My head swung back to Hugo. I wasn’t sure what I expected, but it wasn’t the passive calm with which Hugo watched the men approach. I expected that there was a storm brewing inside him, neurons firing at an alarming speed as Hugo appraised the situation and weighed our options, but outwardly, he was the picture of self-control. There was no chance of escape; he knew that much — not with a pregnant woman and a child. Our horses were good, dependable beasts, but could never outrun our pursuers. They were solid and reliable, but certainly nothing like Hugo’s Arabian, Aamir, which Jane had probably sold at the first opportunity.
Jem was wide awake now, his eyes huge with alarm as he perceived that something unexpected was happening. He twisted and turned, trying to get a better look, but Archie put a steadying hand on his shoulder and said something to him quietly, which seemed to have a calming effect on the child. I wish I knew what it was because I was shaking like a leaf; my hands were icy, and I suddenly felt a shortage of oxygen despite being out in the open country. I gulped in the ozone-scented air to calm myself, but only succeeded in becoming lightheaded. Hugo didn’t say much, but held my hand and my eyes in a manner he thought was reassuring. Nothing he could have done at that moment would have curbed my panic, but seeing him calm and collected did help.
“Maybe they’ll pass by,” I breathed as they drew closer, knowing that was wishful thinking.
“They won’t,” Hugo replied. “They’re here for us. I knew we were being watched.”
I opened my mouth to respond, but there was no point. Whatever Hugo had known was irrelevant now since it wouldn’t change a thing. He’d chosen to take no action, which made no sense to me, but I knew Hugo to be a keen strategist. He would never knowingly put us in danger or allow himself to be taken unawares. All I could do was trust in him.
We waited by the side of the road until the riders were almost upon us. I still prayed that they would just pass us, but, of course, that was not to be. The three men-at-arms stopped just behind us, allowing Lionel Finch to canter to the front to face Hugo. He tried to look nonchalant, but couldn’t keep the glee from his colorless eyes. He was practically glowing as he looked at us one by one, his eyes stopping on me and sliding down to my belly as his mouth twisted in a mirthless grin.
“Lord Everly, what a pleasure to see you again,” Lionel Finch exclaimed as he tipped his hat to Hugo in a gesture of mockery. “And how very different you look.” He turned to me, pinning me with his snakelike stare. “Mistress Ashley, a delight, to be sure. And how’s your head, young man?” he called out to Jem. “All healed?”
I didn’t dare turn around, but I could hear Jem crying softly behind me. He was terrified, and he had every right to be.
“What do you want, Finch?” Hugo asked warily, although I was fairly sure he already knew.
“I want you,” Finch replied softly. It sounded almost intimate, which made it all the more frightening.
“How did you know where to find me?” I knew it cost Hugo a lot of pride to ask that question, but he needed to know. We’d obviously been betrayed by someone.
“Funny story, that,” Finch replied with obvious relish. “Liza — I’m sure you remember her well — saw you at the establishment where she works, searching for your urchin. Seems your dear sister dismissed her without pay or reference when she found herself with child, and she now scrubs floors at a brothel where she’d hoped to advance her career after the child was born and promptly smothered. Being a clever girl, Liza deduced that the information would be worth more to me than the authorities, so she followed you to your lodgings and came to find me. As you might imagine, I was very interested in what she had to say, and we came to a mutually beneficial arrangement. Liza got to leave the brothel and will perhaps even keep her bastard, and I get you. Now that’s money well spent, if you ask me,” Lionel Finch gloated.
“I’d say it was,” Hugo agreed. “Now what?”
“Now, you and your man dismount, lay down your swords, and follow us into the woods. If you do that, your lady and brat might not be harmed.”
“Might?” Hugo demanded.
“I might change my mind after you’re dead,” Finch replied, “but you’ll never know, will you? I see she’s with child; that will make things more interesting for all involved.”
I began to shake more violently, my whole body convulsing with overwhelming fear as the meaning of Finch’s words sank in. He had no intention of sparing me if he got past Hugo; he’d make me pay for what happened with Frances, and this time there would be no one to protect me from his rage. My hands automatically went to my belly, which seemed to amuse Lionel Finch greatly. “As if you could protect it,” his eyes seemed to say.
Hugo squeezed my hand, but he wasn’t looking at me, his attention fixed on Finch, who clearly meant business. We were outnumbered, out-armed, and completely surrounded. I snuck a peek at the other three men. They seemed to be enjoying the performance, their eyes traveling between Finch, Hugo, and myself. One of the men caught me looking at him and gave me a leering smile, which made my flesh crawl. He moved his meaty hand to his groin suggestively, letting me know in no uncertain terms that whatever awaited me would involve rape. These men felt no personal sense of vengeance against us, but the promise of coin and spoils was enough to motivate them.
“I want a guarantee that Neve and Jem will be allowed to leave,” Hugo demanded.
“You are in no position to ask for anything, nor will you know if I kept my word, but if it will make this go quicker, you may leave once the men have dismounted,” Finch said to me magnanimously.
“Neve, you are to go as soon as I get off my horse,” Hugo whispered. “Get as far as you can while they deal with us, then turn off the road and hide in the woods. Take care of Jem.”
“I’m not leaving you.”
“Yes, you are.” Hugo gave me a look that spoke volumes as he reached over and squeezed my hand, reminding me of our pact. He did not want to be responsible for Jem and I being hurt, although the chances of us actually getting away were practically nonexistent. “Please. Promise me.”
“I promise,” I stammered as I looked at him. “I love you.”
“I’ve felt more alive with you these past few months than I have for most of my life,” Hugo said as he leaned over and kissed me tenderly. “Please get out of the way,” he whispered so no one could hear.
“Well, this is all very touching, but we really must get on with the business at hand,” Finch said. His patience was running short, and he wanted what he came for — Hugo. All this had been foreplay, and now he was ready.
I nodded as I swallowed bitter tears, but Hugo was still watching me, his eyes telling me something I didn’t understand. He slapped my horse’s rump, and it began to walk past Finch. Archie jumped off his horse and did the same, Jem ending up next to me, his tear-stained face contorted with grief and fear. I couldn’t just leave, so I turned around to catch a last glimpse of Hugo, desperate to remember his beloved features. Was this really how it was going to end? Finch wouldn’t give Hugo a clean death. He would torture him and probably disfigure him before he finally had his fill. He might even leave Hugo to die rather than finishing him off, just to prolong his own enjoyment. I could see by the malicious look on Finch’s face that he meant to draw this out as long as possible and humiliate Hugo as much as he could.
Hugo looked undaunted as he gracefully dismounted, unbuckled his sword, and bent down in front of Finch’s horse to lay it down in the dirt. A terrible sob tore from me as I reached out and grabbed Jemmy’s hand. The three men were still where they’d been before, a few feet away, watching the proceedings with interest. It seemed Lionel Finch wanted to do the deed and needed the men more as backup. He would never take his chances with Hugo alone, but he felt invincible with three heavily-armed men at his side.
Hugo appeared to lay the sword on the ground. His shoulders slumped with defeat, and his eyes rose to meet Lionel Finch’s in mute appeal. Lionel Finch’s chest swelled with
confidence as his eyes drank in his enemy, now all but on his knees. Archie was not far behind, watching Hugo as he lowered his own sword to the ground. Did Hugo really think that Lionel might show him mercy? I couldn’t bear to see Hugo brought down so low, but I couldn’t look away, couldn’t forsake him in his final moments. The men couldn’t see Hugo’s face; only Lionel Finch and I could. They appeared relaxed and almost bored as this ceremony took place; ready to do what they’d come for.
Hugo’s eyes never left Finch’s, but the expression in them seemed to change. It went from supplication to murderous intent in the space of a moment, giving Lionel Finch about a second to comprehend that Hugo wasn’t surrendering at all. I gripped the pommel with both hands. It seemed to be the only thing tethering me to this moment, this life. Whatever Hugo was about to do was his only chance, which is why he needed me out of the way.
Hugo suddenly unsheathed his sword, grabbed it with both hands, and brought it down with all his might behind the knees of Finch’s horse. The horse screamed in terror and pain as its severed legs buckled, and it pitched forward hard, tossing a shocked Lionel Finch over its head. He landed hard on his back, the wind knocked out of him, his face a mask of rage and disbelief. But he didn’t have long to be angry. Hugo was above him, his sword gripped in both hands as he brought it down on Lionel’s chest, driving the steel into his heart. There was a sickening crunch as the blade crushed the ribs to get to its mark, and then a crimson stain bloomed around it, unfurling like a red rose. It all happened so quickly that the men barely had time to react. Their faces were slack with shock, their hands going for their swords as the reality sank in.
Archie had already grabbed his sword and placed himself between Hugo and the men-at-arms. It was two against three now, but the men were mounted, which gave them an advantage. They could cleave Archie from shoulder to groin without much effort and then turn their attention to Hugo, who now stood facing them, sword in hand.
“Wait,” Hugo called out as the men drew their weapons. “Finch is dead and you have your payment for this day’s work. There’s nothing to be gained by coldblooded murder other than a noose around your necks.” The men considered the wisdom of this and turned to the one who appeared to be their leader, eyes narrowed in speculation.
“What say you, Oliver?” one of them asked.
The man looked down at Hugo, his gruff face thoughtful as he considered this unexpected turn of events. Hugo deftly cut Lionel’s purse strings and tossed the heavy pouch to the man. “You have now been doubly paid for the day’s work,” he said. “Be on your way then. We have no quarrel with you.”
“Nor we with you, Lord Everly. Godspeed,” the man said and the riders turned back toward London, eager to get away. Their master was dead, and tomorrow they would be in need of employment, but today they had freedom and coin, which usually implied a few hours in a tavern, getting thoroughly drunk, having a good meal, and maybe moving the celebration to a nearby brothel if the spirit moved them.
I was shaking hard as Hugo pulled me off the horse and held me close. He kissed my face and whispered endearments as I buried my face in his chest and inhaled his familiar scent. His heartbeat was strong and steady, and I listened to it until I began to calm down and finally allowed myself to believe that he was unharmed.
“They can still turn you over to the authorities,” I whispered, terrified.
“They can, but I doubt they will. There’s nothing to be gained by it. The authorities have their Hugo Everly, so reports of some man on the road to Portsmouth might not get as much of a reaction as they might hope for, and judging by their demeanor, they might want to keep a low profile for a time.”
Hugo kissed me again and gently set me aside, turning to Archie, who still had his sword out. Archie cut his eyes at the horse, asking permission to put it out of its misery, but Hugo waved him aside. He knelt by the dying animal and laid his hand on its head. It was snorting, its eyes rolling wildly with pain and fear, its teeth bared. Blood pooled beneath its legs, but was already congealing in the cold autumn air.
“I’m so sorry,” Hugo said to the horse. “There was no other way.” The horse seemed to quiet down, as if it understood what Hugo was saying. I think it instinctively knew what was about to happen. Hugo pulled a dagger out of his boot and drove it into the animal’s chest. The horse convulsed for several moments before finally growing still, its mouth growing slack. I briefly thought that Lionel Finch would not have appreciated his blood mingling with that of the horse, but he was no longer in any position to object. His eyes stared at the lowering sky, a scowl on his face, even in death.
I normally found it tragic when anyone died, especially a person who was still fairly young, but Lionel Finch’s death left me unmoved. He was a parasite and a sadist; a man who derived joy from the pain of others. I felt no pity for him. All I wanted was to get away from this awful spot. I was dimly aware that I was in shock, and eventually the dam that held my feelings at bay would give way and allow the floodwaters to drown me.
Hugo and Archie stood for a moment over Finch’s corpse, their faces expressionless. Archie shrugged with indifference and turned away, but Hugo crossed himself and offered up a prayer.
Hail Mary, full of grace. The Lord is with thee.
Blessed art thou amongst women,
and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus.
Holy Mary, Mother of God,
pray for us sinners,
now and at the hour of our death. Amen.
I turned away as Hugo and Archie carried Finch’s body off into the woods, leaving the horse on the road. No one would be too astonished to see a dead animal, but a corpse would raise questions. They returned a few moments later, ready to move on. I was secretly glad that they didn’t bother to bury Finch. He didn’t deserve the honor, or the delay it would cause us. Let the animals have him, I thought savagely as I mounted my horse with Hugo’s help and took up the reins. Archie vaulted up onto his horse and held Jem close as the little boy pressed his body against him.
“I promised you all would be well, didn’t I?” Archie asked him as Jem dug his fingers into Archie’s hand. His face was deathly pale. He nodded, but couldn’t speak. I wasn’t surprised to see him passed out a few moments later. He’d been overcome with fear, and this was his body’s way of relieving the stress. Jem snored softly as he began to relax, molding himself to Archie’s chest. “Poor little mite,” Archie said as he drew up alongside me. “Are you all right?” he asked.
I found that question to be ridiculously inadequate after the events of the past half-hour, but what else could he say? I forced a smile, “Yes, I believe I am.”
I barely spoke as we rode south, not that I would have been heard. Loud crashes of thunder were followed by flashes of lightning as the heavens finally opened up, and a downpour soaked us in minutes. The water was frigid, and I was shivering with cold, especially once the water began to drip into my shoes, but we couldn’t afford to stop, not yet. Visibility was poor, and the road quickly turned into a sea of mud, which slowed down our progress even more.
I hardly noticed Archie leave us. He galloped off with a quick wave after handing off Jem and conferring with Hugo regarding our rendezvous in Portsmouth. Jem huddled against Hugo’s chest, his hair plastered to his face, and his oversized coat clinging to his narrow chest as we continued on. Water from the brim of Hugo’s hat dripped onto his head, but he didn’t complain, just burrowed deeper into the coat. Hugo’s face was set in grim lines, his hands tense on the reins, but he turned to me and smiled. He was soaked, but he was all right, and so was I, and that’s all that mattered for the moment.
Chapter 50
It wasn’t until the dreary day began to turn into dusk that we finally stopped at an inn in some nondescript village situated about a mile off the road. The inn was full to the gills, but thankfully there was one room left. It was just beneath the roof and about the size of a cupboard. A steady drumming announced that the roof had a leak. Hugo’s
head brushed the rafters of the ceiling as he shed his cloak and pulled a chair close to the fire. I was so numb with cold and the dramatic events of the day that I was unusually unresponsive as he tried to talk to me. Hugo gave up on making conversation, removed my cloak, and sat me down in front of the fire. He rolled down my stockings and began to methodically rub my feet until some feeling began to come back into the frozen flesh. Steam rose from our wet garments, but I was still shivering violently, my teeth chattering.
“Jem, go get a pitcher of hot water,” Hugo ordered as he pulled me to my feet and began to unlace my bodice and skirt. He had me down to my shift, which was damp but not soaked, and unpinned my hair to allow it to dry from the heat of the fire. When I closed my eyes, images of Lionel Finch danced before them until I was shaking and crying again. Lionel’s dead eyes seemed to be staring at me in accusation as Hugo and Archie dragged him off into the woods. I felt no pity for him, but I was overcome by the danger we’d been in. Had things gone differently, Hugo might have been dead now, and I could have been at the mercy of those crude men who would have hurt me very badly given the chance. The idea of losing Hugo had me bawling again, and I pressed my head against his belly and wrapped my arms around him, holding him close.
“I almost lost you,” I wailed, finally allowing my feelings to vent. My nose was running, and I was getting snot all over Hugo’s shirt, but he didn’t seem to care. He was cradling my head as he spoke softly to me, his voice strangely distant over the roar in my ears.
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