Princess Charming

by Nicole Jordan

  It was nearing two o’clock in the morning when she changed out of her gown into the clothing she had brought in her valise, donning leather breeches, sturdy half boots, a shapeless dark shirt, and the fustian jacket of a common laborer. Then she carefully pinned up her long blond hair and hid it under a floppy wide-brimmed hat in an effort to resemble a peddler, the role she had chosen to best disguise her gender and class.

  When she descended the stairs, the livery was mostly quiet. The few sleepy lads who were on hand to service the carriages and teams of late-night customers paid her no attention.

  Relieved that she fit in with the livery staff, Maura saddled Frip and loaded him down with some of the gear she’d stashed in the gig’s boot. She wouldn’t need the gelding’s services just yet, but she wanted him to be ready to leave at a moment’s notice.

  Fripon was the French word for rascal, a name that he had earned when he was a foal, but he had matured into a steady, dependable job horse capable of pulling a carriage or carrying a rider untiringly over long distances.

  “I am counting on you to help me rescue your friend tonight, my sweet fellow,” Maura murmured softly.

  Frip snuffled in reply and nodded his head, seeming to understand her urgency.

  Leaving him tethered near her gig at the livery, she collected her knapsack, which was filled with an odd assortment of items, including a bridle, and made her way on foot through the dark streets of Mayfair. The half moon above was frequently concealed by clouds and offered barely enough light for her to see, but although she had a tinderbox and candle in her knapsack, she didn’t want to risk showing a light. A slight fog also helped to conceal her presence from the occasional carriage that rumbled past her.

  Some five minutes later she reached the mews of Seymour Place where Emperor was being kept. The long row of private stables ran behind several great houses and was accessed by a carriage lane.

  Maura hugged the shadows of the mews as she inched down the lane. Since Deering’s mansion was separated from his stables by extensive gardens, she didn’t fear alerting his household servants, but his grooms and coachmen lodged above his stables and might still be awake.

  Deering might also have set someone to guard his new prize, although Gandy’s careful reconnaissance last week hadn’t shown such precautions.

  For several long minutes, Maura waited outside the stables, but the continued silence seemed to suggest it was safe to implement the next step of her plan. Her heart thudding, she slowly eased open the side door and crept inside.

  There she paused, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness. Thankfully, she encountered no guards or anyone else to impede her progress as she stole down the aisle. With only faint light permeating the windows overhead, she could see little, yet she could hear the quiet sounds of dozing horses, and recognized her own beloved horse’s movements coming from the far end.

  Emperor was pacing his stall restlessly.

  “Damn you, Lord Deering,” Maura swore under her breath, knowing the horse would be bursting with energy, no doubt circling and pawing and even kicking out in objection to his imprisonment. If he wasn’t to become wild, a stallion needed much more freedom and exercise than mares or geldings, and with so much pent-up force to be unleashed, Emperor could very well hurt himself or others.

  She consoled herself by remembering that he only had to endure his maltreatment for a short while longer. After tonight, with very good luck combined with her determination, he would be free of the odious viscount forever.

  When she reached Emperor’s stall, she realized he had picked up her scent, for he snorted urgently.

  “Hush, darling boy,” Maura whispered, fumbling with the latch to the door. “I will take you away from here very soon, I promise.”

  Slipping through the door, she threw her arms around the horse’s neck, her heart swelling with love for him. Emperor whickered in return, acknowledging the bond they shared.

  Then stepping back, Maura set to work in the dark. Guided mostly by feel, she searched in her knapsack and drew out four folded lengths of cloth.

  “Please be still, love. You have to be good and allow me to muffle your hooves.”

  To her relief, Emperor stood obediently as she tied a cloth around each foot to stifle the sound of steel shoes striking cobblestones. He also allowed her to bridle him without protest and waited while she slung her knapsack over her shoulder. But when she opened his stall door, he pulled against the bit, eager to escape his prison.

  “Easy, boy,” she murmured, placing a soothing hand on his neck. “You have to trust me, Emp.”

  At her touch, he seemed to grow calm. Taking a deep breath to gather her courage, Maura silently led the stallion down the aisle and out the side door. When they were free of the stables, she said a mute prayer of thanks, but she couldn’t breathe until they reached the end of the lane and turned the corner, so that they were out of view of the mews.

  The streets were still chiefly deserted, Maura noted gratefully, yet as they negotiated two more blocks, she couldn’t shake the strange sensation of being watched. There was no pursuit, she decided, glancing behind her.

  When she reached a hackney station, she veered toward a small park that was set back from the street. She didn’t dare take the stallion straight to the livery where Frip waited, for she didn’t want to imperil Gandy’s cohort, who had helped her orchestrate her desperate rescue plan. Without a disguise, a horse of Emperor’s obvious caliber would be too memorable, and she hoped to conceal her trail as much as possible.

  Thus, she tethered him to a hitching post beneath an oak tree and dug into her bag of tricks once more. Pulling out a tin of boot blacking, a small jar of white paint, and a leather pouch filled with mud, Maura set about trying to mask his most distinctive features as well as his magnificence, although the final step of turning him into a peddler’s nag would have to wait until she reached the livery.

  She started by rubbing the blacking into the white star on his forehead. For a moment Emperor stood calmly, his bright eyes alert, but he shortly became impatient and fitful. Even though she murmured soothingly as she worked, he clearly disliked having two white socks and one white stocking painted on his legs.

  “Please trust me, Emp,” Maura implored in a whisper. “This is for your own good.”

  She had almost finished slathering his neck and hindquarters with mud to dull the shine of his coat when the stallion suddenly left off his fidgeting. His head shot up, his nostrils flaring to scent the wind.

  When another carriage drove past on the street, Maura decided there was no reason for alarm—until she heard the quiet sound of hoofbeats directly behind her.

  She froze, then bit back a scream when a wry male voice broke the silence. “Would you care to explain just what you are up to, sweeting?”

  Emperor sensed her fear and whirled nervously, nearly knocking Maura down in the process. Upon regaining her balance, she stared up at the horseman who loomed over her. He was little more than a shadow in the darkness, but she had no trouble recognizing the Marquis of Beaufort. He had crept upon her without warning, the earthen ground having muted his mount’s approach.

  Torn between relief and dismay, Maura brought a hand to her breast to cover her wildly beating heart. “You frightened me out of my wits,” she accused with a scowl.

  “I doubt that,” he retorted curtly as he sat gazing down at her. “I repeat, what the devil are you doing?”

  “What do you think? I am rescuing my horse, of course. I could ask the same of you, my lord,” she added. “Why are you here? It is the middle of the night.”

  “Indeed it is. I suspected you might do something foolish,” he muttered, “but nothing this shatterbrained. You should know better than to wander the streets of London alone at night. It is far too dangerous for a woman.”

  He was concerned for her safety, Maura realized, hearing the hard edge in his voice. “In the first place, this is Mayfair, not the stews of St. Giles. And in the second
, I am dressed as a lad and I am armed. I have a loaded pistol and a knife with me.”

  “Don’t tell me … Gandy taught you how to shoot and wield a knife. But you are still taking a huge risk.”

  “I am not afraid, Lord Beaufort, even if you did startle me half to death.”

  He drew a long breath, as if striving for patience. “I am not questioning your courage, vixen, only your common sense. Even if you escape harm tonight, you could go to prison or worse. Horse thieves are usually hanged.”

  Maura studied him warily. “Do you mean to try and stop me?”

  “Do I stand a chance in hell of stopping you?”

  Despite his withering sarcasm, his rejoinder suggested that he was resigned to her larceny. Relief flooded her, soothing the burning anxiety in her stomach. “Not unless you betray me to Deering.”

  “I ought to,” Beaufort threatened, although with less heat than before. “Or better yet, throw you over my saddle and carry you home.”

  That last was not an empty boast, Maura realized, recalling how easily he had manhandled her this morning in the park. But she didn’t believe he would actually follow through this time.

  “I dare you to try it,” she said lightly. “I am armed, remember?”

  “A pistol will be little protection if your theft is discovered.”

  “Which is why I am doing my best to keep from being discovered.”

  His gaze shifted to slide over the stallion. “I’ve been watching you these past five minutes, wondering what you were about. I see now that you’re attempting to disguise your splendid beast to avoid recognition.”

  “Yes.”

  Wiping her hand clean of mud in Emperor’s mane, Maura closed the pouch and stuffed it back into her knapsack. Then she bent to remove the cloth wrapping his hooves, since it would look strange if she rode into the livery on a horse with muffled feet.

  “I have to give you credit,” Beaufort remarked grudgingly. “It was clever of you to think of the white markings.”

  He was very clever himself to have deduced her intentions, she thought.

  “How did you know what I planned?” she asked.

  “You were too calm this morning after your tirade. The abrupt change made me suspect you were up to something, even before Katharine warned me that all was not quite right with you. She claims it is not like you to simply give up.”

  “So you followed me?”

  “No, I staked out Deering’s stables and lay in wait for you. It took you long enough.”

  “I had to make certain the grooms were asleep.”

  Another carriage rattled by just then, which recalled Maura to her surroundings. “I cannot stand here arguing with you, Lord Beaufort. I need to be on my way.”

  “Don’t think this discussion is over, sweetheart.”

  Regrettably, she knew it wasn’t. With a sigh, Maura draped the knapsack over her shoulder, untied the reins, grabbed a hunk of mane, and vaulted onto the stallion’s bare back.

  Much to her exasperation and aggravation, Beaufort fell into step with her as she guided Emperor back to the street. “Where are you taking him?”

  “I would rather not say.”

  “But you plan on stealing him?”

  She sent the marquis a sour glance. “I do not call it stealing. Emperor is my rightful property, and I am only reclaiming what is mine.”

  “The law won’t see it that way.”

  “I know,” Maura said bitterly. “So I will have to resort to bending the law. I can’t fight Deering by honest means.”

  “You could if you would allow me to aid you. There is a better way to go about saving your horse.”

  “Oh, and what might that be, your lordship? Your plan was to think about conceiving a plan. Mine actually has a chance of succeeding.”

  The moonlight was too faint for her to see Beaufort’s jaw clench, but she could easily imagine it.

  After a moment, he took a different tack. “You obviously have planned your scheme out meticulously, but you must have had help. I presume Gandy is abetting you, but there must be others.”

  “Even if there were, I could never admit it. I don’t want anyone else blamed for what I must do.”

  “You hope to keep your friends from hanging with you, you mean.”

  “Exactly. That is why I didn’t tell Katharine about my plans—so she could deny any culpability.”

  Just then they reached the livery, which was dimly lit by lanterns. Before turning into the yard, Maura whispered a precaution. “Please, will you keep your voice down? I don’t want to attract any undue attention.”

  She rode directly to the corner of the yard where Frip waited. The two horses seemed glad to see each other, but she couldn’t afford to dally for their reunion. Sliding off the stallion’s back, she tethered him to the gig, then opened the boot and began drawing out the peddler’s rig.

  After securing a harness to Emperor’s chest and back, she attached a pliant straw basket to each of his sides.

  Beaufort sat watching as she began filling the baskets. “What the devil is all that?” he asked, keeping his voice low.

  “His costume,” she murmured back. “He needs a more ample disguise than just paint and boot blacking.”

  She had loaded Frip down with a blanket roll and her saddlebags, including her clothing and food supplies. But she intended to fill Emperor’s baskets with the sort of items a peddler would normally sell.

  To her surprise, Beaufort dismounted in order to help her. Together they loaded the goods—a few pots and pans, an assortment of knives and scissors and a grinder to sharpen the blades, bottles of elixirs, hair dye, trinkets, copper cups, some cheap jewelry.…

  Not unexpectedly, the champion stallion objected to such treatment. At first, Emperor merely turned to peer at the strange contraption on his back and snorted as if insulted. But when he began to dance nervously, Maura went to his head and tenderly rubbed his ears and sensitive poll between.

  When she had his attention, she put her forehead against his and spoke quietly to him. “I am sorry, love. I understand how humiliating this is for you, being treated like a pack mule, but you must bear it for my sake.”

  Thankfully, he calmed down enough that she could fasten the lids on the baskets.

  “Where do you intend to take him?” Beaufort asked as she finished lashing the final straps.

  She gave him a cautious look. “I am not sure I can trust you, even if you are Katharine’s brother.”

  In the lantern light, she could see his expression grow annoyed. “Do you even have a destination in mind?”

  “Yes.”

  Since she was certain Deering would hunt for her untiringly, she’d thought long and hard about where to seek refuge for the stallion. There were scores of livery stables all over London, but she couldn’t hope to hide a peerless racehorse among common carriage hacks for long. So obviously she would have to spirit him away from London. She didn’t think it wise to tell Beaufort where she meant to go, however.

  When her silence dragged out, he muttered a low oath. “I’ll be damned if I want to see you hanged.”

  “I have no intention of being hanged,” she assured him quietly. “If I were to be caught, there would be no one to protect Emperor from Lord Deering. Now, I need to be on my way, my lord.”

  He let her close the gig’s boot but then grasped her arm. “No. It is too dangerous for you to set out alone.”

  “I cannot let that stop me.”

  “Maura …” His tone was still low, but became more urgent. “You need to think carefully about what you are doing. If you run now, there could be no turning back. This decision could change your life irrevocably.”

  The deep concern in his voice made a strange emotion twist in her chest. He was right, Maura thought, staring up into his eyes. She was at a major crossroads in her life. Yet she had to do this.

  “You don’t understand,” she replied, her voice unexpectedly quavering with emotion. “I could not save my f
ather from that cursed man, but by heaven, I will save my horse.”

  To her dismay, she felt her throat suddenly close with tears.

  It wasn’t like her to be so missish, Maura told herself. No doubt the stress of the past days and hours had frayed her nerves. But she had cried in front of Beaufort once today, and she wouldn’t do so again.

  Swallowing the aching lump in her throat, Maura resolutely pulled her arm from his grasp and stepped back from him.

  Whatever he saw in her face must have convinced him of her unwavering determination, for he held up his hands in a show of defeat and exhaled a sigh. “Very well, then. If you won’t abandon your idiotic scheme, I have no choice but to accompany you.”

  Maura had started to turn away, but froze in her tracks. “That is out of the question.”

  He went on as if she hadn’t spoken at all. “At least I can give you my protection. If I am with you, perhaps I can save you from prison. In my position, I can get away with endeavors that you cannot.”

  “I told you, I cannot involve anyone else. I must do this alone. You could be implicated in my crimes, and I don’t want that guilt on my conscience.”

  Beaufort took a step closer. “Let me put it this way,” he said slowly, as if explaining to a dimwitted child. “There is no bloody way in hell I am letting you set out alone. I am coming with you, vixen.”

  She gave him a long, frustrated look. “You realize you are only interfering where you are unwanted?”

  “No doubt. But I promised Katharine I would look after you. How do you expect she will react if I return empty-handed? She would hie after you herself.”

  “Well, you will just have to stop her.”

  In reply, he reached up to cup Maura’s face with both of his hands. His gentle touch caught her off guard and held her immobile, as did the quiet, earnest sound of his voice. “Answer me one question honestly. Do you really want to face this ordeal all alone? A fugitive from your family, your friends?”

  The question startled her as much as the answer that instantly sprang to mind: No, she didn’t want to be all alone, fleeing in the dark of night, abandoning everyone she knew, a hunted fugitive for God only knew how long—perhaps for the rest of her days.