by Dayna Quince
Felton searched every shadowed corner for Rigsby.
“Major.”
A hand grabbed his shoulder. With a snarl, Felton turned and grabbed the throat of his enemy, pinning him against the wall. He stared into Rigsby’s eyes.
“You’ve got a death wish, Lord Rigsby?”
“I understand if you wish to pummel me. I’ve been fighting the same impulse regarding you, but we have a common enemy here.”
Felton frowned, but he didn’t release his grip on Rigsby’s throat.
Rigsby nodded toward the bar.
Felton barely glanced. “You want to share a pint before I throttle you?”
“The gentleman sitting second to last is Mr. Richard Foster,” his voice lowered, “Thea’s cousin.”
The hand Felton held against Rigsby’s throat eased. He pulled away reluctantly and adjusted his coat. Now he looked carefully. The gentleman was unassuming. His clothing stated he was clearly a gentleman, but not necessarily a wealthy one. He was hunched over a mug, conversing with the men on either side of him.
“What is he doing here?”
“Let’s find out.” Rigsby shouldered his way past and claimed a barrel near Mr. Foster with his back to him. Felton paused beside him.
“He knows me, but he doesn’t know you.”
Felton nodded. He wedged in beside the man to Fosters right and waited for the bar maid to take notice of him.
“She’s small. Blondish, glasses,” Foster slurred.
“She’s a lady?” the man on the left asked.
“She likes to think she is.” Foster sneered as he lifted his mug and spilled ale down his front as he brought it to his lips.
“Who is she?”
Foster slammed down the mug. “She’s my wife.”
“Ye lost yer wife?” the man on the right chortled.
“She’s not my wife, you bloody oaf.”
“You just said she was yer wife.”
“She will soon be my wife, and then the land will be mine.” Foster slammed his mug again. The clay handle broke off. He stared at it in his hand and blinked owlishly.
“You’ve had enough, my lord.” The pub owner came before him and folded his beefy arms over his chest.
“So sorry.” Foster reached in his coat and threw some coins on the bar top. Sliding off the stool, he careened into Rigsby, apologizing profusely.
Rigsby kept his head down and face averted.
“Here, now. Let me help you to the Inn. It’s the best in the county.” Felton took Foster’s elbow and steered him toward the door.
Foster looked up at him and blinked. He looked over his attire and then smiled. “Very kind of you, sir.”
“And you are?”
“Mr. Foster, recently of London.”
“Major Felton, at your service.”
“Ah, a military man. Wish I could have served, but my mother wouldn’t here of it.”
Felton led him out of the pub and to the darkening twilight of Main Street. The going was slow. Fosters knees wobbled like gelatin. It was hard enough for Felton to keep an even gate.
“Did I hear you’re looking for your wife?”
“My fiancée. I want to surprise her. She’s visiting friends, but I lost the address. Do you know her?”
“What is her name?”
“Manton, Dorothea Manton. Related to the gun maker, but her bloody father ruined the association, and now we all must suffer.”
“Suffer?”
“Family money, you know.” He belched. “There isn’t any to be had.”
“I see.”
“She’s got land from her grandmother. It’s going to be mine when we marry.”
“How fortunate for you both.” Felton murmured. He looked over his shoulder to see Rigsby following.
“Tis fortunate for me. The land is still turning a profit. I will sacrifice my freedom to bring my family back to our rightful place.”
“And your lovely fiancée?”
“I’ll find something to do with her.”
“Won’t you live together in marital bliss?” Felton said through clenched teeth.
“She’s a halfwit. I’ll sire a few sons and then find some place to be rid of her.”
Felton pulled his arm from around Foster, and he fell to the ground.
“What’s this? We’ve hit a wall.”
“You tripped.”
“You’re standing on a wall?”
“You’ve fallen, you spineless idiot.”
“I’d do no such thing.” Foster continued to lie on the ground.
Felton took a deep breath and fought the urge to kick him. He looked back and spotted Rigsby lurking in the shadows. He sauntered over, convinced Foster wouldn’t be able to get himself up, let alone stumble away.
“Well?” Rigsby tried to hide his amusement.
“He’s definitely here looking for Thea. He claims she’s his fiancée and visiting friends. He’s asking around, claiming he lost the address.”
“He’s not wrong.”
“She isn’t his fiancée,” Felton growled.
“But I can believe that he thinks she is.”
“I’m tempted to leave him in a ditch and let the cold take him.”
“He’s not worth the explanation. He doesn’t know where she is.”
“No, but we’ve visited the village together. Someone will identify her, and it will only be a matter of time before he finds her.”
“What do we do?”
Rigsby stared in the direction of Foster and thought. Foster was presently rolling to his knees and weakly trying to push himself up. “Where is the Runner?”
“What?” Felton stilled.
“When he visited my parents, he had a Bow Street Runner with him.”
Felton let out a stream of curses. “You won’t hang, but I might.”
“Nonsense,” Rigsby stroked his chin. “We need more information. We know he means to marry her, but how? She isn’t going to simply agree. So why is he so certain of his marriage to her?”
Felton narrowed his eyes. “Let’s find out.”
They returned to Foster and hoisted him to his feet. He hung his head, not even bothering to look at them. They dragged him to the Inn, and after searching his jacket for his room key carried him all the way to his bed.
They locked the door and stared at their captive. He was snoring loudly from the bed.
Felton got a chair and put it in the center of the room. “Help me get him in the chair.”
Rigsby grunted as they shuffled him into the chair, and Felton ripped up a sheet to bid his arms and legs.
“Just to be clear. We aren’t going to kill him, right?” Rigsby asked.
“Certainly not. Only question him. Perhaps bloody him up a bit.”
“Good. It’s the least we can do for Thea.”
Felton nodded.
Once Foster was securely tied, Felton dumped a pitcher of water over his head. Fosters head snapped up. “What the devil?! Who are you?!” he spluttered.
“Who we are isn’t important.” Rigsby stepped forward.
Fosters head was lolling side to side. He couldn’t even lift it.
“He may be too drunk to answer questions,” Rigsby said.
“He’s perfect.” Felton stepped forward and slapped Foster. Foster blinked rapidly and then focused. He smiled. “There you are. You got off the wall.”
“This fiancée of yours, is she pretty?”
Foster shrugged. “She’s all right for a tumble, I suppose. It won’t be hard to stir my prick to get the job—”
Crack!
Rigsby pulled Felton back. “Not until we have our answers.”
Rigsby bent in front of Fosters and shook him. “Ho there, old man.”
“Wha—why does my nose hurt? Did I fall?”
“You fell in the street on the way here. Now, you said you get land when you marry this fiancée. How much land?”
“Thirrrrrty acres. A prime bit of land for farming and
such. It even has tenets. It’s a perfect set up for a gentleman. A respectable property.”
“When did she agree to marry you?” Felton asked.
Fosters belched. “The bans have been read twice now.”
“Without her consent?” Rigsby barked.
“Priest knows she’s cracked in the knob. He understands the families desire to keep it all quiet and in the family. We’ve got a doctor to agree.”
Felton and Rigsby shared a startled glance.
“Once she reaches majority in two days, she inherits the land herself, yes?”
“Not what new birth certificate states. Looks very official. The magistrate believed it.”
“So you changed her birthday. She can’t marry without the consent of her guardian who is…”
“My mother.” Foster grinned. His eyes closed. “It’s a brilliant plan, is it not?”
“Not if you can’t find her.” Felton stepped forward menacingly. Rigsby stopped him.
Foster started to snore.
“So. He’s got the law on his side and crooked documents to prove his case.” Rigsby shook his head.
“How can anyone believe this tripe?” Felton growled.
“I don’t know. But we’re going to stop it.”
“And how exactly are we to do that?”
Rigsby scowled and shook his head. “Help me untie him and move him to the bed.”
“Leave him.” Felton turned toward the door.
“He has a Runner. Somewhere is a Runner in the village, probably this very Inn, and probably doing a far better job locating Thea than this fellow.”
“So what do we do?” Felton wanted to bellow, but with strain, he kept his voice low.
Rigsby was silent as he untied Foster. He left him in the chair and walked to the door. He paused and looked back at Felton.
“What are you prepared to do?”
Felton panted from the restraint it took not to destroy everything in the room—including Foster. “Anything, Rigsby. I’ll do anything to keep her safe.”
“Then we have to hurry. Let’s go.”
Felton didn’t have a plan. He’d never been so enraged and terrified at the same time. The tiger was nothing compared to this helpless fear he had when it came to the thought of a future, even just a tomorrow, without Thea.
He followed Rigsby out of the Inn and to their horses. He was in such a fog that he was surprised when they arrived at the cottage so suddenly. They rode straight into the stables and Jacobs took their horses.
“Ready the carriage, Jacob” Rigsby ordered.
Felton followed Rigsby out into the twilight and Rigsby stopped and faced him.
“You said you’d do anything.”
“Yes,” Felton nodded.
“I would marry her—I want to marry her, but she doesn’t want me, Major. Do you understand?”
Felton nodded, but he felt like he was drunk.
“One of us has to convince her to elope. Tonight.” Rigsby went on.
Felton blinked. “Elope?”
“Gretna Green…an anvil wedding. Her family can’t touch her if she is legally married.”
Felton felt a searing heat spread through him. For a moment, he thought he’d been shot. He put his hand to his chest. He could feel his heart pounding through his coat.
“Are you with me, old man? You look like your about to faint.” Rigsby shook his shoulder.
Felton straightened. He was going to marry Thea but…his mind froze. He had nothing to offer her, no home of his own. He had no immediate prospects to provide for her. His heart thudded painfully. Before him stood an heir to an earldom. A man with more money than he had a right to. Rigsby could care for Thea. Rigsby could provide everything she deserved.
“Wait.” He put his hand out and grabbed Rigsby’s coat as he was about to turn away.
“I can’t.” The words were like a knife through his heart.
“What do you mean you can’t?” Rigsby spat at him and jerked out of his grip.
“I have nothing to give her. I don’t even have a place to live. I come from a long line of soldiers, not landowners. I’ve got investments and a modest income, but none of it is tangible at present,” he said shamefully.
Rigsby was silent. Felton couldn’t read his features in the deepening twilight.
“Do you love her?”
Felton stared into what he hoped were Rigsby’s eyes. “Yes.” Without a doubt, with everything inside him, he loved her. He just hadn’t put it into those words until now.
“Then that will be enough,” Rigsby said and turned away.
Felton was slow to follow. His legs felt like lead when he first stepped, but with each step closer to the house, they became lighter. By the time he stepped inside, he was walking on clouds. Mrs. Hale greeted them in the kitchen, sobering at Rigsby’s expression.
“Pack a hamper. Thea and Major Felton will be leaving tonight.”
“I will pack our things at once.” Marigold jumped up from her seat.
“You won’t be traveling with her.”
Felton followed him silently to the parlor. Thea stood as they entered, a handkerchief twisted and knotted in her hands.
Chapter 16
Thea bolted to her feet when they entered, prepared to blister their ears. A thousand different scenarios had gone through her mind, each worse than the last.
“Where have you both been?!” she cried. She stopped as she saw Jonathan’s grave expression. He came straight to her and put his arms around her. She stiffened but didn’t move. Then he kissed her on the forehead and looked down into her eyes.
“This is your last chance to be a countess. After this, I don’t think I can forgive another slight to my heart.” His eyes twinkled.
Thea started to smile, but then he stepped back. “Sit down, Thea.”
She did, her gaze bouncing between Jonathan and Felton. She looked for signs of a scuffle, but there wasn’t anything obvious. Felton sat across from her, his expression unreadable.
Jonathan did all the talking, and as he spoke, her hands began to shake. He detailed all they’d discovered from Richard.
“I have an inheritance?”
“Thirty acres of profitable land with tenants. We haven’t much more information than that.”
Thea was stunned. She hadn’t thought she had anything but her name. Her aunts had kept this from her purposefully. She knew it deep in her bones. It was her only value in their eyes.
“The only viable solution to put an end to all this is if you elope tonight,” Rigsby said.
“Elope!” She stood. Both men stood reflexively. “But…there must be something else to be done. I will be one and twenty in less than two days!”
“It won’t matter. Not if he has a believable forged certificate. It’s your word against his, and he already has your parish priest announcing the bans.”
“Have you seen these documents?”
“Well, no.”
“Say something.” Thea turned to Felton and pleaded. “This is absurd, isn’t it?”
He took her hand, and the effect was immediate. She felt stronger just from the simple touch.
“I think Rigsby has the right idea. You won’t have to run or hide once you are safely married.”
Thea touched the lapel of his coat. Her hand sliding over the fabric, she looked up into his eyes. “You’d have me marry him?” she said quietly.
“No. You will marry me.”
She gasped softly. “I…this is all so sudden.”
“The circumstances are not all I would wish them to be, but believe me when I say, this was the outcome I envisioned for us. Someway, somehow, I swore to myself I’d make you my wife.”
“Or you can become a countess.” Rigsby tossed out from where he stood now pouring a drink.
Thea threw him a glare. “I don’t want to be a countess.”
“Suit yourself.” He shrugged. “I’ll check on the carriage. Marigold is packing your things. I suggest you hurry
and get a good stretch of land between you and Foster. When he wakes up and finds his Runner, there’s going to be the devil to pay.” He strolled out of the parlor.
“I’m sorry. This isn’t how I’d imagined us getting married.” Felton touched her cheek.
“But you imagined it?” Thea stepped closer.
“In a manner of speaking.”
“I can’t believe this is happening. It’s like something from a book or…something that would happen to Lucy.”
“Thea.” He tilted her head up to look at him. He softly kissed her lips. “I want you to be absolutely sure this is what you want. I can’t offer you the same life Rigsby can.”
“I don’t care.”
“But…I don’t even have a home to give you.”
“Wherever you are is home for me.”
He kissed her again. Fully, open mouths meeting and merging. She couldn’t remember breathing, but somehow, she did. When they finally pulled apart, Mrs. Hale stood in the doorway clearing her throat.
“The carriage is ready.”
“Must we really leave this moment?” Thea asked Felton.
“If we wait, we’re tempting fate. We don’t know where the Runner is.”
“All right. I must say goodbye to everyone then.”
“I must speak to Rigsby,” Felton said.
“I’m afraid he’s left the cottage,” Mrs. Hale informed them both.
“Oh.” Thea looked at Felton. He nodded his thanks to Mrs. Hale. “I’ll prepare my own bag, and then we can be on our way.”
Thea nodded. She found Marigold in her room putting away the things she wouldn’t need.
“This is quite an exciting adventure you’re about to embark on,” Marigold teased.
“Isn’t it?” Thea still couldn’t believe it. She took off her glasses and rubbed the bridge of her nose where they sat.
“Isn’t this what you wanted?”
“Of course!” Thea reassured her. “Only without the midnight carriage ride to Gretna Green.”
“I think it’s romantic.”
Thea thought about it for a moment. If it were anyone but her, she would think it romantic, too. But since it would be her sleeping in the carriage overnight, she wasn’t so keen to live it. It was just another reason to curse Richard and her aunts. On the bright side, this would be the last time they could step on her happiness.