by Jane Lark
Deep, callous laughter echoed about the hall outside as he rattled the handle several times with no intention of coming in. He had the key. He was just tormenting her.
She clutched her stomach. Until this morning she had held on to the chance their might be a child within it. But now her courses had come and she knew there was not.
He walked on. She felt sick as she heard him go and she ached everywhere from the bruises of his violence. She had not tried to bar her door in the day because she’d needed food to stay alive in case there was a child.
He had held her by the throat this morning, and she’d thought she would die as he’d cut off her air. But then he’d let her go. That was when her courses had come. Now she was unsure whether it was best to be alive or dead.
His footsteps and laughter faded with the light. She could doze now, for a little while, but she would not dare lie down.
He’d played this game three dozen times, sometimes thrice in one night, deliberately disturbing her sleep.
In London, he’d said he would wait until she begged him to take her. Now she understood. He was torturing her until she would rather suffer rape than fear.
Chapter Seventeen
Robert paced back and forth across the courtyard of the small inn. He’d been evicted from the taproom, unable to simply sit. His heart raced with a galloping beat. It had done so for days now. He wondered, and not for the first time, just how much more of this he could take before he expired.
His boot heels struck the cobbles, and he turned and forged the same path back again. He had no outdoor coat on, and the day was cloudy and cold, but it didn’t permeate his distracted senses. A breeze swept the dust up in a sudden eddy. Summer had departed, and autumn was on the way.
With a shudder that twisted his shoulders, he refused to think too far ahead.
James, Robert’s groom, was established in Sutton’s stables. Two days ago, James had gone there, cap in hand, seeking employment. It had gotten them access to the house. They’d tried more subtle investigations, interrogating the local populace with obscure questions about visitors who stayed with the Suttons. Robert had claimed to be an associate of the old Duke and wondered how his widow fared. Robert’s staff had deployed various ruses, claiming to be former employees or staff of friends of the Dowager Duchess. But no matter the tack they took to question, no one had seen anything of Jane.
Robert hoped James had gleaned some knowledge of her. At least he must have seen when Sutton came and went. Sunday was normally a day the staff had time off. Robert had been waiting hours, believing James would come back to the inn.
As he turned to pace the yard again, Robert thought, thankfully, of the quickly scribbled note he’d passed to Jenkins to deliver to his man of business before leaving London. The special marriage licence he’d acquired had arrived this morning, four days after Robert had arrived. This time, Robert was not giving Jane a choice. When he got her away from Sutton, he would insist she accept his protection.
In the street beyond the courtyard, he heard the approach of a carriage, horses, the jangle of harness, the creak and roll of wheels. Shouts flooded the inn’s courtyard, and grooms ran from the stables as a large mail coach rumbled beneath the arched entrance. Stable hands rushed to unharness the horses and replace the team. Robert stepped back out of the way and watched the driver jump down. The top was heaped with luggage, and two young men sat on top of it.
Robert sighed, his patience suddenly running dry.
A drop of rain struck his brow. He looked up and saw the gray cloud was now painted black.
Another spot of rain touched his face, then another his hair. He looked down and saw rain speckling the gray cobble.
His fingers swept back a lock of hair which had fallen forward over his brow. He would feel much better if he knew he was in the right place – that Jane was definitely here with Sutton. The sound of the patter of rain striking the roof tiles began to increase, intensifying. Robert’s eyes turned to the activity about him, but his thoughts were still elsewhere. The stable hands walked the winded horses. Their coats were thick with sweat. Fresh, eager-spirited horses were being secured in the traces of the mail coach.
Robert knew how they felt. Blood flowed thick and fast in his veins, pumping adrenalin that had his muscles ready for fight or flight. The issue was he could do neither, yet. He could do nothing but wait.
The rain fell in earnest now and struck his shoulders, his hair, and his face with force. He lifted his forearm and wiped his brow, but his sleeve was already wet.
He had no idea how to endure this waiting.
“Lord Barrington!” His gaze whipped to one of the inn’s attendants. “There is a woman wishing to speak with you, my Lord!”
Robert shifted out of the way of a lad running with a bag which had been thrown from the mail coach, and saw a young woman behind the attendant. She was no one he knew, and in service by the look of her.
The heavy rainfall dripped down his face and plastered his shirt and waistcoat to his skin, but Robert paid no mind to it as he crossed the courtyard.
“Lord Barrington?” the woman questioned as he walked the last few steps. The attendant bowed and disappeared.
She cast back the hood of her cloak. “James, the groom, sent me, my Lord, with this.” She withdrew a letter from beneath her cloak. “He said to say not to worry, but he promised you’d give me a penny for dropping it off.”
Robert shivered, a chill running across his skin beneath the damp cloth of his shirt. “Thank you. Come in a moment, please.” He took the letter and encouraged her to go before him.
Inside the inn’s lobby, a chambermaid was waiting on the stone flags to pass him a linen towel.
Accepting it, Robert nodded his thanks, wiped his face and hair, then thoughtlessly passed it back, too distracted by the letter in his hand.
James couldn’t write. It would not be from his groom, but it bore no address so there was no handwriting or mark to determine its origin.
“This way.” Holding out a hand, he directed the young maid to the private parlour he’d hired. Embers still glowed in the hearth, warming the room. The woman waited just within the open door as he unfolded the letter and saw Jane’s neat script. She’s here. His heart pounded, but his concentration was disturbed by the movement of the maid.
She watched for his reaction.
He reached into his pocket and handed her a couple of coins.
“Thank you, my Lord. Jim said you’d be grateful. Did you want me to take anything back, sir?”
His eyes narrowed on her. “Are you on another errand? Could you come back?”
He received a brisk nod. “Yes, sir, if you want.” With that, she bobbed a quick curtsy, and, in a swirl of skirt, was gone.
Robert walked to the door and called for writing materials, then turned back and reread Jane’s note. There were just three lines.
Your offer is gratefully accepted. I shall be free tomorrow at the larks. Meet me at the fore.
His heart set up a thundering pace again. The message was written in code, a code they’d developed in their youth, to hide their affair from their families. What it told him was that she’d feared the note being intercepted and the consequence if it was. She asked him to meet her at six, at a crossroads. But what crossroads? He’d need to find out.
She was being kept against her will, watched and censored, if she must write the note in this brief code.
Pembroke’s words rang in his head. “He kept her like a bird in a cage.”
A few moments later, sitting before the writing desk, Robert’s fingers shook as he withdrew the cork from the bottle of ink and considered his response. A hundred words he’d left unsaid ran through his thoughts. The soft tip of the feather tapped against his chin, and his fingers gripped the nib in inactive preparation. Finally, he dipped the quill into the indigo ink and merely scratched Agreed. R on to the paper. Words had failed him. There was nothing he could express which would not give her aw
ay, and yet, there was so much to be said. It would have to wait. All of it.
~
The black stallion beneath Robert stepped sideways, pawing the ground impatiently, as restless with waiting as he was. Easing his grip on the reins, Robert sat back, aware his tight hold was probably transmitting his tension to the horse. He’d sent his carriage on ahead. His gaze turned from one lane to another. It was a quarter past six. Apparently, these were the only crossroads she could have meant.
A sharp breeze swept at the trees, rustling leaves. The sky above was blue. The morning sunshine bright, if not warm.
He looked along the lanes once more in each direction. Nothing. The horse puffed, whinnying and shaking out its neck.
Listening intently, Robert absorbed every sound. Several young rooks played on the breeze above, letting the air catch their wings, cawing merrily. Then he heard in the distance the thud of hooves on compact, moistened ground. More than one horse. Cautiously, he walked the stallion back to conceal himself in the trees. From there he listened to the riders approach, watching for his first glimpse. When they turned the bend, he felt his heart lurch into his throat. A woman and a man. The woman sat astride with her skirt drawn up, and her cloak flew loose behind her as she rode at pace, heedless of propriety. It was Jane with James.
Robert kicked his heels to the stallion’s flanks and rose into a trot. Relief flooded him with an intense pain. He had her. He was not a man to cry, but if he were …
Heading in their direction, he watched her gallop towards him, low in the saddle.
She eased up as she drew nearer, rising and pulling her mount back into a canter. He could see her face. She was smiling a broad, excited smile. It struck him right in the heart. He smiled in answer as she slowed to a trot a few feet before him. God, she was a blessed sight. He stopped and sat back in his saddle.
She drew up her mare, and it danced about his impatient stallion, setting his beast sidestepping again.
“Robert,” was all she said, his name breathless on her lips.
It said so much more though. The same hundred words he’d not said in his note. He could hear everything he felt in her voice.
Despite the presence of his groom, Robert found himself reaching forward to touch her face. He had to touch her just to be sure it was not a dream. His fingers stroked over her cheek reverently then slipped to her nape and pulled her to him to receive his kiss.
James coughed behind her. “Huh hum, my Lord.”
Robert broke the kiss and smiled at her, then at his groom. “Yes, James?”
“My Lord, the horses may already be missed, and once they know they’re gone, they will look for Her Grace.”
“You’re right, James.” Robert looked at Jane and drank her in. Her ebony hair was swept back in a simple plate, her gown plain, yet she looked so beautiful. Her bright, shining, emerald eyes were the only jewels she needed. “Are you happy to ride on?”
She nodded. “Anything you say.”
“Come on then,” he responded, as though it was no more than one of the morning rides they’d shared frequently at Farnborough. “This way.” He turned the stallion.
“That way?” she echoed. “It goes south.”
“Anything you say,” indeed. He cocked one eyebrow at her failure to comply so soon. He’d thought it too submissive for Jane. She was clearly still not willing to trust him. “Exactly,” he answered. “Sutton will expect us to head for London or North, so we will go the opposite way.” His smile dared her to disagree.
She did not. Nodding, she kicked her heels and was off. In a moment, the three of them were at full tilt, setting as much distance as they could between Jane and her cage.
The brisk autumn breeze cooled Jane’s face and her bared stocking-clad legs which gripped the mare’s flanks. It caught at wisps of her hair, too, pulling it loose.
She hadn’t dared risk searching out her riding habit, too afraid of being seen. If anyone had seen her in it, they’d have guessed her intent. She’d never ridden there before.
As it was, she’d been terrified, creeping through the quiet house in the wake of the maid James had communicated to her through.
Over the last weeks, in the dark hours of night, she’d longed for Robert and regretted leaving him, even though she’d known it was right to protect him. But when she’d discovered he’d sent his groom, her heart had leapt in her chest, and she’d forgotten everything but being with Robert. She’d not stopped to weigh the decision. She’d merely grasped the chance. Now, she was here, riding beside Robert, free. But she was not. She never would be. Joshua would never really let her go, he’d find some way to force her back by threat or foul play.
Robert was pale. He’d lost weight, too. He looked at her, reached across, and clasped her hand over the reins. The gesture moved her, and she felt tears glaze her eyes. His grip eased their pace to a canter. “We should get rid of these horses.”
Robert let go her hand and pulled to a halt. So did she and his groom.
“You must take the horses back to the inn, James, and ask them to run them up to the house. Make sure they don’t see the direction you leave in. We’ll meet you at The Fox Inn as planned.
“Jane, sweetheart.” Robert’s eyes were back on her, rich brown and tender. “Slide over to my saddle. I’ll not have you hung for a horse thief when I’ve gone to so much trouble to save you.”
Their animals drawn together, she dropped her reins and reached for his shoulders as his hands gripped her waist. His strength pulled her over to his saddle.
Her bottom rested on his thigh and she laid her cheek onto his shoulder.
“James.” She felt the deep rumble of Robert’s voice in his chest.
“Aye, my Lord,” the man acknowledged, catching up her mare’s reins. Then wheeling both horses about with a nod and smile to her, the groom rode off.
Robert gripped her waist and held her closer. Jane looked up. “Robert.” Their lips touched again, as they shared a lingering kiss, which was about love, not lust. Her heart ached when she broke it and whispered, “I missed you.”
“Did he touch you?” was his answer as his brown eyes flashed anger.
She shook her head. Not as he meant. Not yet.
“You shouldn’t have gone to him.”
She held his gaze for a moment, but said nothing. Then she let go of him and shifted in the saddle to sit astride before him, hitching up the skirt of her plain grey walking dress to enable it. Her bottom rested against his thighs and groin.
“I didn’t go to him,” she said at last, her fingers gripping the pommel as she looked ahead.
“Well then, I wish you had not left me.” His words were caustic. It jolted a pain in her that brought tears to her eyes. She was glad he couldn’t see.
He kicked the horse into a walk, rocking his hips forward to encourage it.
“I had to leave you; I didn’t want to involve you,” she said to the road ahead.
His reins still in one hand, he splayed his other hand over her stomach and pulled her back against him firmly. The touch was gentle and protective. His heels kicked again and set the stallion into a trot. “And now I am involved anyway. How could you think I’d want you to give yourself up to protect me?” Jane moved to turn, but couldn’t. “Yes, I worked it out in the end. It doesn’t make me feel particularly proud knowing you think I can’t protect myself or you from Sutton, Jane.” His voice dropped to a low, cracking note. “It hits my pride. I will protect you.” His fingers pressed against her stomach, and his breath stirred the escaped curls at her temple.
She laid both her hands over his, one on the reins, the other on her stomach, holding him as best she could. He didn’t know the Suttons’ perversity or their power. She did not want him to.
He sighed, and his cheek rubbed against her hair. “Don’t leave me any more, sweetheart. Swear it. I can’t bear to grieve for you again.”
She nodded and tears tracked silently down her cheeks. She wiped them away. She sho
uld not be here, but she knew she couldn’t bear to be without him either.
“Then you’ll marry me?”
At that, she tried to twist back to see his face, but couldn’t.
“You’re not saying, no. I shan’t listen. It’s settled. Archer has gone ahead to find us a vicar. Within an hour, you are going to be my wife, Jane.”
A strange sound left her throat when she tried to speak, half sob, half laugh, and when words came, they sounded strangled. “You’re mad! We can’t marry today. We need to have the bans read.”
His lips pressed to her ear. “Not if the man you are to marry has the common sense to bring a special licence from London.”
“You did not!” She struggled to look back. The pressure against her stomach held her tight. “Robert, my agreement is required.”
“You are taking my name,” he said determinedly against her ear. “Once you have it, you may do as you like. If you really will it, you can have a marriage in name only, but taking my name is the only way to permanently break Sutton’s hold on you. You will not be legally dependent on him. You have sacrificed yourself twice, Jane. I believe it’s my turn.”
His words took her breath away. He was not just asking her to marry him, but offering to give up his life and the chance for an heir if she agreed to his foolishness, just for her safety. “May we stop? I want to walk.”
She felt him stiffen, armouring himself against her potential refusal.
“Sutton – Jane, I’ll—”
She squeezed his hand which gripped the reins, gently silencing him.
“You said yourself, he will not come this way. Just for a while, Robert. Please?”
He drew the stallion to a halt and held her steady as she slid her leg across the saddle and slipped to the ground.
She waited with her arms clutched across her middle as he swung his leg over then dropped effortlessly. For a moment, he just stood there, as she did, holding her gaze, his eyes a vivid, bright brown. She was the one to step forward and take his hands, but he was the one who pulled her close and kissed her, his fingers threading through hers.
