No Other Love

by Candace Camp

  “How?”

  “I’m not sure.” Nicola glanced around. “Do you have something heavy in your room? A paperweight?”

  Deborah nodded. “Yes, I have a paperweight.”

  “Good, let me have it. I may need to have a weapon. More and more I think Alexandra is right. I should carry a gun.”

  “A gun!” Deborah stared. “You’re joking.”

  “No. Alexandra carried one in her reticule when she was in danger in London. She told me that I should, too, when I venture into the seedier parts of London. I see her point now.”

  Deborah blinked. “I must say, Nicola, the Countess’s new granddaughter sounds a trifle odd.”

  “She grew up in America,” Nicola explained.

  “Oh.” Deborah seemed to take that as explanation enough.

  She went with Nicola to her room and handed her a small, heavy lead crystal paperweight, which Nicola tucked into her pocket. Then they slipped down the stairs, unlocked the side door, and Nicola went out into the dark garden.

  She heard her sister close the door after her. She hoped that Deborah would have nerve and family loyalty enough to not go to her husband with the news that Nicola was betraying his plan to the highwaymen. Hopefully, even if Deborah told Richard, she would wait long enough that he would not be able to catch up with her.

  Nicola walked quickly through the dark garden, sticking close to the side of the house, where, wrapped in her dark cloak, with the hood pulled far forward to hide her face, she was little more than another shadow among the shadows. When she reached the corner of the house closest to the stables, she stopped and looked across the yard toward the stables. The yard looked immensely long. With not even a tree or bush between the stables and the house, she would be exposed to any watching eye. She could only hope that neither Stone nor Richard would be up, watching. She started to step out of the covering trees, and it was then that she saw the dot of red light flare and die about twenty feet away from her.

  She froze. It came again, and she realized what it was. Someone was smoking a cigar, standing beneath one of the oak trees. The red flare came every time he inhaled. Nicola edged closer, making her way to another tree and peering out from behind it. She was close enough now that she could make out his features, and she was almost certain that the man was Stone. He stood leaning against the tree trunk, where he could see the kitchen entrance to the house, as well as the stables and the yard in between the two. Did he do this every night on the chance that she might sneak out of the house and ride to meet Jack? Or perhaps he was simply enjoying an evening smoke before turning in for the night. Whatever the reason he was here, she could not risk him seeing her and following her.

  Nicola reached beneath her cloak and put her hand in her pocket. Her hand closed around the oblong glass paperweight. Pulling it from her pocket, she crept noiselessly through the dark. She hated the thought of attacking a man who was not expecting it, but desperation drove her. When she was directly behind him, she raised her hand and brought it down full force upon his head. Stone made an odd noise and crumpled to the ground.

  Nicola stepped around him and ran toward the stables. They were dark. She felt sure that the grooms had all gone to bed; they had to rise early in the morning. She could sneak in and get her horse, she thought. She knew that she could saddle and bridle it; she had done so before. The only problem would be making little enough noise that she did not wake one of the grooms and bring him down to investigate. She also had to move quickly. There was no telling how long Stone would be knocked out. She wished fleetingly that she had had something to tie him up with.

  Softly she tiptoed down the center corridor to her horse’s stall. Grabbing a bridle, she slipped inside the stall and put it on, then led the animal out. As silently as she could, she put a saddle on the mare, her nerves jangling the whole time, expecting at any moment for a groom to come down the stairs. No one did, however, and she led the horse out the door and through the yard. Across the way, she could see a dark shape on the ground beneath an oak. Stone was still unconscious.

  She continued leading the horse until they were some distance from the stable. She climbed up onto a low stone wall to mount, and then, with a last glance back to make sure no one had seen her, she kicked the mare in the ribs and started off.

  Nicola rode swiftly along the path and through the meadow, knowing that it would be slow-going once she got to the woods. She prayed that she really could remember the way to the hideout. She had paid attention that once because she had felt challenged to remember it, but the next two times, when Jack had been with her, she had not paid full attention. Also, those times she had been going from the hideaway to Granny Rose’s cottage, not the Exmoor home.

  The moon was up, and she made good time, though she dared not give her horse its head. Once she reached the woods, she perforce had to slow down. She wound her way through the trees, crossing the brook. Once she took a wrong turn, and for a few minutes she was afraid that she was lost, but then she recognized a fallen tree ahead. She was simply on the wrong side of it, so she was able to cross it and get back on her course.

  She could hear the rustle of night animals and sometimes the crack of twigs. Once an owl hooted not ten feet from her and made her jump. She kept on, ignoring the night sounds, and finally, up ahead of her, she saw the small house. She let out a little cry of relief and pushed her horse toward the dark cottage. When she reached it, she slid off, tying her horse to the railing, and ran up onto the stoop, crying out Jack’s name. She pounded on the door, calling him.

  A moment later there was the thunder of feet on the stairs inside and the sound of a bolt being shot back. Jack opened the door. He wore trousers and had hastily donned a shirt, for it hung unopened. His hair was rumpled, his eyes sleepy.

  “Nicola!” He pulled her inside and closed the door. “What is it? What’s the matter? What are you doing here?”

  Behind him, Perry and two other men came down the stairs, rubbing their faces and staring at her.

  “You cannot go tomorrow morning!” Nicola cried. “It’s a trap.”

  “A trap! What do you—the load of money?” Jack asked.

  “Yes! Deborah overheard Richard and Stone talking. There is no money. The wagon is going to be full of men, and they will shoot you or seize you. You can guess which is more likely.”

  He let out a curse and ran his hand back through his hair. Nicola reached out and laid her hand on his arm.

  “You can’t go.”

  “I understand. It’s just—I am still trying to take it in.” Suddenly, behind them, the door was flung wide open and several men rushed in. Nicola whirled and saw the men running at them, guns in their hands, and she let out a shriek. A shot rang out, the ball smacking into the wall above the stairs, stopping everyone where they stood.

  Richard strode into the room, saying, “Well, well, Nicola, good work. You led us right to them.” He looked past her toward the stairs. “Now, who have we—”

  He came to such an abrupt stop that the small man following him bumped into his back. The blood drained from his face. In any other situation, his expression would have been comical. “Holy Christ! You!”

  “My sentiments exactly,” Jack replied crisply.

  “I never thought I would see the day,” Richard said, almost musingly. Then he snapped out an order to his men. “Tie them up. We’re taking them back to gaol.” He cast a glance at the small man who had followed him in. “Well, Constable, I hope you are pleased with what we’ve netted here.”

  “How could you do this?” Nicola started toward Richard, fists clenched. “How could you do this? You used me!”

  When the men rushed in, she had realized, with a sickening feeling in her stomach, how Richard had manipulated her. It was the story of the trap that had really been the trap. Richard had cleverly induced her to run to Jack, thus revealing his location to Richard’s men, who had obviously followed her. Had even Stone’s watching for her been part of the ruse? Once s
he had disabled him, she had not even thought to watch for anyone else following her.

  “You are despicable! How can you call yourself a human being?” Nicola said furiously while Richard watched her, a faint smile on his face. “You made me think that he was in danger so that you—I could kill you with my bare hands.”

  “Well, Nicola.” Jack’s voice cut through her words, low but deadly, and Nicola swung around, stung by the tone of contempt with which he spoke her name. When she saw the sneer on his mouth, her heart went cold inside her.

  “You have managed to do it again,” Jack continued, looking at her as he would at a snake. “I never thought you could, but somehow you did. You made me believe you, even after what you had done to me. And you betrayed me again.”

  “No!” Nicola’s word came out a whisper. She felt as if he had punched her in the stomach. Jack thought she had led the men to him on purpose! “I didn’t!”

  “I’m not that big a fool,” Jack said bitterly.

  “It’s not true,” Nicola protested, tears welling in her eyes. “Please, Jack, don’t look at me like that. I did not betray you!”

  “Really, Nicola,” Richard said smoothly. “Why bother to lie to him now? It’s obvious that you gave him to me, just as you did ten years ago.” He glanced at Jack, saying, “Talented, isn’t she? I am sure any number of men have fallen under her spell.”

  “Stop it! How dare you say that I helped you?” Nicola cried out. “I would as soon help a snake!” She whipped back around, saying, “Jack, please…”

  “Take me out of here, Constable,” Jack said, looking away from her. “I cannot stand the stench of treachery in this room.”

  Nicola felt as if her heart had died within her. Jack did not believe her. Once again he was lost to her, hated her. Even worse, she had betrayed him to his enemies, however unknowingly. He had every right to hate her. She had been foolish and impulsive, so driven by her fear for him that she had not stopped to think. She had been an easy pawn for Exmoor to use. And now…now Jack would die because of her mistake.

  She watched in horror as the constable and the hired men led Jack and the others out the door. More men were coming toward them from the small building in back, and another man walked with them, hands tied. Nicola walked to the doorway and stood, watching numbly, as another man led out several horses. Jack and his men were mounted, hands tied behind their backs. Richard strode past her and got on his horse. The procession started out, with Richard and the constable in front. Only Nicola remained behind, standing on the front stoop, watching Jack disappear from her life again, hating her.

  The tears began to flow in earnest, and she could not stop them. She sank down onto the stoop, sobbing.

  AFTER HER BOUT OF TEARS, Nicola went inside the small house and wandered upstairs. She went into Jack’s room and sat down on his bed, closing her eyes. She could sense him all around her. There was the faint scent of him on his pillow, a shirt that he had worn thrown across a chair, the rumpled, turned-back bed that he had hastily left.

  Nicola swallowed hard and squeezed her eyes shut. She had indulged her tears, and she refused to do so again. She had to do something. She thought for some time and finally rose with renewed purpose. She was not going to let Jack rot in gaol, much less hang. Whatever it took, she would get him out.

  She rode to Buckminster Hall. Penelope had said that Bucky and the others were planning to arrive the evening before. She hoped that they had. When she arrived at Buckminster Hall, it was the middle of the night, and it took a long, steady pounding of the door knocker to finally bring a sleepy-eyed footman to the door. His powdered footman’s wig was clapped crookedly on his head, and he had misbuttoned his livery jacket. He stared at her for a long moment.

  “Miss Falcourt?” he asked finally.

  “Yes. I have come to see my cousin. Is he here?”

  “Lord Buckminster? Why, yes, miss, he rode in last night, him and Lord Lambeth. Lord and Lady Thorpe came, too, in a carriage.”

  “I have to talk to Lord Buckminster.”

  “Now, miss?”

  “Yes, of course now.” Nicola gave him a level, commanding look. “Are you going to keep me on the step or let me in?”

  “Oh, miss, I’m that sorry.” He stepped back, looking alarmed and contrite. “I’m not thinking well. Please come in. But, miss, did you know it was three o’clock in the morning? His lordship’s been in bed these two hours.”

  “I wouldn’t have thought him that easily accustomed to country hours. I am sorry, but you will have to wake him up. I must speak to him. It is urgent. Or, if you like, I will wake him myself. I know where his room is.”

  “Miss!” The bewigged young man looked shocked. “That would never do. I will tell him you are here.”

  She cooled her heels in the entryway for a good fifteen minutes before Bucky appeared, dressing gown thrown over a nightshirt and billowing out behind him as he walked. He was frowning anxiously.

  “Nicola! What is it? What’s the matter?”

  “Everything.” Nicola rose to meet him. “I must talk to you. I did a terrible thing tonight, and I sincerely hope that you can make it right. I need for you to go to the magistrate and see him about a prisoner.”

  “Prisoner!” He looked dumbfounded. “Whatever are you talking about?”

  “It’s the highwayman. The constable arrested him and his men tonight, and it was all my fault. Richard tricked me into it, and I was too stupid to see that it was a trick.”

  “I am afraid you have lost me. What does Richard have to do with all this? Now that I think of it, what do you?”

  “I told you, it was my fault that he was arrested.” Quickly she explained how Richard had tricked her, getting her to lead his men to the outlaw’s hideout.

  “But who is this chap? Why do you know him?” Bucky asked.

  Nicola hesitated. No matter how kind and good her cousin was, Bucky was still an aristocrat and a male relative, and she did not think that he would be overjoyed to hear that she was in love with a highwayman. Finally she said, “He is Granny Rose’s grandson. Do you remember her?”

  “The old woman who cured people? By Jove, yes, sent my valet to her for one of my colds once, and she fixed me right up. Weren’t you forever going over to her house?”

  “Yes. I was very fond of her, and she of me. She taught me so many things, and—and I cannot let her only grandchild be hanged. Please, Bucky, I beg of you. Use your influence. The magistrate is good friends with your mother, and I know he would do you a favor.”

  “I suppose he would.”

  “Jack will leave here and never return. I am sure he will promise that. He would even agree to leave the country if necessary. He has lived in the United States the last few years.”

  “Then what the devil is he doing here, being a highwayman?” Bucky asked reasonably.

  “It is much too complicated to explain. But, believe me, he does not deserve to hang. He doesn’t even deserve to be in gaol. I swear to you that he has harmed no one—well, except Richard, and that was only financial. Richard, of course, talks as if he is the most dangerous highwayman since Dick Turpin, but he is a good man. Really.”

  “I shall talk to the Squire.” Bucky referred to Squire Halsey, the local magistrate. “Tomorrow morning,” he added hastily. “Wouldn’t do to wake him up, you know.”

  “Yes, you’re right.” Nicola had to admit the logic of that, even though she wished that he would get dressed and ride to the magistrate’s house right now and haul him out of bed.

  “Best if you stayed here and went to bed, too, you know,” Bucky pointed out. “Not the thing to be tearing about in the middle of the night.”

  Nicola knew that he was right. She did not feel in the least sleepy, but she knew that there was nothing that she could accomplish in the middle of the night. Nor could she return to Tidings right now. She wanted to see Richard, but no doubt he had gone to bed, and no amount of bullying would get him awakened as it had her cousin. Sh
e refused to sleep another night under his roof. So, finally, she agreed to stay in her old room at Buckminster Hall.

  She slept little, however, too troubled and unhappy to give way to sleep. Early the next morning, she dressed in the same habit she had worn the night before and started back to Tidings.

  Although it was early, Richard and Deborah were up. Nicola could hear the sound of their raised voices coming from the dining room, and she turned in that direction. She paused in the doorway. Exmoor and her sister were standing, quarreling, their food ignored on the grand table beside them.

  “But you cannot leave her alone there!” Deborah was saying with some heat, her cheeks flushed with anger.

  “She’s lucky I didn’t have her arrested, too, for aiding and abetting a criminal!”

  “She has a kind heart.”

  “She has a meddlesome nature and an unnatural proclivity for the lowest sorts of people.”

  Nicola stepped into the room, saying, “She is right here.”

  Richard and Deborah swung around to face her.

  “Nicola!” Deborah cried, starting toward her, arms outstretched. “I was so worried about you!”

  “Did you know his plan?” Nicola asked coldly, stopping her sister with a look. “Did you tell me that about the trap because he told you to?”

  Deborah looked hurt, and her hand came up to her chest. “No! Nicola, how could you think that I would send you into danger like that? I had no idea. I overheard them talking, so I went to you.”

  “I am sorry.” Nicola went to her sister, opening her arms, too. It occurred to her that now she understood some of what Jack had felt ten years earlier when Richard had said Nicola had betrayed him. She had been doubting her sister from the moment the real trap was sprung. All night, beneath her distress, was the disturbing fear that Deborah had helped Richard to trick her.

  Thankfully, she drew her into a hug now. “I know you would not hurt me,” she whispered to her sister. “I just—I scarcely know what to think right now.”