A Most Delicate Pursuit (20 page)

“He's not coming after you, girl. Why should he?” Millie asked after she'd caught Beatrice looking out the grubby window. The sun would be setting soon and with every passing hour, her hope for her rescue dimmed.

Bea sighed and returned her attention to bandaging the woman's head. She'd already helped the driver set her broken arm and affix it to a makeshift boneset.

“You need to rest,” she told Millie. “You've no need to watch me now. Your employer has locked us in here.”

It was a small, cramped room. The linens were dirty and the windows were barely covered with tattered curtains. The walls were painted a dingy green and the floor was knotted, buckled wood. Sniffing, Bea could smell the taint of the many unwashed travelers that had occupied the room before her.

In spite of the poor conditions, however, a modest fire was set in the hearth so at least the room was warm. Sitting on a bench next to Millie, she'd no choice but to stay quiet, though her spirit still spun with fury. If only she'd had a bigger knife, or a pistol, even…

Perhaps she could wait until both of them were asleep. Hargraves was already stretched out on the bed, snoring and snorting, reminding her of a picture of a bear she'd once seen in Ash's library.

“I know you're looking for your man.” Millie laughed. “Why would he come after you? Maybe he's given up on getting you back. Maybe he's decided you're not worth the effort after all. Or maybe he's lying dead along the road somewhere.”

Bea bit down on her panic. “You're wrong.” Though as she spoke the words, she remembered seeing the blood on his right shoulder. Then the carriage tilted and she'd lost sight of him.

“Oh, but he was. I heard the driver talking to Lord Bainbridge, saying that he shot a couple of them right off their horses.”

The woman's words caught her like a punch in her stomach. Of course, she'd known it was a possibility. He might have been shot after the carriage turned out of sight. Her heart fell. Was she responsible for getting him killed?

Bea felt the world spin around her. “It's my fault. He's dead because I was such a fool.”

Millie laughed and jerked the chain attached to Bea's wrists. “That's the truth of it. Young and pretty, likely had all the men falling all over themselves to have a chance at you.”

“It wasn't like that,” she lied. “None of them were the right man.”

“But you didn't want a one of them. If you had, you'd be sitting in your own fancy parlor, sipping tea and wearing pretty gowns. No doubt you'd have a dozen servants and get to attend beautiful parties.” The woman spat on the floor in front of her. “Worthless bit of fluff. That's all you are.”

“I want to go home,” Bea said. “My husband will pay you well if you let me go.”

The woman laughed. “So you say now. But even if he did throw a few coins my way, I'd not be able to spend it hanging from a rope at Newberry, now, would I?”

“I can speak on your behalf. I'm sure he'd reward you…”

“Enough, you fool. I'm not about to go against my master,” she huffed. “Let me ask you this. If he's not dead, how long do you think he's going to mourn you? A fine-looking man like that. With all the pretty ladies in London, don't you think he'll find a companion soon enough? I worked in service a long time you know. All of the gentry have their distractions. I bet yours is no different. Probably has himself a right pretty mistress, don't you think?”

Bea caught herself. A sudden picture of Lady Merriweather popped into her mind. Of course, Millie was right. If something were to happen to her, Michael wouldn't be lonely for long.

She'd no right to be jealous of any happiness he might find. More than anything else, she mourned what they'd had, she and Michael. For a very short time, they'd had each other. A world between them that no one else would ever know. The soft whispers in the night, the feel of his skin against her, beside her, inside her.

Funny, how quickly she'd realized the error in her thinking. She wanted him more than an exciting life of travel and adventure. Now, she wanted him more than anything.

That was when it occurred to her. Everything that Michael had promised her. She would have her freedom, and Michael to share her adventures with. It was a chance at happiness and adventure she likely didn't deserve. But, if fates had been different, she'd have no qualms about taking it.

In those short days of her time with Michael, she had been free. With Michael more than anyone else, she'd been able to just be herself. To explore and learn about the world around her. And to fall in love and be loved back.

Nothing surprised her more than that.

She remembered Michael's words and knew he'd wanted nothing to do with any woman besides her.

“Michael loves me,” she said at the last, though she couldn't quite keep all the doubt from her tone.

“Of course he does.” She started to walk around Bea, slowly, step by step, sizing her up. “As all men do, while a girl is young and pretty.”

“He loves me,” she said again, this time in a stronger tone.

“Ah, but my girl, you do not know it now, but pretty fades. Curls turn gray and the body becomes soft. Then men like your master and mine go searching for the young and pretty again. And we have to make do with what's left.”

She knew it did little good being kind to the wretched woman, but she had to try. “Is that what happened to you, Millie? Did Bainbridge cast you off?”

She didn't expect the slap, but the sharpness of it brought her back to reality. Almost immediately she tasted the warm taint of blood on the side of her mouth, felt the swell of her lips and the burn on her cheek.

“You'd best shut your mouth. Right now, I'm the only thing keeping you safe from men who wouldn't be so kind as our master.”

“Of course.” She relaxed back on the bench and crossed her arms. “I'm sorry for you, Millie. You loved the wrong man and you'll spend the rest of your life paying for it.”

The woman waved her off and, crossing her arms, turned away.

It didn't matter, because Bea knew now what she must do. She had to stand on her own and put down the man at the root of all her troubles. He thought he had the upper hand and that she would be a wilting flower like every other woman he'd broken.

He was wrong, and deal with him she would.

Just then the door opened and the object of her scorn stepped through.

“Miss Hawkins.” He smiled at her, a wide and toothy grin, mouth full of shining white teeth, eyes round, and hair escaping his hat that made him look more than crazy. It made him look dangerous.

“Lady Bladen to you.” She put her chin up.

He waved her off. “You were promised to me and one way or another, you'll agree to it. Then, I shall properly take you to task once our union is complete.”

She scoffed. “I'll never agree to marry you. I'd rather die.”

Using the tip of his cane, he pushed Millie off the bench, and she quickly curtsied to him and backed away.

“Do you think your bravado intimidates me, woman? I've faced off kings.” He turned and spat a huge glob of phlegm on the floor and pulled out his handkerchief and wiped his mouth. “No matter. We shall have plenty of time to work out our differences.”

“You could try for an eternity, if you like. Be assured I will fight you at every turn. Now, return me to my husband and perhaps you'll not be hanged for your attacks against a peer.”

“Do you think I spare any thoughts to that bunch? Hardly. I've paid for more than my fair share of them.” He tilted his head, his bulging eyes staring at her. “What I want to know is what you planned to do with your little knife. Think to cut my throat, did you?”

“The thought did cross my mind. But I'm not a threat, sir, and I well know it. You should be more worried about what my husband's going to do when he catches up with you.”

Bainbridge crossed his arms. “I assure you, I'm not the least bit concerned about what the earl might do.”

“Why not?”

“Because I killed him. My shot pierced his chest and he went down just when the carriage turned north. He won't be coming to rescue you, fair lady, because he's dead.”

In spite of their best efforts, an hour out of Bennington the sky opened up, temperatures dropped, and a winter gale sent full force against them.

Michael and Ash had ridden in silence most of the day, often having to turn back when the road was washed out or a felled tree blocked their path. Unfortunately, they had little hope of arriving at their destination any sooner. The weather was getting worse, winds picking up and a heavy rain pounding them at every turn.

“We can stop here if you'd like. We're within half a day of the coast. I doubt Bainbridge's boat will launch in this squall.”

Michael had spent the hours thinking about what he would do once he got Beatrice back to safety.

They'd stopped for a short rest and sought cover in a small copse of trees. Huddled together, Ash handed Michael his flask.

“Ah, the good brandy. You are the best sort of traveling companion,” Michael told him after taking a healthy swallow.

“I am a duke, after all.”

“Which is curious. Why didn't you send help rather than coming yourself. You've plenty of hired men.”

“True, but Caro and Amelia would have skinned me if anything happened to the two of you. Besides, I'm the best man for the job and you well know it.”

Michael nodded, handing the flask back to his friend. “No truer words have been spoken.”

A few minutes passed before Ash spoke again. “Tell me, once we get the two of you back to safety, what do you plan to do? I know you'd planned to sell your family estate, but perhaps some good investments will get you out of the red.”

Michael shook his head. “I've already promised Beatrice. We're traveling abroad. She wants to visit the colonies.”

“Really? And what will you do? Travel to the territories, perhaps? The two of you will be as lost as a flock of geese in a storm.”

“You would think so. No, I've a fancy to go into the trades. Boston, I think. Start a shipping business.”

Ash laughed. “You can't be serious? What do you know of running a business? Or shipping, for that matter? Or ships?”

“Nothing. But I suppose I can learn.”

Ash huffed. “More likely you'll fall off the damn boat.” He sighed. “Still, you know I'd support you wholeheartedly. I've got some interests in the East…”

Finally, the rain let up and the two of them started out once again. The road had the consistency of overcooked stew, but they did make progress and continued on.

Michael reined in his horse when they had arrived on the outskirts of town. A small, weather-beaten village, there was only one main street running through it. On the west side of town, a gentle hillside rose up and disappeared into the forest behind it. To the east was the cove where two ships sat a mile out from the beach. The air was full of the scents of the sea and the sound of the water lapping against the shore.

Houses, mostly old, with chipped or faded paint lined each side of the main thoroughfare. The road itself was muddy and pitted, and a wagon stuck in the mire was visible at the north end of the town.

At least the rain had slowed to a light drizzle and the winds had died down a bit.

“If it were me, I'd be occupying that house right there,” Ash said, pointing to a tall, two-story building set into the side of a hillside.

“Because it's the best in the town? Bainbridge probably owns the town.”

“Or, at least the best parts of it.” He chuckled. “Whatever his reason, it's the only place to mount a defense. From there you have a full view of the main road. What fine, upstanding citizen wouldn't want that?”

Michael coughed. “No doubt, he operates more on the underbelly of the law and perhaps is not the simple country gentleman he purports himself to be.” He pointed to the ships. “A nice place for smuggling illegal arms and goods, wouldn't you say?”

Ash nodded. “Indeed. Never mind that. Now that we've found the bugger, we need to figure out a way to rescue Beatrice and close down his little operation.”

Michael turned his horse toward Ash. “You have to ride back to London, immediately.”

“And leave you here to fight the blackguard alone? Don't be ridiculous. I'm not leaving you to get yourself shot.”

“You have no choice, my friend. You're an officer and your first responsibility is to your commander. The authorities need to know of this place, the sooner the better.”

“But what of you? I can't leave you to battle Bainbridge on your own.”

“I can handle the bastard.”

The other man hedged, his horse fidgeting as well. “I know you once could. When you had both eyes and a steadier hand. And when the life of someone dear to you wasn't at stake.”

Michael felt the sharp sting of his friend's words. He knew he might die in his attempts. “I have to do this, Ash. I have to save her, even if it's my last act in this life.”

“You're a fool, Michael. You always have been.” He sighed. “I will stay and be your second, as always.”

“If you do, then the smugglers will know they've been discovered and you'll lose your chance to stop them once and for all. No. You have to go. And, besides that, this is a fight I must face on my own. It may be the last chance I'll ever have to prove to Beatrice what kind of husband I really am.”

Ash pulled his horse up short. “You're set on this course of action?”

“I am.”

A moment passed between them. Michael knew he was considering his words and in the end would agree to his terms.

“You've been a good friend to me. I can't stand the thought of losing you, and yet I think I may have lost you already. Only time will tell, but for what it's worth, I'm on your side, you know. I always have been.”