The horse reared as they got close, and she was sure there was no hope. But then, Alexander gestured her closer. ‘Mount.’
‘I do not think he will allow it.’
Alexander stood clear of the angry horse, but kept the gun trained upon her. ‘He believes you both belong to his master. He will let you ride. Now, mount.’
She put a foot into the stirrup, which was low because of Stephano’s long legs, and pulled herself uneasily onto the horse, riding astride. Once she was up and the horse was steady, Alexander pulled himself up behind her. He wrapped an arm around her waist and poked her in the back with the gun. ‘Ride towards Warrenford.’
She let out a sigh of frustration, and tugged at the reins until the horse started at a walk.
Alexander took the reins from her hands and gave the beast a kick in the ribs, and their pace in creased to a trot.
On the trip into the country, there was ample time to examine her emotions. She should be terrified. A man had kid napped her and held a gun in her back, forcing her to who knew what fate.
But the man in question was Alexander Veryan. It was unusual for a girl of her age to have been kid napped at all. But when it happened twice in a fort night, one began to develop opinions on the subject. And while being taken from the Keddinton estate by the unarmed Stephano had been a terrifying experience, being forced to return to it by the gun-wielding Alexander was more annoying than frightening.
It might have been different, had she truly believed him capable of shooting her. But since her death would render his final goal of marriage to be quite impossible, she suspected that she was in no real danger. Unless, of course, the gun went off accidentally.
And considering Alexander’s difficulty in man aging the gun, the horse and her, a stray shot seemed too likely to risk. If the poor boy had meant to leave her swooning with his commanding presence, the least he could have done was to learn the most direct route to his own home. In her critique of his actions, she had given him high marks for avoiding the main road to thwart pursuit, only to take them away again when they had to turn back not once, but twice on the way.
And now, she feared they were hopelessly lost again. At last, she gave vent to her frustration. ‘At this rate, it is likely to be dark before we arrive. Do you, or do you not know the way home?’
His grip on the reins loosened, and she could feel the gun in her ribs again. ‘If it grows too late, we will stop for the night.’
She suppressed a shudder of revulsion. ‘Alex, I have no intention of camping in the wilderness with you on this night or any other. I demand that you take me back to the main road immediately so that we can be on our way to either your home or mine.’
‘You did not seem to mind, when it was the Gypsy who took you. If your reputation is in ruins, there will be few as willing to offer for you as I am. You should not be so particular.’
And then, she felt him put the gun away, so that he could more freely demonstrate his intentions towards her.
‘Alex, do not dare.’
Now, he was squeezing her waist, and planting a rather wet kiss on the back of her neck.
She leaned forward, trying to get away from him. ‘Alex, this is your last warning. I mean it. You will be sorry.’
But he was fumbling with her bodice and licking her on the ear. He was ignoring her wishes, just as he always had. And she was so very tired of being ignored. So she reached into her pocket and took out the knife, giving a quick downward slash to his roving hands.
Alex yelped and reared back in pain. And then Zor begin to do likewise. So she grabbed the reins in one hand and the horse’s mane in the other and hung on for dear life as the horse stood up and Alex slid off the back of the saddle and into a nearby hedge.
She settled the horse, patting him on the neck and adjusting her seat. Then she looked back at her would-be kid nap per, groaning in the greenery. ‘I told you to cease bothering me, but you would not listen. Now, since you are so eager to sleep rough, I will not detain you from it.’ She pulled on the reins and dug her heels into the horse’s side. ‘Zor, take me home. For I swear, you are the most sensible male I have seen today.’
Chapter Twenty
As the speeding carriage rocked from side to side, Stephano felt the pressure of the men’s bodies around him. Without the mitigating presence of Verity, her brothers were being none too gentle in their treatment of him, allowing the occasional elbow to slip into his ribs as the coach jostled, or the accidental boot kick to the ankle. Nathan sat opposite, a neutral observer to the subtle aggression of the other two.
It was far better than the bullet he had expected when they’d first caught him. And considering how he had behaved about his own sister’s lover, he supposed he had little grounds to complain. But their current be ha vi our was childish, considering what was at stake.
When they had first discovered Verity missing, there had been an initial air of panic, and much shouting of names and running about the house. The others had seemed surprised by his lack of response. They faulted him for being cold, and wondered aloud what it could mean about his feelings for his wife. It proved that they did not understand her at all.
If he had any regrets, it was that he had under estimated Keddinton from the first. It was galling to realize what a fool the man must think him. He had gone to the very heart of the problem and sought aid. He had befriended the one who had been responsible for the death of his father—and by association his mother and step mother—and for all the terrible moments of his own youth. He had under estimated someone who made his living as a spy, who could lie, keep secrets and hide behind facades as a matter of course. He had fallen for it all, had thought the man an easily manipulated coward, and had proceeded to wrong the innocents around him, in a useless quest. All the while, Keddinton had pulled his strings like a damned puppet.
And now, his wife was paying the price for his stupidity. While he refused to believe she was in any real danger from young Veryan, she would be quite angry when next he saw her.
‘There is no point in chasing after Alexander,’ he assured her family. ‘He is no real threat, and is too enamoured of your sister to do her any harm. But we must get to Robert Veryan before they arrive. He is the dangerous one.’
The Earl of Narborough was ready to ride with them. But it was clear that his travel ling earlier in the day, followed by the difficult inter view with Stephano, had taken much out of him. The latest shock had put him near to a relapse. Valuable time had to be spent convincing him to leave the rescue to younger men. But within the hour, a carriage had been prepared, and they were on their way.
Even now, the others doubted him. Hal stared out the window of the carriage. ‘If he is taking her to Warrenford Park, we should have seen sign of them by now.’
Stephano repeated his assurances. ‘If they kept to the roads, we will catch them. And even if they did not, we will not be far behind them.’
‘You had best hope that you are right about this,’ Stanegate said. ‘If you have tricked us into haring cross country after Alex Veryan, while our sister is carried back to the Gypsies? Or if she suffers in any way from this misadventure? I swear, you will not live to see morning.’
Stephano smiled in pride, as he thought of her. ‘If she were on her way to my camp, I would be at her side, not yours. As for the rest? I have seen the way she behaves when she fears the worst. Under pressure, she is quick and resourceful, and her nerves are as strong as any man’s. And I have seen her abductor.’ He sneered at the memory. ‘She is more than a match for him. He does not realize that she pocketed my knife when she freed me.’
Stanegate blinked at him sceptically. ‘So you suspect she has a knife in her pocket. What would she do with that, even if you are right?’
Again he laughed at how little the man knew his baby sister. ‘She would stab him. Or cut him, more like. She has proven to me that she is not afraid to use the thing. If he touches her, he will be made more than sorry for it, even before
I find him and finish with him.’
He glanced at the man across the carriage from him. Stanegate was watching him intently. At last, the other man spoke with no preamble. ‘This sup posed marriage to my sister. Did it take place in a church?’
‘No. It was a Rom ceremony. My people witnessed it, of course. And celebrated with us. But it was not a formal thing, with church records and rings. That is not our way.’ He chose his next words carefully. ‘To be legally binding in England, we will have to be married again. Which I am eager to do, so that there can be no question of her status.’
‘But for now, she is free by law to marry elsewhere.’
‘If she wishes.’ He looked steadily back at his un willing brother-in-law. ‘If she prefers to forget me, and return to her old life, then I will not force her to remain. But neither will I stand by and watch you force her to do that which she does not wish.’
Stanegate was staring through him, trying to break him. ‘And if you wished to forget her?’
‘Marriage is not entered into lightly, in my people, nor in yours.’ Perhaps that was not totally true in his case. But the truth did not support his argument. ‘I would not have said the words, had I not meant them.’ Some where in his heart, perhaps he had. ‘I cannot go back to my tribe and tell them it was nothing, that I brought a gadji into their midst, called her wife, and shared my vardo with her. No woman would want a man so quick to cast off a wife who was no longer convenient.’
Stanegate frowned thoughtfully. ‘But suppose you did not need to go back to your people. I understand that the Americas offer opportunity to a man of intelligence and resolve. Ten thousand pounds would go a long way, if one wished to begin a new life.’
So the man meant to bribe him? He scoffed. ‘I have at least that in a year, and more.’
‘Twenty then.’ There was no desperation in Stanegate’s voice. It was the calm tone of a man used to getting his way.
‘Could you forget your wife, for twenty thou sand pounds?’
He could see the question had struck home, for the man paused, and showed no sign of raising his bid.
Stephano pressed on. ‘If it is a matter of money that worries you—or your sister’s comfort or safety—let me remind you that I do not live in a wagon because I want for a house. You have seen Blooms bury Square. Not as grand as the Carlow town house, of course. And there is some recent fire damage and a hole in the woodwork.’
His brothers-in-law both smiled at the memory of the damage.
‘But there is ample space to raise a family. I have seventeen thousand a year. The original source of the money might not be to your liking, should I be forced to go back to my beginnings and account for every penny. But the business has been legal for a long time, and my investments are sound. Do not think I will need to pick pockets or tell fortunes, or that Verity will be wearing scarves and dancing in the street for pennies. Her life will be the same as any gentlewoman in England, with servants to tend her and enough money to outfit herself in the style she chooses.’
Stanegate’s mouth quirked as though he had taken bitter medicine. Clearly, the news that Stephen was well able to care for a wife was not what he wished to hear. And while he might be in trade, a gem merchant was hardly the same as a green grocer.
While Stephen Hebden might have been willing to let the matter rest and trust the men he was with, Stephano knew he could not. ‘I would be naïve not to realize that you are quite capable of sending me to America against my will, once this is settled. Your other sister married a ship’s captain, did she not? If you wish to give the man knowledge of me, I suspect he would not hesitate to dispense justice. Considering my shameful behaviour in the matter of Verity’s sister—’ he paused significantly ‘—for which I am heartily sorry. Although I realize that no apology could be sufficient.’
He paused again, trying not to worry that he had given Stanegate an idea that had not already occurred. ‘But if your thoughts lean in such a direction, I have a rather unusual request.’
‘You request mercy from us?’ This came from Hal, who sounded quite incredulous at the idea.
‘On the contrary. I request that you show no mercy at all. Treat me as I treated you. If you cannot accept a truce, or my word that I will care for your sister, then I wish you to finish me quickly. Perhaps a ball to the back, should tonight’s escapade come to gunfire, as I fear it might. An unfortunate accident, arranged between gentlemen, that will leave Verity with no ill feelings for her family and no doubt in her mind that her marriage is truly over. I left ample proof with my servants that I consider us wed and that my property and accounts should go to her on my death, should she wish to claim them. But I want her to be a widow, not an abandoned wife. Whatever happens, I beg you not to leave her with the impression that I willingly deserted her or forgot my vows. For I swore to her that I would not.’ When he said it, it sounded foolish in his own ears. It hurt to think the woman he claimed as wife might not trust his word.
His new and un willing brothers were looking at him in scepticism. ‘You would turn down the money—and a chance at freedom—in favour of a quick death, to preserve Verity’s feelings?’ Stanegate said. ‘You cared little for her feelings when you took her from us in the first place, and only for your own gain. Why should it be different now? What do you think to gain, should we kill you tonight?’
‘I…’ He gave a weak laugh, knowing that in speaking the next words, he left his true fear open before them. ‘If I die tonight, as I suspect I shall, at least I will not have to continue in an empty life without Verity at my side. For as I examine my future, I find that it would be quite un bear able to be parted from her. If you allow me to go free, I will seek her out. But to be imprisoned, or trans ported, knowing that she was here, wondering what had become of her…if she was safe, if she had for got ten?’ He shook his head. ‘That is well beyond any punishment that I have meted out to you and your families.’ He looked around him, at the faces in the carriage. ‘For all the ill I have done, at the end of it, none of you were left loveless and alone.’
He could feel the still ness in the carriage, as the men around him considered their current state of happiness. He could see fleeting moments of soft ness in their eyes, as they thought of their wives. And then, Stanegate shifted in his seat. ‘I hardly think your unfortunate demise will be necessary, although I will admit that the prospect had occurred to me. We will discuss the legality of your marriage and the state of Verity’s future later, when the current affair is settled and we are safely home again.’
Stephen relaxed, and he felt a lessening of tension in the men on either side of him. Although nothing had been said, he suspected that, somehow, everything had been settled. ‘If you would let me see the rattle in your pocket, now that we have time, I think I can shed some light on what happened. We must be sure, before we arrive, that we have the right man.’
Hal snorted. ‘You have taken long enough to come to that conclusion, Stephen.’
He grimaced in response, but wondered if the use of his given name was evidence of a re conciliation. ‘A point well taken. I have blundered badly while searching for the truth of this. It is too late to admit that I was wrong, I suppose. But it must be said. I was wrong. And I am sorry for it.’ He looked them in the eye, one after the other. And there was not precisely for give ness in their returned gazes. But there was something. A jot of understanding. And a twinkle that said they thought him to be a hot-blooded idiot. But hadn’t they thought him that, as children? And he could not fault them for it, because it was so often true.
‘Show us the rattle, then,’ he said. ‘If I am correct, it holds the truth.’
Stanegate reached into his pocket for the toy that he had rescued from his son, giving the thing an experimental shake and blowing the whistle, which gave not a shrill tweet, but a dry rattle. He stared down at it, then offered it to Stephano, who took it, turning it over and over in his hands and searching for the weak spots in the seam.
He s
miled. ‘It is the work of my Rom step father. A pity I must break it. Have one of you a knife that I might use to pry?’
Nathan reached into his pocket, and handed over his fob, complete with penknife. It made Stephano smile at the easy trust the man showed him. And then, he returned his attention to the rattle, searching for the point where the whistle had been hammered into the barrel. He was able to detach the thing with a single gouge into the metal, one that could be hammered out later, to preserve Thom’s work.
And as the toy cracked in two, it exposed a tiny scrap of yellowed paper, rolled tightly and stuffed far down into the body. His hands shook as he set the pieces of the toy aside and unrolled the paper. ‘My father’s writing.’ And he was sure it was, although it had been twenty years since last he’d seen it. On one side of the paper, the alphabet had been written top to bottom. Next to it was a column of numbers, and beneath a list of nulls and instruction for trans position of the coded information. At the bottom of the paper was a row of digits, and beneath it, in block letters:
VERYAN IS THE SPY
He handed the paper to Stanegate, who passed it around the carriage in silence. Then Nathan Wardale said, ‘Veryan was looking for the code key that night. And he is still looking, after all these years. He told me so himself, last year. He thought my father must have taken it.’ He shook his head. ‘As though we would have kept it a secret, had we known.’
Hal spoke. ‘He must have waylaid Framlingham that night, thinking he could kill him and make away with the key before he was discovered.’ He glanced at Stephano. ‘Your father was too clever; he had already hidden it. They struggled. Veryan grabbed a letter opener.’ Hal gave a thrust with his empty hand, as though imagining the action. He glanced at Nathan. ‘And your father arrived too late to help, but in time to see the end. As did our father. Veryan was forced to retreat empty handed, and arrive with the rest of the agents from the Home Office, acting as though he’d come when summoned. By that time, Christopher Hebden was dead, William Wardale was accused of murder, and the rattle was on its way to the nursery.’
Taken by the Wicked Rake Page 20