If the Earl Only Knew (The Daring Marriages) (16 page)

She was wrong.

The worst thing was being offered everything she ever wanted and walking away with nothing.

It was time to make her escape. Kate was determined to sneak out of the house early, but their hired coach was late in arriving, leaving her to pace in the entryway with her sea locker packed and ready to go.

As for her purchased carriage, Robert had vetoed the idea of driving it to Arlington Hall as likely to be fatal to Pickles. In the end, the “carriage” had been sold for scrap and Kate had arranged with the stables at King’s Cross to gently care for Pickles—an arrangement that was costing her far more than simply renting a decent coach would have been. This left her waiting for the hired carriage, her anxiety growing with each passing minute.

She had done it again—she had kissed John.
Lord Wynbrook
, she mentally corrected. It was a wonderful,
proper
kiss. But one that should be the end of their association. She needed to make her escape. She could not face him in the light of day.

The happy chatter of voices struck a discordant chord in her ear. Footmen began to carry luggage down the stairs and past her, out the door. Guests were beginning to make their way down the stairs as well. Not only had she been unsuccessful in avoiding company, but now she appeared to be caught up in a mass exodus.

“Hullo, Kate!” Tristan tripped down the stairs, impeccably dressed as always. “Leaving soon? So will we all it appears!”

“You are all leaving?”

“Those eminent members of Parliament in our midst have been called back. Governmental crisis!” he said with a gleam of excitement.

“Robert?” Kate called.

He emerged from a nearby sitting room, missive in hand. “King’s mad. Going to make Prince George regent.”

“And that requires your presence?”

“The House of Lords have been respectfully recalled.” Lord Wynbrook, the man who had kissed her
properly
, strolled down the mahogany stairs, looking much more handsome than ought to be legal. The only crisis she could see was that her escape had been thwarted.

“I trust you and Dare will continue to stay with us at Wynbrook House, since now we are all headed to London.” He gave her a knowing smile, which she might have been able to forgive had it not been accompanied by a scandalous wink. Wretched man! He knew she could not fly into a temper with the host of witnesses now making its way down the stairs.

“Brilliant.” Kate was thoroughly displeased.

After an agonizing time waiting in the foyer with Lord Wynbrook, the coachman finally arrived to announce their carriage was ready. They spent much of the day rolling along in a line, heading back to London. Her only solace was that she was alone with Robert in the hired coach.

Until the wheel fell off.

“This is officially the worst day of my life!” Kate hissed to Robert as the Wynbrook coach slowed to a stop behind their broken carriage.

John and Tristan jumped out, while Ellen waved to them from the window.

“Horrible luck, old man,” said Tristan in good humor. “Fortunately, we are here to render aid.”

“Yes, do come with us. Plenty of room,” said Wynbrook with a smile that could not be contained.

Before Kate could think of a valid reason why it would not work, Robert had assented to the plan, and their luggage was duly transported to the Wynbrook coach. She decided if she must ride with Wynbrook in the coach, at least she would make sure she was not seated across from him, forced to look at his smug face for the next six hours.

As it turned out, she was seated next to him, which was infinitely worse. Robert and Tristan rode backward, with herself and Ellen riding forward, and of course John, happy as a lark, in between them. She could not even tell him to move over so that his side was not touching hers without inviting unwanted attention to her discomfort.

“Do you have an idea for a replacement?” asked Tristan, prattling on about the need to replace the elderly rector for Arlington Hall, utterly oblivious to her distress. Perhaps she always looked miserable such that he could not tell the difference between general and specific discomfiture.

“No, I do not have a candidate for the living, though I am certain it should not be difficult to fill. Always something to manage when one owns an estate, eh, Dare?” Wynbrook addressed him in a friendly manner.

Robert nodded. “Need to find new tenants for Greystone.”

“You rent out your country estate?” queried Wynbrook.

Robert nodded again. They had not set foot in their countryseat since their father had died there. At first, they needed the rent, but now neither wanted to return. Too many bad remembrances.

They rolled up on a public inn for refreshment and a change of horses. They were not alone in the idea, and several other familiar carriages of the wedding guests could be seen outside. Kate alighted from the coach and immediately sought the privy, needing to get away from her present company. Afterward, she wandered about the yard, not wanting to return to the inn. She could not think of anything more uncomfortable than to make mindless small talk over a cold lunch with Wynbrook and his family.

She was lured into a pretty spot of wilderness beside the inn and wandered into the trees, breathing deep of the fresh pine scent. Her feet were cold in the snow, but she had no desire to return.

Wynbrook. How was she ever going to get him off her mind? He had kissed her. Offered for her hand. Of course it was only because he felt some obligation and knew she would say no. But what if she had said yes?

She sat on a boulder and closed her eyes, indulging her imagination. What would it be like to be the Countess of Wynbrook? She would be at his side. Sleep in his bed. Manage his estate. Sleep in his bed. Be expected to live in society. Sleep in his bed. Face hateful gossips who would observe she made a wretched countess. And yet…she would sleep in his bed.

Her attention was drawn by a sudden silence in the woods. No birds chirped. Even the rustling of leaves in the gentle breeze stilled. It was as if the whole of the forest had collectively taken a breath, waiting for something to happen.

A crunch of footsteps in the snow behind her got her attention. Was Wynbrook or her brother coming out to find her? The footsteps moved slowly, as if trying not to be heard. Not her brother. Another crunch to her left. Two someones were sneaking up on her. Every nerve, every fiber was now alert, ready, but she kept her eyes closed, not wanting to give away her wariness, which was her only advantage.

She slowly leaned down and reached for her knife. The footsteps rushed toward her and she sprang up, swinging around, knife in hand. The surprised man attempted to stop, slid on the slick ground, and fell into the boulder.

“Get her!” yelled someone and two more men advanced upon her, all wearing mufflers around their faces to hide their identities.

She had no idea who they were or what they wanted, but she would not go down without a fight. The first man grabbed at her and she slashed his arm, causing the big man to howl in pain.

She spun and kicked the legs out from the other man, who fell to the ground. She slashed at the first man who had regained his feet, backing him away. She needed to get back to the inn. The click of a pistol stayed her.

She turned to see a fourth man, similarly wrapped in a muffler, pointing a pistol at her head.

“Drop it,” he commanded with authority.

She was not going to win this one. She dropped the knife.

“You’re coming with us,” said the man.

Kate screamed before they could get on the gag. She struggled, but they had surrounded her, tying her hands before her and holding her fast on each side.

“Get her into the coach, quick now!” They half carried, half dragged her a short distance to the road and bundled her into a coach.

“Kate!” Robert yelled at her from a distance.

Kate lay crumpled in a heap on the floor of the carriage. She kept her eyes mostly closed, feigning unconsciousness. Her brother had seen her. He would come. There was nothing she could do now to fight off four armed men, so it was best to lie still and wait for a better opportunity—specifically, when Robert made his move.

“Captain should be pleased,” said one of the men. Though the curtains of the coach were drawn, their mufflers remained in place, masking their faces. Their voices were unfamiliar to Kate. She scanned a mental list of people who might hold grudges against her or Robert and found, quite to her displeasure, that being in the business of taking the worldly goods of other people meant one did amass a large number of enemies.

But who would have the audacity to attack them here in England? Robert had a well-deserved reputation for ferocity on the high seas, but he had never attacked a British vessel, and these were clearly Englishmen. Could some French captain have hired these thugs? But for what purpose? If someone was seeking revenge, why keep her alive?

“How much do you think we’ll get for her?” asked one of her assailants. She stared at his brass hobnail boots through half-closed eyes. One of the nails had come loose and was sticking up through the leather.

“Enough. Don’t you worry none about that,” answered a man with large forearms.

Ransom. They planned to hold her for ransom. At least they would not kill her. Probably. The thought did little to soothe her strained nerves, and she wished Robert would hurry up and rescue her. Whoever these men were, she did not wish to find out what they had planned. The carriage sped along the road, jostling her from side to side. She was going to be good and bruised before the day was out.

She heard the approaching galloping horse before they did. Of course, she was listening for it. It approached closer, riding hard. It was Robert; it must be. He needed these men to be distracted.

She rose suddenly and slammed her tied fists down on the crotch of the nearest man. He howled in pain. She swung her arms around, connecting with the man on the other side, hitting him in the eye.

The other two men jumped on her, holding her down. The particularly large one raised a massive fist to slam into her head. It would have knocked her into unconsciousness had his fist actually connected.

Fortunately, Robert crashed feetfirst through the window of the coach, knocking the man off of her. Several men reached for their pistols, but Robert leveled his and shot at one man, who cried out and dropped his weapon. Gunpowder and smoke filled the carriage.

Another shot rang out, but it missed Robert and he grabbed the discharged pistol with his left hand and tossed it out the broken window before punching the man in the nose with his right.

Kate yanked down her gag. “Robert, watch out—”

A third shot cracked sharply, hurting her ears in the confined space. Blood spattered on the coach wall, and Robert slid to the floor, clutching at his side.

“No!” screamed Kate.

“Lie still or I’ll kill you!” threatened one of the abductors.

Robert met her eyes. Even injured, he had not given up. He looked up quickly at the carriage door latch and back at her. The carriage jostled and Robert used the motion to move his feet, so that they were flat almost against her. In a flash, she knew what he was thinking. She shook her head ever so slightly, but Robert narrowed his eyes and glared at her, resolute.

She had to do this. Yet if she did, her brother would be left behind. And if she didn’t, they would both be abducted. She gritted her teeth. This was her only hope. She steeled herself for the impact and quickly reached up, pulling hard on the latch.

“Hey!” shouted one of their assailants, grabbing for her. The door clicked open and Robert kicked her hard, pushing her out of the carriage and onto the frozen road. She tucked her chin and rolled with the impact. She expected it would hurt, and it did, but this was not the time to nurse her wounds; she needed to get away and find help.

She staggered to her feet and yelled for help, spinning around to see if there was anyone who could render them assistance. Unfortunately, the road was now deserted.

The carriage continued to roll forward, then came to a stop with a jolt. Men were shouting inside the carriage and she had no doubt that Robert was making as much trouble for them as he could. Wounded as he was, she doubted that he could overcome four men. A man jumped from the carriage and staggered toward her.

She turned and ran with all her might, though it was difficult with her hands bound before her. Her heart beat wildly in her chest from the exertion and raw fear. She ran down the road and saw the posting house in the distance like a beacon of hope. Could she reach it before she was caught?

Behind her, the man was running awkwardly after her. Maybe she had a chance to reach the inn before him. The road curved, but going through the forest was a more direct path, so she took it, hoping to outrun him. She rushed into the trees and looked behind her. He was not to be seen. Perhaps he was going to head her off by running down the road. Or maybe he would suddenly appear from behind one of the many trees.

Wynbrook. She needed him.

She sprinted to the inn, jumping over downed tree limbs and sliding over the icy rocks. She fell twice but got up and kept running. Kate ran until she feared her lungs would burst and then she ran some more. Finally, she emerged at the edge of the wood by the inn. She paused before entering the clearing next to the public house. Where was the man who had been chasing her?

She panted for breath, her lungs screaming in pain. She had never run so hard. Where was her knife? She had dropped it somewhere close. She scanned the snowy ground, her breath steaming from her lips. The knife glinted in the snow and she pounced on it.

Footsteps came up behind her and she jumped up, lunging at her attacker.

The man in the large greatcoat turned toward her and she skittered to a halt.

“Wynbrook!”

“Kate?” A startled Wynbrook dropped the book from his hand.

Kate aborted her attack, lost her footing, and fell right into his arms.

“What has happened?” asked Wynbrook.

“Robert has been taken. Quick! There is no time to lose,” she panted.

“Good heavens, Kate. Are you all right? My word, are you bound?”

Kate realized that though she held her knife with both hands, her wrists were still bound. “They have Robert in a coach. They grabbed me first to hold me for ransom. Robert caught up with them and managed to push me out of the carriage, but he was shot, and somewhere there is a man who is following me. We must catch them. We must catch them now!”

“Hold still, let me free you.” John grabbed the knife from her hands and cut through the bonds on her wrists. She rubbed her wrists, which were raw from the effort of trying to loose them herself. He picked up the book and dropped it and the knife into one of his greatcoat pockets.

“The man, we must get him.” She turned and would have run from the clearing except for a strong hand on her shoulder that held her fast.

“My goodness, Kate, you are bloodied and bruised. Let me help you.”

Kate’s legs buckled under the slight pressure and she collapsed into his arms. “But, Robert… The man…”

“I will see to it.” He carried her to the clearing, and for just a moment, she rested her head against his shoulder. Despite all that was happening, he had a certain confident calm about him that made her feel things would somehow be set to rights. She took a deep breath to revive herself and motioned for Wynbrook to put her down. This was no time to lose her nerve. Taking a careful look around, she could see nothing but the Wynbrook coach being readied to go.

“Come, we must go after them.” Kate ran for the coach with Wynbrook at her side. “I left them stopped down the road. If we hurry, we might overtake them.”

“Where is the coachman?” Wynbrook asked the stable lad who was holding the heads of the horses, their breath visible in the crisp cold.

“Gone in for a pint,” replied the lad.

“No time!” Kate urged.

“I’ll take this for a spell,” Wynbrook said to the baffled stable hand as he took the reins.

The stable lad shrugged. “Your coach, m’lord.”

“You stay here,” Wynbrook directed Kate, climbing up to the coachman’s seat.

“You don’t even know which coach you are looking for without me,” said Kate, climbing up after him.

Wynbrook sighed through gritted teeth and slapped the reins to get the horses moving. They rolled out of the yard and onto the road.

“John?” cried Tristan, emerging from the inn. “John! Kate! Where are you going?”

“Trouble with Robert. Must run!” cried John and urged the horses to gallop down the road.

“Trouble? What trouble?” called Tristan, but there was no time to stop and explain.

“I don’t know how long they stopped. Might still be waiting,” said Kate, rubbing her elbow where it ached from her fall. Now that she was sitting, she took a mental check of her person.

“You are hurt. You should not be out here,” said John, squinting into the stinging cold as they galloped down the road. “Do we need to stop to attend you?”

Kate was hurting in several places but not bleeding profusely and she doubted anything was broken. “No, I am all right. It is not much longer. If we are quick, we might overtake them. I just wish I knew where the man who was chasing me is now. Wait, stop!”

On the side of the road lay the crumpled form of a man in a black wool coat. Wynbrook pulled up short and Kate jumped down from the coach. She crept up slowly, cautious of an ambush.

“Is that the man who was following you?” asked Wynbrook beside her.

“Not sure.”

Wynbrook rolled the man over. The man’s glassy eyes stared unseeing toward the sky. “Dead.” Wynbrook looked back at her.

“It must have been the man Robert shot.”

Kate wondered if Wynbrook, who was accustomed to the finer things in life, would be able to manage such a shocking turn. He had the presence of mind to unwrap the man’s muffler, revealing his face.

“Do you know this man? Do you know any reason why he would have attacked you or Dare?”

Kate shook her head. “We must follow the coach.” She turned and ran back to their coach, the horses pawing at the frozen ground.

“We cannot leave a dead man on the side of the road,” said Wynbrook.

“We must go after Robert or his will be the next body we find. He was shot!”

Wynbrook covered the man as best he could with the muffler and joined Kate on the driver’s box of the coach. Wynbrook took control of the horses and sped along the frozen ground as fast as possible.

Kate wondered what they were going to do if they caught up with the coach. Even with one man dead, there were still three left in the coach, plus the driver. As if reading her mind, Wynbrook reached behind him and lifted up a brass-barreled coaching blunderbuss. “Do you know how to use this?” he asked.

“Yes.” She took the gun.

“Careful.” He released the catch and a sharp blade sprang from the tip of the barrel. “It’s spring-loaded.” He grabbed one for himself as well. Clearly the Wynbrook coach was prepared for highwaymen.

“Nice.” Kate was impressed. Far from being unhinged by events, Wynbrook was as collected as ever, taking on this new challenge as calmly as he entered a society ballroom. She couldn’t help but be a little more attracted to him. A handsome man was nice. A handsome man holding a brass-barreled pistol with a spring-loaded bayonet was even better.

“Here we are. This is where I left Robert in the coach,” said Kate, getting back to the task at hand.

The coach was gone, leaving deep ruts in the snow. She quickly looked on both sides of the road to see if he had been dumped there. It was clear, no bodies in sight. She took a breath, wondering how long she had held it.

“They must have driven on,” said Kate, fear gnawing at her heart.

“Then so shall we,” said Wynbrook. He put a gloved hand on her arm. “Do not worry. We’ll find him.”

Kate nodded and Wynbrook snapped the whip to get the horses moving at a fast clip. Wynbrook was a competent horseman, she was pleased to discover, and she soon put complete faith in his driving ability. He would catch up with them. He must.

“Do you know who these men are or where they were going?” asked Wynbrook.

“No. But they said something about a captain.”

“Sea captain or army captain?” asked Wynbrook.

Kate shook her head, miserable for not knowing their enemy. “I do not know.”

“We shall find him,” Wynbrook said, trying to encourage her.

Clouds rolled in and the afternoon darkened as it grew closer to night. Still they did not overtake the coach. They came to a turnpike as it began to snow.

“We are looking for a dark blue coach with a broken right-side window,” said Kate. “Maybe the man here has seen them.”

Wynbrook asked the toll collector whether he had seen the coach they sought, providing a few extra shillings for the information. They were rewarded with confirmation that such a coach had recently passed.

Kate’s heart soared. They were on the right track. “Was there anything unusual about the occupants?” she asked. “Was anyone sick or hurt?”

The man stared at her and she realized it was an odd question. “No, milady. Nothing odd. Just the coachman and the three men inside.”

“Three men?” Kate choked. “Just three? Are you sure?”

“Three was all I could see,” said the man, removing his hat and scratching a bald head that somehow matched his short stature.

“Thank you,” said Wynbrook, driving on in the direction the man had indicated. They said nothing for a few minutes. What had they done to Robert after she had escaped? Was he even still alive?

“Dare is a formidable opponent. I would not want to be the man who attempted to subdue him,” said Wynbrook in a confident tone.

“He fought them after he pushed me out of the carriage. What if they…”

“He’s strong and tough—stronger and tougher than any English gentleman has a right to be. I cannot begin to imagine all the many battles he has faced. He has survived till now and I believe he will survive this as well.”

“But the man said he saw only three in the coach.”

“From his vantage on the ground, he would be looking up at the persons in the coach. If your brother was tied and lying on the floor, he would not have been seen.”

“Yes, yes, you are right,” said Kate with renewed determination. He was alive; she just knew it. If he were dead, she would feel it somehow.

Wynbrook navigated as swiftly as possible to the next turnpike. Yet at this next turnpike, they had no luck. No coach of their description had passed. Wynbrook turned the horses and coach around in fine form and had them flying back down the road in no time. They must have taken the wrong fork in the road. They corrected themselves and flew to the next turnpike.

At the next turnpike, they were rewarded with the information that they were on the right road. The coach with the broken window had passed not an hour before. At the next crossroads, they again had disappointing news. No coach.

By now darkness had fallen and they had to light the coach lanterns. Kate was frozen through and desperately wished to stop to warm herself but knew they must push on.

“Tristan must be utterly confused,” said John. “I have done him a bad turn leaving him and Ellen at that humble inn.”

“At least they can stay there tonight out of the wind and snow,” called Kate over the biting wind that blew snow sharply into her eyes. She pulled her collar up even farther, disappearing into her coat like a turtle.

“Oh no!” cried Wynbrook.

“What is it?” asked Kate, looking around, fear pulsing through her veins. Did he spy Robert by the side of the road?

“Tristan’s chest. We have it in the coach.”

“He will have to spend the night without a change of clothes?” asked Kate.

“He might have to borrow sleeping garments from the landlord.”

Kate covered her mouth, holding back untimely mirth. Tristan without his wardrobe was unthinkable. “Oh, he’s going to kill you.”

“I think you might be right.”

They followed the tracks in the snow until they turned to ruts, making it impossible to tell who had passed by recently. The weather also deteriorated, and Wynbrook was forced to slow down to travel safely.

“They will be forced to go slowly as well,” said Wynbrook. “Why don’t you sit in the carriage and warm yourself? I will keep watch and let you know if I see anything.”

“No. Good to keep more than one set of eyes on the road,” she said through chattering teeth. What she didn’t say was that she was keeping watch for anything by the side of the road that might be the form of her brother. If she sped past her brother in the night, she would never forgive herself.

It had stopped snowing, which was good, though the temperature seemed to drop even lower, which was not. They pushed through and made it to the next turnpike, asking the man if the carriage had passed. This man appeared to go about his work with his eyes closed. He did not know about any blue coach with a broken window, but Kate was of the opinion that he had not opened his eyes for any passing travelers. He did murmur sleepily that a coach had passed by relatively recently. He was less helpful in identifying which way the coach had gone.

The road out of the turnpike branched into several directions, a few leading in various ways down to the coast. Both roads showed signs of travel and it was impossible in the dark to tell which ruts had been made more recently than others.

“Lady’s choice,” said Wynbrook.

Kate sighed. If she chose wrong, it could mean the death of her brother, her only family. She did not frequently turn to prayer, but she did so then. If ever she needed divine intervention, it was at that moment. A sliver of the moon emerged from behind a cloud and shone over one of the paths. She pointed toward it and Wynbrook snapped the ribbons.

She only hoped they would be in time to save Robert.

* * *

Silas Bones sat in the private room of the inn, sipping his sherry. He had everything prepared for his guest, the Lady Katherine. Food was laid on the table, a fire was in the hearth, and an unscrupulous landlord had been given a hefty bribe to see nothing.

Three of his men shuffled into the room, holding their caps in their hands and looking sheepish. Something was wrong.

“Did you not get her?” asked Silas.

“Aye, we did,” said one.

“But we lost her,” said another, staring at the floor.

“You lost her?” Silas rose to his feet.

“But we got Darington.”

“You kidnapped Darington instead? What is wrong with you idiots?”

His men all began to talk at once, saying it wasn’t their fault, blaming Kate and Darington for resisting her abduction, and informing him that one of their number had been shot dead.

“Silence! You are utter fools.” Silas had heard enough.

“You want us to bring Darington here?” asked one man.

Bring Darington to his little scene of seduction? He had planned to enjoy the company of his captive while he waited for the ransom to be paid. “Are you daft? No. You take Darington to Portsmouth and tell my father what happened. Maybe somehow we can make this work.”

“Aye-aye, Cap’n,” said a lanky lad, sitting down at the table and gazing at his supper with a hungry eye.

“Good, then you can get on the road now.” Silas held up his hand to silence complaint. These men needed to be taught to fight a little harder.

“But it’s cold,” complained the big man.

Silas made no return reply but glared at the men until they all shuffled out of the room. His father was not going to be happy with this turn of events.

He shuddered at the thought.