Amanda Scott (30 page)

She felt no fear for the simple reason that it was all too much like a scene from one of her books to seem real, and when they had reached the thicket, she jerked away from Neall and grabbed the trunk of a birch tree to steady herself as she said, “You can’t get away with this, you know. They’ll come after us.”

“Who do you think will try to stop my master, that fop Saint-Denis? Or perhaps the old lady? Now the younger Lady Skipton, she’s another matter,” he added insolently. “Might have some gumption, that one—not enough to take on a royal duke, of course, but some.”

Carolyn stared at him. “But you must know that Mr. Saint-Denis is quite capable of coming after me!”

“Don’t be daft, girl! He’s no more threat than what you are yourself. He might whine a bit to the Regent, but that will do him no good, for Prinny don’t make any attempt to bridle Cumberland, as anyone in England knows full well.”

Carolyn said grimly, “The Regent might not, but Sydney will. He has done so before, and he will not hesitate to do so again. Don’t you recall what happened to your master at Oatlands? I know you must, for Sydney went to fetch you himself after he threw your precious duke into the grotto pool!”

Neall laughed. “Won’t do you a lick of good to make up tales like that one, girl. Do you think my master did not tell me the truth of it—that the Regent interfered with his friendly little interlude with you, and while teaching him the error of his ways, the duke slipped and fell into that damned pond? The Regent suffered a good long time afterward for his mistake. Aye, but you laughed when my master fell, girl, and that was your undoing, for that is why you are here now. And your damned Mr. Saint-Denis dared to laugh as well, I’ll wager, but you’ll both be laughing out of the other sides of your faces now!”

Carolyn’s jaw dropped. “Is that what he told you?”

“It’s the truth.”

She opened her mouth to contradict him, but even before she had decided it would be of little use, she became aware of new sounds on the road. From that distance, the hedge obscured her view of the wreckage and the men working to clear it away, but it was not so high that she could not see the horseman approaching from the opposite direction to the one in which they had been traveling. Only the top of his head was visible, but he was not wearing a hat, and his hair was thick, black, and curly.

She nearly shouted for Salas to come help her but remembered in time that she must not give him away. A moment later, she was rewarded for her restraint when he spurred his horse through the hedge and cantered across the field toward them.

Though she knew he had recognized her, he scarcely looked at her, riding directly toward Neall and sliding down from his horse as it came to a halt.

Neall regarded him with displeasure. “What do you want?”

“Your master sent Salas back to discover why second coach has not yet caught up with first. You were to travel swiftly to catch us before first turnpike. Only one pass was written, he says, and you must be with him for it to include you. Am I to tell the master you cannot obey his command?”

“We’ll be along as soon as we can,” Neall said, disgruntled. “The men are looking over the damage now. I can’t be blamed for losing a wheel off such a damned ill-kept coach, can I?”

“There will be much delay if you must pull up at each pike,” Salas said. He allowed his gaze to drift to Carolyn, and his appreciative smile was not, she knew, assumed merely for Neall’s benefit. “Why do you bring the pretty lady? Does she travel to the Continent with us?”

“That will be for his highness to decide,” Neall said in quelling accents.

Salas shrugged. “Salas does not care if you bring your lady, but you must tell those men on the road that they will have to find one new horse. One has hurt his leg and must be tended before he can pull carriage again.”

“They’ll see to it. Tell his highness to go on without us. I’ve enough cash by me to pay our shot, and we’ve nothing to identify us. One way or another, we will catch him before he makes the south coast.”

“With the lady?” Salas raised his eyebrows. “Does she then go willingly? Salas thinks lady might fuss or scream, or—”

“Very well,” Neall retorted, goaded, “tell him—no, dammit, ask him to write out a copy of that damned pass he’s got and you can bring it back to me. No one will know the difference. And you needn’t say anything about the girl, either. She’s a little surprise I’ve got for him.”

Salas grinned again. “Lady will be a very big surprise, I believe, not little at all.” And with that, he wheeled his horse and galloped back toward the hedge and the road beyond.

Carolyn watched him go, wondering if she had been wise to keep silent, hoping he did not think she was there as anything but a prisoner. Surely, he would ride for Sydney or do something else to help her. He could not wish to be part of her abduction. None of these thoughts having done much to reassure her, she decided she had best get on with her own rescue attempt.

“Mr. Neall,” she said blightingly, “I collect from what you said to that man that his highness is not a party to your plan. Not that I thought he could be, for I think you will find he will not be pleased by what you have done. He has respect for Mr. Saint-Denis, even if you do not, and will not want it known that you have abducted me, so I should recommend that you—”

“Be silent,” he snapped, and to her shock, he yanked a pistol from his coat pocket and leveled it less than a foot from her bosom. “I don’t want to listen to you. Even if you should chance to be right and his highness don’t want you, just remember there’s a simple way to ensure that you cause neither of us any grief … if you understand me.”

She understood only too well, and the instant, blinding terror she felt nearly overwhelmed her. Suddenly it was not difficult at all to remember that she was not living in the pages of a book. In books, heroines did not get themselves murdered by stupid little men in fields near a highroad. And unfortunately, she could hear no thunder of hoofbeats in the distance to herald the arrival of her hero. Furthermore, she could expect no lightning bolt on such a depressingly brilliant day, or depend upon the ghost of some adoring person who had passed on, to return for that one, brief moment necessary to save her. Such things, as she knew—and indeed, had known perfectly well even when she had read about them—simply did not happen in real life.

Neall glowered at her, and she glared back, determined that he should never guess how dreadfully he frightened her. That determination steadied her. Reminding herself that he would not shoot unless he believed the duke didn’t want her, she wracked her brain for a way to save herself before that moment came.

She feared from what she had seen of him that Salas would be no help to her. Not only had he expressed greater concern over the injured horse than over her abduction, but he would no doubt continue to put his own skin before hers. And while she thought she could depend upon Cumberland not to cheer her abduction, she could place no dependence upon his vetoing her murder. If only, she mused, she could be granted one small stroke of luck.

A rattle of hoofbeats and shouts from the roadway diverted Neall’s attention just then, and Carolyn seized her opportunity. Remembering what Sydney had taught her, she made a fist with her right hand, hoisted her skirt above her knees with her left, and leapt forward, jabbing him twice in the throat with her knuckles. Then, as he grabbed for his throat with his free hand, she elbowed the pistol aside and brought her right knee up hard between his legs. The pistol exploded harmlessly as Neall collapsed, moaning and clutching himself, at her feet.

Carolyn spared no time to look down at him, let alone to congratulate herself, for the hoofbeats she had heard had come from the wrong direction. Holding her skirt high, she turned and dived deeper into the thicket, but as soon as she knew she could not be seen from the field, she wriggled into a space between two evergreen bushes and peered back through the foliage.

To her profound satisfaction, she saw that Neall still lay writhing where he had fallen, but she jumped back involuntarily when Cumberland rode through the hedge into the field. The sight of Salas behind him was slightly reassuring, but she decided to remain where she was.

Dismounting, the duke strode to where Neall lay, and it was evident at once that he was angry. “Get up, you dolt,” he snapped, his gruff voice carrying easily to Carolyn’s ears since most of the noise on the road had stopped. “Where’s the girl?”

Neall made only a token effort to rise, and she couldn’t hear what he said, but when Cumberland looked toward the thicket, she held her breath. The gypsy, still mounted, said something to him, but he shook his head, and she heard him say clearly, “No, no, she must be found at once. Go call the others.”

Salas said something else, and thinking furiously as she watched and tried to hear them, Carolyn decided that running would do her no good, and unless she was willing to leave her red cloak behind, she would be easily visible to anyone coming nearer than Cumberland was now. She had nearly decided to stand up and hope that, between them, she and Salas could prevent her murder when there came a fresh disturbance as Sydney Saint-Denis, mounted on a his sleek bay hack, trotted through what was now a rather wide gap in the hedge.

He appeared to be alone, and when he drew to a halt near the gypsy and raised his quizzing glass to look down with faint interest, first at Cumberland and then at the still moaning Neall, Carolyn leaned forward to get a better view, choking back a sudden, nearly overpowering urge to laugh.

The duke evidently saw nothing humorous in Sydney’s attitude. “I knew nothing of this, Saint-Denis,” he snapped.

“No?” Sydney drawled. “How intelligent of you not to pretend that nothing has happened, Cumberland, and for that, I shall reward you by believing that you are, if not innocent, at least not actively involved. But what, if I may be so bold as to ask, have you done with Miss Hardy?”

“Neall tells me he thinks she ran into the thicket,” Cumberland growled. “She, and not I, must take the credit for his present painful condition.

“I am glad to hear that,” Sydney said, adding, “She was, I suppose, in that coach yonder?”

“She was,” Cumberland admitted. “This fool thought … well, it is of no purpose to say what he thought, but—”

“Oh,” said Sydney gently, “I daresay he thought you might wish to be revenged upon me, and perhaps upon Miss Hardy as well, but I cannot think why he took no more care than he did with his abduction. Surely he must have known I’d be hard on his heels.”

Neall struggled up, glaring at him. “I can’t think what you’d have done, you spineless fop! That little bitch is wor—”

“Shut your mouth!” the duke snapped, kicking him.

“How wise you are, Cumberland,” Sydney said softly, “I should dislike doing more harm to Mr. Neall than has already been done to him, but I find my temper a trifle uncertain, so perhaps, having shut him up, you will make certain he stays that way until I have got Miss Hardy safely out of here. And, Cumberland,” he added in that same soft tone, “I should make all haste to leave the country if I were you. I feel sure that your mission must keep you away for several weeks at least.”

Cumberland looked at him sharply. “I am beginning to think that perhaps this mission—”

“You would be wiser not to finish that statement, sir, and to continue in the belief that your immediate presence on the Continent is of grave import. No, no,” he added as the duke cast a shrewd glance at Salas, “do not think that like the ancient Caesars you can, with impunity, expend your ill humor on the messenger. I’ve no doubt his friends on the Continent look daily to see his safe arrival there, and it is never safe to betray the Romanys, for their reach is long and their respect for authority capricious at best. Do you understand me?”

“Damn you, Saint-Denis, you know too much! Do you dare to threaten me, sir?”

“Oh, I shouldn’t think of it as a threat, your royal highness, but surely you must understand that when the Regent learns, as he certainly will if he has not already done so, that you have most foolishly dared to abduct a gentlewoman—”

“I didn’t abduct her!”

“But you, sir, of all people,” Sydney said with a faint smile, “know the power of a delicately placed rumor, particularly when there is a modicum of truth upon which to base it.”

Cumberland glared at him, silenced.

Neall growled defiantly, “They might the both of them be made to disappear, highness.”

Sydney smoothed a wrinkle from his sleeve. “I doubt you would be so stupid, Cumberland, but I ought perhaps to warn you that I’ve got men with me, beyond the hedge. I thought it as well that they hear none of this, but that can be altered if you prefer it so.”

Cumberland said grimly to Salas, “Get down and carry that fool back to his coach, and we’ll go on ahead.” He paused, then looked thoughtfully up at Sydney and said in a milder tone, “I’d take it kindly, Saint-Denis, if you would do what you can to sort this out with George. It won’t do him the good you think it will to have it noised about that I had aught to do with this.”

Sydney pretended to give his words consideration before he said, “I suppose that if I can assure him your mission will keep you away for a fortnight, Cumberland, or maybe even three weeks, I might perhaps see my way clear to smoothing over the rest.”

“Very well, damn you.”

“Then you may leave me to find Miss Hardy on my own,” Sydney told him. “You will understand that she may be reluctant to look at you or that pond scum Neall again anytime soon.”

Cumberland stiffened. “You would do well to remember who I am and not be so quick to flaunt your disrespect, Saint-Denis.”

“I have a lamentable memory, I believe,” Sydney murmured.

Cumberland scowled but said no more, turning on his heel to follow Salas, who had dismounted and was supporting the hunched-over Neall back to the road.

Sydney waited until the others had passed through the gap in the hedge before he said, “You can come out now.”

Carolyn stood up and stepped forward, pulling her cloak more tightly around her. “You saw me?”