The Regency Season

by Ann Lethbridge

  One of the men got up from the fire and kicked him in the ribs.

  Drew grunted at the pain and cursed him foully.

  The man grinned, his teeth gleaming red in the light of a fire too far away for Drew to feel much of its warmth.

  ‘Tha’s for the merry chase you led us in Edinburgh.’

  ‘I told you. You’ve got the wrong man. I haven’t been to Edinburgh in six years.’

  ‘I’d know that face anywhere. It cost us a lot of money, even if it did get all scarred up.’

  ‘The scar is old, you fool. The man you met was my brother Logan.’

  ‘Brother, is it? Well, one Gilvry is just as good as another.’ He drew his foot back.

  Morris, the leader of the ruffians looked up. ‘Leave him be, Sandy. Break his ribs and you’ll be carrying him tomorrow.’

  ‘Why don’t we just kill him and leave him here?’ his tormentor asked.

  ‘Because that’s not what we are being paid to do,’ the leader said, getting up from the fire and pulling a brand from the flames.

  He sauntered the few feet to where Drew was lying on a blanket on top of hard-packed snow. He held the brand high. The warmth of it on Drew’s face was welcome even if it destroyed his vision for the moment.

  ‘It’s not the same Gilvry,’ he pronounced. ‘He’s older. Darker skinned. And the scar has been there a very long time. Now get back to the fire, Sandy, and leave him be.’

  Sandy stomped off.

  Morris crouched down. ‘So what is your name, Gilvry?’

  Surprised, Drew looked at his unshaven face and dark eyes and saw pity. He forced himself not to react. ‘Andrew. They call me Drew.’

  ‘Never heard mention of you. I thought there was only three Gilvry brothers.’

  A pang twisted in his chest. Dead and forgotten, then. His rage against Ian sparked to life. But that was no one’s business but his own. ‘I’ve had naught to do with any of them of six years. I’ve no love for my brothers and mean no harm to you or McKenzie.’

  ‘I suppose you think I should let you go?’

  ‘There is no reason you should not.’

  ‘Sorry, laddie. That’s not what I’ve been told. But even though you shot one of my men back at the inn, I’ve no quarrel with you. We both did what we were paid to do.’ He bent down and cut the rope around Drew’s ankles. ‘Come closer to the fire. There’s no sense in having you frozen by morning.’ He untied his hands from behind him and tied them loosely in front.

  ‘You mean you want to ride the horse, rather than have it carry my lifeless body,’ Drew said.

  The man chuckled. ‘Smart lad.’ He helped Drew to his feet, picked up the blanket and rolled it, before setting it down near the fire. ‘Sit there and Sandy will give you some bread and cheese to fill your belly and a mug of tea to warm you.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Drew said. He’d have preferred to hit him over the head, but that wasn’t going to get him anywhere. Having his bonds a little less tight did, however, give him a huge advantage for when it was time to leave.

  The tin mug warmed his palms and he let the heat steep into his skin before putting it down to eat the bread and cheese that Sandy had tossed into his lap. It had been a long day of walking, but he was used to rough going. He picked up the mug to take a drink and Morris leaned forward and splashed a drop of whisky into it from a flask. ‘That’ll help keep you warm.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Drew said and meant it. ‘I’m sorry about what happened to your friend.’

  ‘He was an idiot. He could have killed you or the woman, and that was against our orders.’

  They’d been lying in wait for them? Drew tried not to show his shock. Or his fear for Rowena. ‘Whose orders?’

  Morris chuckled wryly. ‘Everyone’s.’

  ‘My, I am a popular fellow.’

  Damn it all. He thought he’d left Rowena safe with her family. This didn’t sound good. He and this group of ruffians would have to part company, and soon. Thank goodness for the knife he had hidden away in his boot when they were sleeping.

  The other man jerked his chin. ‘How did you come by such a nasty scar, lad? Properly put paid to those good looks of yours.’ Drew felt an echo of the old pain he’d felt when he first saw the results of the near miss. It hadn’t been a physical pain, but something much deeper and more permanent. And it had been nowhere near as bad as it was now. Just to torment him, she’d made it much, much worse.

  ‘A woman,’ he said.

  ‘Cheated on her, did you?’

  He’d refused to cooperate. To be her idea of a good slave. To his shame he’d given in when he realised she meant to have his eye on the point of her knife if he gave her any more trouble. His gut roiled at the recollection of the nights of service he’d given in exchange for his sight. ‘She thought so,’ he said.

  Ian was going to pay for that, too. He swigged his tea and welcomed the heat of the whisky sliding into his belly. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve. ‘What do you hear of my oldest brother, Ian?’

  ‘The Laird of Dunross, is it?’

  ‘Aye.’

  Morris grimaced. ‘Got himself a rich wife and a castle in the bargain, I’m hearing.’

  Drew stiffened. ‘What rich wife?’

  Morris shrugged. ‘Albritten?’ He shook his head. ‘Something like that.’

  ‘Albright?’

  ‘Aye, that’s it.’

  The image of a tiny blonde girl sitting beside Ian on the sand in Balnaen Cove flashed into his mind. ‘Lady Selina,’ he breathed.

  ‘Aye, that’s her. Got a babe, too, they say.’

  The slow-burning anger inside Drew quickened, flaring hot. His fists clenched. ‘The bloody hypocrite.’

  Morris looked at him curiously. ‘Not to your liking, then?’

  ‘Not much.’ Ian had apparently married the daughter of his family’s enemy. And Alice’s friend. It was she who had betrayed him to Ian before he could carry out his plan. And Ian had married her, curse him.

  His body shook with the effort of containing the blistering rage consuming his thoughts. ‘Is it a son? The child?’

  ‘I dinna ken, man. Does it matter?’

  ‘No.’ Son or daughter, it would soon lack a father. Great heavens, if it was a son, a half-Sassenach Albright brat would be the heir to the Gilvry name. But that didn’t mean the clan would choose the child as laird. They wouldn’t. Drew would make sure of it. His father and grandfather would never rest in their graves if such a thing came to pass. He couldn’t believe that Niall and Logan had gone along with such a travesty.

  ‘Do you hear aught of my brother Niall?’

  ‘The lawyer? Doing well for himself. Got an office in Old Town and a house in New Town. Got himself a title.’ Morris offered him the flask. ‘More whisky? I’ve plenty more where that came from.’

  Stunned, he reached for the flask. Heaven help him, he needed it after such news. But not too much. He needed his wits sharp and ready.

  * * *

  Frozen to the bone, Rowena looked longingly at the flicker of the fire farther up the hillside. She’d ridden hard all day, terrified of pursuit, worried that she wouldn’t find Drew on the road. But if she didn’t, she knew where they intended he should end up. She stroked the gelding’s sweating neck. ‘Do you think that is them?’

  She glanced up at the sky, at the twinkle of stars that disappeared behind the occasional scudding cloud. She’d been lucky with her departure from Mere Castle; the gelding was fast and full of spirit, and she’d been lucky with the weather. But could she really have been lucky enough to catch up to Drew? Or rather, Drew and a dangerous gang of smugglers. She winced.

  But she couldn’t afford to wait. At any moment, Mere’s men might arrive. She climbed down from the horse and led it clear of the road. She patted its rump. ‘If we come out of this safely, I promise you’ll have the best bucket of oats money can buy,’ she whispered. The horse started cropping at the bushes.

  As quietly as possible, feeling her
way over the rough terrain, she approached the fire. She could see shadowy figures, but was one of them Drew? Something deep in her bones told her he was there. A feeling she’d never had before. Dare she trust it? Heart thundering in her ears, terrified of tripping and attracting attention, she crept closer. Starlight did little more than make some shadows stand out more than others. She could only hope she wouldn’t fall over a smuggler standing guard.

  She inched forward at a crouch. After what felt like a very long time, she ducked behind a clump of gorse. She was close enough to see not only that there were four men seated around the fire, but that one of them was blonde.

  A horse whickered from somewhere nearby. Drew’s horse. Had it somehow recognised her?

  Drew straightened, looking in the direction of the sound, and then out into the darkness. Could he see her? She froze.

  He said something to the man sitting beside him. The men chuckled and the man closest slapped him on the back. Drew rose and walked directly to her gorse bush.

  ‘Who’s there?’ he whispered so quietly she could barely hear him. He opened his coat and undid his falls, turning half away from her. Then came the sound of a man answering the call of nature.

  ‘Me. Rowena,’ she whispered.

  The sound stopped and then started again. ‘Good God,’ he murmured. He glanced over his shoulder, then adjusted his falls. ‘Wait here.’

  He turned and walked back to the fire and sat down with the men. He accepted a metal container from the man beside him. It glinted as it caught the light of the fire.

  One of the others was sipping at a steaming brew. Hot tea? She would give her soul for a cup of something hot. She huffed on her freezing fingers and hunched closer to the gorse bush, curling in on herself for warmth.

  Fortunately, while the old coat she’d grabbed in the stable was coarse to the touch, it was surprisingly warm. She stuffed her hands into its pockets.

  * * *

  A hand on Rowena’s shoulder and another clamped over her mouth to silence her cry of alarm brought her awake.

  She stared at the shadow looming over her.

  ‘It’s me,’ Drew said.

  She collapsed in relief. He took her hand and led her away from the camp. While she struggled not to trip, he seemed to walk as if it was daylight. Finally he stopped and pulled her around to face him.

  ‘Gracious, lass. What are you doing here?’

  ‘I thought you were in some sort of trouble. Have you taken up with the smugglers, then?’

  A breath hissed through his teeth. Anger? Worry? She wasn’t sure.

  ‘I thought I left you safe in the bosom of your family.’

  Anger, then. ‘I decided I would prefer to go to Edinburgh.’

  ‘The devil you did.’

  ‘Besides, I heard someone say you were going to be transported to Australia. I thought you might not like the idea.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I overheard someone speaking to Mr Jones.’

  ‘What someone?’

  ‘I don’t know his name. I wasn’t introduced.’

  She could hear him breathing hard.

  ‘How did you manage to get free of them?’ she asked.

  ‘I waited until they fell asleep and cut the rope,’ he said almost mechanically. ‘Your horse?’

  ‘Near the road.’

  ‘Good.’ He gave a soft whistle. His horse loomed up out of the dark with a small whuffling sound.

  ‘How—?’

  ‘Shh. It is no’ important right now. Come on, we’ll need to be far from here before they wake.’

  ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘Where they will least expect us to go.’

  ‘And where is that?’ she said as he helped her to walk down the hillside.

  ‘Edinburgh.’

  When they reached her horse, he threw her up. ‘You’d already planned to escape from them, hadn’t you?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes.’

  Of course he had. He hadn’t needed her help at all.

  * * *

  After two nights and two days on the road, Drew was glad to see the lights of Edinburgh gleaming in the distance. It had taken longer than it would have by road and they’d slept rough, sharing body heat since they hadn’t dared risk a fire.

  The beast inside him had wanted to do more than sleep beside her, but he wasn’t prepared to risk letting it out of its cage. She was just too tempting and he had no illusion that he could keep things normal.

  He’d pushed hard, through snow and wind, and kept them both too exhausted for anything but sleep. Which didn’t mean he’d slept o’er much.

  But here they were, at their destination. He pushed on until they reached the entrance to Old Town. It looked pretty much the way it had before he left. The castle crouched on the mountain, the palace at its foot and the tenements of Old Town sprawled between the two.

  Their horses walked wearily up High Street. ‘What now?’ Rowena asked.

  ‘We can do nothing tonight but find lodgings. In the morning we will get ourselves a lawyer and find out what the hell is going on.’

  She frowned. ‘I have very little money, I’m afraid.’

  ‘That’s more than I have.’ He’d left a fortune on Jones’s table back at Mere Castle, but even if he had accepted it, it would not have done him any good. Morris would have taken the lot, just as he had taken the few coins in his purse. ‘But I may have a contact who might be able to offer some help.’

  Niall. Would he be willing to come to their aid? Niall had always been the most reasonable of his brothers. Had always listened to all sides of a story before deciding whose side to take. He could only hope he hadn’t changed. Hadn’t been influenced too much by Ian.

  ‘We could try the Whitehorse Inn, near Holyrood Palace,’ Rowena said doubtfully. ‘I might just have enough to pay for one room.’

  ‘With no luggage, and us as dirty as a couple of gypsies?’ He shook his head. ‘One look and they’ll turn us away.’ They also needed somewhere safe. Somewhere no one would could possibly find them.

  ‘I don’t think my cousin would take us in,’ she said. There was pain in her voice. ‘Do you think your family—?’

  ‘No.’

  Her shoulders slumped.

  If he’d been by himself, he’d have gone to a tavern and nursed a drink all night, or slept on the floor in a stable. But he wasn’t alone. The only other place he could think of was little better. But it was better. And Belle could be relied on to keep a still tongue in her head.

  ‘I have a friend. She’s not exactly respectable, but if she can, she’ll give us a room.’

  Rowena perked up. ‘Then let’s go there.’

  And he’d tell her just what Belle was, when they knew whether or not she could put them up for the night. No sense in causing a fuss before it was necessary.

  He turned into one of the narrow wynds behind the grass market and dismounted outside the back door of a six-storey-high tenement. He helped Rowena down and knocked on the door.

  It was opened by a burly individual with a much-broken nose and a cauliflower ear. ‘We’re closed.’ He started to shut the door.

  Drew thrust his foot in the back. ‘Bobbie. Dinna ye ken me, man?’

  The man peered at his face, blinked and opened the door wide. ‘Gilvry. It’s a long time since we saw you here. What happened to your face?’

  ‘I ran into a knife.’

  ‘Careless of you, man.’

  ‘Aye. Is Belle in?’

  Bobbie gazed over his shoulder at Rowena. ‘She’s no looking for any lasses just now.’

  ‘Full house, is it? She must be doing well.’

  ‘Well enough since the king came to visit.’

  ‘The king came here?’

  ‘To Edinburgh. Where have you been?’

  ‘Abroad.’

  ‘Och, aye.’

  ‘I need to see Belle, Bobbie.’

  The man looked up and down the alley and then seemed to make up hi
s mind. ‘Always had a soft spot for you. You’d best come in, then.’

  He stood back and Drew ushered a very puzzled-looking Rowena in. She had set her face in stern lines and her back was straight. She looked very disapproving, but knowing her as he did, he could tell she was scared. ‘It’s all right. I have friends here.’

  ‘Wait here,’ Bobbie said. ‘I’ll fetch Madam Belle.’

  ‘What is this place?’ she whispered.

  ‘You ken verra well what it is,’ he said.

  She gazed at the lurid red walls and the badly done trompe l’oeil images of cupids. ‘A brothel.’

  He nodded. ‘Leave the talking to me.’

  A few seconds later the rustle of skirts announced the arrival of the establishment’s owner.

  ‘Drew,’ Belle said, her faded fair face beaming with pleasure.

  She stopped with a gasp. ‘Oh, your poor face.’

  Drew touched the scar with his fingertips. ‘I thought it made me a touch out of the common.’

  ‘Oh, Drew,’ she said softly. ‘Still not one to let down your guard. Welcome back. Some of the lasses you know are still here and will be glad to see you.’

  He’d always paid well for what he needed. The lasses had liked that part of it, at least.

  She turned to Rowena with a guarded expression. ‘And who is this, then?’

  Rowena drew herself up to her full height and looked down her nose.

  Belle recoiled.

  ‘Belle, this is my wife, Rowena.’

  Belle swung back to him with a horrified look on her face. ‘Your wife! What are you doing, man, bringing her here?’

  ‘I need your help,’ he said simply. ‘Or I wouldn’t have come. Will you turn me away?’

  She stared at him for a moment, then reached her palm to his face. He flinched.

  Rowena quickly stepped forward and forestalled the touch. She smiled and her face transformed from stern to young and vulnerable.

  ‘We would be very grateful if you would permit us to stay the night. We find ourselves at a standstill, you see. No one must know we are in town.’

  Belle narrowed her pale blue eyes, finally smiling back. ‘Then step this way. You can wait in my private parlour while I have the maid prepare a room. My stock in trade is discretion, so you need not fear loose tongues here.’