“I — ah — I just thought I’d take a walk.”
Jonathan frowned, and Andrew silently berated himself. Even he didn’t believe that, so badly was the lie told.
“In the dark?”
“Yes, I got into the habit of taking a walk with my cheroot. Clears the cobwebs, you know.” He emitted a sound that was a little too close to a giggle for his liking. Real men did not giggle.
Based on Jonathan’s disbelieving expression, this was going as badly as Andrew suspected.
“Well,” Jon finally spoke, “I shall join you then.”
“No!” Andrew shouted loud enough to blow out the candles in the chandelier above their heads.
Jonathan raised his brows.
“What I mean is, well… your mother, you know. ‘Tis bad enough, is it not that Ev — ah, Miss Spencer retired early again. It wouldn’t do for the lot of us to disappear.”
“You must really be losing your touch, Ash, if you think my mother cares a whit about what Evie does.”
Andrew clenched his teeth to stop himself from telling Jonathan she hated being called Evie. And, come to that, to stop himself from giving his opinion on how Eve was treated by her surrogate parents.
Right now, he wanted to get out and make his goodbyes to the mystery lady, try to persuade her to give up this madness, even try to discover who she was if he could. It would be nice to solve at least one of the puzzles around this place.
Maybe he was losing his touch. The thought was rather depressing.
Still, there was no time to dwell on it now.
“Obviously, she doesn’t care. I just thought you’d like to avoid a lecture whilst breaking your fast tomorrow, should you abandon ship right now.”
His words had the desired effect. Jonathan said his goodbyes and hurried back to join his odious mother. The glint in his eye, however, told Andrew that he didn’t believe a word of their discussion, and there were definitely more questions coming.
But since tonight was sure to be the last time he ever saw Miss Mystery, questions tomorrow would be a lot easier to handle.
Andrew made a show of walking casually to the side of the house, lest Jonathan should be watching him before dashing round to the stables.
The air was cooling rapidly by the hour tonight.
It would be nice to remain in the manor house from here on in, warmed by the fire, sitting across from Eve, watching the flames brighten the gold in her hair… lighten the soft brown of her eyes…
Snap out of it, man.
Andrew had no idea what was happening to him, but he suspected that was a feeling he didn’t want to examine too closely.
The stables were quiet, aside from the odd whinny from one of the animals.
And, of course, his stallion, Beast, was as active as ever, always ready to move like the wind as soon as he sensed Andrew near him.
Usually Midnight was the same, but the animal had been unusually quiet in the last few nights.
Andrew made a mental note to check with Jonathan if the horse was feeling up to snuff.
The cold night air stung his cheeks as Andrew raced off toward the main road to London. He used the time to reflect on why he was so intent on meeting Miss Mystery again.
He was so strangely drawn to her, had been, at least, until Eve had wiped nearly every thought that wasn’t about her clean from his mind.
But even though he felt a frightening amount of care for Eve, there was something he couldn’t quite let go of when it came to this woman who cloaked herself in darkness.
It was the damnedest thing.
He felt drawn to her, then he would think of Eve gazing so trustingly at him this morning, and he’d feel a pang of guilt, as though he were promised to the girl, so he would resolve to change his plans and not see the highwaywoman tonight. Then he would feel guilty that he wasn’t going to at least attempt to help her leave this dangerous life of hers, and he would resolve to change his plans once again.
It was exhausting.
He couldn’t deny the allure of the highwaywoman. But neither could he rid himself of this sense of loyalty to Eve.
He reached the road and slowed Beast to a walk. If she was a creature of habit, she would be waiting by the roadside in a little copse of trees some way up. He would say his goodbyes, offer her enough blunt to set herself up in some safety, and then he would be free to untangle the mess of his feelings for Evelyn without any further complication.
There were no clouds to dim the bright light of the crescent moon, and it was definitely colder tonight. Evelyn was grateful for the rough, heavy cloak she had commandeered when putting together this costume of hers.
She’d had to tear through the trees this evening so she would arrive at her usual time.
Strangely, Midnight hadn’t been stabled tonight, and Evelyn felt a prickle of unease at the fact. But then, she reasoned, even if Jonathan had decided to take the horse out, he was hardly likely to travel to the main road at this hour of the night.
Besides, the chestnut mare she was using tonight was sufficient for a goodbye.
Today had been trying and yet, she had carried with her a warm, happy feeling after the morning she
’d spent with Lord Ashdon.
Even when her heart had been in her mouth later that afternoon as she’d snuck the Carters’ belongings into the vestry of the church with a letter of apology, she hadn’t been able to quite shake the feeling of utter, giddy contentment.
She would see him again and allow herself to be bolder still.
Perhaps he would not come…
There was a part of her that hoped he wouldn’t. A part, which felt suspiciously like her heart, that hoped he was starting to feel something for her, Evelyn, just as she was starting to feel far too much for him.
If he cared at all about Evelyn, he would have no interest in spending time with another woman, would he?
“So, you’re a creature of habit then?” Ashdon’s voice sounded behind her, and Evelyn’s heart sped up with excitement at the sound then sank to her toes with disappointment that he’d come to meet this mysterious lady.
It was all rather tiring.
Still, he was here now, so she might as well enjoy it.
“Afraid not, sir,” she answered with what she hoped was a saucy smile but may not have been since she’d never attempted one before. “In fact, since business is rather slow, this is to be my last night in Surrey.”
She paused to gather her courage before continuing.
“Unless, of course, someone gives me a reason to stay.”
Her words seemed to freeze in the air between them, and Evelyn’s stomach clenched in anticipation of his answer.
He looked completely taken aback by her words, and she wondered if she should just turn and run away. But the temptation of time spent with him without the strictures of polite society was too much to resist, so she stood her ground and valiantly ignored the niggling voice that said she wished he would refuse her.
Finally, after an interminable silence, he spoke.
Raising his eyes to the heavens, Evelyn was sure she heard him mutter something about “that damned woman and her hold over me” before he lowered his head once again and met her eyes.
“My lady,” he began, his tone rueful, “you have no idea what such an offer would have meant to me in the not so distant past.” He moved his horse closer to her own. “However, a recent encounter with a woman who has quite frankly turned my entire world upside down with only the briefest of meetings means I find myself unable to think of little else but her.”
Evelyn’s heart soared at his words, and she had to work incredibly hard not to launch herself into his arms, pull off her mask, and press her lips to his.
Instead, she kept her composure as best she could and nodded her head in acknowledgement of his words.
“Well,” she said keeping her tone neutral, “I am well pleased for you.”
“Oh, do not congratulate me,” he responded drily. “The woman will either turn me grey or send me straight to Bedlam before long. I’m sure of it.”
Well, that wasn’t very nice.
“I wonder why you bother then,” she snapped.
His answering smile nearly caused her to catch fire.
“You would understand if you met her.”
Evelyn doubted it, considering she was her and still didn’t understand it.
“I must confess to being curious then, that you should seek me out, sir,” she said, making sure to keep her voice as dissimilar to her usual one as she could. After three nights, she was becoming rather good at it.
“And wonder you should,” he responded seeming much more comfortable with this thread of conversation than the previous one. “I find myself rather inexplicably worried about your well-being my lady, since we are but strangers.”
“Oh?”
“Indeed. In fact, I would go so far as to say that you do not feel like a stranger and where it not for the — ah—“
“Complication in your life?” she offered.
“Yes, exactly. Where it not for her, I do believe I would have rather enjoyed giving you a reason to stay.”
Evelyn felt herself blush and was grateful for the mask and the dark of the night.
Somehow, it didn’t seem right that a highway seductress should blush at one flirtatious comment.
“But that does not mean that I do not worry for your safety, and so I came here to try and convince you to leave this dangerous choice of career.”
Evelyn felt her heart melt even more at his obvious concern for someone whom he believed to be a complete stranger.
She smiled kindly at him and thought how lucky she was to even be a complication to him.
“You’re in luck then, sir. I have already decided that perhaps the life of a highway robber isn’t for me.”
He grinned at her.
“Is that so? A short-lived career then.”
“Hmm. I hardly think a successful one at that.”
He laughed softly before sobering.
“So, what will you do?”
Evelyn thought about his question before deciding that it was safe to be honest with him about this much at least.
“I will concentrate on bringing the man who ruined my life to justice.”
She watched him stiffen at her words.
“And before you offer, I do not want your help.” She spoke before he had a chance to.
“That’s a dangerous game, my lady.”
“It is dangerous,” she agreed softly, “but it is no game.”
He shook his head and muttered a soft oath under his breath.
“I had thought to send you on your way with a stern talking to and a bag of coins,” he said wryly as he put a hand into the pocket of his greatcoat.
Evelyn grinned and, quick as a flash, produced her uncle’s empty pistol and trained it on him.
“Should we make it an authentic hold up?” she asked laughingly.
Before he had a chance to respond, a shout of “Ash” came from behind them, and, in the next moment, the blast of a gunshot shattered the air followed by the sharpest, most searing pain Evelyn had ever felt.
She looked in shock from Andrew’s horrified face to the emerging one behind her, and, without a second thought, turned her mount around and raced through the trees. She knew that shock was setting in as her teeth began to chatter uncontrollably.
While as she raced back to the house, the thought pounded through her head. I’ve just been shot. By Jonathan.
Evelyn stabled the chestnut as quickly as she could.
Her knees nearly buckled removing the saddle, and she felt drowsy and sick.
Good God. She had actually been shot.
The shock was wearing off a little, and the pain was increasing with every moment.
Hanging the saddle was going to be an impossibility, so she left it on the floor of the stable, hoping that it would be looked at as nothing more than an oversight by one of the stable hands.
Never in her wildest imaginings had she thought she would be shot, which was probably stupidly naïve, considering what she’d been up to for the last few nights.
Sneaking around was becoming less important by the second, but she couldn’t be caught just now. She just couldn’t.
She prayed that luck would be on her side as she entered the house through the kitchen.
“Think, Evelyn,” she whispered desperately to herself, “what do you need?”
There was no way she could go to the cellars for alcohol, but it appeared that luck was, in fact, on her side as she spotted a bottle of brandy tucked away with some of Cook’s ingredients.
Brandy pudding! They had had brandy pudding at dinner that evening, though it had seemed a lifetime ago.
Snatching up the bottle and some clean linens that she knew Cook always kept in her store cupboard, Evelyn finally made her way to her bedchamber.
She could already tell that the bullet had merely grazed her upper arm, rather than do any real damage, but that knowledge did nothing for the pain in her arm or for the loss of blood.
The journey to her room seemed never-ending, and Evelyn almost cried with relief when she was
finally able to lock the door behind her and breathe a sigh to be safely ensconced in her own space.
The tears did come then, but they were mostly of pain and shock and a myriad of emotions flitting too quickly through her to be able to discern them.
Feeling ever more dizzy and confused Evelyn removed her cloak, hat, and mask with one arm before carefully and slowly, with many pained winces and whispers, peeling the blood-soaked sleeve of her shirt from her arm.
As she had known, it was no more than a scratch, albeit a deep one, though it was hard to see the full extent through the mess.
Lifting the brandy bottle, she, who never imbibed, took a huge gulp and then proceeded to cough herself hoarse. But once the burning stopped, a pleasant warmth began to seep through her bones.
Another, more moderate sip for good measure, and Evelyn was ready to sit at her vanity, grit her teeth, and slosh some of the amber liquid over the source of her pain.
The urge to cry out almost won, but Evelyn bit her lip until she tasted blood. She lifted one of the linen cloths and used it to scrub the wound as much as she could stand.
Evelyn had no idea how long she’d sat there, dabbing the wound then pressing a clean, padded strip of linen against it before clumsily wrapping another around it.
By the time she was through, the brandy was beginning to roil in her stomach, her arm felt as though there were a hot poker pressing against her skin, her brow was clammy, and she was shivering despite the glow of embers in the hearth.
Staggering slightly, she stripped off the rest of the offending disguise and bundled the pieces up along with the soiled cloths and the nearly empty brandy bottle, before dumping them unceremoniously in the back of her closet.
Molly, bless her heart, had followed Evelyn’s instructions not to disturb her, so her night rail was just as she’d left it at the foot of the bed.
Working her way into it, Evelyn moved on leaden legs to the covers and climbed inside.
Even the weight of the eiderdown coverlet hurt her injured arm, but Evelyn daren’t leave it uncovered in case Molly or Anna should, for whatever reason, come into her room.
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