by Nancy Butler
Diana’s head snapped up. “He didn’t…that is, I wasn’t….”
The woman shook her head. “No need to deny it. Not that I blame you for running off from him. He’s a strange sort, that Romulus.”
“The villagers think he is mad,” Diana said softly. “But he is only solitary, you see. He keeps to himself and that makes people suspicious.”
“And doesn’t every Gypsy know about that. But tell me, girl, where will you go now?”
Diana squirmed a bit. “I was hoping you would let me stay here.”
She pursed her mouth. “We don’t like to get mixed up with the doings of gorgios. It’s sure trouble.”
Diana saw that her presence had once again brought the threat of retaliation down upon the undeserving. First Romulus, and now the Gypsies. “May I stay with you, just for tonight?” she asked. “And tomorrow I will go home.”
“Where is your home, child?”
“At Mortimer House.” It was Niall who had spoken. His dark eyes were hooded as he observed Diana from the open doorway. He shifted his glance to the old woman. “She is James Mortimer’s sister by marriage. And Sir Beveril Hunnycut’s intended.”
Gizella laid a hand on Diana’s arm to keep her from leaping up. “Hold, girl. No need to take fright.”
“But I don’t need to tell you, do I?” Niall continued, moving toward Diana. “Your memory seems to have conveniently returned.”
“It was never lost,” Diana admitted in a low voice. “But I was lost. Lost and injured and confused.” She looked up at him. “I’m so sorry now that I lied. I should have gone home the next day and faced my family. But I wanted…I wanted so much to stay on the island.”
He crouched before her and took up her hand. “Silly chit. You needn’t have bothered with the ruse—he’d have let you stay on regardless. He’s like that…can’t refuse a creature who needs help.”
“I accused him of keeping me there to spite Beveril,” she said mournfully.
Niall’s eyes widened. “Oh, that must have sat nicely with him.”
“I only wanted to make him admit how he felt about me. We had a dreadful row, and then…well, I decided it was best to leave. I’m sorry I came here, if it’s going to make trouble for you.”
“I think there’s going to be a deal of trouble,” Niall said ominously.
“Something’s brewing,” his grandmother agreed. “I feel it in my toe bones.”
Diana tugged at Niall’s sleeve. “I don’t understand. Rom said you would tell my family I was staying here in the camp—to protect my reputation. Why would you do that, if it would endanger your people?”
He gave her a tight smile. “Once you were safe at home, then it wouldn’t be dangerous to say we’d aided you. But if Beveril came here tonight and found you with us, he wouldn’t wait for explanations before he had the law on us. We Gypsies have a bad enough reputation for stealing children.”
“I’m not a child,” she protested.
He laid one hand on her cheek. He suspected she was several years his senior, but he always felt like a seasoned man of the world around her. “You are a complete child, Allegra. Foolish and headstrong. How did you come here tonight? Alone and on foot? Yes, I thought so. With half the county heading here, and the men all full of drink and high spirits. You’re lucky no one tumbled you in a hedgerow.”
Gizella chuckled softly, and the boy gave her a quelling look.
Diana shifted her head away from his hand. “I didn’t come by the road, I came across the fields.” She pointed to the hem of her gown which was muddy and riddled with nettles. “I have that much sense.”
He shrugged. It wasn’t his job to keep watch over her. But where the devil was the man who had appointed himself to that onerous task?
“I can’t believe Romulus allowed you out on the river alone. And at night, no less.”
“She ran away,” Gizella interjected matter-of-factly. “From that handsome, red-headed rogue.”
Niall sat back on his heels. “If that don’t beat everything! So Rom doesn’t know you’ve come here?”
“No…he doesn’t,” Diana said haltingly, fighting off the misery that clawed at her insides.
It was hours since she’d left the island. Romulus had surely discovered the missing skiff by now. And if he went into the house, he’d have found her note. But it was clear he was not coming to the Gypsy camp. Perhaps he’d missed the beached skiff in the darkness, and was punting toward Mortimer House to find her. Or maybe he was sitting snug in his own house, reading Mr. Pope, and not thinking of her at all.
The boy rose. “How did you get across from the island? Not in the punt?” he added skeptically.
Diana sniffed and shook her head, “I took his skiff.”
Niall’s brows lowered another notch. “Great jumping Christ! He’ll skin you alive—No, he’ll skin me alive, because I’m sure he’ll find some way to blame me for luring you here.”
“You didn’t lure me, Niall. I came here because I thought Romulus would follow me.”
“What?”
Gizella gave a dry, whispery laugh when she saw the expression of bewilderment on her grandson’s face. She poked him in the ribs. “You don’t yet know everything about women, my little cockerel. I figgered that out from the start. She ain’t runnin’ away—she’s waitin’ to be run to.”
Niall ground his teeth. “Did you leave him a note then?”
“Yes, of course I did. But I…I didn’t tell him where I was going.”
Diana was wondering how her excellent plan had come to sound so idiotic. If Romulus really loved her, he wouldn’t need to be teased into following her, he’d have brooked James and Helen and even Sir Beveril, himself, to get her back.
Niall rolled his eyes and muttered to his grandmother, “She thinks Rom’s a gypsy, that he’ll be able to see where she’s run to in his tea leaves.” He moved to the doorway of the caravan and stood looking out at the festive party that was going on in the camp. He wondered why he was not in the midst of all that merrymaking, instead of sorting out Allegra’s tiresome problems.
He turned to her. “I’ll have to take you to Mortimer House tonight.”
“I refuse!” She sat upright on the bench and folded her arms across her chest.
Niall looked like he wanted to box her ears, but Gizella merely patted her shoulder. “You can stay here the night, child. Tomorrow you will know where you belong.”
“I know where I belong,” she cried. “On the island, with Romulus.”
She was tired and hungry and Rom was not ever coming to get her. These people were being as patient with her as they knew how, but it didn’t lessen the ache in her breast.
When Niall saw the tears coursing down her cheeks, his heart softened. He never could bear to watch a female weep. “Allegra,” he said soothingly as he seated himself beside her. “You can’t force someone to change their nature. Even I know that, and I’m still a sprat.” He saw the amusement begin to surface in her eyes. “Rom’s made no secret to me of how he feels about you”—Diana’s heart leapt at his words—“but he’s also given neither of us any reason to think he would ever act on those feelings. Do you understand? Just loving someone is not enough.”
“It should be,” she sobbed quietly.
For once, even Gizella had no comment to offer.
* * *
Romulus poled across the river in the punt, thankful that the water level had gone down enough for him to touch bottom. Still it was slow going, moving against the current for nearly a half mile. He was almost to the village—he could see the water stairs up ahead—when he spied his skiff grounded on a patch of grass. His heart lurched for an instant. It was on the wrong side of the river. If Allegra had been heading toward Mortimer House, she would have been rowing along the eastern shore.
He climbed from the punt and went to examine the skiff. The last rays of the setting sun sent a shaft of light through the trees, and Romulus caught sight of the silver bracelet da
ngling from the oarlock. A Gypsy bangle, one of a pair that Niall had brought her. He stood looking at it with a puzzled frown.
Something was afoot here—the boat on the wrong side of the river, beached where he would surely notice it, and the bracelet, so casually left in plain sight. It teased his brain that she might almost have been laying a trail for him to follow.
“Little fiend,” he muttered fondly as he pocketed the bracelet.
Leaving the skiff where it was, he poled down to the water stairs. He vaulted up the steps and headed into the village. As he came even with the ‘Thrush, he ducked inside. Even though he’d seen Wald Chipping’s boat at the Treypenny slip, he wanted to make sure the man was accounted for. Sure enough, he sat in a chair near the entrance and—lo and behold—none other than Argie Beasle was sitting across from him. Both men looked down into their drinks as he crossed the taproom.
Joe Black blinked in surprise as Romulus came toward him. “What can I get you?” he asked genially, as though he and the river warden had not had words only a few days before.
Romulus didn’t dare ask after Allegra, not with those two curs sitting within earshot, but after poling across from the island he found he needed a drink. Badly. “A pint of lager,” he said in a low voice.
The publican drew him a tankard and set it on the bar.
“You headin’ to see yer friends at the Gypsy camp,” one of the nighttime regulars taunted.
“Mmm—” Romulus tried to shrug him off. He was not in the mood for baiting.
“They say there’s girls dancing nekked in front of a fire. That what you goin’ to see?”
“Stand off, Cleary,” Joe Black said curtly to Rom’s gadfly. “The man’s got a right to have a drink without you breathin’ your whisky breath all down his neck.”
Romulus glanced at the publican in surprised appreciation. Joe Black motioned him a bit closer.
“Perrin,” he said in a low voice, “you maybe got the wrong idea about me. I do have an occasional bit of business with Lord Talbot…sell him the odd barrel of brandy.”
Romulus spent a moment chewing over this new bit of information. “Smuggled, I take it?”
The man nodded. “You little rat, Beasle, tells me when his friends in London come into a hogshead or two. I store them here at the ‘Thrush. That is my only dealin’ with Argie, sir. I’d never help to take a swan, and that’s the truth. My missus and little girl would have my head, they’re that fond of them.”
Rom ran one finger around the edge of his tankard. “I haven’t seen yon rat in here for several days.”
“No, tonight’s the first he’s been back since you thrashed him. But I will tell you one thing, he’s now in tight with the ferryman. You might do well to watch yer back.” Joe Black stood upright and began to wipe a rag over the oak sheen of the bar. “And more than that I could not say.”
Rom slid a gold coin across the bar and gave him a crooked grin. “More than that I could not ask.”
Joe Black watched Romulus walk through the door and then gazed in disbelief at the coin on the bar. He’d never seen a golden guinea before—he was almost afraid to touch it.
Romulus went along the lane, taking slow measured strides. At a turning in the road, he ducked into the woods and began to backtrack. Sure enough, there were Argie and Wald, walking back to the village. They’d followed him a short distance to make sure he was heading away from the river.
Back in Treypenny, Rom kept to the shadows as he followed the two men through the village. They bypassed the ‘Thrush, and made their way down the water stairs. After a prolonged conversation on the slip, which Rom wasn’t close enough to overhear, they both climbed into Wald’s boat.
Romulus knew, even under the waning moon, they would be able to spot him if he followed them in the dory. Instead, he crouched behind one of the granite columns on either side of the water stairs and tugged a field glass from his rucksack. He watched in surprise as the ferryman set his boat upstream, against the current. Whatever they were after, at least it wasn’t his swans.
Romulus sighed with relief as the boat disappeared from sight. He couldn’t have gone after them while Allegra’s whereabouts were still in doubt. Well not really in doubt. Old Whisky Breath Cleary had reminded him of the Gypsy celebration. It explained why the skiff was on the wrong side of the river.
It also explained why Romulus had a fair head of steam worked up by the time he got to the edge of the camp. Rom wasn’t sure that Niall, the gypsy Adonis, understood how primitively possessive he felt about Allegra. He’d hate to come to blows with his friend over a shatterbrained runaway water witch.
Romulus could see the mass of people moving in the firelight. There was the sound of music rising over the wide field, that distinctive gypsy music he had always loved. As he neared the edge of the crowd, Rom caught sight of Niall. He called out his name over the din of the music. The boy turned. His mouth twisted unpleasantly as he approached Rom, and once they were face-to-face, he spat out an unfamiliar word. Romulus took its meaning all the same.
“Where is she?” Rom asked calmly.
“As if you bloody care!” Niall snarled back. He took Romulus by the shoulder and thrust him away from the caravans, back toward the lane.
“Steady on, lad,” Rom cautioned, knocking his hand away. “I’ve not come here for a fight. I’ve come to find Allegra.”
Niall put his hands on his hips and regarded his friend with a testy scowl. “Changed your mind then, have you? First you want her gone, now you want her back.”
“Jesus, Niall, what’s gotten into you? She took my skiff and grounded it near the village. I only want to make sure she’s unharmed.”
“Oh, she’s not come to any harm on the river. Now on your island is another story.”
Romulus ran a hand through his hair. “You’re certainly prickly tonight. Been having at the wine barrel? I thought you wanted me to send her away. And that’s what I was going to do, tomorrow morning as a matter of fact. She only anticipated me a bit. So I don’t know why you’re in such a state.”
“You haven’t seen her. She looks like she been pole-axed. She’s in my granty’s wagon crying—”
“Then you’d better take me there.”
“You’re not going anywhere near her. Why should I let you? You’ll only hurt her again.”
Rom took a step back and said grimly, “I gather she told you that I forced myself on her.”
“No, she did not,” the Gypsy bit out. “I was talking about her feelings. But I see now that you have left no part of her untouched. And after all your haughty speeches, warning me away from her.”
“I don’t intend to stand here taking abuse from you, Niall. How I behave toward Allegra is my own business. My own bloody business.”
Romulus pushed past him and went striding off into the crowd. Several women caught him by the arm, trying to coax him into the dance, but he shrugged them off. He could see Gizella’s caravan some distance beyond the noisy throng. He was nearly to the wagon when Niall caught up with him. The Gypsy threw himself upon the steps to prevent Romulus from entering.
“No,” Niall cried. “You’ve been my friend, Rom. But so is Allegra now. I won’t let you tear her apart.”
Romulus regarded the youth’s melodramatic posture with jaundiced amusement.
“Oh, get up, for God’s sake. You look like the hero in some damned provincial playhouse. Do you think I came here to make things worse? Don’t be an ass, Niall. The chit is everything in the world to me.”
“You promise you’re not going to hurt her?” Niall’s eyes were still narrowed with uncertainty.
Romulus grinned as he effortlessly plucked the boy from the steps and set him on the grass. “I’d like very much to throttle her,” he said with feeling. “But no, I promise she’ll survive the encounter. Though I don’t know if the same can be said for me.”
Romulus knocked hard upon the Dutch door. “Gizella!” he called. “Open up.”
T
he upper half of the door creaked open. The old woman observed him in silence for a moment and then shook her head sharply. “She won’t see you.”
Romulus could see Allegra sitting on the bench behind the Gypsy woman. She was purposefully gazing away from the door. Her shoulders were back and her chin was up—she looked like an etching of a Christian martyr about to meet the king of beasts.
He looked down at the old woman in entreaty, and she winked at him with one heavy-lidded eye. Then she opened the door wide, stepped past Romulus, and hobbled down the steps. He slipped into the caravan and softly shut both doors behind him.
“Thank you for sending him away,” Diana said in a hollow voice.
“Don’t thank her too quickly,” Romulus uttered.
Diana’s head pivoted around and her eyes widened.
“It appears you have been abandoned by your watchdogs,” he said smoothly. He saw that indeed she had been crying—there were tearstains all down her flushed cheeks. The sight nearly unmanned him.
“Now what?” she asked sullenly. “Are you going to rail at me for taking your skiff.”
“Later,” he said as he knelt down before the bench.
“Are you going to lace into me for coming here alone?”
“Undoubtedly, but not right now.”
She met his eyes at last as she said, “Then what do you want?”
“This,” he said as he took her face between his hands and kissed her gently on the mouth. “For the rest of my days, Allegra, I want this.”
She sniffled slightly and then smiled dreamily. As exciting as it had been to be kissed in passion on his porch, this tender, cherishing kiss in a caravan had a distinct charm.
She slid her arms around his neck and tugged his head forward until they were brow to brow. “I knew that,” she whispered. “But I wasn’t sure if you knew how much I wanted it, too.”
“Then why wouldn’t you let me come inside?”
“Only a man would ask that,” she said with a sigh. “Just look at me, Romulus. I am nettles and mud from collar to hem. And my face must look like a pomegranate from crying.”
