Ladies of Deception 03 - Betraying the Highwayman

by Ginny Hartman

  “One month,” she countered. “And that is my final offer.”

  “Agreed,” the man said, relief evident in his voice.

  Elenore hoped she wouldn't regret her decision.

  Chapter 3

  Guiding the horse with an expert finesse, the man turned them in the opposite direction of where they had been going and took off with a gallop. Elenore was thrust back into his solid chest, as one arm went tightly around her valise, the other frantically tried to grab onto anything to secure herself in the saddle. Her hand settled on one hard thigh, as she gripped on as tightly as she could. They rode on at break-neck speed for what felt like an eternity, Elenore never once letting up on her white knuckled grip. More than once she doubted her wisdom in trusting her fate to a complete stranger.

  Elenore thought her racing thoughts would never slow down, but just as she felt her eyes beginning to droop and her head following suit, the man pulled back on the reins and halted the horse in his tracks. Elenore’s head jerked up, as she tried to shake the drowsiness from her head. “What’s going on?” she mumbled sleepily.

  “I insist you remove your claws from my thigh at once. I can hardly feel my leg anymore.”

  Elenore pulled her hand back sharply, embarrassed at his words. She had completely forgotten that she was still gripping his leg until he brought it to her attention. Her hand was stiff from holding on so long, and she began to stretch her fingers open and close to get the blood flowing back into her extremities. “I apologize, sir, but if you weren’t such a careless rider, I wouldn’t have to hold on for dear life.”

  “Normally I don’t mind a pretty girl’s touch but that’s when she’s not endangering my life.”

  Elenore scoffed, “I wasn’t holding on that hard. You must not be as strong as you seem.”

  The man laughed. “I think you’re just not used to how a man prefers to be touched.”

  Elenore’s face flushed, “I think this is highly inappropriate conversation matter.”

  The man cleared his throat before reaching up to scratch his face under his mask. “Forgive me, Sister. I was only just teasing.” Then changing the subject he said, “We’re about a two-hour ride outside of Surrey, where the earl's estate is. I thought it would be wise to let Calvin have a rest, while we get a little something in our bellies before we continue on.”

  Elenore nodded, as the man lowered her to the ground, a look of apology on his face, as he tried to make her fall gentle so as not to hurt her feet any more than he had to, before sliding off of the saddle and standing next to her. Looking up at him, she longed to yank the mask from his face and see what he looked like. She had to admit to a little curiosity with the stranger; his body was lithe and lean, the body of a young man who spent lots of time in pursuit of physical activities, and his eyes were a warm brown. Not that she was sure if it counted, but judging by his eyes, she assumed that he was a kind man who smiled often.

  Suddenly a longing to know more about the stranger burst forth and she asked, “What is your name?”

  Feigning disbelief and placing one hand over his heart in mock surprise, the man said, “You mean you haven’t heard of me?”

  Elenore eyed him warily, “No, should I have?”

  He laughed, bowing mockingly before her, “The humble and handsome Black Lightening.”

  Elenore couldn’t keep from laughing, “Humble I think not. And handsome? I have no idea. Why don’t you take off that silly mask so I can judge that for myself.”

  One hand flew possessively up to the black mask. “Absolutely not, you’ll just have to take my word for it. Besides, it would ruin the mystery and intrigue of the infamous Black Lightening. What’s your name?”

  Elenore automatically started to tell him her name before remembering her ruse as a nun. Barely catching herself before she slipped she said, “Sister Genevieve,” giving him her middle name instead.

  “Excellent. Now that we are no longer strangers let’s have a bite to eat.”

  The man grabbed a bag that was tied to the saddle on the horse, before taking the reins in his hand and guiding them over to a small stream. Calvin drank thirstily, while both he and Elenore lowered themselves to the ground. The man opened the bag and pulled a few meager food items from inside. There was an apple, a few biscuits that looked horrendously dry, and a flask of something to drink. Elenore was disappointed at the pitiful fare, for she was starving. The stew she had inhaled back at the inn had barely begun to sate her appétit. Even though there wasn’t much food to share between the two of them, she was still grateful for whatever she could get.

  The man handed her one of the biscuits before pulling a knife from his boot and cutting the apple in two. Elenore ate hastily, so that by the time he had cut the apple, her biscuit was already gone.

  The man chuckled, as he stretched forth one hand to offer her a portion of the apple. “Hungry?”

  Elenore only nodded, as she snatched the apple from his grasp and begin devouring the succulent fruit. It was just what she needed after nearly choking down the dry biscuit.

  She finished the apple in record time, before glancing over at the man. He was watching her curiously, humor sparkling in his brown eyes. He had finished eating his biscuit, but his half of the apple was sitting in his hand untouched. He propelled his arm forward and offered her his portion of the fruit. “Take it. I think you need it more than I do.”

  Elenore eyed the apple sheepishly, before reaching and plucking it from his hand and beginning to devour it as quickly as she had her own. The man watched her with amusement. He hadn’t met many nuns in his life, but the picture in his head of what a nun should be like and what the actual nun sitting in front of him was, were two completely different things.

  He watched as her pink lips closed around the apple. She was younger than any nun he had ever met. He squinted to get a closer look at her in the dark and made out a scattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose. They were light and almost indiscernible by the light of the moon, but if you looked closely, you could see them. He wondered if she spent much time outdoors, not exactly sure what she would be doing if she did.

  When she finished the apple, he held out the flask and offered it to her. She drank greedily before turning and handing it back to him. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. I apologize. I don’t have more to offer you,” he said.

  Elenore stretched her legs out before her, grateful for the modesty the long tunic gave her. Looking up at the dark sky she yawned. “Do we have time for a quick rest? I’m dreadfully exhausted.”

  “Go ahead. I’ll go check on Calvin and tie up the bag so we can be on our way.” The man stood up and brushed off his hands on his pants before heading towards the stream where Calvin was resting.

  Elenore lay back in the grass and rolled over onto her side, tucking one arm under her head for a pillow. She was dreadfully tired, feeling as if she had lived a complete lifetime in the last day. Her eyelids felt like lead. She could hardly keep them open. She closed them momentarily to give her eyes a rest, and before she knew it, she was sound asleep.

  The man took his time seeing to Calvin and taking care of business in the woods before returning to find the nun fast asleep in the grass. He gently prodded her side with the toe of his boot to rouse her. She let out a small groan but otherwise didn’t budge at all. He bent over and shook her shoulder with a little more force but to no avail.

  Turning to Calvin he said, “She’s out like a log.” Calvin whinnied in response, as if he could understand every word his master spoke.

  The man looked down on her sleeping form once more and lowered himself to the ground, suddenly feeling exhausted from the day's adventures. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to rest a bit before continuing onward. He stretched his lanky form out in the grass a few feet from where Sister Genevieve slept. Turning his back to her, he quickly joined her in a dreamless sleep.

  ***

  The man was first to awake, yawning as he stretched, h
is body stiff from sleeping on the hard ground. Judging by the dusty gray of the sky, he had slept longer than he had anticipated. He sat up and glanced over at Sister Genevieve who was still in the same position she had fallen asleep in, soft snores escaping her delicate mouth. He rose and went to check on Calvin, leading him back to where the nun slept on in oblivion. He called out to her but she didn't so much as flinch. Bending over, he shook her shoulder, hoping to waken her but to no avail. He decided to pick her up and place her in the saddle. He could ill afford to wait until she decided to wake. Reaching down he scooped her into his arms—she was warm and heavy with sleep. Though she wasn’t much bigger than a child, she felt like a dead weight in his arms. He grunted as he hoisted her up in the saddle, hoping she’d wake up and be able to assist him, but the poor girl was out. After a few attempts, he successfully had her sitting in the saddle, and while he balanced her with one hand, he used his other hand to pull himself up behind her.

  “Well Calvin, let’s do this,” he muttered as they began galloping towards Surrey, anxious to get rid of the nun and the blasted black mask that was starting to annoy him.

  Elenore was just coming to, as she noticed the sun rising and the day beginning to get warm. Her first instinct was to reach up and remove the cumbersome veil sitting atop her head, and she almost did it before she was startled by the man speaking.

  “See that house a ways off? That’s Westbrooke Hall, where I’m taking you.”

  Elenore squinted to get a better view of the house, one hand going up to shield her eyes from the sun. Off in the distance she could make out a rectangular, red-brick house surrounded by dozens of oak trees.

  “Tell me more about this man I am to care for,” she asked the stranger, hoping to get some more information about the task she was undertaking.

  “He is the Earl of Brattondale, and he’s been sick off and on for some time now. This last bout got so bad his family removed him from London to his country estate, hoping that he’d get some more rest here away from the leisurely pursuits of the season.”

  “What exactly is wrong with him?” she asked curiously.

  She felt rather than saw the man shrug, still looking towards the house that would become her temporary home. “Not sure. The doctor says nothing is wrong, but I don’t see how that can be true. From what I hear from the family, he lies in bed all day moaning and groaning, complaining of terrible stomach pains. Some days he acts almost normal, but other days, he can hardly eat, the pain is so intense.”

  “I’m sorry to hear he’s in such pain. I’m not sure exactly what I can do to assist him, but hopefully my presence will be of some benefit to the poor man.”

  “I assure you it will,” the man said confidently, “And certainly our arrangement will be of some benefit to you, I hope.”

  When they were nearly fifty yards from the house, the stranger brought Calvin to a halt and gingerly lowered Elenore to the ground, handing her the valise she had brought with her.

  Elenore looked at the house before looking back up into the man’s masked face. “Is this where you’re leaving me?” she asked wearily, suddenly nervous about the adventure she was undertaking.

  “Yes, I must get going. I apologize for not being able to take you closer to the main house, but I do not dare draw closer. Go to the door and tell the butler you’re here to care for Lord Brattondale, there shouldn’t be any problem.”

  The man gave Calvin a gentle nudge and began to trot away. Elenore followed after them, ignoring the pain in her feet and frantically called out, “That’s it? You’re leaving me in this strange place with people I’ve never met?”

  “You’ll be fine,” he called over his shoulder, attempting to reassure her. “The earl will be grateful for your assistance, the household staff is pleasant, and I hear that Lord Brattondale’s son, the Viscount Bridgerton, is an immensely likeable fellow.”

  Elenore gulped, she hadn’t thought about encountering anyone other than the ailing old man. “You didn’t tell me his son was present, why can’t he take care of his father?”

  “Because he’s busy. That’s why. He spends the majority of his time in London but will visit on occasion to see how his father is fairing.”

  “And I must answer to him?”

  “I’m sure he’ll appreciate that. Now truly, I must get going,” he said impatiently, anxious to be on his way.

  “Wait,” Elenore called out once more. “Will I see you again?”

  The man laughed. “Not likely, at least not if I’m doing my job right.”

  “Then how will I know you've kept your end of our bargain, that you'll truly get me passage to America?”

  “I'll send you a missive with the details, when everything has been arranged. Until then, just make sure that Lord Brattondale is well cared for.”

  “Before you leave, tell me why they call you Black Lightening,” she asked, curious at the odd moniker and uneasy at the prospect of being all alone in a foreign place.

  The man was thoughtful for a moment before speaking. “The black part is obvious—it’s for my attire and mask. The lightening part is because I’m unpredictable like lightening; nobody knows where I’ll strike next or who I’ll hit. And I’m fast,” he added almost as an afterthought, turning and galloping off speedily, as if to prove to her that he was indeed as fast as they say.

  Elenore stood there in the cloud of dust Calvin had created, thinking about the strange turn her life had taken. It was hard for her to imagine that it had only been a day since she escaped from the Duke of Kerrington’s watch, anxious to embark on a grand adventure. She looked down on her unfamiliar nun’s attire once more and sighed. It appeared that fate had decided her future for her, at least for the short term. Hopefully, the next month would go by quickly so she could embark on the grand adventure she so desperately sought. Thoughts of her life in America would have to sustain her longing for excitement while she bade her time caring for the sick earl.

  Clutching her valise tightly in her hands, she took off towards Westbrooke Hall, anxious to get off the dew-soaked grass that was causing a chill in her feet. She couldn’t lie to herself as she stood on the porch of the house. Waiting for the butler to answer her knocking, she felt incredibly awkward and out of place showing up at a stranger’s house unannounced. She once more adjusted her robes, thankful that they were long enough to cover her bare feet. She would have to be careful when she walked to not reveal the improper absences of shoes and raise anybody's suspicion. Thinking of her predicament, she cursed herself for not being able to say no to the highwayman. She didn’t know the first thing about caring for the sick, besides the limited experience she had caring for her parents. Having witnessed both of her parents take their final breathes, she desperately hoped with everything in her that she wouldn't have to sit by and watch the poor man die.

  She shuddered at the thought, just as the door was opened, grateful for the interruption that caused her to stop thinking about the painful memories she held deep in her heart. “Hello, may I help you?” The butler’s slow drawl poured over her like melting butter on a warm biscuit.

  Elenore hesitated briefly before answering. “Yes, I was sent to care for Lord Brattondale.” She held her breath waiting for a response, hoping that he wouldn’t question her further or doubt her presence.

  Holding the door wide open he said, “Do come in. I’ll inform the master that you have arrived.”

  Elenore watched as he retreated down the hall, before taking a moment to take in her surroundings. Westbrooke Hall was spacious and tastefully decorated, although a little more sparse than the opulent surroundings of the Duke of Kerrington's townhouse, where she had previously been staying. She stuck her nose in the open door to her left and wasn’t at all surprised to find the drawing room. The walls were covered in a cream-colored paper featuring hand-painted flowers of multiple different colors and varieties. In front of the fireplace sat a dainty, burgundy settee with matching tufted wing-chairs sitting across from it.
There were gold-framed paintings of various landscapes hanging on the walls and a large Louis XV-style, gilded mirror hanging above the fireplace.

  Before Elenore could finish taking stock of the room, she heard a voice coming up behind her and quickly turned to see that the butler had returned. “I’ve been instructed to introduce you to Lord Brattondale. He isn’t feeling particularly well this morning and has requested you come visit him in his bedchamber.”

  Elenore tried to will her cheeks not to heat at the thought of visiting a man in his room but wasn’t sure how successful she was. Instead she simply nodded and followed the butler up the stairs and to the west wing of the house, taking cautious steps, trying to be gentle on her feet. She waited patiently while the butler rapped on the door and waited to be granted entrance. He indicated for her to go in first, to which she reluctantly obliged.

  Walking into the earl’s room, the first thing she noticed was how dim and gloomy it was. Despite it being the middle of the day, the room was almost completely dark. She hesitantly made for the bed, trying to get close enough to see the earl, but she heard him long before she ever saw him.

  “You may go Clarence. I’ll ring the bell if I need further assistance.”

  Clarence nodded his head and left, leaving Elenore gaping at the dark form in the bed. Her skin crawled at the knowledge that she was in a room alone with a man, a man she had never met, no less. She wanted desperately to turn around and run, but something kept her rooted in place.

  “Come closer,” the earl commanded in a raspy voice. “I’d like to get a better look at you.”

  Elenore obeyed, just as eager to get a good look at him. As she drew nearer to the bed she was able to start making out the earl’s features. He was a portly man with little to no hair on top of his bulbous head, though his eyebrows were thick and bushy. It seemed to Elenore that all of the man’s hair had gravitated to the two patches above his eyes. She stopped at the foot of the bed and waited.

  “Come closer,” the earl quietly commanded.