“No,” she replied, intrigued. “How old is the story?”
He reached for her hand and took it in his. “It does not matter how old the story is. What matters is the message it gives. Let me share it with you.”
“Very well.”
“There was a woman who came from the poorest of homes. She married the richest of men, and soon rose to be a great Duchess, and any who looked upon her were enchanted by her beauty. Those who could hear her speak were amazed by the tenderness in her heart. Although life had not been what she had expected, she had a son who brought her great joy.”
A hot tear rolled down her cheek. “Yes, he does,” she whispered.
“The boy was taken, and with the aid of her gardener, the Duchess rode for hours on end, enduring the blows of the limbs from the branches of trees in the woods and the harrows of steep mountain inclines. No ravens or other creatures led her; only the love for her only son guided her way. In the end, the Duchess and the gardener found the boy, and the Duchess and her son were reunited, never to be separated again.”
“Thank you,” Caroline whispered as her eyes grew heavy and sleep tugged at her. Philip had not released her hand, and she tightened her grip on him, willing him to not let go.
“Now, sleep,” he said in a low voice. “Tomorrow’s ride will be long, and what lays ahead of us will be even more taxing.”
Caroline wanted to tell him how much his words had encouraged her, how much they had lifted her spirits. However, sleep won its battle, and soon she was dreaming, knowing she was safe there beside him.
***
The hours crept by as they continued their journey. With each passing breath, Caroline knew she was getting closer to her son. The thought of having him in her arms again gave her the strength and courage to go on, even when she thought she might fall from the horse from exhaustion.
She had not slept well, her sleep filled with dreams of monsters wearing Neil’s face chasing her through the forest in an attempt to kiss her. More than once she awoke with a cry, Philip beside her within seconds to sooth her once again.
They had been following the creek for several hours when they stopped to water the horses and rest. Philip broke off a hunk of bread and a bit of cheese and gave them to Caroline, which she took despite the fact that she had no interest in eating. Her stomach felt as if she had swallowed a stone, and the bread and cheese only intensified the sensation.
“You must eat,” Philip said when she tried to return a large portion of the food to him. “You will need your strength to get through what must be done.”
She sighed, knowing what he said was correct. With great reluctance, she finished off what remained of her midday meal and found that, somehow, she was able to keep it in her stomach.
Philip emptied the canteen and went to the creek to refill it. “We will reach St. Thomas by late afternoon and go straight to The Sharp Sickle,” he said as he leaned over the flow of water. “However, there are a few things we must discuss beforehand.”
“Very well,” she said, taking the container from him and taking a drink of the cool liquid. It was much more pleasant than the tepid water it had held during their ride.
“Once you collect the envelope, I would like you to take notice if anyone is observing you. A young man stepping up to speak to the landlord should be of little notice, but if anyone is watching, they will take particular interest in anyone who approaches. I doubt that whoever is involved would not leave a lookout to see if you do as you were told.”
“That seems a reasonable thought.”
He nodded. “If you see anyone taking interest in you, I want you to do what you can to observe what they are wearing without being seen to do so. Do not openly stare but do what you can to study them. Then you will return to me and tell me what you saw.”
“You mean you will not be accompanying me?” Caroline asked with horror as panic welled up in her. How could he even think that she would be able to do this on her own? “What if the kidnappers recognize me?” she stammered. “What if I am unable to be discrete and they follow me? What will I do then?”
He placed a hand on her arm. “You can do this. I will be waiting outside for you, but I want you to continue walking until you reach the end of the village where we will be stabling our horses. Do not worry; I will be right behind you. If anyone follows you out of the tavern, I will know.”
“And what of the ransom?” she asked, forcing down her worry. She had trusted him thus far; she had to continue to do so or all would be lost. “How do I know they will not take it and flee with Oliver once they have it?”
“At this point, you cannot know,” he replied with a sigh. “We do not know what instructions they will give you next, but I will be watching for any trickery, I assure you.”
She turned to him, lifted herself onto her toes, and kissed his cheek. “I doubt I will ever be able to pay you back for the help you have given me,” she said as she lowered her feet back to the ground. “I am so far in your debt I do not believe it will be possible to repay you for all you have done.”
He smiled down at her. “You cannot repay it,” he said in a quiet voice, “for there is no debt owed. What we do is of such great importance, there is no price that can be placed on it.”
His words gave her a sense of encouragement, and soon they were riding away, making their way closer to St. Thomas—and Oliver. She glanced up at the sky, glad to see that the weather had held. Only a few clouds lingered, just enough to cover the sun but not threatening rain.
For some time, they continued on until they found a road. It looked well-used, although it did not seem overly so. They came upon few people, and those they did encounter did not give her a second glance. Perhaps her disguise hid her better than she had thought.
Caroline wished to urge the horse forward to close the gap faster that lay between her and Oliver.
However, Philip counseled against it. “It would draw too many eyes,” he had said, so she forced herself to maintain the steady pace. It pushed her patience to the limit, but she endured.
At last, they came over a rise, and Philip brought them to a stop. “Down there is St. Thomas,” he said with a jut to his chin.
The village was small with perhaps fifty buildings in total. She could just make out the main street, which appeared to have no more than ten businesses. And just as Philip had said, stables had been positioned at the edge of the village on the side from which they would be entering. The remainder of the buildings appeared to be houses of varying affluence.
“The tavern is located in the village square. If you look closely, you can just make out the sickle used to hang the sign naming it.”
Caroline squinted and scanned the buildings in the center of the village. Indeed, one of the buildings had a long tool that could very well have been a sickle holding a sign. How strange that this man was so well-acquainted with such a tiny village.
“From here, you will ride ahead of me and go straight to the stables. I will meet you under that tree behind the building—the one with the large branches touching the roof. Be sure not to speak to anyone unless absolutely necessary. We would not want anyone to realize you are not the man you seem.”
Caroline closed her eyes and took a deep breath, tightening her hands on the reins. I can do this! she thought, and somehow she believed it, although she worried she would sick up at any moment. No, she could do this!
“I am ready,” she said with firmness. She offered him a smile, clicked her tongue at the horse, and began the final trek of her journey.
Chapter Sixteen
As the horse trotted down the dirt road that led to the village, it took all of Caroline’s willpower not to shout out Oliver’s name. Was he in one of the nearby houses? Or perhaps one of the other buildings just beyond her view? If he was there, would he even hear her shouts? More than likely not, and if he could, he would not be able to respond.
She stopped the horse in front of the stables, and a boy rushed up
to her expectantly. Without having Philip to help her dismount worried her, but she allowed herself to drop to the ground as she had seen him do and was surprised how easy it was to do so.
“Stabling him, Sir?” the boy asked as he took the reins.
“Yes,” Caroline said, gruffing her voice to disguise it as she removed the carpet bag that held the notes for the ransom. “See he’s given some oats, as well,” she added before placing a copper coin in his hand.
The boy smiled broadly and pocketed the coin before leading the horse away.
Caroline heaved a sigh of relief. The men who had taken Oliver would not be as easy to trick. They would be on the lookout for her, so she kept her head low allowing the brim of the hat to shadow her features. Then she trudged up the dirt street, attempting to forget all of the lessons that Reginald had forced upon her, allowing her posture to sag and her steps to be less graceful. It was not easy, but she did her best. No one seemed to give her a second glance, which eased her mind a bit.
Unlike Deptford, St. Thomas was a drab place with many buildings in dire need of paint and repair. Most of the windows had been boarded up or needed to be cleaned, and the few people she encountered lacked the joviality that she would have expected.
She made her way to The Silver Sickle and stopped to calm her racing heart. It would do no good to get this far only to faint before even entering the building from where raucous sounds emitted. The life of her son depended upon her keeping her wits about her. Taking a deep breath, she pulled open the door and entered the tavern
What hit her as soon as she walked through the door was an unmistakable odor of stale ale and unwashed bodies, and her stomach flipped around inside her threatening to vomit her midday meal. She swallowed down the bile that rose in her throat.
It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dim lighting, and once they did, she looked around the room. It was dingy with soot-covered walls and tables that looked as if they had been broken more than once. Several men sat around the room, some alone while others had congregated in small groups. She remembered what Philip had said and kept her head down while scanning the faces of those present. Most paid her no mind, of course. Why would they be interested in a random young man still covered in dust from his recent ride? However, some of the patrons sat in shadowed corners, so she could not be certain if they took note of her entrance or not, let alone whether they cared about it.
Behind the long counter stood a large man with a bulbous nose and stubble on his chin as he dried a mug with his dirty apron. He spat in the glass, wiped it with the apron, and then set it with others on a shelf, making her feel ill. She might have grown up with next to nothing, but at least her parents saw that what they had was clean.
“Whatcha wanna drink?” the man asked as he rested his hands on the counter.
She cleared her throat. “I am here to collect a letter for Jane Covington,” she said, remembering to add the gruffness to her voice.
The landlord snorted. “Sorry. Don’t know what you’re on about. Besides, you don’t look like no Jane to me.”
Caroline was unsure what to do. She could not give away who she was, but what else could she do? She moved the hat back on her head and moved in closer so he could see her face. Then she lowered her voice, keeping out the gruffness this time. “I am Jane Covington,” she said. “And I would like my letter.”
His eyes went wide, and then he let out a boisterous laugh. “I get it now,” he said. Then he reached under the counter and pulled out a folded piece of paper, which he placed on the counter in front of her. With trembling hands, she managed to open the letter only to find the paper blank. Was this some sort of game? Had Oliver already been taken away, or had the kidnappers changed their mind?
Then hot breath on her neck made her heart congeal. “Good disguise,” a voice whispered in her ear. “Ye fooled me.”
She went to turn, but he placed a hand on her shoulder.
“Not so quick,” he said, the menacing tone in his voice making her shiver. “Ye got the money?”
“Yes,” she replied, surprised at how calm she sounded. “Where is my son?”
“Close. Now, listen here. This is what yer gonna to do. Yer gonna head right in a moment through that back door.”
Caroline glanced around until the door came into view.
“I left my horse waiting, and ye and me’re going to ride out to your son. Don’t look back at me or try’n call out for help.”
“I will obey,” she said. “I just want my son.”
He chuckled. “Smart woman. Now, get going.”
She made her way to the back door, and she could sense the man behind her. No matter how hard she tried, she could not still her pounding heart, and she wondered how she could move on sluggish legs. They walked past a man who gave her a glance, and for a moment she hoped he would see the fear on her face. However, he walked past her without so much as a greeting, and her heart fell.
When they walked through the door, the sunlight blinded her, and she stopped and blinked.
He pushed her forward. “Get on with ye,” he hissed.
She nodded and walked up to the only horse tied behind the building, a black stallion.
The man tossed a young boy, who was sitting on a barrel playing with a cat, a coin. “Ye ain’t seen me, ye hear?”
The boy eyed the coin and gave the man a smirk. “No, sir. I ain’t seen nothing or no one.”
Seeing the boy brought about thoughts of Oliver. “Is my son nearby?” Caroline asked and then nearly cried out as a hand grabbed the back of her neck and squeezed hard.
“Don’t speak unless I tell ye to,” the man growled. “Now, get up there!”
She managed to mount the horse, and the man pulled himself up behind her after he tied the bag of money behind the saddle.
“Right. It’s time to go.”
With a flick of the reins, he set the horse in motion. She glanced toward the tree where she was supposed to meet Philip, although she could not see it, and fear gripped her. Would he wonder where she was when she did not arrive as planned?
“Money and a Duchess,” the man said in her ear. “I think I’m gonna have some fun tonight.”
Caroline could only force down the fear inside her and trust that Philip would find her. And soon.
***
As they made their way out of the village, Caroline no longer noticed the warmth of the day, or anything that was around them for that matter. Fear gripped her as they entered the forest. They were on the opposite side from where she had left Philip, and that scared her more than ever, for Philip would have no idea where she was. Would he somehow learn that she had been taken? Yet, how would he have known? The landlord of The Silver Sickle knew she was a woman, but not he, nor any other man in the tavern, had taken notice of what had transpired between her and this man. Or they had ignored it.
In her heart, she knew her son would not be where they were going. This man meant to kill her and take the money. What would happen to Oliver?
That single question cleared her head. She could not count on Philip to find her, or Oliver, in time, so it was left up to her to keep her wits about her. If she was unable to escape the clutches of this man at this moment, she would keep her eyes open for the most opportune time to steal away. The man had to sleep, did he not?
“Ye sure are a pretty one,” the man said in her ear. “And yer a Duchess?”
Caroline raised her chin. She would not allow this miscreant to win. When it came to her son, she would fight with any means possible. “I am,” she replied with as much regal air as she could muster. “And I have money, more money than you could ever imagine. If you see that my son and I are released without harm, I will see that you are given twice—no thrice—what I have in that bag.”
The man snorted.
“Do you prefer jewels? Or works of art? Name it and you shall have it. Just let us go.”
This caused the man to laugh. “This money’ll do just fine,” h
e said. Then he leaned in, his breath scorching her neck. “And maybe a kiss from you.”
She could not stop herself from cringing, which only made the man laugh that much harder.
After some time, the horse came to a stop in a small clearing, and the man dismounted. Caroline looked around, but all she could make out were trees and grass in all directions. If she had not been taking note, she would not know in which direction she needed to go to return to the village. One thing was certain—no matter how loudly she screamed, no one would hear her.
The ruffian pulled her from the horse, and if he had not caught her by the waist, she would have been on the ground. That was not what she needed at this moment, a twisted or broken ankle. Any injury to her feet or legs would make escaping all the more difficult, and she was determined to get away to safety. Her life would not end in the hands of this scoundrel if she had anything to do with it.
“Now, let’s see here,” he drawled, yanking the hat off her head. He looked her up and down with an unsettling glint in his eye. “Yes, quite a lovely one ye are.”
Caroline was finding every minute in this man’s presence more and more difficult to stomach. She had to find a way to appeal to…. She almost laughed. This man would not have a good nature. Yet, she had to try regardless.
“Please, Mr. …”
“Ye can call me Pete. I ain’t no mister nothing.” The man snorted and then spat a large wad of phlegm into a nearby bush. No, the man was not anything close to being a mister anything.
“Very well, Pete,” Caroline said, making every attempt to be appeasing. “I can see you are an…intelligent man. I am certain we can come to some sort of agreement. There does not have to be any reason for us to leave on bad terms. As I said before, I have plenty of…”
“And didn’t ye hear me say that I don’t care nothing for what ye have?” His eyes roamed over her again. “Well, maybe one thing…”
The air around Caroline seemed to dissipate, and she had to fight to keep herself from fainting. Fainting was not something she had ever done, nor would she allow herself to suffer it now. She had endured the wrath of Reginald for so many years; therefore, she could deal with this man without acting the weeping willow.
The Duke of Ravens: Regency Hearts Book 3 Page 12