by Kay Hooper
Jason grasped the outstretched hand and nodded briefly. “Same here. Leastways, I think it is. I don’t take too kindly to strangers,” he said bluntly, “but Jenny said as how you was a right one.”
Spencer nodded in a dazed sort of way, and Jenny spoke up hurriedly. “I think we’d best go, Nick. It’s getting late.”
As they stepped outside, Spencer murmured, for her ears alone, “It’s so reassuring to have my character approved of by a thief.”
Jenny shot him a warning look, which was belied by the amusement in her eyes. They made their way toward the horses in silence.
Jenny’s stallion was standing apart from the other horses, the leather muzzle hanging about his nose in tatters. As the three approached him, he was engaged in a spirited attempt to chew his way through the rope that held him to the tree.
Spencer made as if to reach out and touch the horse, but jumped back hurriedly when the animal lashed out with both forelegs.
“Take my advice,” said Jason with a wry smile, “and don’t go near him. He’s a devil.”
Jenny looked offended. “He is not. He just doesn’t like men, that’s all.” She walked over to the stallion and began to stroke his glossy black neck.
The red glare faded from the creature’s eyes. He hung his head like a bashful boy, gently nuzzling the girl’s shoulder.
Spencer exchanged a wry glance with Jason. “He’s obviously a one-woman horse. What’s his name, Jenny?”
She grinned. “What else? Bandit.”
The duke laughed. “I should have known.”
Jason shifted slightly. “I’ll brush off now, Jenny. You won’t need my help tonight.”
She turned to stare at him, surprised. “Jason, you must come with us.”
He looked uncomfortable. “Why? The two of you can handle Stoven.”
“Oh, but that’s not the problem. If Stoven is the man I’m searching for, it will take both you and Nick to keep me from losing my temper and killing him.”
Spencer nodded, following her lead. “It’s a terrible thing, her temper—quite a spectacle,” he said gravely.
“An eruption to rival Vesuvius,” Jenny added with equal solemnity.
Jason stared suspiciously at their innocent faces, which were growing dimmer in the deepening twilight. “Why do I have the feeling that I’m being led down the garden path?” he grumbled.
Jenny laughed. “Get your horse, Jason.”
“All right, then,” he said irritably, “but I’m staying out of sight.”
“Fine—just as long as you come.”
Jenny watched as the two men went to get their horses, then turned to remove the tattered remains of the muzzle from Bandit’s nose. The horse was calm and quiet now that she was with him. The wildness was gone from his eyes. He stood docilely while she climbed into the saddle, and then waited for her signal before moving forward.
The three riders were soon on their way. There was little conversation during the ride. They were all aware of the gravity of what they were about to attempt.
A few moments later, they turned off the main road and onto a narrow road leading to Stoven’s estate. Jason halted. “I’ll stay here and signal when the coach passes me.”
The other two nodded and continued down the road. They came to a wide place and pulled their horses off to the side. As they waited, they talked in low tones.
“I’ve wondered about something,” remarked Spencer, “ever since you held me up.”
“Oh?” Jenny smiled faintly. “What is it?”
“Why my horses stopped so suddenly and stood so calmly while you robbed me. They’ve never acted that way before or since.”
She continued to smile. “Why do you think they acted that way?”
“I don’t know.” He grinned suddenly. “My coachman swore that you were a witch and that Bandit was your familiar.”
Jenny smothered a laugh. “Nothing quite so fanciful, I’m afraid. Actually, I don’t quite understand it myself. Bandit just seems to have that effect on other horses.”
Before he could respond, they heard the hoot of an owl. Jenny tensed slightly, her head cocked to one side in a listening attitude. The call was repeated twice, and she quickly began to draw on her gloves. “That’s Jason’s signal.”
Spencer donned the hooded mask that Jenny had brought for him and pulled a pistol from the pocket of his greatcoat. “Jenny, be careful.”
Jenny smiled wryly. “I will. And you keep quiet—if you say anything, your voice will give you away in an instant.”
“Very well.” He watched as she drew on her own mask and pulled a pistol from the pocket of her cloak. The sounds of an approaching coach could now be heard, and Jenny said softly, “If I know Jason, he’ll be across the road—just in case.” She nodded toward the road and murmured, “I’ll go first. When the horses come to a stop, keep the coachman covered.”
Spencer nodded and listened as the coach drew nearer. From the corner of his eye, he saw Jenny speak softly to the stallion and, though he couldn’t hear her words, he saw the stallion’s instant response. The animal gathered his powerful haunches beneath him and tensed in preparation for the leap which would take him into the road—and into the path of the oncoming coach.
There was a moment of taut silence, and then the great horse leaped into the road, his eyes glaring red. The coach horses immediately stopped. There was no threshing about; the horses showed no indication of fright. They simply stopped and stood quietly.
Spencer, leaving the woods just behind Jenny, immediately covered the terrified coachman with both his pistols. The man cowered in his seat, his eyes fixed on the duke’s imposing figure.
Jenny moved her horse toward the door of the coach, her pistol out and ready. In a cold, mocking voice she said, “Step out of the coach, if you please, Lord Stoven—slowly.”
The earl carefully climbed out of the coach, one trembling hand clutching his cane, his face pasty-white in the moonlight.
Jenny gestured casually with her pistol. “Your money and jewelry, if you please, my lord. And, my lord, don’t try anything foolish. My silent friend has a very nervous trigger finger.”
She watched him glance uneasily at the duke’s still figure, and then tossed a leather pouch to land at his feet. He bent to pick up the bag and, straightening, slowly began to place his money and jewelry in it. When the pouch was filled, Jenny held out one black-gloved hand. Stoven tossed the bag to her.
Jenny placed the bag in the pocket of her cloak and then, on impulse, said coolly, “The cane.”
Stoven clutched the cane with both hands. “No! It—it was given to me by my father.”
“Was it indeed? Then I promise to take very good care of it. Hand it over.”
The earl maintained his death grip on the cane. “It isn’t very valuable—you have no need of it.”
“It amuses me.” There was an audible click as she drew back the hammer of her pistol. “Hand it over.”
Stoven, fearing her wrath more than he feared the loss of the cane, quickly handed it to her. She twirled it casually and said, “Thank you, my lord—and a very pleasant evening to you.” With these mocking words, she whirled her great horse and disappeared into the woods, her henchman at her heels.
Moments later, the three riders were reunited in the tumbledown inn. There was no conversation; the three were too tense for that. Jenny removed her mask and then turned up the lamp which she had left burning. She placed Stoven’s cane on the table and quickly brought out the pouch and upended it. A few gold coins, two fobs, and a diamond stickpin rolled out onto the table. There was no ring.
Spencer picked up the cane and examined it carefully. “Stoven seemed strangely anxious to keep this,” he murmured. He gave the cane a slight shake, and a muted rattle was heard. His eyes met Jenny’s. He handed the cane across the table to her.
With steady hands, Jenny carefully twisted the cane until the silver head came off. There was a soft thump as a ring rolled out and fel
l onto the table. It was a dull gold ring with strange symbols carved into it. A talisman ring.
Chapter Twenty-one
The room was deathly silent. Jenny slowly drew a long breath. In a shockingly normal voice, she said, “Well—I guess I have my answer. Stoven killed my father.”
“Jenny—” Nick hesitated. “Stoven could have been given the ring by someone else.”
“And then hidden it in his cane?” Jenny shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. Besides, I’ve known, for a long time, I think, that it was Stoven.”
Spencer looked startled. “What do you mean? Why were you so certain?”
Jenny sighed; she looked very tired. “I saw something the night my father was killed. It was an impression, I suppose. Later, I couldn’t remember what it was; I only knew that I had seen something that could point to the killer’s identity. It haunted me for years. Then, when Jason sent word that it had been Stoven’s coach he had held up, everything began to come together in my mind.”
Spencer and Jason exchanged puzzled looks. “What was it, lass?” Jason asked. “What did you see?”
“Something I’ve seen a dozen times in the past year—seen, but never really noticed. The killer had a peculiar scar beneath his right ear—a scar shaped like a horseshoe.”
Quietly, Spencer said, “Like Stoven’s.”
Jenny nodded. “Like Stoven’s. Finding the ring only confirmed my suspicions. Stoven killed my father.”
Spencer sighed and rested a hip against the rickety table. “The problem is, how do we force him to admit it? He wouldn’t be convicted on the evidence we have. We must find some way of making him confess.”
Jason folded his arms across his chest and regarded the other two wryly. “Sounds like a tall order to me. His lordship ain’t likely to admit to killin’. ’Specially in front of witnesses.”
Jenny shrugged irritably. “Then we’ll just have to scare the hell out of him.”
“Jennifer!”
Jenny grinned at the duke’s mock look of outrage, and then turned sad eyes to the highwayman. “He only calls me Jennifer when he’s angry with me.”
Jason chuckled. “Happen he don’t like to hear you swearing like a sailor.”
“Is that what I was doing?” she asked innocently. “Nick, do you object to my language?”
Dryly, Spencer replied, “Yes, but I know better than to try and stop you.”
Jenny chuckled. “As fascinating as this conversation is, gentlemen, it is hardly to the point. Stoven must be exposed as a traitor and a murderer. Now, how can we do it?”
Jason lifted a questioning brow. “We?”
In a grave voice, Jenny responded, “I’m very grateful for everything you’ve done to help me, Jason. If you want to duck out now, I’ll understand completely.”
Jason frowned. “What are you saying, lass? Are you telling me you don’t want my help anymore?”
“Oh, no—that isn’t it at all. Three heads are always better than two, and if you want to help us plan Stoven’s capture, I’ll be very grateful. Of course, it won’t increase the reward, but if you want to help—”
“Reward?” Jason looked startled. “Who said anything about a reward?”
Spencer picked up his cue. In a casual voice he said, “There is always a reward for anyone who helps to capture a traitor.” He shrugged slightly and, picking up the talisman ring, began to study it intently. “You deserve the reward.”
“Me?” He looked suspiciously at Jenny, only to find her apparently absorbed in thought. “Jenny?” He had to repeat her name, rather impatiently, before he gained her attention.
She blinked at him. “What is it, Jason? Have you thought of a plan?”
He glared at her. “Damn a plan! I’ll accept a fair share of a reward, but I won’t take the whole thing.”
Jenny looked faintly puzzled. “But, Jason—I don’t need any money. I’ve got more than I can handle now.”
The highwayman stared at her, and then turned his gaze to Spencer. “What about you?”
The duke shrugged. “I don’t need the money either. Besides, you’re the one who pointed the way to Stoven.”
Jason’s eyes narrowed in sudden suspicion. Abruptly, he said, “There’s something bloody familiar about you. I can’t put my finger on it—but I know I’ve seen you somewhere.”
Spencer, who had been endeavoring since first setting his eyes on the highwayman to keep his face away from any direct light, continued to study the talisman ring in his hand. “Indeed.” His tone was not encouraging.
Jason was undaunted. “Where? Where have I seen you?”
Jenny looked from one to the other, having by this time given up all pretense of being deep in thought. She folded her arms and waited, curious to hear Spencer’s response.
The duke sighed and dropped the ring onto the table. Wryly, he said, “Cast your mind back about a year. It was last April—on the Great North Road.”
Jason gave a start of surprise. “I remember. I held up your coach.” He frowned suddenly. “That is—I tried to hold up your coach.”
Jenny looked intrigued. “What happened?”
The highwayman gave an irritated snort and seemed disinclined to answer.
“Nick?”
Spencer rubbed his nose reflectively. “I—er—I’m rather afraid I took a shot at him.”
Jenny’s eyes widened. “You—” She hurriedly brought her voice under control—it had a tendency to shake with suppressed amusement. “Did you hit him?”
“You shall have to ask him.”
“Jason?”
The highwayman avoided her eyes. “He winged me.” He glared at Spencer. “No wonder you looked so bloody familiar. And there was a crest on that coach—you’re a damned nobleman, aren’t you?”
The highwayman’s accusing question tickled Spencer’s sense of humor. “I am very sorry,” he said apologetically, “but I’m afraid I am a duke.”
Jason looked thunderstruck. After a moment of silence, he turned reproachful eyes to Jenny. “Lass, you know how I feel about noblemen. You might have warned me.”
“I’m sorry, Jason.” Jenny fought to keep amusement out of her voice. “If I had told you that Nick was a duke, you wouldn’t have come here. And I wanted the two of you to meet.”
Jason was not impressed. “It’s bad enough having to associate with a lady,” he said severely, “without throwing a duke into the pot.”
“Jason.” Jenny was deeply wounded. “I never knew that you felt like that. Why, I thought you were my friend.”
The highwayman looked irritated. “Now don’t go gettin’ female on me. You know I’m your friend, but don’t, for God’s sake, go spreading the word around. If some of my friends found out that I was holding up coaches with a lady and a duke, I’d be laughed out of England.”
The duke chuckled. “Don’t worry, Jason. We promise not to tell a soul.”
“Jason,” Jenny smiled and said, “I wanted you two to meet because you’ve both been very important to me. You helped me find Papa’s killer, and Nick—” She turned glowing eyes to the duke. “When all this is over, Nick and I are going to be married.”
“Is that so?” Jason looked from one to the other. “I thought maybe that might be it.” He shrugged slightly. “Well, if that’s the case, I guess it won’t hurt me to associate with a duke—temporarily, that is.”
“Thank you, Jason.” Impulsively, Jenny hugged the highwayman and kissed him on the cheek.
“Watch it, lass,” Jason said gruffly. “I don’t want this fancy duke of yours to take another shot at me—he had pretty good luck the first time.”
Nick extended a hand to Jason. “I wouldn’t think of it.”
The two men shook hands solemnly, and then Jason said, “Well, have you come up with any ideas about how we’re going to put a noose around Stoven’s neck—I mean, aside from hauling him out and hanging him ourselves? Getting a confession from him in front of witnesses ain’t going to be easy.”
Spencer frowned slightly. “I think Jenny had the best idea,” he said slowly. “We’ll have to scare a confession out of him.”
“How?” Jenny frowned.
Spencer picked up the talisman ring and slowly restored it to its hiding place within the cane. “I think I have an idea how we can accomplish that.” He turned his gaze to his love. “Jenny, tomorrow night you’ll return Stoven’s jewels to him. You’ll also return the cane—with the ring inside.”
Jason grunted. “You do have a plan, don’t you?”
“Yes. If my plan works—and I think it will—Stoven will make his confession in the presence of the cream of London society.” He turned briskly to the other two. “Now, this is what we’ll have to do . . .”
Jenny crept silently through the dark garden until she reached a window leaning into the library of Stoven’s town house. Carefully, she peeked into the window. The room was empty. A freshly built fire and lighted lamps indicated that the master of the house was expected. Jenny knew that he was, in fact, on his way home at this very minute. She carefully tried the window, letting out a silent sigh of relief when it sprung open beneath her touch. A moment later, she was in the room.
Without a wasted motion, Jenny quickly crossed to the desk and placed a small leather pouch in its center. She left the cane there also. Seconds later, the room was again empty of life.
Jenny waited outside the window. A short time later, she was joined by Spencer, who had been waiting by the corner of the house, watching for Stoven’s arrival.
“He’s here. Did you have any trouble?”
Jenny shook her head. “No. The window was unlocked. I only hope he doesn’t become suspicious when he finds that the ring is still in the cane.”
The duke reached for her hand and squeezed it reassuringly. “I doubt he will. He’ll probably think you overlooked it as a possible hiding place.”
“I hope you’re right.” The two of them stared through the window, watching as Stoven entered the room. He noticed the pouch and cane immediately. Ignoring the pouch, he snatched up the cane and twisted the head. A relieved expression spread over his face when the ring rolled out in his hand.
