by Lynn Messina
“Do you have a pistol on you?” she asked Philip now, determined to keep her thoughts to herself. He was a useful companion and a goodhearted friend, but she was afraid that the duke’s assessment of him was right. The boy was still a pup.
“A pistol?” He seemed disturbed by the notion. “Why would I take a pistol to Hyde Park, which was where I was going when I picked you up?”
“We must acquire one then. Windbag will surely be armed.”
Philip accepted the truth of this statement and felt a glimmer of fresh excitement. He could hardly wait until Trent learned that he’d saved England from invasion—with the help of Miss Harlow, of course. She was a right ’un, and he would give her her due. “I don’t have much experience with pistols, I’m afraid, but I’ve been hunting my whole life and am a decent shot with a rifle. Don’t worry, Miss Harlow, I shall protect you.”
Miss Harlow laughed, delighted. “I shall count on it, Philip. And I assure you that I will do my best to protect you. But I can only do that if I have a pistol. I’ve never hunted in my entire life, but I’m a decent shot with a pistol. And please call me Emma,” she added. “We are hunting down a traitor to England together and that affords us a certain amount of intimacy, don’t you think?”
Philip agreed to address her with such informality and then fell silent, preferring silent contemplation. In his mind, he was busy reviewing all the different manners in which his cousin could learn that he had saved the kingdom. The one he preferred most, of course, was the one in which he told him himself. That way he would see the look of complete shock give way to grudging respect. Still, having the Prince Regent call on Trent with the news that his cousin was a hero wasn’t too shabby either. Really, there seemed to be no unacceptable way for it to happen.
Emma was glad for the quiet. She hadn’t held the reins in ages, and it was a heady experience. She loved the wind in her hair, and she loved speed. Nothing else in the world was quite this exhilarating, nothing else gave her quite the same feeling of control. This was what she had been pining for, all those long hours in the house as she sought some occupation to take her mind off weighty matters. Reading to Roger had felt like a good substitute at the time, but now that she had the reins in her hands, she knew it had been a very poor one indeed. There was nothing to compare with this feeling of being alive. And this feeling of being alive made problems seem small and inconsequential.
After a few hours it started to get dark, and Emma considered pulling into an inn. Although it had been a clear day hours earlier, clouds now covered the fickle English sky. It would probably rain tonight and even if it didn’t, clouds would surely obscure the moon. There would be no light to drive by and to attempt such a thing would only be foolhardy. Why, look what had happened to Roger. Besides, even if it weren’t cloudy, the horses needed to rest. Emma was not a flat when it came to horses. She knew better than to drive them into the ground.
“We shall stop at the next inn,” she said to Philip. “I thought we’d overtake them by now, but Windbag’s lead was great. It seems that I underestimated him; I assumed a man of his size wouldn’t travel with much speed. You are no doubt sorry you came. It was my promise that you’d be home for dinner.”
“A fine Englishman I’d be if I let a slip of a girl go about saving the country on her own so I could sup by the fire! It makes no difference, Emma, I would have come regardless.”
This fine speech pleased Emma greatly. “Excellent, my boy, but don’t abandon hope of supping by the fire just yet. I have a similar wish.”
They came upon the Spotted Eagle at twilight. Emma went in to bespeak two rooms for her and her brother, and she left Philip to stable the horses.
The landlady was suspicious of Emma and with good provocation. Respectable ladies did not arrive with complicated stories to explain the absence of luggage.
“So you see,” said Emma, concluding her tale, “it’s by the side of the road in Goudford, and although there are many things in it of value, my brother and I decided it was best not to let something like that slow us down. There is no telling how long Mama will hold on.”
“Your brother, hmm?” Miss Biggley had the keys for two available rooms in her moist grip but wasn’t convinced that something funny wasn’t going afoot. A young woman with no luggage traveling with her brother? That didn’t sound very respectable.
As the landlady was contemplating her next move, Philip came in and told Emma that the horses were right and tight for the evening. The lady had so many questions and criticisms for the young man that Mrs. Biggley concluded that they must be brother and sister. Nobody treated a lover with such careless disregard. She handed over the keys. “At the top of the stairs and to ye left. Will ye be wanting dinner?”
“Yes, by the fire in the private parlor, if you please,” Emma said, surreptitiously wiping the damp keys on her dress and vowing to wash her hands thoroughly before coming down to dinner. “Do you happen to recall if a round man of so high came through here this afternoon?”
This question woke Miss Biggley’s slumbering suspicions. “Why do ye want to know?”
“My good Mrs. Biggley, there is nothing amiss here,” Emma assured her. “I only ask because our elder brother is before us on the road and we would like nothing better than to catch up with him. After all, he no doubt still has luggage and would make us look eminently more respectable. I am not used to traveling in such a ragtag manner, and it makes me uncomfortable.”
The landlady was not impervious to Miss Harlow’s dimples. “Aye, a man came by matching that description about two hours ago. I thought he was going to stay for the night, but he had something to eat and then went on his way.”
“Excellent,” she exclaimed. “No doubt we’ll catch up with dear brother Waldo in the morn. I do so hope Mama is alive when we get home.” Emma debated whether or not she should push her luck, but Mrs. Biggley had been so obliging she could not resist. “One more thing and then I will cease bothering you. Do you or any of your menfolk have a pistol I might purchase?”
“A pistol?”
“Yes, a pistol.”
“What do ye need a pistol for?”
“Well, to avoid a repeat of our unfortunate incident.” She leaned in as if confessing a great secret to the landlady. “I think things worked out for the best, our having to leave our luggage by the side of the rode because we are traveling much faster without it and nobody got hurt, which is really the important thing. But Philip, dear brother Philip, had been bemoaning our helplessness for the last two dozen miles. I thought if perhaps we could make him a little less harmless, he will cease his complaining. You know how brothers are, don’t you, Mrs. Biggley. A competent woman like you has to have dealt with a few irrational men in her time.”
The landlady laughed. “The stories I could tell you! I think my Harry has a pistol. I’ll get it to you after dinner.”
“You are truly the most helpful woman I have ever met.”
Mrs. Biggley almost turned pink with pleasure. “I’m sure ye just teasing me. You probably want to clean. I’ll have Mindy bring up some water.”
“Very well, I’ll spare you your blushes,” she said with great reluctance. “Do be sure to add the price of the pistol to our bill.”
Emma walked to the stairs and indicated that Philip should follow. He had been a silent observer to the entire exchange, and he was fairly bursting with comments. He controlled himself until they entered one of the rented rooms.
“That was remarkable, Emma,” he said, gushing, “the way you had her eating out of your hand. At first she looked like she wanted to toss us out of here on our duffs and now she is probably down in the kitchens baking us a cake. What skill! Can you teach me how to do that?”
“Do what?” she asked, wondering when the girl would bring up water so she could freshen up. The room was neat and small, and the duvet on the bed looked surprisingly clean.
“Make people do what you want them to do.”
“Don’t be ri
diculous, Philip. I don’t make people do what I want them to do. In my experience, all people want is a kind word and a smile. You’ll do well to remember that.” There was a knock on the door. “Now leave me for a moment. I want to clean some of the travel dust off. I believe she said dinner is in an hour. Shall I see you then?”
Their dinner of lamb, peas and potatoes was cold and bland, but since it was served by the fire and was the first thing Emma had had since breakfast, it tasted delicious. Chocolate cake still warm from the oven followed dinner, but there was no way of telling if it was made especially for them. Despite Philip’s insistence that it was, Emma strongly doubted it.
The next morning the sun had barely come up before they were on the road again. Mrs. Biggley insisted on packing them a lunch, at no extra charge, and both Emma and Philip were very happy to see an extra-large slice of chocolate cake in their bags.
They drove fast, stopping at each posting house to ask after Sir Waldo. They found the one where he passed the night and discovered that he had left that morning only an hour before.
“We will catch him soon,” said Emma, after climbing on top of the curricle. “He will have to stop for lunch.”
Emma’s prediction proved accurate and around noon they saw Windbag’s red-and-blue insignia in front of an inn called the Hungry Lion.
“We’ve got him at last,” she said, the excitement evident in her voice. “The only question is what will we do with him?”
“I thought we’d agreed on my plan,” answered Philip.
“Yes, whacking him on the head and tying him up is a good place to start, but what if we call in the constable and the constable lets him go? We must gain evidence of his perfidy.”
“Perhaps he has your brother’s letter on him. Surely that can be used against him?” he asked impatiently. Philip didn’t like all this talking. He wanted to get in there and save England as soon as possible.
Emma thought about this for long moments, which seemed endless to Philip. “No, not necessarily. He’s engaged to my sister and runs tame in our house. He could simply say that he picked it up by mistake or something equally innocent. I’m afraid that bringing the constable into the situation is not the best idea.”
“But we must do something now while the villain is in our sights. Tardy longer and we risk the chance of losing him. We’d have to give chase again.” This was the last thing that Philip wanted. Giving chase was the most boring part of an adventure. He would not stand for it.
“That’s not a bad idea, Philip. Perhaps if we follow him further he will lead us to his confederates. He may not be working alone. Other Englishman could be involved in his evil plan.” The more Emma thought about it, the more sense it made. Yes, it was important that they intervene before Sir Waldo passed on his secret information but there was no rush yet. They were still miles and miles from Dover. That would give them time to gather evidence against Windbag. “Yes, that is precisely what we’ll—” Emma looked up. Philip was gone.
She turned around to see Philip disappearing into the Hungry Lion. “Damn that boy,” she muttered, running after him. “The duke was right. He is an impertinent puppy. What’s so wrong with taking things carefully and having a well-thought-out plan before jumping in harm’s way?”
Emma went to the side of the building and pressed her face up against the glass. If it was at all possible, she wanted to avoid Windbag’s seeing her. With a little luck she would intervene before Philip did anything drastic; then they could continue with her plan. The main room of the inn was empty save for a dog lying by the fire and a young lady wiping down tables with a wet cloth. Emma walked to the other side of the building and leaned against another window. Ah, there he was, in a small room eating a joint and reading the newspaper. Now, to stop Philip before he did something stupid.
But she was too late. She watched in horror as Philip opened the door and confronted Sir Waldo. The wretched boy hadn’t even tried to use surprise to his advantage! He had a large wine bottle in his hand, and he had barely raised it threateningly before Sir Waldo had out a pistol and shot him.
Emma reacted instantly. Making sure she had her pistol, she ran into the Hungry Lion and burst through the door of the private parlor.
Philip was on the floor cradling his leg. He was trapped, and the look of terror on his face was commensurate with the situation. Sir Waldo was standing over him, his gun threatening. “Tell me who sent you and I might decide to let you live.” He was so intent on his victim that he didn’t notice Emma enter the room.
“Put down the gun,” she said, her pistol trained on him, her arms steady as she held it in her grasp. “Put down the gun now!”
At first Sir Waldo seemed unable to digest what was happening. The look in his eyes was wild, and for one terrible moment Emma thought he might shoot Philip out of panic.
“If you’re thinking of shooting him again,” she said in her calmest voice, hoping to draw Windbag’s attention to herself, “let me assure you that if he dies, you die. It’s a very simple equation and one that even your little mind can grasp.”
His eyes cleared and Emma saw him take in the situation. He was calculating the odds, trying to decide what he could get away with. She was eager to discover what his next move would be.
“Thank God you’re here,” he said, instilling a respectable amount of panic into his voice. “I was attacked by this madman and had no choice but to defend myself. Call the constable.”
“I know that you know that I am not that gullible,” she said, taking another step into the room. “Put the gun down.”
“No, you’re not the gullible one. It’s your dear, sweet trusting sister who is gullible.” He kept his pistol trained on Philip and his eyes on her. “How do you think she’ll feel when she learns that her savage sister killed the man she loved? Do you think she will ever forgive you?”
Even if she had cause to worry, she could not. Philip’s life was the most important thing here. “I’m her sister. She’ll believe whatever I tell her, especially the truth.”
“There are things that happen between a woman and the man she loves that cannot compare with the paltry love of a sister,” he said, with a smug smile on his lips. “Her feelings are…shall we say, warmer, for me than you imagine. She will believe whatever I tell her to believe.”
The fool, thought Emma, amazed, by his monumental presumption. He is thinking of yesterday in the drawing room. He’s basing his ludicrous supposition on a kiss that I gave him. The bloody fool thinks he has Vinnie wrapped around his finger.
“I’ll take my chances with Vinnie,” she said, with a wry smile on her face. “Now drop the gun or I’ll shoot.”
Sir Waldo laughed with what seemed like genuine humor. “I will not bow to the will of a girl. Now I’ve humored you long enough. Leave us alone and you might live. Stay and death is a certainty. Come, I’m a very busy man and don’t have time to play your silly little games.”
Emma lined up her shot and pulled the trigger.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Hoping to make up for lost time, Trent and Vinnie drove well into the night. Because the thin moonlight only popped out periodically between the clouds, the going was slow. Trent knew that it was far better to take their time and be cautious than to wind up overturned in a ditch. They were of no use to anybody in a ditch. Around eleven they pulled into a posting house.
The duke was very aware of the impropriety of the situation, and as soon as they stepped inside the inn, he realized that taking the girl with him was an act of madness. If anyone ever found out about tonight’s work, Vinnie’s reputation would surely be ruined and Emma would get her wish. He would be forced to offer for her.
Vinnie listened as he requested two rooms for the night. She saw the landlord balk at his story that they were brother and sister, but the duke’s manner was so imposing that the man scurried away with his head down.
“Come,” he said, leading her into another room, “I’ve gotten us a private parlor. I t
hink it would be best if we ate quickly and then got some rest. I would like to start early tomorrow. Warm yourself by the fire. I expect the fare won’t be what we’re used to but we must eat something. It’s been a long day.”
Vinnie sat down and waited for the duke to take a seat before making an announcement. “If we run into any of your acquaintance, you must call me Emma.”
“What?” He was in the process of opening his cloisonné snuffbox, and he froze at her words.
“You must call me Emma. We’re identical twins, sir,” she explained at his shocked looked, “nobody would be any the wiser.”
He put the snuffbox down and examined her by firelight. “I cannot believe you are serious.”
“Reputations are all about perceptions; they have little grounding in reality,” she explained. “We might be at an inn together unchaperoned, but we have done nothing wrong. I see no reason why anyone should suffer if someone should happen upon us.”
“Emma would suffer,” he said stiffly.
“I wouldn’t call having a husband who loves her suffering,” she said gently.
From the way his eyes narrowed, Vinnie knew he was about to give her a grand setdown. He’d had the same look on his face seconds before he treated the landlord like a troublesome fly.
“Don’t, your grace, you will not convince me that you don’t love her, and I’d rather not bestir myself for an argument,” she said, fighting a yawn. “It has been a very long day.”
“Very well,” he conceded, wondering how and when he had given himself away, “but it’s of little significance. She will not have me.”
