Why did this happen to him? He did what the king commanded. Well, a little more than the king asked. Though he didn’t regret deflowering Delilah, not entirely anyway. What was the baron doing to her now? For the first time in his life Tyrone experienced helplessness. Unable to stop loving the little wood nymph, understand her motives, or do anything to save her.
Footsteps echoed down the corridor outside his cell, mixing with the steady drip, drip of water. These were the constant sounds for the two days of his incarceration. He pulled his fob watch from his pocket. A glance proved it too soon for supper. The footsteps slowed and then stopped. He focused on the cell door as a set of keys jingled. The loud click of the tumblers heralded its opening. He shielded his eyes at the intrusion of light from the guard’s lantern.
“Lord Frost?”
“Yes?”
“Come with me.” The guard stepped back, allowing him to exit into the dank corridor.
He followed a second guard down the narrow passageway. “Where are you taking me?”
“Your release has been secured.”
Tyrone heaved a sigh of relief. Good old Perry did get his message. He could always count on his childhood friend. They paused at the end of the corridor and waited while the door was unlocked and opened from the other side. At the end of a second passageway he was shown into a small office. Sure enough Perry sat, in all his finery, in a crude wooden chair facing the warden across the desk.
He raised his eyebrows and gave Tyrone a crooked smile. “You look like hell, Ty.”
“Thanks. I feel like hell.” He sat in the chair next to his friend. “What took you so long to spring me?”
“That is gratitude for you.” Perry grinned. “I was out of town and just got your message.”
Tyrone surveyed his friend’s appearance. “And you dressed to the nines to come bail me out?”
Perry tossed a sack of coins on the desk. “Nope, unfortunately your untimely arrest interrupted my betrothal ball.”
“Damn, sorry to be such a trial, my friend.”
Perry shrugged. “No matter, as long as we get out of here before anyone notices my absence.” He cast a meaningful look at the warden, who was testing the gold pieces in front of him with his teeth. When the man nodded his ascent Perry got up. “Come on, let’s get out of here. This place makes me nervous.”
Tyrone laughed as they left the room. “Why? Have you done something you are not proud of you might have failed to tell me about?”
His friend shrugged as they stepped onto the dark street and hailed a passing hackney cab. “No, but I have the feeling I am about to. You have ten minutes to tell me what we should do about your lady love.”
“Delilah?”
Perry raised an eyebrow and they climbed aboard the coach. “First name basis. I see you have it bad, my friend.”
“Is it so obvious?” Tyrone settled back against the worn cushions.
“It was already painfully obvious when your intended betrothed left you at the ball and you did not call out her new suitor.” Perry leaned out the window and gave the address of Tyrone’s townhouse before sitting down opposite him. “I have booked passage on a vessel bound for France for my sister’s grand tour at the end of the week.” He fished a paper from his pocket and handed it to Tyrone. “Here is the extra ticket. We will sneak into the baron’s house, rescue your lady love, and ship her to France as my sister’s spinster companion before the baron realizes she is gone.”
Tyrone shook his head. “She will not go. She chose to stay with the baron of her own free will. Besides, she will not leave the pony, claims he is her protector from her past life or some such nonsense.”
“Do you believe it?”
Tyrone snorted. “I do not believe in any of that past lives drivel.”
“No, I mean do you believe Miss Daysland returned to the baron of her own free will?”
Doubt ate at Tyrone. “No, but I have no idea what he might have held over her head to make her go back.”
The interior of the coach was cloaked in silence while both men contemplated the situation.
Even if Delilah wanted to flee to France she would not go without Jester. Jester. No one visited Delilah while I was on watch, except a stable boy the one night. Could the baron have held the pony as hostage to ensure Delilah’s cooperation? He turned to Perry. “I think I know what happened. Before we rescue Delilah we have to find the pony.”
They pulled up in front of his London townhouse. “I will come by tomorrow afternoon and we can plot our rescue mission.” Perry placed a hand on Tyrone’s shoulder. “Find the pony and leave the rest to me.”
“I hope I can repay your kindness one day, Perry.”
Perry grinned. “Just try to stay out of trouble, all right?”
Tyrone nodded and stepped down from the coach. One couldn’t ask for a better friend.
• • •
Tyrone rode into the clearing surrounding the little pool a day after his release, surprised to find a shaggy piebald horse hitched to a gypsy vardos. A small fire burned underneath a black kettle hanging from a structure. The fragrance of stewing vegetables mixed with herbs and spices reached him, and he savored it with appreciation before announcing his presence.
“Hallooo, the wagon.”
At his call the door to the vardos swung open. A middle-aged woman peered out, an old musket in her hands. She leveled the piece at him with a frown. “Who are ye, and what do ye want?”
He raised his hands to show he was unarmed. “The name is Tyrone Frost, Earl of Merryweather. Who are you and what are you doing on Westpoint land?”
Her gaze narrowed. “Ain’t Westpoint land. What do ye want with me?”
If she knew this side of the pool was not on Westpoint land, she was familiar with the area. Tyrone lowered his hands. “I did not expect anyone to be here.”
“Me neither.” She lowered the gun. “Yer welcome to share my meal.”
“Thank you for your kindness.” He dismounted and led his horse into the clearing, securing it to a tree a short distance from the gelding. The woman stepped from her wagon and crossed to stir the contents of the pot. When he approached she nodded to one of two stumps nearest the fire and then set her weapon on the ground at her feet. After he sat she dished up a wooden bowl of the hearty stew and handed it to him.
He dug in as she helped herself to a bowl and sat on the other stump. “Why is it you are here all alone?”
She darted an uneasy glance at him. “Never said I was alone, did I?”
“No, you did not,” he admitted. “I just assumed, since I have not seen any other.”
“My Meeko is out waiting.” She turned back to her meal.
He paused, a spoonful of delicious stew halfway to his mouth. “What is he waiting for?”
“My daughter to return to Westpoint.”
His spoon clattered to the bowl and he stared at her. “You are Delilah’s mother?”
Her head snapped up and her startled gaze fixed on him. “What do you know of my daughter?”
“You are Kata then?”
She nodded.
“If only I’d found you a week ago.”
“Why were you looking for me?” Her gaze slid to the weapon at her feet.
“You are the one who can save Delilah from her fate.” Tyrone set his bowl down. “She returned to the baron, though I believe the choice was not hers. I think he used Jester to convince her to go with him.”
Her eyes widened. “She is with March’s boy?”
“Yes, and she is in grave danger, for now that all her lands and inheritance are in his greedy hands he will do away with her at the first chance to make it look like an accident. We have little time to save her.”
“But he is her half brother. What kind of person would allow such a marriage to exist?”
Tyrone rubbed his jaw. “The king, but without you we had no way to prove either of their parentages. I believe March had Deagan and the rest of his clan murdered.”
Kata sighed. “I, too, believe it was the baron’s men who burned our camp that night. My mate, Meeko, and I helped birth a farmer’s babe and by the time we returned to the camp all that was left were a few smoldering wagons and charred beasts. I was supposed to see my daughter for the first time in fourteen summers. She was to marry the Romo baro’s son and be the new leader of all the clans.”
“You said your mate is at Westpoint waiting for Delilah’s return? How did you know she survived the fire?” He pierced the woman with a suspicious stare.
“I saw it in my dreams.”
He frowned, unwilling to believe in such nonsense. When the woman returned his look with steadfast determination, he decided she was telling the truth. “I do not believe Delilah will be returning to Westpoint on her own. I came here to wait until dark to attempt to steal her away from March.”
Kata’s lips thinned. “Meeko and I will help you.”
He nodded. “The first thing we must do is find Jester, for I do not think Delilah will come with us without him.”
She smiled. “It will take a gypsy to steal such an item from under someone’s nose without his knowing.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Delilah rolled over in bed to face the door as a key scraped in the lock. It was too late for the woman who cared for her to be entering. It was far past dinner and she was already abed. The door opened and heavy footsteps crossed the carpet. “Wake up, dear wife.”
She scrambled into a sitting position. For days she had been locked in this room and her husband had never come to see her. Why was he here now, and at such a late hour? Easing off the bed, she stood, clutching the blanket to her chest, and forced herself to remain clam. “What do you want, Augustus?”
“I have everything I want, Delilah.” His evil laugh raised the hairs on the back of her neck. “We are going for a little swim, you and I.”
“Swim?” She stepped back when his fingers clamped around her wrist.
“You like to swim. I saw you there with the earl the night I pulled you from that horrid little beast of yours.” His sadistic laugh reverberated off the walls of her prison.
“I do not understand.”
He dragged her along behind him, jostling her against the door jam on their way by. Delilah cried out as her shoulder glanced off it. “You may yell the house down if you want, my dear, but all the servants have been given the night off except for two who are most loyal to me.”
Frightened, she struck out at him and he pushed her back into the arms of another who smelled of horse sweat and manure. Her wrists were pinned behind her back and she was shoved forward in the direction of the stairs. Were they going to push her down them to her death? “Help! Someone help me. Jester!” They reached the top of the stairs and to her relief she was guided down them instead of being thrown from the top.
“You can scream all you want, but your simple-minded beast is not here.”
Terror squeezed her chest. “You promised you would not hurt Jester if I came to you willingly. What did you do to him?”
“I did nothing to the filthy creature. He is being sent to the market as we speak to find a new position, perhaps as a vendor’s mule. Or, maybe I should have returned him to your lover as a rug, a reminder of his failure to protect his ward.” His cruel chuckle sent a shiver down her spine. “Either way, you will not need him to go for a swim. As your loving husband, rest assured I will guide you safe and sound to the pool you love to visit each night.”
She gasped. “How do you know my habits?”
“One learns the movements of their prey, if they observe them long enough. Hurry up, I have not got all night, my dear. I will need all my strength to act the grieving, distraught husband on the morrow when your body is found floating in the pool where you drowned.”
Their footsteps echoed as they crossed the tile foyer, reminding Delilah of how alone she was at the moment. She was left with little choice but to try to fight back on her own. The hands securing her wrists tightened as if the person holding her was privy to her thoughts. She knew the way to the little waterfall and could swim the length of it by memory. There was a chance she could outwit them and find help. It was a small chance, but one she was willing to take.
The door opened and a brisk fall breeze nipped at her cheeks, bare feet, and arms as she was guided down the icy marble steps. They didn’t walk five minutes across the frosty grass before her teeth were chattering. The wind picked up, rustling the remaining leaves in the trees, its chilled fingers plucking at the fabric of her thin nightdress, flapping it about her shaking knees. In hope Jester might be nearby, she puckered her lips, stiff from cold, and whistled long and low.
“Whistle all you like, Delilah, your guide will not come for you,” Augustus needled.
She strained to hear any noise Jester might make over the howl of the wind and rush of dying leaves set loose from the trees. A faint sound made her turn her head. Was it the telltale whinny and light tread of the pony reaching her desperate ears? “Jester?” She listened for it again, but heard nothing. It must have been the wind. It is up to me now. The faithful animal guided her most of the way through her life — now she must fend for herself in the biggest test she ever faced.
Their footsteps crunched over the dried leaves blanketing the ground and poked her bare feet, stirring up the scent of mold and decay. On foot the path was not so familiar to her and she fought to make sense of their journey. A lone owl hooted above. She wondered if it was the same one who always roosted in the big, knotted tree at the side of the path she usually took with Jester.
To occupy her panicked mind she pictured Jester as a colt, the two of them frolicking around the flames of the gypsy fire. It was one of the last visual memories remaining before the sickness came with its high fever and took away her sight. To bask in the heat of a fire at this moment would be welcome. To wrap my arms around Jester’s furry neck would be heavenly … Shaking the thoughts from her head, she tried to focus on something other than the cold. Her feet and toes became numb, causing her to stumble. The man who held her grunted and hauled her back to her feet. I cannot walk much further. As luck would have it they pressed through the thicket surrounding the little pool and the spray from the waterfall dampened her cheeks. She stumbled again and fell to her knees on the bank. The light scent of smoke registered as she huddled there on the wet moss. Was Tyrone still camped out here? Hope flared in her breast. Who else would be here? “Tyrone!”
“Calling for your lover, are you?” Augustus snickered. “‘Tis a little late now, my dear.”
A sob caught in her throat. He is right. Tyrone will be long gone back to London. Why would he wait for me when I wounded him so?
A pair of hands pulled her upright. “Get in the water.”
Without waiting for her to take a step, the stable boy shoved her off the bank into the icy pool. The shock of the temperature drove the air from her lungs. Her captor released her hands, and she floundered for purchase on the slick rocks. Then when she gained her footing someone grabbed her by the shoulder and propelled her deeper into the water. When the frigid blanket reached her chest she was yanked to a halt.
“It is deep enough there. Drown her now and be quick about it. It is damned cold out here tonight.”
She fought with everything she possessed, fingers clawing and scratching. Twisting she tried to get free of the hands pressing her down. Water flowed over her head. Her scream was cut off in a choking bubble. In terror and desperation she struggled. No! Jester, Tyrone, where are you? Help me … please.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
The three of them crouched in the bushes lining the path to the baron’s stable. A gust of wind made Tyrone wish he brought his greatcoat, but the garment would have flapped and crinkled, perhaps blowing their cover. He shifted. “What is taking so long?” he whispered to Perry, who hunkered beside him on the damp leaves.
Kata jabbed him in the ribs. “Shh, Meeko will not fail you.”
&nb
sp; Tyrone resisted the urge to criticize the reliability of gypsies in general. Instead he focused his gaze on the small square of light spilling from the narrow opening in the barn door. Five minutes passed and there was still no sign of Kata’s mate. Perhaps he shouldn’t have trusted the mission to the gypsy. Just as he was about to crawl out of their cover and retrieve Jester himself, the man poked his head out of the doorway, looked both ways, and then slipped from the barn, leading the shaggy pony behind. Breathing a sigh of relief, Tyrone took the halter shank from Meeko and passed it to Perry as the gypsy ducked into the brush with them.
“Easy as stroking a honey bee as it gathers nectar from a flower,” Meeko boasted.
Perry snorted. “Now that is a risky thing to try, unless you enjoy being stung, Meeko. All right, are you ready, Kata?”
“Aye.”
Tyrone slipped from the bushes and jogged along the trees until he reached the back garden gate. He waited for Kata to make her way to him before he lifted the latch and pushed it open. A slight squeak was all the noise it made, but in his mind he cursed the sound as they squeezed through the gap. Once Kata was inside she would find Delilah’s room and wake her daughter. A candle in the window was the signal for Perry to bring Jester into the open lawn. With any luck the pony would respond to Delilah’s whistle and whinny in return to prove he was alive and in their possession.
A door opened and voices drifted from the veranda at the back of the house. Tyrone stayed Kata with a hand on her shoulder. Curious, he crept through the herb garden to the corner of the house. He pressed himself up against the wall and peered around the corner. Three figures approached in single file, the middle one wearing a flapping white gown of some kind. As they passed he got a better look at the three and concluded it was the baron, Delilah, and a servant.
Through Gypsy Eyes Page 20