No Other Love (32 page)

Nicola nodded. “I am usually in London, anyway. But Deborah wanted me to stay with her through the birth of her child. And I have to stay here for a wedding next month.”

“I don’t think I want to be in London without you that long,” Jack mused. “Perhaps Gil will have to return to his home after all.” He grinned. “At least you’ve fixed up my inheritance for me.”

Nicola rolled her eyes. Then she leaned against him, curling her arm around his waist. “Promise me that you will be careful.”

“I will.” He kissed the top of her head.

“I must leave soon,” she said with a sigh. “Stone will get suspicious if I stay in the Falkners’ house much longer.”

“I know.” He slid his hand down her hair, then touched his lips softly to hers. “I will see you soon.”

“When? How?”

“I’m not sure.” He grinned. “Perhaps I shall simply show up at your front door.”

Nicola left soon after that, blushing a little as she passed through the main room of the house, where Maggie sat, holding her baby and rocking. But Maggie only smiled at her and stood up to walk her to the door.

Nicola turned at the door. “If that man Stone should come here asking about my visit—”

“That one!” Maggie made a disgusted face. “He’ll not learn anything here.”

“Don’t hold back so much that it seems suspicious. You can say that the wee one had an earache, but that I soothed it with drops and now she is all right.”

“He won’t be surprised at our not talking. No one in the village will talk to him. Thinks he can buy us. Get us to betray our own for money!”

“Thank you.” Nicola smiled at the woman and opened the door. “Take care.”

“Yes’m, you too.”

Nicola did not see Stone, but she had little doubt he was there. Hal came up to untie her horse and help Nicola into the saddle, nodding to her and smiling. Nicola thanked him also, then turned her horse and headed into town. She had no desire to see anyone. She only wanted to hug her happy knowledge to herself, to ride home and think about Jack and their future. However, she knew that at any other time, if she had ridden into town on an errand of mercy like this, she would probably also have taken the opportunity to drop by and visit some people—the vicar’s wife, for instance. Besides, it was difficult to resist the impish urge to make Mr. Stone spend even more of his day uselessly.

However, today she did not think she could bear the vicar’s wife, who was sweet but rather dull. She was much too excited for that. So she rode over to the inn for a bit of refreshment and a little chat with Lydia, the innkeeper’s lady. After that, she allowed herself to turn homeward.

The most difficult thing, she found, was damping down her excitement in front of her sister and Richard that evening. She could scarcely go around grinning at nothing without arousing their curiosity, and she had no explanation for her sudden happiness. So she strove all evening to appear calm and unexcited, succeeding above her expectations, apparently, for Deborah worriedly asked her if she was feeling well.

Nicola seized the opportunity to admit that she had a headache and say that she thought she would retire early and put lavender water on her temples. Then she fled upstairs and closed herself in her room, lying down on her bed and at last allowing herself to contemplate the rosiness of her future.

Jack had as good as said that he loved her, hadn’t he?
He was, after all, giving up his revenge on Richard in order to be with her. She smiled dreamily, remembering his words about missing her and wanting to be with her.
Perhaps he had not mentioned marriage or love, but he was committing himself to her. Surely he must have realized that he had been wrong about her betraying him.

She lay looking up at the tester over her head, imagining introducing Jack to Marianne and Penelope, to all her friends. She chuckled as she pictured Richard’s reaction when he saw him. He would be angry—and perhaps just a tad frightened that Jack might reveal the perfidious thing he had done to him ten years ago. She stopped for a moment, worried that Richard might try to kill Jack to keep him from talking, as he had obviously done with Mr. Fuquay a few months ago. But, she reassured herself, Fuquay would have been able to implicate him in more serious crimes, crimes committed against members of Society—things that would have gotten him ostracized from his own class at the very least. A former stable boy’s assertion that Exmoor had had him pressed into the navy would hardly cause even a ripple among the Ton. And even Richard was bound to have gotten over his jealousy in the past ten years.

A more realistic concern was whether he might connect Jack’s sudden reappearance with the disappearance of The Gentleman. But she did not see how he could be certain of it. Only Perry and the men Jack had brought with him knew that he was one and the same person. The local men—except, now, for Hal Falkner—had never seen him without a mask, according to the town’s gossip. So even if someone could be persuaded to talk, they would not know that Jack was the highwayman. Richard would not have any proof. And suspicions would not be enough to get Jack arrested.

So she settled back into a rosy contemplation of the future.

She remained in her happy state throughout the next day—until late in the evening, when her sister came into her room to say good-night. Deborah looked a little troubled, but shrugged it off when Nicola asked her what was the matter.

But after a few moments of small talk, she said, “Nicola…do you think there are men from the village among the highwaymen?”

Nicola, who had been only half paying attention to her, turned to her sharply at that statement. “What? Why are you asking?”

“Because I heard Richard talking to that fellow Stone.”

“And?”

“Well, I guess it’s not really—I mean, he needs to protect his property and all, but this seems so cold-blooded!” Deborah raised troubled eyes to her sister.

“What seems cold-blooded?” Nicola asked, her nerves tightening in her stomach. “What did he say?”

“They were talking about their plans. It has gotten out, apparently, that Richard is shipping a large amount of money tomorrow morning. But it’s only a ruse. The wagon isn’t full of money. It will be full of men—with guns.” Deborah bit her lip and looked at her sister. “He has put out lies about the wagon carrying a lot of money, and when the highwaymen open the back of the wagon, the men will open fire. They’re planning to kill the highwayman and all his men!”

N
ICOLA FELT AS IF SHE COULD NO LONGER
breathe. “They—what? They are going to simply shoot them all down?”

“As many as they can, I suppose,” Deborah answered. “I know that they are criminals, and they have been stealing from us. And if they get caught, most likely they will hang. But at least they will have had a trial first. This…” She shivered. “I don’t know, it seems more like murder.”

“It
is
murder,” Nicola retorted grimly. “I can’t believe that anyone, even Richard—What am I talking about? Of course Richard would. His money is more important to him than other men’s lives.” Nicola began to pace. “Deborah, we cannot let this happen.”

“How can we stop it?” Deborah asked. “I came to tell you because it bothered me. I mean, what if they kill some of the men from the village? But I don’t know how I could stop it. Richard would not listen to me—nor, I think, would he care for your opinion. Sometimes he seems to unaccountably dislike you.”

“No doubt he does. However, I don’t really need to persuade Richard not to have the men shot,” Nicola pointed out. “He cannot shoot them if they are not there. If they know it is a ruse and do not fall for his bait…”

“You are going to tell them?” Deborah asked, wide-eyed. “But how?”

“I can find them,” Nicola said grimly, starting toward her wardrobe.

“You know who they are?” Deborah asked. “Where they live? How? Richard said that you were thick as thieves with them, but I didn’t believe him.” Deborah frowned, troubled. “They are criminals, Nicky. I know that you are very fond of—of some odd sorts of people, but…I mean, highwaymen! They have been taking money from us for months now.”

“And Richard has been taking money from everyone for years and years!” Nicola snapped back, whipping her nightgown off over her head and pulling on the skirt of her riding habit. “Honestly, Deborah—do you have no idea what your husband is like? Or how people feel about him?”

“What are you talking about?” Deborah asked, paling.

“I am talking about the fact that Richard is a wicked man! No, I cannot condone their taking money from him or anyone else. But much of the money they have taken goes to people in the village, people Richard has wronged! He squeezes money from his tenants. He is universally disliked. He pays the men who risk their lives down in the mines a mere pittance. He lays them off if they are ill. Have you any idea what it is like to have no food? To watch your children starve? Of course they despise him. Of course they are happy to take his money. They feel as if they are getting some of their own back. Why do you think the villagers protect these men? Hide their identity? They would not do the same if it were Bucky’s money they were taking.”

“No…” Deborah said weakly, staring at her sister.

“I haven’t the time to talk about this now,” Nicola said, finishing up her buttons. “I have to get to them tonight. But promise me one thing, Deborah.” She went to her sister and took her by the arm, staring earnestly into her eyes. “Do not go to your husband about this. Don’t tell Richard that I have gone to warn them. You know that it is wrong of him to kill them in cold blood like that. If he should try to come after me, to stop me—” Her gray eyes blazed.

“I will not tell him,” Deborah promised. “But you will take care…please.”

“I will be as safe as I can.” Nicola turned away to sit down and pull on her stockings and boots. “But I have to slip out of the house unnoticed. I cannot let Stone follow me. Does he watch my movements this late at night? Do you know?”

“I don’t know. Richard said only that he worried about you, that he wanted someone competent to watch over you. You
are
his responsibility, you know, because you are under his roof. And you are my sister.”

Nicola started to dispute Richard’s motives, but she stopped. There was no point in trying to make her sister see the truth about Richard now, and there was no time for it, either. “I cannot afford to have him follow me tonight. I must make sure he does not.”

“How?”

“I’m not sure.” Nicola glanced around. “Do you have something heavy in your room? A paperweight?”

Deborah nodded. “Yes, I have a paperweight.”

“Good, let me have it. I may need to have a weapon. More and more I think Alexandra is right. I should carry a gun.”

“A gun!” Deborah stared. “You’re joking.”

“No. Alexandra carried one in her reticule when she was in danger in London. She told me that I should, too, when I venture into the seedier parts of London. I see her point now.”

Deborah blinked. “I must say, Nicola, the Countess’s new granddaughter sounds a trifle odd.”

“She grew up in America,” Nicola explained.

“Oh.” Deborah seemed to take that as explanation enough.

She went with Nicola to her room and handed her a small, heavy lead crystal paperweight, which Nicola tucked into her pocket. Then they slipped down the stairs, unlocked the side door, and Nicola went out into the dark garden.

She heard her sister close the door after her. She hoped that Deborah would have nerve and family loyalty enough to not go to her husband with the news that Nicola was betraying his plan to the highwaymen. Hopefully, even if Deborah told Richard, she would wait long enough that he would not be able to catch up with her.

Nicola walked quickly through the dark garden, sticking close to the side of the house, where, wrapped in her dark cloak, with the hood pulled far forward to hide her face, she was little more than another shadow among the shadows. When she reached the corner of the house closest to the stables, she stopped and looked across the yard toward the stables. The yard looked immensely long. With not even a tree or bush between the stables and the house, she would be exposed to any watching eye. She could only hope that neither Stone nor Richard would be up, watching. She started to step out of the covering trees, and it was then that she saw the dot of red light flare and die about twenty feet away from her.

She froze. It came again, and she realized what it was. Someone was smoking a cigar, standing beneath one of the oak trees. The red flare came every time he inhaled. Nicola edged closer, making her way to another tree and peering out from behind it. She was close enough now that she could make out his features, and she was almost certain that the man was Stone. He stood leaning against the tree trunk, where he could see the kitchen entrance to the house, as well as the stables and the yard in between the two.
Did he do this every night on the chance that she might sneak out of the house and ride to meet Jack? Or perhaps he was simply enjoying an evening smoke before turning in for the night.
Whatever the reason he was here, she could not risk him seeing her and following her.

Nicola reached beneath her cloak and put her hand in her pocket. Her hand closed around the oblong glass paperweight. Pulling it from her pocket, she crept noiselessly through the dark. She hated the thought of attacking a man who was not expecting it, but desperation drove her. When she was directly behind him, she raised her hand and brought it down full force upon his head. Stone made an odd noise and crumpled to the ground.

Nicola stepped around him and ran toward the stables. They were dark. She felt sure that the grooms had all gone to bed; they had to rise early in the morning. She could sneak in and get her horse, she thought. She knew that she could saddle and bridle it; she had done so before. The only problem would be making little enough noise that she did not wake one of the grooms and bring him down to investigate. She also had to move quickly. There was no telling how long Stone would be knocked out. She wished fleetingly that she had had something to tie him up with.

Softly she tiptoed down the center corridor to her horse’s stall. Grabbing a bridle, she slipped inside the stall and put it on, then led the animal out. As silently as she could, she put a saddle on the mare, her nerves jangling the whole time, expecting at any moment for a groom to come down the stairs. No one did, however, and she led the horse out the door and through the yard. Across the way, she could see a dark shape on the ground beneath an oak. Stone was still unconscious.

She continued leading the horse until they were some distance from the stable. She climbed up onto a low stone wall to mount, and then, with a last glance back to make sure no one had seen her, she kicked the mare in the ribs and started off.

Nicola rode swiftly along the path and through the meadow, knowing that it would be slow-going once she got to the woods. She prayed that she really could remember the way to the hideout. She had paid attention that once because she had felt challenged to remember it, but the next two times, when Jack had been with her, she had not paid full attention. Also, those times she had been going from the hideaway to Granny Rose’s cottage, not the Exmoor home.

The moon was up, and she made good time, though she dared not give her horse its head. Once she reached the woods, she perforce had to slow down. She wound her way through the trees, crossing the brook. Once she took a wrong turn, and for a few minutes she was afraid that she was lost, but then she recognized a fallen tree ahead. She was simply on the wrong side of it, so she was able to cross it and get back on her course.

She could hear the rustle of night animals and sometimes the crack of twigs. Once an owl hooted not ten feet from her and made her jump. She kept on, ignoring the night sounds, and finally, up ahead of her, she saw the small house. She let out a little cry of relief and pushed her horse toward the dark cottage. When she reached it, she slid off, tying her horse to the railing, and ran up onto the stoop, crying out Jack’s name. She pounded on the door, calling him.

A moment later there was the thunder of feet on the stairs inside and the sound of a bolt being shot back. Jack opened the door. He wore trousers and had hastily donned a shirt, for it hung unopened. His hair was rumpled, his eyes sleepy.

“Nicola!” He pulled her inside and closed the door. “What is it? What’s the matter? What are you doing here?”

Behind him, Perry and two other men came down the stairs, rubbing their faces and staring at her.

“You cannot go tomorrow morning!” Nicola cried. “It’s a trap.”

“A trap! What do you—the load of money?” Jack asked.

“Yes! Deborah overheard Richard and Stone talking. There is no money. The wagon is going to be full of men, and they will shoot you or seize you. You can guess which is more likely.”

He let out a curse and ran his hand back through his hair. Nicola reached out and laid her hand on his arm.

“You can’t go.”

“I understand. It’s just—I am still trying to take it in.” Suddenly, behind them, the door was flung wide open and several men rushed in. Nicola whirled and saw the men running at them, guns in their hands, and she let out a shriek. A shot rang out, the ball smacking into the wall above the stairs, stopping everyone where they stood.

Richard strode into the room, saying, “Well, well, Nicola, good work. You led us right to them.” He looked past her toward the stairs. “Now, who have we—”

He came to such an abrupt stop that the small man following him bumped into his back. The blood drained from his face. In any other situation, his expression would have been comical. “Holy Christ! You!”

“My sentiments exactly,” Jack replied crisply.

“I never thought I would see the day,” Richard said, almost musingly. Then he snapped out an order to his men. “Tie them up. We’re taking them back to gaol.” He cast a glance at the small man who had followed him in. “Well, Constable, I hope you are pleased with what we’ve netted here.”

“How could you do this?” Nicola started toward Richard, fists clenched. “How could you do this? You used me!”

When the men rushed in, she had realized, with a sickening feeling in her stomach, how Richard had manipulated her. It was the
story
of the trap that had really been the trap. Richard had cleverly induced her to run to Jack, thus revealing his location to Richard’s men, who had obviously followed her.
Had even Stone’s watching for her been part of the ruse?
Once she had disabled him, she had not even thought to watch for anyone else following her.

“You are despicable! How can you call yourself a human being?” Nicola said furiously while Richard watched her, a faint smile on his face. “You made me think that he was in danger so that you—I could kill you with my bare hands.”

“Well, Nicola.” Jack’s voice cut through her words, low but deadly, and Nicola swung around, stung by the tone of contempt with which he spoke her name. When she saw the sneer on his mouth, her heart went cold inside her.

“You have managed to do it again,” Jack continued, looking at her as he would at a snake. “I never thought you could, but somehow you did. You made me believe you, even after what you had done to me. And you betrayed me again.”

“No!” Nicola’s word came out a whisper. She felt as if he had punched her in the stomach.
Jack thought she had led the men to him on purpose!
“I didn’t!”

“I’m not that big a fool,” Jack said bitterly.

“It’s not true,” Nicola protested, tears welling in her eyes. “Please, Jack, don’t look at me like that. I did not betray you!”

“Really, Nicola,” Richard said smoothly. “Why bother to lie to him now? It’s obvious that you gave him to me, just as you did ten years ago.” He glanced at Jack, saying, “Talented, isn’t she? I am sure any number of men have fallen under her spell.”