“Steven found out,” she said rapidly.
“Found out what?”
“Who burned Hyvern.”
“Who told him?”
She waved a dismissive hand. “He paid someone. A servant—a woman. She works at Fourways, and they had…connections before.”
I guessed what those connections had been. “What did she say?”
“That for some reason she doesn’t know, Sir John Kneller had the place burned down.”
“So?” My heart was in my throat now. What if the maid knew our connection with the boy?
“He’s gone off to Fourways to—oh God, he took his guns.” She caught a hand to her mouth. I began to believe her, but waited for her to recover her composure. “He can be very impulsive.”
“So what do you think I can do?” I asked, still cynical.
“Ride after him? Please?” I no longer doubted her sincerity. She would never have asked me, would never have stooped to this if she’d any alternative. “You ride well, you could catch him up and he might listen to you.”
“Why should he listen to me?”
“Don’t you know?” Julia said. I shook my head. “He still has—feelings for you. He respects you, admires what you’ve become. Oh, never mind.” She turned away.
“Why don’t you ride after him?”
“I don’t ride as well as you and—and my leg is still sore. It would hold me up but I couldn’t ride hard. I intend to come, but I must follow. If you set off, stop him, delay him until I can get there, perhaps I can persuade him to come back.”
I saw her devotion to Steven was genuine, if, to my mind, twisted. How could I refuse? Steven could destroy all our plans by barging in.
“I’ll ride after him, but I won’t go close to Fourways.” I intended to keep my promise to Richard to keep myself safe. “If he’s gone too far, I won’t follow.”
She nodded. “Thank you.”
“When did he leave?”
“Just now. He’s probably only just setting out.”
“Then why didn’t you send a servant to stop him?”
She grimaced. “I did—the man got a whip across his face for his trouble.”
So, no other servant would approach him.
I went back into my room and called for Nichols. When she discovered what I was about, she pursed her lips. “His lordship won’t like it. We don’t know that the man has lessened his campaign against you.”
“I’m not riding all the way. If he’s gone too far, then he must look to himself, and I’ll send servants after him.”
She was still doubtful. “I’ll ride out after you, my lady.”
I’d sent out orders to saddle up Rosebud, so when I went to the stables a bare ten minutes later she was ready for me. Bennett had seen to it himself and had also saddled up an animal for Nichols and himself.
He helped me up and I set off, soon urging Rosebud into a full gallop. The hooves thundered under me, the air whipped around my ears and I remembered how much I enjoyed riding out alone. I took pleasure in the ride, even though at the end of it there would be only Steven.
Steven had lived here before, but not as long as I had. I knew a few useful shortcuts, and when I crested a small hill about half the distance to Fourways, I saw a rider ahead of me, undoubtedly Steven.
He didn’t look behind, and the noise made by his own horse going at a swift canter would have deadened any sound of my approach. The ground was firm, and my progress swift. I knew this land. I’d ridden over it often enough when I lived here, and I went at my fastest pace with confidence.
I didn’t catch up with him for another mile or so. The lush green countryside stretched out on either side, no one in sight when he finally saw me and pulled up. “Rose? What are you doing here?”
“Riding.” I controlled Rosebud, settling her down after her long, hard ride. She bent her head to crop the grass, and I didn’t stop her.
Steven frowned. “And you just happened to come across me?”
“No. Julia wants to speak with you. She asked me to ride ahead.”
He lifted his chin. “Why should you do that?”
“Because she asked, and because there’s more danger than you think at Fourways.”
“And you care about me enough to do that?” Something dawned in his eyes, a warmth I hadn’t seen for years and didn’t welcome now.
“I don’t want your death on my conscience. Or Kneller’s, should you succeed.”
His eyes narrowed, and his look changed to one of suspicion. “So who do you care about? Me or Kneller?”
“Neither of you. I don’t want trouble on my brother’s doorstep.” I’d try to persuade him without letting him know what we knew, if I could. “I don’t like you, I don’t like him, but it would distress James if either of you were hurt.”
He humphed. “Why should I be hurt? I want to talk to him about Hyvern, demand recompense perhaps. How dare he do this to us? Who does the popinjay think he is?” Anger rose in his voice, but I wasn’t concerned, not anymore. Once it would have intimidated me, worried me, but my confidence had grown and my courage with it.
“He won’t admit it.”
“I know he did it. And I want to know why. Is the man demented, to do such a thing to people he doesn’t know?”
He lifted the reins, would have urged his mount into action again, but I held up one hand to stop him. “If I tell you why, will you go back?”
“You know?” He lowered the reins. “How?”
“He’s a smuggler, Steven. He runs the rival gang that’s been causing all the trouble recently.” I watched his face.
He raised incredulous brows. “Him? Kneller? How has— Are you sure?”
“Perfectly. We met a Bow Street Runner who came to Exeter to keep his eye on them. He told us.”
“Why should he tell you?”
“We asked. Richard suspected something and asked him. Oh, very well.” I shook my head. This was a little more than I wanted to tell him. “We were robbed on the road on the way here. The thief took my watch. Later we saw it in Sir John’s possession. That watch was one of a kind, so we knew it for sure. When we asked Sir John how he got the watch, he said he bought it in Exeter, but we didn’t believe him, and we asked the Runner.”
“Did you get it back?”
“What?”
“The watch.” Typically Steven, material to the last.
“Yes, he gave it back.”
Steven was no fool. I needed to distract him before he added up more than I wanted him to. Unfortunately he knew Susan was Richard’s daughter and he knew she had a brother. “But Smith told us that he was the smuggler he was after. Steven, don’t go and see him. The house is dangerous. Haven’t you noticed the moon is up?”
That brought him up short, as nothing I’d said before had. A full moon in this part of the country meant a run. He knew that as well as anyone living here did.
“He’s planning something?”
“Yes, and Smith plans to take him. The men in Fourways are all in his pay. They’ll be preparing for tonight.”
“Tonight?” He thought rapidly. I saw the speculative look cross his handsome features. He lifted a gloved hand and rubbed the back of his neck, his horse’s reins firmly held in the other hand. “And my house was burned down just so he can have a clear run?”
“Now and in the future. He wants to take over from the Cawntons.”
“My God, the effrontery of the bastard!”
Before I could stop him, he’d pulled up his reins and kicked his horse into action. Startled, the animal lifted its head and stared in the direction of Fourways, put its ears back and after a few strides, broke into a swift gallop. I interrupted Rosebud’s peaceful cropping and took off after him.
He kept ahead, and I didn’t bother to call out. He wouldn’t have heard me. I was within sight of the house before I realised I was doing exactly what I’d promised not to. Cursing, I pulled up, but it took Rosebud a little time to slow down from the he
adlong flight I’d urged on her.
By then people were riding out from the house, heading for us at full pelt. Realising I had no time to waste, I turned my horse and tried to ride back in the opposite direction.
Too late. They were going at a gallop and I’d yet to persuade Rosebud to her full stretch. Two riders caught up with me and rode close. One reached across and put his hand on the reins. Outraged, I lashed at him with my whip. “How dare you!”
He caught the whip and lashed back at me. I don’t know if he meant it—with the movements of our steeds, I should think not—but he knocked me out of the saddle and I fell to the ground. The world spun around me, turned black and I knew no more.
Chapter Twenty-Three
I came to in a place I didn’t want to be. Sir John’s drawing room. I’d been laid out on the sofa there, and a maid sat by me, holding a damp cloth to my brow. “She’s waking up,” I heard her say. I opened my eyes.
Steven sat in a chair close to me, Sir John in one a little farther away. “Tea?” he enquired with a malicious smile.
I gave him a cold glare. “Were they your men?”
“Yes, of course. But they didn’t mean to harm you. Only to discover who you were and send you on your way.”
“Really?” I tried to sit up and found aches in my shoulders and back that presaged bruises to come. My head pounded, but the pain was settling on one part of my head. I refrained from putting my hand there to touch it. I knew I’d find a swelling lump. I sat forward on the sofa, not at all gracefully, and recovered my senses. The maid got up and brought me a dish of tea. She put it on a small table at my side. I set what was left of my brain to thinking.
“I thought you two didn’t get on,” John said. He looked from one to the other of Steven and me. Affronted by being studied like a specimen, I took the cloth from the maid and applied it to my forehead. Apart from my aches and pains, I felt clearheaded enough, but I didn’t want him knowing that. It gave me a small advantage if he thought I was unwell.
“We have our differences,” Steven replied, “but we can get along like civilised people.” I hoped he would have the sense to keep quiet, now he saw how it was at Fourways. John might release us.
“So you were out riding together? I suppose I should tell you I was trying out a new spyglass. It’s how I managed to see you so quickly. It was a coincidence, a real coincidence, but now—” He paused and looked at us again. “How fortunate.”
My heart sank. Something in his tone told me he wouldn’t release us.
John turned to Steven. He smiled and rested his chin on steepled fingers in an achingly reminiscent way. How, when he hadn’t known his father, could he be so much like Richard? “Why did you come here? And why was Lady Strang following you at such a pace?”
“We were racing?” Steven suggested.
“Won’t do. You were arguing. I saw her call out.”
“It must be a good spyglass you have,” I said, unable to resist the comment.
“It is. You wanted to stop him coming here?” He frowned at me. “Why would you want to do that? I know you don’t like him, you told me so yourself.”
Steven gave me a reproachful glare.
“Well what do you expect?” I demanded, and I went back to my damp cloth.
“I’ve found out something about you,” said John then. “I’ve made it my business.” I still found it hard to believe he was just seventeen. He was so controlled, so cool.
I sipped my tea and beckoned the maid to refill the tea dish. Reminded of her silent presence, John nodded at her, and she left after she’d served me. “You used to live in Darkwater, didn’t you?” John asked.
“What of it?” Steven demanded.
“And then you found yourself a rich wife. Not the one you wanted, but near enough. Do you still want Rose?”
Steven turned to me and he smiled. “Yes.”
“I might make it possible,” said Kneller.
For the first time since we arrived, fear clutched me. There was no one here to protect me, no one to stop him, and I knew Steven liked his women subservient, even reluctant. My lack of cooperation would only spur him on.
Kneller flicked a bored glance away from me and back to Steven as though I was of no importance, just a cog in his clockwork plans. “You found out.”
“About Hyvern? Why else would I come?”
Sir John raised an eyebrow. “Yes, why else? Why do you think I did it?”
“To rid your gang of an unwelcome viewpoint.”
Sir John gave a long, low whistle. “Now how did you know about that?”
I groaned. He turned to me, reminded anew of my presence. “You told him? Why? I didn’t think you’d be foolish enough to do that. Now look what you’ve done.” Despite my sore shoulders, my head snapped up and I glared at him. “I was going to keep you tonight and let you go in the morning. Now what am I going to do?”
That icy finger of fear crept up my spine. “I don’t know. You’re not thinking of killing us.”
“Why shouldn’t I?”
“Because then you’d be a murderer.” Steven’s voice rose higher at the end of his sentence. “And the punishment for murder is more severe than the punishment for smuggling.”
Sir John’s mouth curved in a wicked smile. “I don’t think so. It’s Tyburn Tree either way.”
I tried to remind him of one consequence. “If you kill me, Richard won’t rest until he sees you dead at his feet.”
“Who’s he going to pay to do that?” Sir John sneered.
“No one,” said Steven. He knew what Richard was capable of.
Sir John laughed aloud then, and when he turned away, enjoying his joke, I shot Steven a warning glare. I didn’t want John knowing anything more than he had to. “That popinjay?” crowed the youth.
Tiring of the recumbent posture, I swung my legs to the ground, but I kept hold of the cloth. I felt the lightness in my pockets and knew they had taken the gun away from me. I presumed they had disarmed Steven, as well. But I still wore my riding boots, and I was sure the little sheathed stiletto knives were still tucked down there. They wouldn’t expect a lady to carry something like that, and they were so slim, even in their leather sheaths, that they could be usefully tucked away almost anywhere.
“That posturing mirror of fashion?” cried Sir John, recovering himself somewhat. “What can he do? What experience has he ever had of life?”
Steven watched him, openmouthed at the torrent of abuse that proceeded to fall from the young man’s lips. “Brought up in luxury, used to having everything done for him, never having to think where the next meal was coming from—what experience does he have of true violence, true penury? How could he ever know, why should he suspect, that people are living hand to mouth, forced to do anything they can—anything!—for a living?” He paused and stared at us, wilder now.
Steven’s hand tightened on the arm of his chair, and I hoped he wouldn’t take it into his head to try anything. John would have men stationed everywhere, especially this close to a run.
“And then he finds himself a wife. Not the society pet he should have wed, oh no, a young woman he falls in love with at sight. How easy is a life like that?”
I thought of Richard weeping in my arms the other night, of the desperately angry and unhappy man I first met. But I said nothing. He wouldn’t have listened.
“He can shuck off all responsibilities because he wants to. All he has to do is pay someone. He can abandon past mistakes, never give them a second thought.” Oh no. He strode about the room, waving his hands about wildly. “He buys the best and never gives it a second thought. He lives without remembering what he once did, what he once fathered.”
The silence, when it fell, wasn’t complete. Outside, in the courtyard, men were moving about, horses being stabled, vehicles taken to unobtrusive places, all revealed by the clop of hooves, the rumble of wheels and the low murmur of conversation.
Here, in this pleasant drawing room, all that coul
d be heard was the agitated breathing of our host and Steven’s gasp. We let Sir John recover from his sudden burst of fury, and then Steven said in a low, steady voice, such a contrast from the explosion of a moment before, “What do you know about that? About his children?”
John considered him. “You know, don’t you?” He strode forward and placed his hands on the arms of Steven’s chair. He leaned in, not as aggressively as he had when confronting Richard. “See something familiar?”
After a minute, a slow, delighted smile spread across Steven’s face. I sank my head into my hands. My headache was getting worse. “You’re his son. Susan’s brother.”
John stood and looked down at him. “That innocent girl you tried to corrupt.” He was back in control of himself now. “That sweet young girl is my sister. And what you started my father finished. She’s a whore now, an accredited, paid-up whore.” His sneer of disgust showed how he felt about having a whore for a sister.
“She wouldn’t thank you for saying that. She’s in a gentleman’s keeping. Just one.” So Steven did keep an eye on her.
“I intend to take her away from that.” John swung round and faced me. “And you can live with this?”
“It was her choice,” I told him.
He made a noise which sounded like “faugh”.
“And at least her trade is honest,” I added.
Without warning, he swung around and slapped me, open-handed, across the face. I’d been struck before, but never in my adult life had I been slapped, and never so hard. The tears sprang to my eyes unbidden, and I quickly put the damp cloth to my stinging cheek.
Steven looked at me calmly. “Strang will kill you,” he told John Kneller.
“He hasn’t the nerve or the resources,” said the younger man contemptuously. “I brought most of these men down from the north with me. I’d trust most of them with my life. What does he have, above a few trusted retainers?”
Inside I was screaming for Steven to say nothing, to keep quiet.
He must have heard me or had the sense not to say anything. Steven had cause to know that Thompson’s was more than a staff agency. Instead Steven shrugged and then glanced at me. I nodded to show him I’d manage.
Hareton Hall: Richard and Rose, Book 6 Page 22
