The Highwayman of Tanglewood (12 page)

Faris tried to force the red upon her cheeks to cool. Yet in her own heart, she’d wondered the same all day. Why had Graybeau offered to teach her to ride? There could be only one answer: Bainbridge Graybeau was the Highwayman of Tanglewood!

Certainly, Bainbridge Graybeau had always been polite toward Faris. He was polite toward everyone! Yet to suddenly offer to teach her to ride—after a year’s long acquaintance with no seeming interest in her before—it was odd. Further, there was the matter of his limp—his favoring his left leg in the same manner as the Highwayman. Further still was the matter of his accent in speech. Although hard to discern, Faris did not doubt he could call up the full brogue the like of the Highwayman if the desire so struck him.

Therefore, after having pondered all the day long on the matter, Faris was quite suspicious that Graybeau’s sudden interest in teaching her to ride was because he may well be the Highwayman of Tanglewood. It quite enchanted her to think her Highwayman could not wait for their planned rendezvous—that Graybeau had found a way to meet with her beforehand.

“I’m certain Mr. Graybeau would be happy to teach you to ride as well, Sarah,” Faris said, forcing her thoughts to her companions. Oh, it was a half-hearted suggestion—for if Graybeau was the Highwayman of Tanglewood, Faris had no desire that he should teach Sarah anything!

“That may be,” Sarah said. “Yet I would have to
ask
to be taught. He would make no offer the same to me, I am sure.”

Faris glanced behind her to see Lillias standing just inside the kitchen. What a look of mischief was about her! Her face was a lovely pink, bright with excitement.

“Faris, may I have a moment?” Lillias asked.

“Of course, miss,” Faris said. Smiling at the others seated at the kitchen table, Faris pushed her chair back as she stood. “Thank you for super, Mary. It was delicious—as always.”

Mary smiled, pleased with the compliment.

Faris giggled when Lillias took her hand and pulled her from the kitchen and into the hallway leading to the grand dining hall.

“What is it?” Faris asked in a whisper. “You are fairly blooming with excitement. Has Lord Kendrick gifted another wonderful treasure?”

When she had been sent to summon Lillias earlier in the day, Faris had been certain Lillias held news of the Highwayman of Tanglewood. Her arms spread over in goose bumps with wondrous anticipation. Five days stretched out endlessly before her—five days more until she would meet the Highwayman at the old cottage near the Tanglewood Forest. That is, unless her suspicions were founded and Bainbridge Graybeau was, in fact, the Highwayman of Tanglewood—in which case, she was mere moments from meeting with him again! Still, Faris was certain any news of the Highwayman provided by Lillias would be wondrous.

“Yes. Among the townspeople in Saxton,” Lillias said. “It is said the Highwayman of Tanglewood will ride to Saxton to best Lord Brookings.”

“Lord Brookings?” Faris asked. “It is whispered that he—”

“Murdered his wife!” Lillias interrupted. “And it is true! I believe he did murder her. The circumstances were so terrible and so very odd and—”

“You know how Mother feels about rumor and hearsay, Lilly.”

Faris gasped as Lochlan Rockrimmon stepped from the shadows. The deep green of his eyes flashed in the low lighting, his face and form as perfect as any hero of legend.

“It is not hearsay, Lochlan,” Lillias said. She seemed completely unaffected by her brother’s sudden appearance. “He murdered his wife, and you well know it.”

“Still, it unnerves Mother—the story of Lady Brookings’s untimely demise,” he said, his eyes lingering on Faris. “So you best not let Mother hear you speaking of it.”

“Why then, dearest brother, do you think Faris and I are lingering here—in privacy—rather than right under Mother’s nose?” Lillias asked.

Faris was suddenly panic-stricken! Caught gossiping with the young miss of the household? Certainly she would be blamed for attempting to corrupt Lillias with such trivial tittle-tattle.

Faris felt her mouth open—attempted to return the greeting. Yet her voice was lost as well as her wits, and all she could utter was, “Yes, sire.”

“I see Lilly is corrupting you with her wicked gossiping,” he said. He reached out, playfully tweaking his sister’s nose.

“I am not corrupting Faris,” Lillias said. “We were only speaking of the Highwayman.”

Lochlan Rockrimmon’s eyebrows arched, a teasing grin spreading across his face. “Ah,” he said, his gaze lingering on Faris. “Then am I to understand that you are among the giddy girls swooning over the tales of our local rogue?”

Faris bit her lip, attempting in vain to conceal her amusement. The dashing, handsome heir to Loch Loland Castle appeared quite thoroughly intrigued—as taken by Lillias’s news of adventure as Faris had been.

“He’s a devil, that one,” Lochlan said, lowering his voice.

“I think he did murder is wife,” Lillias said, “no matter what the magistrate in Saxton says.”

“Indeed he murdered her,” Lochlan agreed. “The magistrate in Saxton is as corrupt as Brookings himself. No doubt Brookings paid the traitor to cover it for him.”

Faris felt goose bumps erupt over her arms as Lochlan Rockrimmon placed one strong hand on his sister’s shoulder and the other on Faris’s.

Bending toward them, he said, “And besides…if a woman were going to kill herself…I very much doubt she would slit her own throat from ear to ear with her husband’s dagger.”

Faris and Lillias simultaneously gasped in horror at the tale. Lochlan straightened to his full height, nodding his assurance of the truthfulness of his information.

“It is true,” Lochlan Rockrimmon said. His eyes fixed upon her caused an odd delighted sensation to travel down Faris’s spine. “Father and I were in Saxton two years past when Lady Brookings died. It was rumored Lady Brookings had argued with her husband about his raising their tenants’ taxes. Nearly all the servants at the Brookings’s manor house heard the argument. The next morning, Lady Brookings was found dead in her chambers, her throat slit ear to ear, her husband’s jeweled dagger in her hand.”

“But why ever would you and Father be witness at the undertaker’s?” Lillias asked.

“A constable suspected Lady Brookings did not slit her own throat,” Lochlan explained. “He asked us to witness the body and sign our own statements as to its condition.”

Faris looked from Lillias to Lochlan and back, her smile broadening. What a pair the two siblings must have made as infants and children. It was pure plain as sunshine they each had a flare for adventure and dramatics.

“Yet why would our Highwayman concern himself with Lord Brookings?” Lochlan mumbled, pondering aloud to himself. “And why so long after the murder of Lady Brookings? Has Brookings overtaxed his tenants once more?”

“This I already know,” Lillias said. “For Gawain told me only this morning that Lord Brookings did not inherit his wife’s fortune immediately upon her death!”

“Oh yes!” Lochlan exclaimed in a whisper. “I remember it—Lord Brookings had gambled away the fortune left him by his father. It was Lady Brookings’s family wealth on which he existed.”

“Yet he did not inherit the whole of it immediately upon her death,” Lillias continued. “Gawain tells me her will stipulated that, in the event of her untimely death, a waiting period of two years should pass before the entirety of her wealth descended to him.”

“The Highwayman does not want a man to profit from murder,” Faris said. She blushed as Lochlan looked to her and grinned with approval.

“Indeed,” Lochlan said. “Yet I have never heard of the Highwayman of Tanglewood besting anyone as great a distance away as Saxton.”

Faris felt the hair on the back of her neck prickle with excitement. Graybeau was from Saxton? Of course the Highwayman would consider the affairs of the township to which he was born!

“Let us ask him, then,” Lillias said, her eyes brilliant with anticipation. “For would he not know further the details of Lady Brookings’s death and why our own Highwayman would take such an interest in it?”

“That he might,” Lochlan said. His gaze settled on Faris then—a grin of mischief across his most handsome face. “Why don’t you inquire of him, Faris?”

“M-me, sire?” Faris stammered.

“Of course,” Lochlan Rockrimmon said. His emerald eyes flashed with rascality. “Is he not providing you with a riding lesson this very evening?”

“Y-yes, sire,” Faris breathed. She feared she might faint, so shallow was her breath from her surprise at his knowledge of her planned meeting with Graybeau.

“Oh, Faris!” Lillias exclaimed, taking hold of Faris’s shoulders. “What a wonderful idea! You will enjoy learning to ride. Riding lends itself to a certain freedom I cannot begin to explain.”

“I-I am certain you are right,” Faris said. And she was certain—for she had felt the midnight breeze her in hair, the sense of liberation given from riding; she had felt such winsome freedom the night she had ridden with the Highwayman of Tanglewood. Still, she was quite unsettled Lochlan Rockrimmon should know of her planned meeting with Bainbridge Graybeau.

“Then we will leave it to you, Faris,” Lochlan said. “You will inquire of Graybeau as to why our own Highwayman of Tanglewood might take such an interest in Lord Brookings of Saxton.”

“If—if you truly wish that I do so, sire,” Faris stammered.

“I do,” Lochlan said. “And you may deliver the information he gives you to me at first sunlight when you come to my chambers to mend my draperies.”

“But, sire,” Faris began, “I have mended your draperies already.”

“Indeed?” Lochlan asked. “Then you may deliver the information to me at first sunlight when you come to my chambers to ensure I have not overslept.”

“You never oversleep, Loch,” Lillias said. “You are ever awake and rambling long before the cock crows.” Lillias giggled and took one of Faris’s hands in her own. “He only endeavors to force you to tell him what Graybeau tells you as soon as he can make you.”

“I only endeavor to find your pretty Faris in my chambers once more,” Lochlan Rockrimmon said.

Faris swallowed the astonished lump in her throat. What a teasing rascal Loch Loland’s young heir was!

“Oh quit, Loch!” Lillias scolded her brother. “Faris is not as familiar with your pestering ways as the rest of us. She will think you entirely in earnest!”

“Still, I would beg of you, Faris,” he added, “please do not let our mother know what a terrible gossip Lillias has become. It would greatly disturb milady to be made aware of such a thing.”

Faris giggled as Lillias then drove one delicate fist into her brother’s midsection.

“You are the one speaking of corrupted magistrates and the cutting of throats, Lochlan Rockrimmon!” Lillias exclaimed.