The Hired Hero (11 page)

 That gave the earl pause for thought.

 As they rounded a bend, they saw that a short distance up the road the carriage had pulled over and the coachman had dismounted to examine one of the front wheels.

Caroline drew in her breath, her hands gripping the reins until they were nearly white.

The earl took in her reaction, then reached around to remove something from his bag.

“It’s all right. Continue on,” he said quietly as he slipped the pistol into the pocket of his coat. Catching her eye on his movements, he smiled grimly. “I am not as complete a fool as you imagined. Naturally I wouldn’t undertake a journey of this distance unarmed.”

Caroline bit her lip and did as he bade.

As they approached the vehicle at a easy walk, the coachman suddenly straightened and shoved his hands into the pockets of his caped driving coat.

“Trouble?” inquired Davenport politely. He had placed himself between Caroline and the carriage, effectively shielding her from the view of anyone inside the vehicle.

With a snake-like move the coachman slid into the middle of the road, blocking their passage. At the same time, he drew a brace of pistols from his coat and signaled for them to halt. “Be on yer way, if ye knows wots good for ye,” he growled at the earl. “Our business is with the girl.”  His eyes, half in shadow from the brim of his hat, darted to Caroline. “Get off the horse and get in the carriage.”

Davenport made no move to continue on.

The coachman appeared momentarily disconcerted. “Go on, I tell ye,” he said, waving one of the pistols at the earl. “Stay out of this, or ye will be sorry. This don’t concern ye.”

“I fear you are mistaken,” answered Davenport. “The girl is under my protection now.”

The man gave a nasty laugh. “Oh, we’ve no doubt that ye have been sampling her pleasures all night, Lord Davenport. But I’m sure ye can find another willing female te warm yer sheets tonight. This one is ours, so be off.”

Caroline didn’t wait for the earl’s reply. She suddenly spurred her mount forward. The horse charged by the startled driver but it took him only a moment to recover from the surprise.

A shot rang out.

The horse pitched forward, then crumpled to the ground, sending Caroline sprawling in the dust. She dragged herself to her feet, clutching at the collar of her jacket. “You bastard,” she cried. “You’ll won’t get what you’re after.”

Davenport hadn’t moved a muscle save for the tightening of his jaw. His eyes went from Caroline, standing by the far side of the road, to the driver, whose second pistol was aimed straight at her heart.

“I believe you have the right of it. This is no concern of mine,” he said slowly. “With your leave, I’ll take myself off.”

Caroline’s lips curled into a sardonic smile. No words were needed to convey what she was thinking.

A head, masked in black silk, appeared from within the carriage. Wordlessly it nodded to the coachman.

The other man bared his teeth in a wolfish grin and turned back to the earl. “Very smart, yer lordship. No female is worth the trouble—ye can always get another one.” He motioned with the empty weapon. “Go on, then.”

The earl shrugged and set his stallion into an easy trot. For a brief moment, he passed between Caroline and the driver. The rest happened with blinding speed. In one motion, he drew his own pistol, whipped around and squeezed off a shot. At the same time, he leaned down, grabbed Caroline by the waist and urged the stallion into a full gallop. Another shot rent the air, but the horse didn’t miss a step. Clinging low to the animal’s neck, Davenport kept tight hold of Caroline, shielding her person with his broad shoulders. With a flick of the reins, he guided his horse off the road and towards a fallow field, guarded by a tall stone wall, overgrown with brambles. The stallion cleared it with ease and they disappeared from sight.

* * * *

“Are you all right?”

The earl pulled the big horse to a halt and set Caroline down on the ground. He slipped from the saddle as well, and with a pat to the lathered flanks, let the animal drink his fill from a small stream.

“Yes—a few more bruises hardly matter.” She managed a game expression and brushed a lock of hair from her face, only adding to the streaks of dirt on her cheek. “I...that is,...thank you, sir. You had no reason to take such a risk for me.” There was a pause, then all at once she sunk to the ground and drew her knees up to her chest. “I had no right to involve you in this,” she went on, her voice barely above a whisper. “That man was right. Leave while you can. You have done more than enough.”

Davenport smiled faintly. “Ah, but then I should lose my thousand pounds.”

Her head shot up in time to catch a glint of humor in his eye. “Don’t be a fool—”

“I’m afraid it’s far too late to correct that.” He sat down beside her. “What have you done? Steal the family jewels?”

Her chin came to rest on her knees. “I can’t tell you that either.”

He regarded her thoughtfully.

Caroline sighed. “I don’t know...who to trust,” she said, half to herself.

One of the earl’s eyebrows came up slightly. “I see.” His tone hardened. “Certainly not a fellow like me.”

The color rose to her face. “It’s not—you don’t understand. It involves more than...” She gave up trying to explain and merely shook her head in mute confusion.

There was a long silence. Davenport picked up a small stone and skimmed it across the water, sending ripples out across the smooth surface from the point of impact. He appeared to have forgotten her presence, so intent was he on watching the quixotic patterns. Then abruptly, he spoke again.

“You now owe me for a horse as well as the other sum.”

It was mention of the dead animal that finally brought tears to Caroline’s eyes. “Poor beast,” she said, trying to keep her voice from breaking. “I never meant for him to...”

“It won’t do to dwell on it.” Mentally chastising himself for being so inept, Davenport laid a hand on her arm. His voice sought to lighten the mood.”Come now, buck up your spirits. Surely you’re not going to become missus on me over a small thing like someone trying to put a period to your existence?”

Caroline had to laugh in spite of herself. “Oh dear, if you put it that way...” She wiped at her cheek with the frayed cuff of her jacket. “Do you always see the absurd in a situation?”

He smiled slightly. “It is hard not to. The world can be a cruel enough place without a sense of humor to take the edge off it.”

She regarded him intently. “You sound as if you have...suffered more than your share.”

 “Does that seem so—” He caught himself and fell silent for a moment. Recovering his equilibrium, he went on. “You are able to laugh as well, despite what you have been through. You have spirit, Miss Caroline, whoever you are. I wouldn’t have imagined until now that a young lady could show such fortitude—and wits.”

Her expression remained thoughtful and it seemed to take a few moments for his words to register.  “It seems we keep surprising each other. I wouldn’t have imagined a reputed wastrel could show backbone or brains.” She flashed a grin. “We are an odd pair, are we not, sir.” 

Despite the mud and bruises, Davenport was struck by how bewitching she looked at that moment. It put him off balance and he merely grunted in order to hide his loss of composure.

“Why do you ladies put up with it?” he asked abruptly. “Why it is you are drawn to cruelty, then remain in thrall to it? I admit, I am at a loss to comprehend it.”

Caroline stared at him, first with disbelief, then with a simmering anger. She had spent enough time tending to her father’s tenants that she had seen something of the real world. More than one farmwife had sported bruises with a frightening regularity. Though there were always explanations of careless falls and the like, she hadn’t missed the muttered talk among the other women about husbands who vented their frustrations with life on those unable to defend themselves in any way.

 “You speak as if we have much of a choice,” she said slowly. “Or perhaps you have conveniently forgotten that in our society those of my sex have no more rights than, say, a dog. We have no property, no recourse under the law— you men are free to treat us as you will with no fear of reprisals.” Her voice rose. “You . . own us as surely as you own your horse. And even if we run away, how do we exist without money—even you can comprehend that! Then, what if there are children. Do you think any caring mother could abandon her offspring? For I’ll remind you again, a woman has no right to her children! She cannot take them away from a violent man. How dare you speak of choice, my lord. It is hardly as simple as you suggest.”

A look of shock, followed by a touch of embarrassment crossed Davenport’s face. “I...I hadn’t thought of it quite like that,” he admitted.

“I’m sure you hadn’t” she replied, but her tone had become a trifle less sharp. “Perhaps in the future you will not be so quick to judge.”

He looked away, his mouth pursed in a thoughtful expression. It was true. He had been angry with Helen for accepting what Charles did to her, but he had never really considered what her choices were. Run away? Caroline was right. Charles has the right to drag her back. Even if she were able to hide from him, how would she survive without resorting to a life as bad as the one she was leaving? His brows knitted together. Things were not as black and white as he wished to think.

“Do you have children?” he asked abruptly.

 She shook her head.

 After an awkward silence, Caroline cleared her throat. “I don’t suppose they could follow us yet, but we had better decide what to do—assuming you really do mean to continue on with me?”

“I told you, I need the blunt,” he replied, but his tone softened the words. He seemed a bit relieved to have the subject changed. “Besides, my life had been sadly flat until you tumbled into it. Why, I only had to cope with angry creditors, sullen tenants and badgering tradesmen. Now I have the privilege of having someone try to shoot me.”

 She rose, wiping her hands on her tight fitting breeches, and grinned again. “Have you any idea where we are and how we can reach London? I admit I am at a loss, for the moment, for any ideas.”

“Somehow, I doubt that.”

 Caroline’s eyes strayed to the big black stallion. “Surely Nero cannot carry both of us for long.” She paused for a second. “Such a magnificent animal—he must be worth  a handsome sum.”

Davenport scrambled to his feet. “You’ve tried to steal him, you’ve nearly gotten him killed. Don’t even think of trying to sell my horse.” He took up the stallion’s reins and gave him a fond pat on the neck. “Besides, it happens that I do have an idea.”

* * * *

Lucien Sheffield cast a harried glance at his uncle, whose countenance had gone nearly red with fury. “I dare say General Wilmott would dispatch a party of men to take us to the coast if it were at all possible, sir.”

The Duke smacked his fist into his palm and muttered something under his breath.

Outside the tent another cannon boomed. The young viscount began to pace up and down in the confined space. “May I ask why is it so important to get home?” he asked in a hesitant voice.

The Duke looked up, and for the first time his nephew could remember, there was a look of uncertainty, even helplessness, in the older man’s eyes. “I fear that if we do not reach England right away, a number of people are going to be in grave danger—and the first one may be Caroline.”

“Caro has used her wits to get out of more scrapes than you can imagine,” answered Sheffield, with more bravado than he felt. “She is well able to take care of herself, Uncle Henry—I can vouch for that.”

“Would that I could believe that,” he murmured. “You are not aware of all she is up against. It appears there is a traitor somewhere...”

 There was a sharp intake of breath.

“Yes, quite.” The Duke pulled a face. “It wasn’t until we landed in Brussels that I learned of the danger. By that time, a vital document was already on its way to me in England. Our adversary knows of it and its importance. I can only hope my own letter reached Roxbury Manor in time to keep Caroline  well away from trouble. Whoever the traitor is, he is both cunning and ruthless.”

“You... you think he would harm Caro?”

 “I have no doubt of it, just as I have no doubt that Caro will not shirk from the danger.”

Sheffield’s balled into fists at his side. “Damnation. What can we do?”

“For the moment we can only pray, Lucien, we can only pray.”

* * * *

The gentleman ripped off the silken mask and tossed it onto the seat beside him. What the devil did the bloody earl think he was about? Was the man completely foxed, even at this hour, for surely he wouldn’t have risked his own neck out of any sense of honor or duty? That thought gave cause for his frown to deepen. His underlings were paid handsomely enough not to miss. This was the second time. It would not go unnoticed.

His silver tipped walking stick rapped at the trap with more rather more force than necessary and he snarled a curt series of orders before falling back against the squabs. The carriage sprung forward. Time was of the essence, and he had now wasted far too much of it on playing cat and mouse with the chit.

He must have that document.

With an effort, he brought his temper under control. The two of them couldn’t get far on one horse, and the big stallion was a fine enough piece of horseflesh to draw notice wherever they put up. With a grunt of satisfaction, he realized he had no real cause for concern. There was no way that they could slip through his net of informants.

She wouldn’t elude his grasp next time—he would see to it himself.

* * * *

Davenport tied the stallion inside the tiny mews and took Caroline by the arm. They made their way through a narrow alley and emerged on a small side street, in front of a narrow building, its timbers and stone darkened with age. A stout woman in a mob cap and voluminous apron that was once white answered the earl’s knock. Her eyes narrowed as she took in the appearance of the two rather disreputable looking persons standing on the front steps. “Whatcha want?” she asked suspiciously.