A Pair of Rogues

by Patricia Wynn

  With a worried pulse thumping loudly in her ears, she muttered, “Yes, very well, sir. Thank you, sir."

  Another brief pause, and he said, “Good lad. His lordship and I will only be stopping a moment. Don't lose sight of us, mind."

  “No, sir."

  As he finally walked away, Christina looked about her to determine what she should do. This could be her chance to escape. Indeed, it would be her only chance before nightfall, at which time the gentlemen would surely stop at an inn. She could not imagine the accommodations for a groom, but she assumed they would neither be comfortable nor private. A vision of the company she would be expected to bed herself down with nearly caused her to flee at once.

  A moment's reflection, however, made her reconsider. She could readily see it would be simpler to escape both Ned's and Levington's notice after dark. Easier, too, to rent a horse or other conveyance from an inn, when armed with a plausible story and few large coins.

  From this farm, she could only travel on foot, which would give Ned the clear advantage once he noticed his servant's absence and set out to look for him. Even with a horse, she would need an hour's head start to evade his rapid team. Common sense and a glance at the sun, moving lower in the sky, told her that Ned would have to break his journey soon.

  Having decided to wait until that moment to make a dash, Christina knew her principal task would be to remain undetected. Better, then, to act as Ned would expect Jem to do, and go see the match.

  Christina took hasty steps towards the barn. Cheers, whistles, and shouts flowed out of its doors. The prospect of witnessing an event strictly forbidden to females normally would have excited her interest, but it could do nothing to stem her growing worry for Ned.

  If she escaped, as she must, she would fail to stop him from his foolish course of action. With Levington nearby—evidently chosen to accompany Ned on his journey to the devil—she could do nothing to stop him unless the two men somehow became separated. At the moment, she could think of no way for this to happen, and her time had definitely run out. As much as she wanted to save him, she could not risk being caught in his company overnight. The result would be ruin for her, with its resulting misery for him.

  Still sick from her ride, she reached the crowd spilling out the door, a frightening mixture of town tulips, bulky Corinthians, and local farmers all packed inside a small, dark space. Shorter than the men, Christina knew she would see nothing of the match unless she worked her way to the front.

  Secure in her disguise, which had managed to fool both men who knew her quite well, she pushed and inched her way past the shouting, gesturing spectators. The sound of snarls and loud barks up ahead, a low pitched growl, and a sharp animal squeal, confused her, but her mind was too preoccupied and her digestion too overset to reason them out. She only wondered vaguely that dogs should be so stimulated by a boxing match.

  She should have expected the sight that met her eyes as soon as she reached the center of the barn. As she forced her way past a portly gentleman holding a smoking cigarillo, she found herself pressed against the sides of a pen. The eyes of all the men present were avidly fixed on its occupants.

  Two dogs. Locked in a vicious confrontation. A mongrel of sorts—short, broad, and strangely muscled—gripped the other dog by the throat. His long white teeth and bone-crushing jaw had a strangling hold on the second one's neck. Blood dripped from both dogs’ muzzles and tattered ears. Crimson gashes dotted both of their flanks. A length of skin and muscle from the weaker dog had been ripped clear away exposing a bone.

  In that moment of shock, Christina heard a sickening snap.

  Trapped by the crowded bodies all around her, her nostrils filled with smoke, her stomach already heaving, Christina felt her insides revolt. She went weak at the knees.

  * * * *

  Ned had lost all interest in the dogfight long before it had ever begun. Although he had attended his share of matches from his childhood on, he had never relished the sight of two animals ripping each other apart. Levington, on the other hand, had declared his keen desire to see the match and to place a bet on Brutus, the unfortunate cur that had just lost its life, and as his host, Ned had been forced to oblige.

  He gave a snort for the idiocy of men like his guest. Nearly at point non plus, Levington still could not resist the opportunity to throw his money away.

  Concern for his normally loquacious tiger soon turned Ned's thoughts. The boy's movements had been sluggish today, his shoulders beneath his jacket appearing thin and hunched. The gruffness in his voice led Ned to believe him sickened by a cold, in which case a trip this strenuous could send him lower still.

  Ned glanced about the barn for a glimpse of the boy. He had not taken a look at Jem's face to see if his nose was red or his cheeks either hollow or feverish. There would be little he could do for the boy until they reached an inn, but if Jem proved to be ill, he would have to be sent home.

  As Ned's eyes roamed over the heads in front of him, he spied a number of his acquaintances and drinking cronies. Lord Pepperill and Adrienne Mounts were earnestly cheering the winner on. At the betting tables, where Levington tried desperately to recoup his losses, more of Ned's friends were placing bets on the next contenders.

  The male half of London appeared to be here, taking a well-deserved break from society balls. For the first time today, Ned experienced a sense of misgiving over the possibility of finding lodging for the night. Judging by the number of vehicles out in the field, every room within miles would already be spoken for. He ought to have foreseen such a problem, but his mind had been hampered by a dull ache spreading from his chest with his thoughts of Christina.

  He could almost see her now, her pale, delicate features rimmed with shadows. And, in the carriage, for one dizzying moment, he'd thought he had sensed her perfume.

  Taking himself up short, Ned banished these painful wanderings from his brain. He searched the barn again for his tiger and spotted a suit of coarse, black jersey and a bulky, brown cap wedged tightly against the pen.

  Ned managed a grin. It had taken Jem no time to wriggle his way up to the front. Then, something about the boy's posture made him stiffen. Jem's head flew back as his legs collapsed.

  Ned caught a glimpse of fine, blond hair escaping from the cap; a pair of anguished blue eyes; and two porcelain cheeks.

  His stomach gave a leap and lodged in his throat. Quick anger followed his fear.

  Looking around, he saw that no one had noticed Christina yet, as, mouth covered, she struggled to find her feet.

  Moving as rapidly as he could while still maintaining a careless air, Ned worked his way through the shifting, noisome crowd until he attained her side.

  He gripped her arm, pulling her onto her feet until her startled eyes flew up. Instantly, they lit with relief.

  Her patent joy on seeing him doused Ned's anger like a smothered flame. A wave of pure emotion buoyed the heavy burden from his chest. Beneath her boyish garb and her English rose complexion, he saw the evidence of a heart both loving and brave.

  He had never been so happy to see anyone in his whole life.

  Badly sickened by the death match in front of her, Christina listed heavily on his arm.

  Ned lowered his lips to her ear. “May I suggest we remove from here?"

  Chapter Eleven

  Christina leaned gratefully on him, though she tried to hide her illness while they negotiated a path to the door. Then, a slap of fresh air from outside threatened to knock her flat.

  Ned half dragged her to the edge of the field and settled her on a stile. He remained standing, shielding her identity from the spectators behind.

  Christina took several tremulous breaths, but her knees still felt as weak as jelly. Nausea filled her head. In truth, she thought it never would be vanquished, not after the sight of those curs.

  “Ned, how could you?” she wailed, when she could speak without fear of hiccuping.

  He chuckled in response.

  G
lancing at him with reproach, she met his laughing eyes.

  “I might have known,” he said, “that my forbearance to lecture you for this prank would be rewarded like this. May I inquire what I have done to deserve this hair-combing?"

  “How could you watch such a mean-spirited thing?"

  “One might ask the same of you, I suppose, considering the lengths to which you've gone to gain admittance to the match."

  So, he thought she had waylaid his groom just to watch an illegal dogfight. It seemed improbable, but she was ready to leap at the excuse.

  “I did not know how beastly they were,” she mumbled. “But you must have known."

  Ned was smiling down at her as if every word she said amused him. She knew she ought to feel glad that he had not treated her to a lecture or a vicious shake. And she was. But it was far more pleasant to act angry than to give in to her queasiness.

  He glanced over his shoulder at the crowd of vehicles, then said, “May I suggest that we dispense with this discussion while I figure out what is to be done with you?"

  Shame overcoming her, she could only nod.

  “Did you bring your maid with you?"

  “No."

  “Shall I assume, then, that Robert has no notion of your whereabouts?"

  “Yes, but, Ned, everything has gone wrong. I did not mean to travel with you this far, but once Levington joined you, there was nothing else I could do."

  He gave a throaty laugh, before a more serious thought brought a frown to his brow. “Yes, I can see you were in a fix. If I am to take you home, however, something will have to be done about Levington, and soon."

  “Can you think of a way to get rid of him?"

  “Of course. Meanwhile, I want you to stay right here. Keep that muffler over your face, and do not speak to anyone."

  She muttered, “I'm not a complete simpleton, you know."

  Cutting her a wry glance before he departed, he offered, “We could add that question to our future debate. Meanwhile, you will do as I say? I have your word?"

  Christina threw up her chin. “I have no choice."

  “There's a good girl. I'll only be a few minutes."

  As Christina watched him walk calmly towards the barn, she issued a sigh that was at once hopeless, yet full of contentment. Ned's tall, athletic figure soon merged into the group of rowdy men, but she had no doubt he would soon return.

  And she would have nothing to fear. From this moment on, everything would be all right. Well, perhaps not everything. But, at least, she had stopped Ned from ruining his life, and he did not seem to resent her for it at all. And no matter what Robert and Louisa did to her once she got back to London, for tonight she could be with Ned.

  The sight of his face bent over hers in concern had been so welcome. His evident pleasure on seeing her had been like a poultice to her aching heart. Despite the scandal that faced her at home, she would not regret her impulsive act.

  Barks and snarls continued to erupt from the barn, joined by the equally savage noises of men. Before long this gathering would have to disperse, for there would soon be no more daylight to illuminate the fighting.

  Christina had been certain that Ned could not emerge again without her seeing him; but she was soon surprised by the sight of his curricle coming towards her. She covered her mouth with the stock and lowered her chin to be sure, but the driver was Ned.

  “Hop up,” he said, bringing the curricle to a halt beside the stile. The horses looked refreshed and eager to be gone.

  As Christina scrambled to her feet, he said, “You will have to forgive my deplorable manners in not handing you up. But I think you will agree, it would look a bit odd if I made a fuss over a person presumed to be my tiger."

  Christina threw him a grimace, which he returned, before the sight of her slim ankles below her breeches seemed to capture his interest. His gaze faltered.

  Up until now, Christina had moved about in her boy's clothing without the slightest bit of self-awareness, but her feelings became quite different under Ned's scrutiny. An appreciative smile hovered at the corners of his mouth as he clucked to his horses.

  A pregnant silence fell between them. Christina did not dare ask where they would be going, or more particularly where they would spend the night, which would soon be closing in. She trusted Ned to bring them out of this predicament, although she feared the consequences might be greater than he liked.

  * * * *

  For his part, Ned was fully aware of the failing light and the compromising situation, as well as the probable outcome of this night. Intending to spare Christina as much disgrace as possible, he focused on getting her home first. He eased his team out of the rutted track and up onto the main road. But, once there, he told her to hold on tightly while he urged his pair into a gallop.

  He could not possibly get her back to London tonight. Nevertheless, they should put as much distance between themselves and the men behind them as they could before dark. The worst possible thing would be for one of those spectators to recognize the Lady Christina Lindsay.

  His near euphoria on seeing the light in her eyes had quickly given way to worry. He didn't know what had brought her on such a mad escapade; but the result would be foregone.

  She would be forced to marry him.

  Once Robert discovered she had left town in his company and spent the night with him alone, she would have no choice.

  Ned's heart gave a stunning leap, but his concern for Christina tamped it down. He thought he could make her a good husband. He would surely try.

  But no young girl with her beauty and spirit should be tied to a burnt-out rake like him.

  Ned pressed his horses until the fading light made the road too dangerous. While they'd kept up a rapid pace, conversation had been impossible. Now, as he slowed his team to a restful trot, he cast his gaze on the woman beside him.

  Christina's eyes met his, and in their depths he read her embarrassment over what was to come. Still, she looked at him with all the trusting wonder of the little girl he so fondly remembered.

  Ned could not be certain that he could merit that trust.

  He broke their gaze and with an effort at casual speech, said, “We shall have to find a place to pass the night."

  “Shall we go to an inn?"

  He shook his head. “We'd be certain to run into someone we knew. It would be better to find ourselves a barn."

  Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw her shiver.

  “Frightened?"

  His question seemed to surprise her. “Of course, I'm not. Your mentioning a barn made me think of those poor dogs."

  “Ah."

  “Why did you stop there, Ned? I hope you do not enjoy dogfights."

  On another day, at another time, he might have teased her; but Christina needed reassurance now.

  “I have never cared for dog matches, but Levington does. I only stopped so he could place a wager."

  “What did you tell him?"

  “Levington? Oh, that was easy. I concocted a yarn expressly designed to appeal to the most tender spot in his heart. I told him a messenger had tracked me down from London to deliver some very important news. My Great-Aunt Bertha, if you please, is not expected to last the night, and if I want to be included in her will, I had better make haste.

  “In that sort of situation, you know, Levington can be surprisingly sympathetic. He said he had an aunt in similar health, and he was daily hoping for her to expire."

  Christina made a noise between a laugh and a snort. “But whatever did you do to get rid of him?"

  “We had several acquaintances in the crowd. It did not take me long to find someone willing to take him up."

  “Thank goodness!” She gave a sigh. “I am happy you were put to so little trouble on my account."

  “Yes, excellent,” he said. Ned did not mention that he had offered to pay Levington's expenses on a shooting jaunt Lord Pepperill had arranged.

  Christina cocked him a glance. She
seemed alert to the wry humor he had failed to keep from his tone.

  Unwilling to burden her with guilt, especially when, despite his concern for the hour, he felt so unreasonably happy, Ned merely grinned until her suspicions faded.

  They rode along behind the horses as the late spring day turned into twilight. A pleasant breeze sprang up, bringing with it the scent of freshly turned earth. Meadow flowers filled the air with their delicate fragrance, along with the sweetness of new grass. The cooling gusts ruffled the hair beneath their hats, giving Ned a feeling of freedom, but he reminded himself that it would later carry a chill. Even though Christina in her heavy black jacket was more warmly dressed than in her usual light muslin gowns, she would be needing a decent shelter for the night.

  As they tooled along the country road, Ned realized that, if it were not for the worry he knew Robert and Louisa would be experiencing, he would be completely content.

  He carefully avoided the taverns and inns on the London road. Then, shortly before dark, he noticed a tidy looking farm only a short distance away. Turning down its curling drive between two hay fields, he stopped the horses several yards from the house and, giving the reins to Christina, told her to wait.

  After a good quarter of an hour, during which dusk turned to night, he reappeared with a large basket in his arms.

  “Hold this,” he told her as he climbed back up.

  Christina felt around inside the basket. It contained a pair of folded quilts, a rough pottery jug, and a cloth-wrapped parcel which smelled like bread.

  Ned repossessed himself of the ribbons and guided the horses a short way, through the opening in a low stone fence, then past a dark hen house and pigsty to a vast, well proportioned barn.

  In the increasing blackness, Christina could barely see him as again he told her to wait. Despite the quickness in her pulse, she felt no alarm, just a great sense of anticipation, a quivering deep within her belly, and a pleasant tightness in her throat. She took a deep breath to calm her tremblings and drew in the sweet, musky odor of hay.

  The creaking of a large barn door and a striking of flint reached her ears. They were followed by a glow of light, which illuminated from within the outline of the barn.